Carolyn Keene - Trial By Fire

“This isn’t exactly a social call,” Nancy said.

“I know. But be kind to him. He’s a good man.”

He had been, once, Nancy thought. Now she wasn’t so sure.

She hesitated. What about talking to the police? She should do it-but the man who had abducted her was probably long gone. She had better see the judge while he was willing.

She was leaving the kitchen when the housekeeper’s voice stopped her.

“Nancy, your father. Tell him Katie O’Hara sends her regards, will you?”

Nancy responded with a smile of gratitude and headed for the library.

At her first sight of Jonathan Renk, her heart lurched. He looked terrible sitting behind his desk. A small man normally, the judge seemed to have shrunk to be only a miniature of his former self. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his skin looked slack and loose, like an old suit grown large because its owner had been dieting.

He didn’t see her enter, but he must have sensed her presence because his chin came up sharply. But then he relaxed. There was a hint of a smile on his thin lips. “Oh, it’s you, Nancy. Come in, come in. I always forget how much you look like your mother.”

Nancy needed no reminder of how far back his friendship with the Drews went. “Thank you for seeing me, Uncle Jon,” she said softly. “Mrs. O’Hara told me you aren’t feeling well, so I’ll try not to be long.”

“I’d be grateful. I was about to go upstairs.”

Taking a deep breath, Nancy searched for a way to begin. “Uncle Jon, I-I realize that you would have to report a bribery attempt, but-”

“I should have known you’d appreciate my predicament,” the judge said, a trace of his old spark appearing. “Our system of justice is under attack from all sides, all sides. We on the bench are obligated to-”

“Excuse me,” Nancy said, interrupting him. “I meant that I wouldn’t expect you to do anything else. But please tell me that no matter how it looks, you know my dad would never stoop to bribery.”

The skin around his mouth tightened. “You can’t know what a person will do until you’ve carried his burden, sat in his place.”

“But-”

“I will say that Carson has always represented the best of his generation in the protection of our laws.”

“And that hasn’t changed. You know how dedicated he is. He would never bribe anyone, Uncle Jon. He’s innocent!”

The judge, dwarfed behind the massive desk, nodded wearily. “Then there’s no need to worry. It’ll be proven in a court of law. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m very tired. It’s been a bad week. My Martha was buried a year ago yesterday, you know.”

Nancy was startled. She hadn’t realized it had been a year since the judge’s wife died. But she couldn’t let him go yet. “Wait, please, Uncle Jon. Just a minute more.”

“He pushed himself to his feet, supporting himself on the edges of the desk. “There’s nothing more to be said.”

“Uncle Jon, please! It was someone else’s voice, someone imitating him on that tape!”

“Tape?” For a second the judge’s eyes were vague and unfocused.

“I’m sure a voice analysis will prove it wasn’t my father, but in the meantime, his reputation will be…” Nancy broke off and stared at him, a funny feeling creeping up the back of her neck. “You do tape your calls?”

“I-” Judge Renk seemed confused, uncertain. “Yes. No matter. It was definitely Carson’s voice. He called me the day before yesterday, and-”

“When?” The judge’s statement had triggered a memory-her father grumbling about a one-hour morning meeting that had lasted until almost ten o’clock that night. “I even had lunch and dinner brought in,” Carson Drew had said. “I was in that room so long, I got cabin fever.”

“You say he called you the day before yesterday, Uncle Jon? But I know he was in a meeting from eight-thirty in the morning until ten at night.”

“Then he must have called during a break.” He spoke hurriedly, as if he were running out of breath. “That’s it, during a break.”

“What time was it?”

“I-I don’t remember exactly. I’ll have to think about it. I-” Frowning, he rubbed his forehead. “Maybe it was the day before that.”

Nancy felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach as the beginning of a very unpleasant and unexpected suspicion began to filter through her mind.

“I’ll have to check,” the judge was saying. “I-” Suddenly his voice failed, and he shook his head. “Carson doesn’t deserve this.”

It came so softly that Nancy almost missed it. “ ‘Doesn’t deserve…’ This is a frameup, and you’re a part of it, aren’t you?” Suddenly she knew it for certain, and the realization left her stunned. “You made the bribery accusation, knowing it wasn’t true!”

The judge tried to bristle, but it didn’t work. “I won’t be talked to like this,” he said, blustering.

Darting behind the desk, Nancy leaned over him. “You lied, Uncle Jon! Why? Why? ”

“Please, you don’t understand.”

“Oh, Uncle Jon! What would Aunt Martha say if she knew? She used to say my dad was like a son to her! So did you! Yet you’re trying to ruin him! He’ll be disbarred, go to prison-”

“It won’t come to that. I won’t let it.”

“We were almost killed last night! Ann Granger and my father and me-because we were with her! Her car was rigged to explode when she opened the door. She’s in the hospital right now.”

“No,” the judge whispered.

“And about an hour ago a man tried to kidnap me. It was going to be a swap-my life for the name of Ann Granger’s contact!”

The judge’s face was pale. “They wouldn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t they? They are capable of anything! It’s up to you to stop them! You, protector of our system of laws!”

With his own words used as a weapon against him, the judge seemed to collapse. “No more, Nancy. I swear to you I never thought it would go this far, never thought-” He dabbed at his forehead. “Get the police, Nancy. I’ll do what has to be done.”

Nancy’s sense of triumph was muted by a deep sadness. One of her childhood idols had crumbled before her eyes. “There’s a squad car out front,” she said softly. “I’ll ask one of the officers to come in.” She hurried from the room, afraid lie would change his mind.

Crossing the marble foyer, Nancy heard footsteps. Mrs. O’Hara was just at the entrance to the library, a tray of covered dishes in her hand. “I’ll be right back,” Nancy called to the housekeeper.

“Hurry, then. It’s soup, nice and hot.”

As Nancy opened the front door, a shot shattered the silence behind her. She whirled around. Mrs. O’Hara, one foot across the threshold to the library, dropped the tray. Heavy soup bowls and spoons went flying-the crockery shattering and soup splattering everywhere.

Then the housekeeper screamed, a wail of horror that ricocheted against the paneled walls and pierced Nancy’s heart with dread.

Mrs. O’Hara turned toward her, eyes wide and horrified. “Oh, Nancy! The judge has shot himself!”

The next time Nancy looked at her watch, it was four forty-five, and the judge’s body was being carried out the front door. Mrs. O’Hara had been mistaken. Jonathan Renk had not fired the weapon himself. A neat round hole in the window behind him made it clear that he had been shot from outside. And proof of Carson Drew’s innocence had died with him.

The house and grounds were swarming with police. Nancy felt as if she had been there for days. She had told three different officers what happened in minute detail. She had also been fingerprinted to eliminate her prints from the others in the room, even though it was obvious the shot had come from outdoors.