“I just got paid, and it’s burning a hole in my pocket. So let’s go.”
It was already dark, and the night air was frigid. They walked the few blocks to the bar, which was just past the T stop, talking about clothes and the weather. Imani hated winter and was planning to go back to Atlanta after the clerkship to work at a law firm.
“That day can’t come fast enough,” she said.
“That doesn’t sound like it’s about the weather. Are you unhappy with the clerkship?”
“Let’s have a drink first.”
The bar was jam-packed with lawyers and other people from the courthouse. Nobody wore ties anymore except in court, but this was still Boston, and there were a lot of conservative dark suits. They pushed their way up to the bar, where blue light shone out from shelves lined with crystal decanters, making it feel like the inside of an aquarium. A couple of thirtysomething guys gave up their seats to them and tried to buy them drinks. They shut them down and ordered Vespers, along with a cone of frites to share. The prices were hair-raising, but the martinis lived up to the hype, ice-cold with the whoosh of rocket fuel. Madison’s tolerance for alcohol was not the greatest, so she sipped carefully. Imani was not so cautious, and her eyes quickly took on a cocktail glaze. Time to start digging.
“You mentioned earlier you didn’t want to talk about the judge while we were in chambers. But nobody was around. I almost got the feeling you thought the place was bugged.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Past who?”
“Nancy. That woman is a little dictator. Just look at how she treats you, limiting your computer usage like you’re gonna access porn or something. She thinks she runs the place, and who can blame her? Judge Conroy is so checked out.”
“Do you think it’s burnout? Teaching on top of her case load is a lot.”
“All I can say is, she’s changed drastically just in the past month. Even when she’s there, she’s not there. Maybe something happened. Maybe she suffers from depression. The reason doesn’t matter. There’s a power vacuum, and Nancy is taking advantage. She’s been telling us how to decide cases. Civil, criminal, you name it. And the judge allows it. That’s what I object to. She’s leaving her docket in the hands of someone who is not qualified. If Nancy knew what she was doing, that would be one thing. But she does things that don’t conform to the law.”
“You’re saying Nancy is deciding cases, and the outcomes are legally wrong?”
“Yes. Are you listening to me?”
“I hear you. It’s just hard to believe. Don’t the rulings get overturned on appeal?”
“Not everybody appeals when they lose, because of the time and expense involved. And when a ruling does get reversed, it’s bad for Judge Conroy’s reputation. A friend of mine clerks on the Court of Appeals, and she asked me just the other day what the hell is going on in our chambers. People have noticed. If Judge Conroy flames out, it reflects on us.”
“Have you tried talking to the judge?”
“Sean went to her a couple of weeks ago and said, ‘Nancy’s butting in, and Imani and I are uncomfortable.’ Big mistake. The judge said, work it out amongst yourselves, then turned around and told Nancy we complained. She’s been taking it out on us ever since, and the judge does nothing. It’s nuts. Sean and I are trained lawyers. Nancy is a glorified secretary. If the judge doesn’t want to do her own work, she could let us handle things. But Nancy has some weird hold over her. We don’t trust her. We think— Well, Sean thinks—”
Imani’s voice dropped as she looked around nervously.
“This might sound crazy, but he thinks she’s on the take.”
“The judge?”
“Nancy. Maybe not cash bribes. Maybe just someone cozies up to her, does her favors, manipulates her. That’s the only way to explain some of the wackadoodle outcomes in these cases.”
It sounded like Nancy was part of the conspiracy. She needed to ask Imani about Logue and Wallace. If Nancy knew them, too, that would say something.
“So, this might sound like a weird question, but have you ever seen a defense lawyer named Raymond Logue around chambers at all? Or a Detective Wallace?”
Imani set her glass down, a shocked look on her face.
“How do you know those names?”
“I just … ran across them on a case.”
“Are you serious right now? God, I’m disappointed. You’re lying to me, Madison.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because. Olivia asked about them, too. She took me out for drinks one night and dropped their names, just like you’re doing now. Pumped me for information. Then disappeared.”
Madison’s scalp prickled.
“Disappeared? You mean, got fired? Or—”
“I’m not comfortable saying another word until I know who you work for.”
“What do you mean? I work for Judge Conroy. And for you and Sean.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Imani, I’m an intern, a two-L at Harvard. I’m legit. You know that. We met last year when I wrote onto law review.”
“So what? You could still be a sleeper agent. Maybe they planted you.”
“You think I’m an undercover agent?”
“Very possibly. After all, Olivia was.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m not telling you anything until you say who you work for.”
Madison took a deep breath. She would have to risk sharing some basic facts if she wanted more information.
“I don’t work for anyone. This is personal for me. Someone close to me was screwed over by Wallace and Logue. And the judge allowed it. I’m worried that they have some kind of sway over her. That they’re influencing her inappropriately. Honestly, I’m worried for her.”
Imani’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the truth?”
Madison raised her right hand. “I swear on my mother’s life that I am not an undercover agent. I’m just a dumb student in over my head because somebody I care about is mixed up in this nasty business. I can’t say more without putting that person in danger, or I’d tell you everything. Now, please, what do you know about Wallace and Logue?”
“Wallace I don’t know much about, except he skeeves me out. Logue was in the judge’s courtroom enough that it piqued my curiosity. I did some research and found some old articles on him. Like ancient, microfiche-type stuff. He was a fixer back in the day, with ties to city hall, representing high-profile organized crime clients. Today, his practice is mostly narcotics. And he’s got corruption written all over him.”
“You said he piqued your curiosity. Why?”
“Because he has a boatload of cases before Judge Conroy. Like more than normal, like his cases are not getting randomly assigned. I think he has someone on the inside steering his cases to the judge. The docket is Nancy’s purview, so it’s probably her. I haven’t looked into it further because, quite frankly, I’m scared.”
They locked eyes.
“Scared,” Madison said.
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you think chambers might be bugged?”
“Oh, that’s just rank speculation. I have no idea.”
“Imani, what happened to Olivia?”
“I honestly don’t know. What I can tell you is, she vanished into thin air, owing me three memos. I tried to track her down. I called her cell. And when it was out of service, I asked Nancy if she had any other contact information? Nancy went ballistic, like eyes bulging, frothing at the mouth. Don’t you dare go near that goddamn so-and-so, this-and-that, or you can quit right now. Singed my eyebrows. After that, I confess, I was worried enough about Olivia to keep looking. And I’m a damn good researcher. But no luck. I’m pretty sure she said she went to BU Law. Sean thought BC. I tried both. There’s no Olivia Chase enrolled in either one, or any other law school in the greater Boston area, for that matter. She’s not on LinkedIn, Insta, TikTok, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, you name it.”
“Does Chase have the usual spelling?”
“C-H-A-S-E. But I’m warning you. Don’t try to find her.”