“Can’t say that I do, but if you put it in, it’s there.”
“It’s there. If you’re not Johann, then you have to be Eunice. It’s an ‘either-or’ “ (Nope! It’s both.) (Eunice, this is going to be fun?) (I think so, too, Boss.)
The part of his chambers selected by Judge McCampbell was a comfortable lounge. Once in it he looked around.
“Mmm . . . Jake, Ned, Miss Smith, Alec, Mrs. Seward, Mrs. Frabish, you”re Mrs. Crampton, aren’t you?—Mrs. Lopez. Parkinson, how the devil did you get in here?”
“Amicus curiae, Your Honor.”
“You’re no friend of this Court and you don’t belong here.”
“But—”
“Will you walk or would you rather be thrown out?” Parkinson elected to walk. When the door sealed behind him, the Judge said, “Sperling, set that thing so I can record when I feel like it, then you can leave. Alec, you look as if you were all set to object.”
“Me? Oh, not at all, Judge.”
“Good. Because we’re going to cut through the fog on this silly business. Who needs a fog cutter?” The Judge stepped to a corner bar. “Alec? Gin and tonic as usual?”
“Thanks Judge.”
“I’m forgetting the ladies. Mrs. Seward? Something with alcohol? Or coffee? This machine will make tea, too, if I can remember which buttons to push,. And how about your sister? And your cousins? Miss Smith? I recall what you used to order at the Gib some years back. Are your tastes the same now?”
(Watch it, Boss! It’s loaded.) (Relax, Eunice.) “Judge, with a new body my tastes have changed in some respects. But I remember fondly Glen Grant on the rocks—back before my doctors put a stop to it. But I haven’t tasted anything with that much authority since those days, and, since this is a competency hearing, I’ll settle for coffee. Or a Coke, if you can twist its tail for that.”
The Judge rubbed his nose and looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure it’s a competency hearing until we settle this matter of identity. Jake could have told you about Glen Grant. The idea of Johann Smith ordering a Coke shakes me.”
Joan smiled at him. “I know—hardly seems in character. My doctors made me quit carbonated drinks long before they made me give up whisky. Back about the time you entered law school. If I’m Johann Smith, that is. If I’m not, I’ll ask to be excused—as in that case I’m not a ward of the Court and shouldn’t be here. Isn’t that correct?”
McCampbell looked still more thoughtful. “Jake, do you want to caution your client? No, not your ‘client,’ your—no, not that either. Blessed if I know what you are; that’s what we’ve got to find out. Young lady, sit down and I’ll fetch you a Coke. Alec, get drink orders from your four ladies and serve them. Jake, you and Ned serve yourselves—Alec and I have a date with some fish in Nova Scotia tomorrow morning and I’ll be switched if I’ll keep fish waiting over a surprise turn in this hearing. Alec, confound your Irish soul, are you seriously questioning the identity of this young lady?”
“Well—Judge, are you going to talk about contempt if I suggest that your question is not properly put?”
McCampbell sighed. “Young lady, pay no attention to him. He was my roommate in college and gives me a bad time whenever he comes into my court. Someday I’m going to give him thirty days to think it over—and about four-thirty tomorrow morning I’m going to trip him into some very cold water. Accidentally.”
“Do that, Mac, and I’ll sue. In Canada.”
“I know he was your roommate, Judge; you were both ‘Big Greens’—Dartmouth seventy-eight, was it not? Why not let him ask me questions and find out for himself who I am?”
Mrs. Seward said shrilly, “That’s not the way to go about it! First you must take the fingerprints of that—that
impostor—and—”
“Mrs. Seward!”
“Yes, Judge? I was just going to say—”
“Shut up!”
Mrs. Seward shut up. Judge McCampbell went on, “Madam, simply because it suits me to be informal in my chambers do not think that this is not a court in session or that I would not find you in contempt. I would enjoy it. Alec, you had better convince her of that.”