No two chairs around the table were of the same type and none were in good repair. Behind the table was an alcove with a computer and the only printer. Scattered around the area were bookshelves, filing cabinets and a sagging couch. Tracy walked past the open area and down a short hall to her office. She found the notes she needed for the memo on the probate issue, turned off the lights in the clerks' area, and walked upstairs to the library.
A footnote in a law review article mentioned some interesting cases.
Tracy wandered around the stacks and found them. They led her to other cases and she became so absorbed in her work that she was surprised to discover it was almost ten o'clock when she was ready to write the memo.
Tracy gathered up her notes and turned off the library lights. Her footsteps echoed on the marble staircase, creating the illusion that someone else was in the building. Tracy laughed at herself. She remembered how jittery she'd been earlier in the evening when she walked across the Willamette campus. What had gotten into her?
Tracy opened the door to the clerks' area and stopped. She was certain all the lights had been off when she went up to the library, but there was a light on in Laura Rizzatti's office. Someone must have come into the building while she was upstairs.
"Laura?" Tracy called out. There was no answer. Tracy strained to hear any sound that would tell her she was not alone.
When she heard nothing, she looked in Laura's office. The drawers of Laura's filing cabinet were open and files were all over the floor.
Transcripts were scattered around. Someone had ransacked the office while Tracy was upstairs in the library.
Tracy reached for the phone to call Laura. The door to the clerks' area closed. Tracy froze for a moment, then darted to the door and pulled it open. There was no one in the hallway. She ran to the back door and looked through the glass. No one was in the parking lot. Tracy tried to calm down. She thought about reporting what had happened to the police. But what had happened?
Laura might have caused the mess in her office. That was not unreasonable, given the state Laura had been in recently. And she might have imagined hearing the door close. After all, she had not seen anyone in the building or the parking lot.
Tracy was too nervous to stay in the deserted courthouse. She decided to leave her notes and write the memo early in the morning. Tracy turned on the lights in the clerks' area and headed for her office. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something under the conference table.
Tracy stopped. A woman's leg stretched out into the light. The rest of the body was hidden in shadow. Tracy knelt down. The body was twisted as if the woman had tried to crawl away from her attacker. Blood ran through the curly black hair. The head was turned so that the dead eyes stared at Tracy.
Tracy choked back a sob and lurched to her feet. She knew she should feel for a pulse, but she could not bring herself to touch Laura Rizzatti's slender wrist. She also knew instinctively that it would make no difference.
The first officers on the scene told Tracy to wait in her office. It was so narrow she could almost touch both walls if she stood sideways.
Above her desk was a bulletin board with a chart of her cases. Next to the desk, on the window side, an old fan perched on top of a metal filing cabinet. Several briefs and some transcripts were stacked neatly on the desk next to a computer.
A slim woman in a powder-blue shirt, tan slacks and a light blue windbreaker walked into the office and held up a badge. She looked like she had been awakened from a deep sleep. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and her shaggy blond hair had an uncombed look.
"I'm Heidi Bricker, a detective with Salem PD."
In Bricker's other hand was a container of hot coffee with a McDonald's logo. She offered it to Tracy. "Can you use this?"
"Thanks," Tracy answered wearily.
Bricker sat down beside Tracy. "Was she a friend."
Tracy nodded.
"It must have been some shock finding the body."
Tracy sipped from the cardboard cup. The coffee was hot and burned the roof of her mouth, but she didn't care. The physical pain was a welcome distraction.
"What were you doing here so late?"
"I clerk for Justice Sherzer. She's working on a case with a complex probate issue and she needed a memo from me on a point of law, first thing in the morning."
"What time did you start working?"
"Around seven-thirty."
"Where were you working?"
"Upstairs in the library."
"Did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary?"
"No. You can't hear anything that's said in the clerks' offices when you're upstairs in the library."
Detective Bricker made some notes in a small spiral notebook, then asked, "Was Laura a clerk?"
Tracy nodded. "For Justice Griffen."
"What did Laura do for Justice Griffen?"
"She researched legal issues being argued before the court, drafted opinions and read Petitions for Review filed by parties who've lost in the Court of Appeals."
"Could she have been murdered because of something she was working on?"
"I can't imagine what. There isn't anything we know that isn't public record."
"Why don't you explain that to me."
"Okay. Let's say you were convicted of a crime or you lost a lawsuit and you didn't think you received a fair trial. Maybe you thought the judge let in evidence she shouldn't have or gave a jury instruction that didn't accurately explain the law. You can appeal. In an appeal, you ask the appellate court to decide if the trial judge screwed up. If the trial judge did make a mistake and it was serious enough to affect the verdict, the appellate court sends the case back for a new trial.
"A court reporter takes down everything that's said in the trial. If you appeal, the court reporter prepares a transcript of the trial that is a word-for-word record of everything that was said. An appeal must be from the record. If someone confesses to a crime after the trial, the confession can't be considered on appeal, because it's not in the record."
"So there's nothing an appellate judge considers that's secret?" Bricker said., "Well, sometimes there are sealed portions of the record, but that's rare. And no one is allowed to tell the public which justice is assigned to write the opinion in a case or what views the justices express in conference. But that wouldn't have anything to do with Laura."
"Then why would someone ransack Laura's office?"
"I don't know. A burglar wouldn't be interested in legal briefs and transcripts. No one except the lawyers and judges involved in a particular case would be interested in them."
"What about jewelry, cash?"
"Laura didn't have much money and I never saw her with any jewelry worth killing for."
"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt her? Did she have a boyfriend, an ex-husband with a grudge?"
"Laura was single. As far as I know, she didn't have a boyfriend. She kept to herself, so there might have been someone I didn't know about, but . . ." Tracy paused.
"Yes?" Bricker asked.
"I feel odd about this."
"About what?"
"Is what I tell you confidential?"
"Our reports have to be revealed to the defense in certain cases, if there's an arrest, but we try to keep confidences."
"I don't know if I . . ."
"Tracy, your friend was murdered. If you know something that could help us catch the killer . . ."
Tracy told Detective Bricker how Laura had been acting and about the incident between Justice Pope and Laura in the library.
"It may have been nothing," Tracy concluded. "Laura never said Pope tried anything, but it was obvious to me he'd made a pass at her."
"Okay. Thanks. If I talk to Justice Pope about this, I won't tell him my source. Can you think of anything else that might help?"