Mistress of Justice

activities.”
    His widow …
    The words stung. Before his death Clayton the man had been hidden beneath Clayton the ruthless aristocrat. That he had a wife—and maybe children or living parents, siblings—was a shock.
    “The newspapers’ll get a watered-down story,” Burdick continued. “I’ve called the public relations company. Bill Stanley’s with them now. They’re preparing a statement. If anybody asks we’ll refer questions to them.” He lowered his head and looked into Reece’s eyes, then Taylor’s. She had the same sense as when she met Reece’s gaze, or Clayton’s. Or her father’s. They drew you in, made you forget who you were, forget your own thoughts. In Burdick’s eyes she saw will and confidence, strong as bronze. Her mind went blank. He asked, “Will you back me on this? If I thought there was anything to be gained by a full disclosure I wouldn’t hesitate to reveal everything. But I can’t see any upside to it.”
    Men of most renowned virtue
.
    Reece said, “I won’t perjure myself, Donald. But I won’t volunteer anything.”
    “Fair enough.” The partner looked at Taylor.
    She nodded. “Sure. I agree.”
    The hairs on the back of her neck stirred.
    Widow …
    Taylor looked into the conference room, inside which Vera Burdick, her gray hair piled on her head in a stately bun, was on the telephone. She glanced back and caught Taylor’s gaze. The woman half-rose and swung the door closed.
    Burdick’s phone rang and he took the call. He mouthed something about its being from someone at City Hall but Taylor was preoccupied. She was seeing in hermind’s eye the real suicide note, tucked away in Burdick’s desk. She vaguely heard Burdick speaking to the caller in a low, reassuring tone. She watched his long, jowly face, carefully shaved, his sparse gray hair brushed into precise alignment.
    And Taylor Lockwood thought: What the hell had she been doing all along? What did she
think
would happen when she fingered the thief? Had she ever considered the consequences?
    Never once.
    Renowned virtue
.
    Burdick hung up the receiver and nodded with satisfaction. “I think we’ll get away with it.”
    Taylor tried to figure out what he meant.
    “The Medical Examiner’s office is going to rule the death suicide. The AG agrees. And we can keep our other suicide note private.”
    Reece blurted an astonished laugh. “The ME ruled
already?”
    Burdick nodded then looked at Taylor and Reece with a vaguely ominous gaze, which she interpreted as: Don’t be too curious about this.
    The partner looked at his watch. He held out his hand to Reece, then to Taylor, who first wanted to wipe her palm. It was damp as a washcloth; Burdick’s was completely dry.
    “You two get some rest. You’ve been through a hellish week. If you want any personal time I’ll arrange it. Won’t come out of your vacation or sick leave. Are you busy now?”
    Reece walked toward the door. “I’ve got the Hanover settlement closing in Boston next week. That’s the only thing on the front burner.”
    “You, Ms. Lockwood?”
    “No, nothing,” she replied, still numb.
    “Then take some time off. In fact, I’d urge you to. Might be best.”
    Taylor nodded and began to speak but hesitated. Shewas waiting for some significant thought to arrive, some phrase that neatly summarized what had just happened.
    Nothing occurred; her mind had jammed.
    Get away with it?
    “Oh, Mitchell,” Burdick said, smiling, as if the suicide no longer occupied even a portion of his thoughts.
    Reece turned.
    “Congratulations on the Hanover settlement,” the partner said. “I myself would have settled for seventy cents on the dollar. That’s why you’re a litigator and I’m not.”
    He rose and walked to the small conference room, where his wife awaited him. Burdick didn’t open the door right away, though. He waited, Taylor noticed, until she and Reece had left the office.

     
    They walked in silence to the paralegal pen.
    Everyone in the corridors seemed to be staring at her. As if they knew the part she’d played in the partner’s death.
    Near her cubicle, in a place where the hall was empty, Reece took her by the arm. He bent down and whispered, “I know how you feel, Taylor. I know how
I
feel. But this wasn’t our fault. There’s no way we could’ve anticipated this.”
    She said nothing.
    He continued, “Even if the police’d been involved the same thing would’ve happened.”
    “I know,” she said in a