Blow Out
Page 35
“There are a whole lot of people working around the clock to find out who killed your husband, Mrs. Califano.”
“Yes, I would imagine so.” Her voice was quite without emotion, as if she’d simply put a cork in the bottle.
“When Justice Califano went to the Supreme Court Building on Friday night, he said he had something to think about. Please, try to remember, Mrs. Califano. What could it have been? Did you have an argument? Was he worried about some business deal? Something like that?”
She sighed, clasped her hands in her lap. She was very pale. “I’ve already told you three or four times that I can’t think of anything other than that case coming up, the death penalty case in Texas. Also, before you ask again, we didn’t have an argument Friday evening. Sure, we fought occasionally. All couples do, Detective. Aren’t you married?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You should be. You’re old enough.”
“The guards at the Supreme Court thought Justice Califano seemed preoccupied Friday night, something weighing heavily on his mind.” This was a stretch, but worth a try. “You were closer to him than anyone in the world. What was eating at him, ma’am? Please, think.”
She sighed again, fanned her hands in front of her. “Oh, all right. I knew he was upset at Sumner Wallace for, well, for being inappropriate with me, but you already know that, Detective. Yes, my daughter told me that she’d passed it on to you when you were going to interview Justice Wallace. I hope it won’t come out since it has nothing to do with anything, but now I suppose you want to know the rest of it. My husband knew about what Sumner had done as well because I myself told him just last week. He was singing Sumner’s praises about something. I just couldn’t bear the hypocrisy of it, so I told him what Sumner had tried with me.”
“How did he take it?”
“He was angry, as you’d expect. I don’t know if he confronted Sumner about it since he never mentioned it to me again, which surprised me. But I wasn’t about to bring it up. Was he thinking about that on Friday night? I don’t know, Detective Raven.”
“Justice Sumner Wallace denied this, ma’am.”
“Well, naturally. Wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose I would. His wife did as well.”
She shook her head. “Poor Beth. She puts up with a lot from Sumner, and has all their married life. How was he dealing with this?”
“Not well, neither of them were. Two federal marshals were there in the house with them, reassuring I’m sure, but still an invasion of their privacy, and a constant reminder that they might be in danger. Also, since reporters were camped out in their front yard, they felt like prisoners.”
“I so wish Callie weren’t a reporter,” she said. “Doing that to people when they’re in such obvious distress, and then trying to justify it with that idiotic refrain they so quickly toss out—‘the public’s right to know.’ It’s only an excuse, of course.”
Since he agreed with that assessment wholeheartedly, he nodded. “Let me ask you this, Mrs. Califano. Sumner Wallace is not only of an age when he should be settled, he’s a Justice of the Supreme Court. This reputation you’re attributing to him, it seems so unexpected and surprising, so very incompatible with what he’s supposed to be—a reasoned brilliant legal mind, deciding huge issues for our country.”
“Yes, I suppose it would come as an unpleasant surprise, but the fact remains he’s still a man, a man who’s carried on a number of affairs all his adult life. In my experience, particularly in politics, it’s not at all uncommon for men who hold a great deal of power to exploit the women who are drawn to it.”
Ben couldn’t disagree with that, too much evidence to the contrary. He wanted to point out that Justice Wallace also had six grandchildren, but he kept his mouth shut.
“You had no hint that your husband might confront him on Friday, Mrs. Califano?”
“No, no hint at all, like I’ve already told you, Detective. No, wait a moment. Now that I think about it, I did hear Stewart on the phone—not on Friday, but last Wednesday, I think. He wasn’t happy. On the other hand, he wasn’t screaming either. Whether or not he was speaking to Sumner, I can’t say.”
“What did you hear your husband say?”
She was quiet a moment, hands clenching and unclenching in her lap.
“Something about ‘You will stop this immediately, do you hear me?’—along those lines. That’s all I really remember, Detective. His voice, as I said, wasn’t particularly angry.”
“Yes, I would imagine so.” Her voice was quite without emotion, as if she’d simply put a cork in the bottle.
“When Justice Califano went to the Supreme Court Building on Friday night, he said he had something to think about. Please, try to remember, Mrs. Califano. What could it have been? Did you have an argument? Was he worried about some business deal? Something like that?”
She sighed, clasped her hands in her lap. She was very pale. “I’ve already told you three or four times that I can’t think of anything other than that case coming up, the death penalty case in Texas. Also, before you ask again, we didn’t have an argument Friday evening. Sure, we fought occasionally. All couples do, Detective. Aren’t you married?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You should be. You’re old enough.”
“The guards at the Supreme Court thought Justice Califano seemed preoccupied Friday night, something weighing heavily on his mind.” This was a stretch, but worth a try. “You were closer to him than anyone in the world. What was eating at him, ma’am? Please, think.”
She sighed again, fanned her hands in front of her. “Oh, all right. I knew he was upset at Sumner Wallace for, well, for being inappropriate with me, but you already know that, Detective. Yes, my daughter told me that she’d passed it on to you when you were going to interview Justice Wallace. I hope it won’t come out since it has nothing to do with anything, but now I suppose you want to know the rest of it. My husband knew about what Sumner had done as well because I myself told him just last week. He was singing Sumner’s praises about something. I just couldn’t bear the hypocrisy of it, so I told him what Sumner had tried with me.”
“How did he take it?”
“He was angry, as you’d expect. I don’t know if he confronted Sumner about it since he never mentioned it to me again, which surprised me. But I wasn’t about to bring it up. Was he thinking about that on Friday night? I don’t know, Detective Raven.”
“Justice Sumner Wallace denied this, ma’am.”
“Well, naturally. Wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose I would. His wife did as well.”
She shook her head. “Poor Beth. She puts up with a lot from Sumner, and has all their married life. How was he dealing with this?”
“Not well, neither of them were. Two federal marshals were there in the house with them, reassuring I’m sure, but still an invasion of their privacy, and a constant reminder that they might be in danger. Also, since reporters were camped out in their front yard, they felt like prisoners.”
“I so wish Callie weren’t a reporter,” she said. “Doing that to people when they’re in such obvious distress, and then trying to justify it with that idiotic refrain they so quickly toss out—‘the public’s right to know.’ It’s only an excuse, of course.”
Since he agreed with that assessment wholeheartedly, he nodded. “Let me ask you this, Mrs. Califano. Sumner Wallace is not only of an age when he should be settled, he’s a Justice of the Supreme Court. This reputation you’re attributing to him, it seems so unexpected and surprising, so very incompatible with what he’s supposed to be—a reasoned brilliant legal mind, deciding huge issues for our country.”
“Yes, I suppose it would come as an unpleasant surprise, but the fact remains he’s still a man, a man who’s carried on a number of affairs all his adult life. In my experience, particularly in politics, it’s not at all uncommon for men who hold a great deal of power to exploit the women who are drawn to it.”
Ben couldn’t disagree with that, too much evidence to the contrary. He wanted to point out that Justice Wallace also had six grandchildren, but he kept his mouth shut.
“You had no hint that your husband might confront him on Friday, Mrs. Califano?”
“No, no hint at all, like I’ve already told you, Detective. No, wait a moment. Now that I think about it, I did hear Stewart on the phone—not on Friday, but last Wednesday, I think. He wasn’t happy. On the other hand, he wasn’t screaming either. Whether or not he was speaking to Sumner, I can’t say.”
“What did you hear your husband say?”
She was quiet a moment, hands clenching and unclenching in her lap.
“Something about ‘You will stop this immediately, do you hear me?’—along those lines. That’s all I really remember, Detective. His voice, as I said, wasn’t particularly angry.”
