“It’s okay. I know what you mean.” Suddenly all of Fiske’s attention was trained on a pair of people walking toward him. His focus, actually, was on only one. Despite her obvious physical attractiveness, the woman looked, Fiske concluded, like the tomboy next door. Someone you could play touch football or chess with. And end up losing.
Sara Evans eyed Fiske. She had seen him come into the building earlier and guessed what he was here for. She had stayed close by in case they needed one of the clerks to talk to. That’s why Perkins had “found” her so quickly. She stopped directly in front of Fiske, causing Perkins to abruptly do the same.
“Oh,” he said, “John Fiske, this is Sara Evans.”
“You’re Michael’s brother?”
“Let me guess, he never mentioned me,” said Fiske.
“As a matter of fact, he did.”
They shared a firm handshake. The whites of her eyes were smudged with red, as was the tip of her nose. Her voice sounded tired. Fiske noted that she clutched a handkerchief in her other hand. He had the feeling they had met before.
“I’m very, very sorry about Michael,” she said.
“Thank you. It came as a tremendous shock.” Fiske blinked. Was there something in her eyes when he said that? Something that said it wasn’t all that shocking to her?
Perkins looked at Wright. “I didn’t know you were in your office.”
“You might have tried knocking,” Fiske suggested.
Perkins cast him an unfriendly glance and walked over to Chandler and McKenna.
“Hi, Sara,” Wright said, a smile breaking across his face.
From the way Wright was looking at her, it was obvious to Fiske that he was infatuated with the woman.
“Hello, Steven. How are you holding up?”
“I don’t think anyone’s gotten much work done today. I’m thinking about leaving soon.”
Sara looked at Fiske. “Everyone thought the world of your brother. It’s rocked all of us, from the chief justice on down. But it doesn’t come close to equaling your loss, I know.”
She said this so strangely that Fiske did a double-take. Before he could say anything, Perkins rejoined them.
“All right, Detective Chandler from D.C. Homicide is waiting along with a gentleman from the FBI,” Perkins said to Sara.
“Why do they want to search Michael’s office?”
Perkins’s tone was blunt. “That’s none of our business.”
“It’s part of the investigation, Ms. Evans,” Fiske explained, “in case there’s a connection with his murder.”
“I thought it was a robbery.”
“It was a robbery, and the sooner we can convince Detective Chandler that it has nothing whatsoever to do with the Court, the better,” Perkins said huffily.
“If that happens to be the case,” Fiske said.
“Of course, but it is the case.” Perkins turned to Sara. “As I explained on the way down, your task is to ensure that no confidential documents are seen or taken.”
“Confidential meaning exactly what?” she asked.
“You know, anything having to do with pending court cases, opinions, memos, that sort of thing.”
“Shouldn’t I be involved in that decision, Richard,” came a new voice, “or is that outside my jurisdiction?”
Fiske easily recognized the man approaching them. Harold Ramsey strode toward them like a vintage ocean liner grandly pulling into harbor.
“Chief, I didn’t see you there,” Perkins said nervously.
“Obviously not.” Ramsey looked at Fiske. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Michael’s brother, John Fiske,” offered Sara.
Ramsey held out his hand; his long, bony fingers seemed to wrap twice around Fiske’s. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am. Michael was a very special young man. I know that you and your family must feel his loss terribly. If there’s anything we can do, please let us know.”
Fiske acknowledged Ramsey’s sentiments, feeling like a stranger at a wake, awkwardly receiving condolences for a deceased he could not name.
“I will,” he said solemnly.
Ramsey looked at Perkins and inclined his head toward Chandler and McKenna. “Who are those men and what do they want?”
Perkins explained the situation in a fairly efficient manner, although it was clear that Ramsey had already thought five steps ahead by the time Perkins finished his account.
“Would you ask Detective Chandler and Agent McKenna to step over here, please, Richard?”