Free Supreme Justice by Phillip Margolin Page A

for the assault and kept coming back to the same one. The only odd things that had happened recently were Millard Price’s overreaction during the discussion of the Woodruff case and the attempts by two of Price’s law clerks to pump Brad Miller for inside information on her vote, but Felicia couldn’t believe that someone would kill her to prevent cert from being granted in a case.
    On the other hand, she really didn’t know much about Woodruff’s case other than the fact that the petitioner was facing execution in Oregon and that the most interesting legal issue concerned the state-secrets privilege, something she knew little about. Was it possible that Millard Price had some connection to the case? Felicia shook her head. Even if he did, it was absurd to think that her friend and colleague would try to kill her because of it. But as absurd as her theory was, Felicia couldn’t shake the idea that she might be on to something. What to do, though? There was no way she could conduct an investigation personally. A Supreme Court justice was not allowed to go outside the record in a case that was before the Court. Even if she was permitted to play private eye, she didn’t have the time or energy. Felicia smiled as a thought occurred to her. She couldn’t play at being Sam Spade, but she knew someone who knew a real-life private eye.

Chapter Sixteen
    Brad called Ginny just before he left for home and gave her a bare-bones sketch of what had happened. Ginny watched the evening news, and Brad was afraid she’d worry when she heard about the attempt on Justice Moss. The judge was concerned that her assailant might want revenge on Brad for foiling his plans, so she arranged for a policeman to drive him home and guard his apartment. When Brad opened the door, Ginny threw her arms around him, which balanced all the awful things that had happened but caused excruciating pain in his ribs where he’d been punched. Brad winced and Ginny backed off.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “My ribs. They’re a little sore.”
    A policeman followed Brad inside.
    “This is Officer Gross of the Supreme Court police,” Brad explained. “He’s going to watch the apartment tonight. Officer Gross, this is my fiancée, Ginny Striker.”
    “Ma’am,” Gross said.
    “Why do we need a police guard?”
    Brad decided to fudge the truth. “I don’t think we do, but Justice Moss insisted. I think she wanted to protect us if reporters came around. The Court frowns on clerks speaking to the press.”
    Officer Gross made a cursory inspection of the apartment before borrowing a kitchen chair to sit on in the hall.
    “Are you really OK?” Ginny asked as soon as the door of their apartment closed. She had noticed the large Band-Aid on Brad’s chin and remembered Brad’s reaction to her hug.
    “Honestly, the cut on my chin didn’t need stitches, and my ribs aren’t broken.”
    “I was so worried when I heard the news. It said a clerk had been injured but the reporter didn’t name him. Then you didn’t come home on time.”
    “I’m sorry you were worried.” Brad pulled Ginny back to him and held her tight. “The person who attacked Justice Moss is probably a nut case.”
    “I just can’t stand the idea of you being in danger.”
    “Well, I’m not.” Brad pushed Ginny to arm’s length. “Now enough of this mushy stuff. Is there anything I can eat? I’m starving.”
    While Ginny heated up some takeout Chinese, Brad told her about the incident in the garage.
    “You idiot,” Ginny blurted out when Brad told her how he’d rushed the killer. “What were you thinking?’
    Brad looked down, unable to meet Ginny’s eye. “I wasn’t. I just did it,” he answered meekly.
    “God, I hate this. I thought we were through with guns and killers.”
    “We are, believe me. They’ll find out this guy is a member of some right-wing fringe group that hates African Americans or liberals. I was never the target.”
    The microwave dinged. Brad carried