Джон Гришэм - The Judge’s List

“And something we’re not equipped to do, right?” Sadelle asked.

“No, but we’ve known that from the beginning. Let’s keep plugging away.”

Darren asked, “So, when do we go to the police?”

“Soon.”

The two detectives from the state police pushed the doorbell at exactly 8:00 a.m., as requested. They wore dark suits, drove a dark car, had matching dark aviator sunglasses, and anyone watching from a hundred yards away would know immediately that they were cops of some variety.

They had been summoned to the home of a circuit court judge, an unusual occasion. They had met many judges, but always in their courtrooms, never in their homes.

Judge Bannick was all smiles as he led them into his spacious kitchen and poured two cups of coffee. On the table was a single white, legal-size envelope, addressed to the judge at the home where they were now standing. He pointed at it and said, “It arrived in the mail on Saturday, here at the house, the box by the front door. The third one in a week. Each contained a letter typewritten by an obviously deranged person. I’ll keep the letters to myself for the time being. This third one is by far the most threatening. When I saw this one, after touching and opening the first two, I was more careful. I put on gloves and touched it and the letter as little as possible. I’m sure the postman touched all three of them.”

Lieutenant Ohler said, “Probably so.”

“Who knows what you’ll find, but there will likely be prints from my mailman, none from me, and, if we’re lucky, something left behind by this crazy person.”

“Sure, Judge.”

Lieutenant Dobbs pulled out a plastic bag and carefully shoved the envelope inside. He said, “We’ll get right on this. Mind if we ask how urgent it is?”

“How serious is the threat?” Ohler asked.

“Well, I’m not going to pack a gun when I leave the house, but it would certainly be nice to know who’s behind this.”

“Anybody come to mind?” Dobbs asked.

“Not really. I mean, there are always a few crazies writing letters to every judge, but no one specific.”

“Good. We’ll drive it to the crime lab today. We’ll know by tomorrow if there are any good prints. If so, then we’ll try to match them.”

“Thanks, gentlemen.”

As they drove away, Ohler mused, “Do you wonder why he didn’t show us the three letters?”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Dobbs replied. “Obviously he doesn’t want anyone to see the letters.”

“And the other two envelopes?”

“He touched them and they’re likely to have his prints.”

“And we have his prints, right?”

“Sure. Every lawyer is printed before he gets a license.”

Seconds passed as they left the gated community. On the highway, Ohler asked, “What are the chances of finding any useful prints on the envelope?”

“I’d say zero. Nuts who send anonymous mail are smart enough to use gloves and take other precautions. Not rocket science.”

Ohler said, “I gotta hunch.”

“Great. Another hunch. Let’s hear it.”

“He knows who it is.”

“Based on what?”

“Based on nothing. It’s a hunch. Hunches don’t have to be based on anything.”

“Especially yours.”

—

An hour later, Judge Bannick parked in his reserved space beside the Chavez County Courthouse and walked through the rear doors. He spoke to Rusty and Rodney, the ancient twin janitors, as always attired in matching overalls, and he took the back staircase to the second floor where he had ruled supremely for the past ten years. He said good morning to his staff and asked Diana Zhang, his longtime secretary and only true confidant, to join him in his office. He closed the door, asked her to have a seat, then said, gravely, “Diana, I have some terrible news. I’ve been diagnosed with colon cancer, stage four, and it doesn’t look good.”

She was too stunned to respond. She gasped and immediately began wiping her eyes.

“I have a fighting chance, plus there are always miracles.”

She managed to ask, “When did you find out?” She looked at him through the tears and once again realized how tired and gaunt he seemed.

“About a month ago. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking to doctors all over the country and I’ve decided to pursue an alternative treatment through a clinic in New Mexico. That’s all I can tell you right now. I have informed Chief Judge Habberstam that I am taking a sixty-day leave of absence, beginning today. He will reassign my cases for the time being. You and the others will remain on full salary, without a lot to do.” He managed a smile, but she was too shocked to return it.

“Things should be much quieter around here for the next two months. I’ll check in all the time and make sure you’re doing well.”

Diana was at a loss. He had no wife, no children, no one she could run to with food and gifts and sympathy. She mumbled, “Will you be here or out there?”

“Back and forth. As I said, I’ll be in touch and you can call me anytime. I’ll pop in here to check on you. If I die it won’t be for a few more months.”

“Stop it!”

“Okay, okay. I’m not dying anytime soon, but it might be a struggle for the next few months. I want you to contact all my lawyers and inform them that their cases will be taken up by other judges. If they ask why, just say it’s an illness. After I leave in a few minutes, please inform the others. I’d rather not face them.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“I can’t either. But life isn’t fair, is it?”

He left her sobbing and made a quick exit without another word. He drove to a GM dealership in Pensacola where he swapped vehicles and leased a new Chevrolet Tahoe. He signed the pile of paperwork, wrote a check for the balance, one from his many accounts, and waited as they screwed his old license plates onto his new SUV. He detested the silver color but, as always, wanted something that would blend in.

He settled into the soft leather seat and absorbed the rich new car smell. He fiddled with the GPS, ran through the apps, hooked up his phone, and drove away, heading west on Interstate 10. His phone pinged — a text from another judge. He read it on the large media screen: Judge Bannick. Sorry to hear the news. I’m here if you need me. Take care. TA.

Another ping, another message. Word was spreading quickly through the district’s legal circles and by noon every lawyer, secretary, clerk, and fellow judge would know that he was ill and taking leave.

He had no patience for those who used bad health to their advantage. He hated the fiction of an illness to cover his tracks. As an elected official he would be on the ballot again in two years, but he would not allow himself to worry about politics. Being stricken with cancer might embolden a possible opponent to start making plans, but he could deal with that later. For now, it was imperative that he stay out of sight, go about the tasks at hand, get his pursuer off his back, and possibly dodge an investigation by the Board on Judicial Conduct. He chuckled at the idea of such a tiny agency trying to solve murders that veteran cops had all but abandoned years ago. Ms. Stoltz and her motley crew operated with a shrinking budget and a few toothless statutes.

From the tally of those he’d murdered, there were almost seventy victims, all related by blood or marriage. He had considered each one and eliminated all but five, with four of those considered unlikely. He was convinced he had found his tormentor. She was a woman with many secrets, an extremely private person who thought she was too smart for hackers.

Though Mobile was not far away, he had spent little time there and did not know the city. He had driven through it a hundred times but could not remember the last time he had stopped for any reason.