THAT NIGHT, a little after nine o’clock as Pepper was getting ready to leave, she thought of what Crispus had said and thought to stick her head in Hardwether’s office on the way out and say… whatever.
His outer office was empty, the clerks and secretaries gone. But she saw light under the door to his inner office. She knocked softly. No answer. Knocked again. No answer. Opened the door. The lights were on, but no CJ. The door leading from his inner office to the justices’ conference room was ajar. She walked over, opened it, and saw an arresting sight: the Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court standing on the conference table, a rope around his neck, in the process of fastening the other end to an overhead light fixture. He turned and saw Pepper. The two Supreme Court justices stared at each other.
“Uh,” Pepper said. “Am I interrupting?”
“As it happens,” Hardwether said, “yes.”
“I could come back. But…”
“Thank you. If you’d please close the door behind you?”
Pepper said, “Could I ask you a question?”
“If it’s brief.”
“Is this a cry for help or are you actually fixing to hang yourself?”
“Justice Cartwright,” he said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but if I could have the room? Thank you. As you can see, I’m occupied.”
“I can see that,” Pepper said. She turned and walked a few steps to the door, stopped. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Then don’t.”
“Thing is, if I were to leave, I’d be guilty of aiding and abetting a felony. Suicide’s a crime in DC. I’m already paying one lawyer to handle my divorce and another to handle a breach of contract suit. I can’t afford a third one. Not on what this place pays.”
“No,” the Chief Justice replied. “You’re perfectly in the clear. You’ve committed no act in support of the sui… of the deed. Absent said support, you would be guilty only if there were a relational obligation. Absent relational obligation-there being none here-you’re quite blameless. I would remind you that there is no ‘duty to rescue.’ ”
“There’s a moral duty, surely,” Pepper said.
“We’re not talking about moral duty, Justice. We’re talking about law.”
“Right,” Pepper said. “Sorry.”
“It’s well established under case law that, for instance, even if you were an expert swimmer you would be blameless for failing to save a drowning person. While I am not aware of any case where the drowning person was attempting to commit su… was attempting to sink, the larger principle, developed in cases of accidental drownings, is equally applicable. So, you see. No problem. Good night, Justice.”
Pepper said thoughtfully, “I disagree.”
Chief Justice Hardwether said with annoyance, “On what grounds?”
“I believe,” Pepper said, “that because of our employment relationship, that is as coworkers-if you will-that there is clear duty to care and that I am thus obligated to… well, do something.”
“No, no, no.” The Chief Justice shook his head. “Duty to care extends only to employer-employee relationships. As Chief Justice, I am your superior-if you will. The hierarchically subordinate individual is under no obligation to rescue the person in the hierarchically superior position. Zerbo v. Fantelli. The Court made it perfectly clear that it is only the hierarchically superior person who has the obligation to rescue the hierarchical inferior. So, if you would shut the door behind you?”
“There’s a problem,” Pepper said.
“For God’s sake, Justice. What problem?”
“You’re construing too narrowly.”
“Pepper-I’m the Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court!”
“Be that as it may, sir, duty to care runs both ways. See Farquar v. Simpson. And anyway, as a simple matter of constitutional law, the Chief Justice is most appropriately regarded as primus inter pares. [24] So,” Pepper said brightly, “duty to care clearly obtains here. We’re coworkers.”
The Chief Justice’s head sagged. “Could you just please… go?”
“All right,” Pepper said, “okay. But you’re going about this all wrong.”
“We’ve been through all that, Justice.”
“I’m talking about the knot. You call that a hangman’s knot?”
“I… Pepper…”
“I know how to tie one, if you want. I was taught how when I was eight. By an actual hangman. Friend of my granddaddy’s.”
Hardwether stared. “All right,” he grumbled. “Jesus. Whatever.”
Pepper went over and took off her shoes.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“Trying not to scuff the table. Not that you cared. Look at those marks.”
“Would you just proceed, please?”
“No need to get aggervated,” Pepper said. She took the rope off his neck. “Where’d you get this? Looks like clothesline…”
Chief Justice Hardwether groaned. “If you’d please just tie the knot.”
“All right. See, you take a length so, make your loop, then double it back-”
“I don’t need to learn how. I’m not going to be doing this a second time.”
“Didn’t they teach this in Boy Scouts? Or were you getting your merit badge in library science or some wimpy thing? There…” She handed it to him, a perfect hangman’s knot. “You better put it on yourself,” she said. “Legal-wise.”
He put it around his neck.
“You’d think a judge would know how to make a hangman’s knot,” she said.
“I’m against capital punishment,” he said. “Perhaps you read any of my eight opinions?”
“I read ’em,” Pepper said. “Now, you want the knot against the side, there, not the back. How much you weigh?”
“What?”
“Do you want to do this right, or you want to strangle to death slowly with your tongue sticking out black and blue and-”
“One seventy-five,” Hardwether snapped.
“All right then,” Pepper said. “Hm.”
“What now?”
“We’d need at least a four-foot drop for a good clean snap.”
“I’ll work with what we have. Thank you, Justice.”
“It’s your funeral,” Pepper shrugged, climbing down off the polished table. “Only now,” she added pensively, “we got a definite problem.”
“What?” the CJ said.
“Now I am an accessory. You die, I go to jail. That’s not a satisfactory outcome from my point of view.”
“For God’s sake,” the Chief Justice moaned.
“Tell you what,” Pepper said. “Why don’t you come down off there. We’ll go over to the library, rustle us up a couple of real sharp clerks, see if maybe we can’t find a loophole. If there is, then off you go and we’re done.”
Chief Justice Hardwether stepped forward as he raised his finger to gesture. As he did, his shoe slipped on the polished surface of the conference table. He pitched forward, the rope pulling taut against his throat. Pepper lunged forward as he crashed to the floor in a heap. He looked up at Pepper with a mixture of surprise, confusion, and betrayal, holding his abraded neck where the rope had been.
“Slipknot,” she said half apologetically. “Escape clause. Hangman taught me that, too.”
Hardwether made a hoarse sound.
“You want to go get some coffee or something? Valium? Crisis counseling? I believe it’s covered under our health plan.”
“A drink,” the Chief Justice croaked.
THEY WALKED TO THE PORK BARREL, a bar on Capitol Hill frequented by congressional staffers, low-end lobbyists, and Vietnam veteran bikers. Hardwether ordered a double Scotch; Pepper tequila.