Blowout

the party Margaret gives every year. She invites all the A-list people, and Stewart has to approve the list. The A-list gets turned on its head whenever there’s a change of party after an election. As both of you know, it’s a crazy town. Only the Justices get to be carried out in coffins, or choose to retire, depending on their personal political leanings, and who is in office at the time.
    “Most of the Justices don’t socialize much with politicians, or with the big society hostesses in Washington. They tend to be private. Those who are like-minded or enjoy each other’s company spend some time together socially, but not all that often. They have such different interests, like Justice Xavier-Foxx’s family horse farm. Justice Gutierrez has this incredible instinct for finance. Rich and very private, is Justice Gutierrez. Happily married, lots of kids and grandkids. Good man. Good brain. He loves sailing and crabbing, knows every square inch of the Chesapeake.”
    Savich drew her back. “So Justice Califano is in his office thinking about something. From a quarter of nine until ten-thirty a.m.—that’s a long time for him to be alone, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, now that I think about it. Usually I’d be in and out, as would Danny and Fleurette, or the secretaries, but no, the door to his inner office was shut tight.”
    “Why, Eliza? You knew him well, what could it be?”
    She paused, stared down at the thick gray socks on her feet, and said finally, “I would never mention such a private thing to anyone, but I suspect you already know. I think it could have involved Justice Sumner Wallace. Stewart wasn’t happy about having Justice Wallace in his home, even though he knew Margaret had to invite both him and his wife to this party, but you see, Justice Wallace hit on Margaret, and she finally told Stewart about it last week. It pissed Stewart off, which, when you think about it, is pretty ironic since he was sleeping with me.” Eliza shrugged, looked away from Savich a moment—was it out of guilt, embarrassment, resentment? “The fact is that Stewart loved his wife, loved his stepdaughter, Callie Markham. I was in third place, and I knew it, but it didn’t matter.”
    “You sound very philosophical about this, Eliza. You loved him, he loved you, but there was no future for you.”
    She shrugged, her eyes still on Savich’s face. “I think he loved my brain as much as my youth, if you would know the truth. Did I love him? A man old enough to be my father? Well, there was an allure in sleeping with a Justice of the Supreme Court, at least I know myself well enough to have realized that from the beginning. He was a powerful man, it nearly came out of his pores. And confidence, he was loaded with it. But yes, I did love him. I tried to help him, to protect him, to smooth things out for him. Did he love me enough to leave Margaret? There was no way that would happen. No, it would have ended when I left. In my saner moments, I realized it, accepted it. I love the high-pressure life in the Court, and I loved learning from him. He helped me see the law as a tool of the nation. I hope to God that I gave him my best in return.”
    “Back up to Friday morning, Eliza. You haven’t gotten him off to the meeting yet. Okay, his door was closed, and that was pretty rare, having the door closed that long, right?”
    “Well, at some point he stuck his head out, asked Fleurette something. I know, it was an ‘I Join’ memo from Justice Spiros. It was a bussing issue in Alabama, and Justice Spiros wanted Stewart on board. Then he just nodded to us and went back into his inner office. He didn’t close the door all the way this time. He must have left it cracked open, like he did most of the time, because I heard him speaking on the phone. It was after ten, must have been. I don’t know who he was talking to. He didn’t ask either of the secretaries to call anyone for him.
    “The doors are pretty solid, so even if the door is open a bit, it’s still private enough inside the office. Of course there are people all over the place outside. There are the tours, not that they come all that close, but you can usually hear people talking. And the Supreme Court Police are everywhere. Always noise, but in his inner office, with the door completely closed, you’d feel like you were in another world. Several dark leather sofas and chairs arranged in small groupings. Of course, there’s a big conference table for