Blowout

the fact that two federal marshals were standing in front of the gate, guns at their belts, legs spread. They could hear him shouting after them, probably something about the freedom of the press. The gate closed smoothly behind them. Still, the guy stood there, shaking his fist at the exhaust of the Crown Vic.
    Ben parked in front of a sprawling white one-story house with a porch all along the front. He could imagine sitting on this porch in the summer, maybe drinking a beer, listening to his hair grow. Justice Xavier-Foxx answered the front door herself, greeted them politely, gave a cursory look at Ben’s I.D., then ushered them into a long narrow entrance hall, where they removed their coats and scarves. Then she led them into the living room. Ben sighed with pleasure as he paused in the arched doorway. It was a long, deep room with a very old floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace, beamed ceilings, lots of homey, oversized furniture that looked like you’d sink to China when you sat down, and Persian carpets scattered over the shining wide oak-planked floor.
    “You have a beautiful home, ma’am.”
    “Thank you. Callie, what a pleasure to see you. I’m so very sorry about Stewart.” She pulled Callie into her deep bosom and patted the back of her head. Callie nearly burst into tears. It was close, but she held it in. She felt Justice Xavier-Foxx’s steady strong heartbeat, felt the warmth from her solid body, breathed in her rose scent. She was well into her sixties now, but solid and fit, her hair flat against her head, in her signature tight thick chignon. Callie slowly pulled back in her arms and looked into her beautiful dark eyes, liquid with tears.
    “Thank you,” she said, and knew tears were thick in her own voice. “It’s difficult.”
    “I know. It is for all of us. This has been such a shock, such a terrible thing. Come along and sit down. We’ll all talk, try to figure something out about this madness.”
    She gave them mugs of coffee and pointed to a tray. Ben saw a covered plate on the tray beside the coffee. The Justice made no move to uncover it. It had been a long time since his bowl of Wheaties.
    “You’re not an FBI agent. That surprises me, Detective Raven.”
    “I’m with Washington, D.C., Metro, working with the FBI. What we need, ma’am, is as much information as you can give us about Justice Califano—his daily routine, his likes, dislikes, how he related to other Justices, and other staff, anything you can think of.”
    She sat back and crossed her legs. She took a sip of coffee. “We are a conservative Court, Detective, six to three is the normal voting pattern. However, depending on the case, Stewart and I are the ones who will swing toward the liberal side. There are three Justices who make up the core of the liberal wing—Justice Alto-Thorpe, Justice Bloomberg, and Justice Samuels. Justice Samuels is eighty-two, swears he won’t retire because the President would appoint another conservative. Frankly, he’s getting senile, plus he has a heart condition. Once a law clerk found a Playboy magazine sitting on top of his desk, which has led to a good deal of awe and admiration among the law clerks. I’m telling you about Justice Samuels because he openly detested Stewart’s stand on many issues. He was always accusing him of being a Neanderthal in a black robe, which gave everyone a big laugh, including Stewart.
    “On the conservative side are Chief Justice Abrams, Justice Spiros, Justice Gutierrez, Justice Wallace, Justice Califano, and me, although again, Stewart and I were the ones most often seduced by the Dark Side.” This was said with a chuckle, and both Ben and Callie laughed.
    Ben said, “It sounds like there’s constant maneuvering, ma’am.”
    “Oh yes, always. However, regardless of our political leanings, all of us love to delve into arguments; we love to dissect words, how and why they’re being used, the legal underpinnings and rationales. We’re accused of spending most of our time studying the nuances of our navels, and perhaps this is true, in part. We spend hours alone. There is voluminous reading, studying, and just plain thinking time. We have only two formal meetings a week, Wednesday and Friday. Much of our communication is done through various sorts of memos, my own personal favorite being the ‘I Join’ memo. This means, simply, that one Justice is notifying another Justice that he or she is willing to come onboard in a particular