Supreme Courtship

The justices went around the table in order of seniority, splitting 4-4. Once again, all eyes turned to the juniormost justice. Pepper inwardly groaned. She daydreamed that she was back on Courtroom Six. Dwight Robert Peester stood before her, wearing bright orange, in chains. Mr. Peester, it is the sentence of this court that you be taken from here to the place of execution…

“Justice Cartwright?” Declan said.

“Uh…” Pepper said.

“How do you vote?”

“I’m kind of… down the middle on this one,” she said. “He was obviously pla

“That’s not the issue,” Haro said.

“Well, it oughta be,” Pepper said. “But there was prima facie evidence of profiling… Still…”

The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner sounded to Pepper like Big Ben striking noon.

“Anyone got a quarter?” she said.

“Sorry?” Declan said.

“Heads he wins, tails he loses?”

“That’s an enlightened way of interpreting the Constitution,” Justice Gotbaum muttered.

Justice Santamaria let out a sigh like a breaching humpback whale.

“All right,” Pepper said. “Let’s strike a blow for female Muslim-impersonating shoplifters. Vote to grant in favor of Peester.”

As the justices left, Pepper overheard Santamaria saying to Jacoby in a voice calculatedly audible, “Pray God nothing critical comes before us in the next, say, thirty years.” Haro, looking greatly peeved, followed Declan into his chambers.

That night over di

“I always did suspect you were a closet fascist,” Pepper said, forking up a bit of linguine alla vongole. “Look, if it’s making everyone miserable, call it off. Let it go, Chiefy.”

“I can’t do that,” Declan said. “It’s beyond the pale. An impending Court ruling was leaked to the media. From within the Court. Incidentally, in no small part to embarrass you.”

“I’m not asking for special protection,” Pepper said. “I’m a big girl. I got a pistol. Know how to use it, too.”

“That’s certainly not the issue, either,” he said sternly.

Pepper sipped her Chianti. “As for embarrassment, I am way beyond that. On the other side of the wall of humiliation is liberation.”

Declan stared. “Kahlil Gibran or refrigerator magnet?”

Pepper got a good, close-up look at the Wall of Humiliation a few days later when an item appeared in the Washington Post’s Reliable Source column:

Sightings: Supreme Court Justice Pepper Cartwright and Chief Justice Declan Hardwether enjoying a cozy di

Within hours, hundreds of Web sites and legal blogs were fizzing with speculation over the question of whether a romantically linked pair of Supreme Court justices could be relied upon to render independent decisions. Outrage, calls for impeachment, an affront to the dignity of the Court…

Late that afternoon, Crispus knocked on the door of Pepper’s chambers.

“I recall asking you to extend the CJ a friendly word,” he said. “But dear me…”

“Oh, hush,” Pepper said.

“I will say,” Crispus said, taking a seat, “he seems much more relaxed of late. Less minty. I congratulate you. You have saved a soul in distress. Have you considered a career in personal counseling?”

“I’m better at that than constitutional law, apparently.”

Crispus pursed his lips. “Since you brought it up…”

“Go ahead,” Pepper said.

“Your vote on Peester? Honestly, Justice Cartwright. Have you taken leave of your senses? Or have the senses taken leave of you?”

“Four other justices voted with me.”

“Is that your rationale? Majority is the last refuge of scoundrels. Your poor sheriff grandfather must be spi

“Did you come in here just to bitch-slap me?”

“Such elegant language. Are you familiar with the works of Mr. William Shakespeare?”

“I’m named for one of his characters.”

“Pepper? I recall no Pepper in the bardic canon.”

“Perdita. Let’s see if you know your Shakespeare.”

“Winter’s Tale.”

“Two points. Very good.”

“I was thinking more of Polonius.” [27]

“Let me guess. ‘To thine own self be true.’ How original.”

“My, but we’re testy today. Did we sleep on a cactus last night? And here I thought love was an emollient.”

“Who said anything about love? We had di

“I was attempting, O Wicked Witch of the Wild West, to clarify something you yourself were on the verge of admitting, but, being a lawyer, couldn’t quite bring yourself to stipulate, namely that with these hyper-legalistic rulings you’re handing down, you’ve been trying to act like a Supreme Court Justice, instead of just rendering your own best judgment. You used to be a pretty good judge, back when you stood astride the vast wasteland like a giant. At least in Courtroom Six your rulings had some heart.”

AS SHE WALKED up the redbrick steps of the Georgetown mansion, Pepper felt as though she were approaching the bench. Reflecting on it, she realized it had been a long time since she’d done that. For the last six years or so, it had been others who’d done the approaching, to her.

She rang the bell. The door opened with almost suspicious celerity. The butler ushered her into a study painted in deep, rich red, where a fire was laid. She had time while waiting to study the photographs. Every Washington mansion worth its mortgage has a Wall of Ego, but this one was truly impressive. There he was with-she counted-eight presidents, going back to Eisenhower. Most of them were signed, and not with an autopen. Off to the side in a space of its own was another photograph, of a young man in a military uniform. He was smiling at the camera, holding a machine gun, a cigar clamped jauntily in his bared teeth. Was it… no, it wasn’t he. The uniform was of too recent vintage. On another wall, she found a picture, this one of him. He was in uniform, standing alongside a tall man with a large nose and a distinct kepi-style hat. Looking closer, she saw it was de Gaulle. The photo was signed. “A G.C., avec les sentiments respectueux de son ami C de G.” She remembered hearing at some point that he’d been in the OSS during the war; that he’d played a behind-the-lines role in advance of the Normandy invasion.

“Recognize anyone?” said Graydon Cle

“Impressive.”

The old man smiled. “It’s supposed to be. Sit, sit. What can we get you? You sounded distrait on the phone.”

“Did you learn that word from your pal General de Gaulle?”

“No, from my French na

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Good. Two martinis, George. And perhaps something to nibble on.”

The butler returned with drinks and things made of hot cheese.

Graydon took a sip of his martini and emitted a soft purr of satisfaction. He was wearing a smoking jacket of the kind you see in old movies worn by Noël Coward or David Niven. As if reading Pepper’s thoughts, he said, “I’ve always been shamelessly Anglophile in the wardrobe department. So, Justice, to what do I owe the pleasure? And it is one. It’s good to see you again.”

Pepper opened her mouth and-burst into tears.

[27] “To thine own self be true.” Polonius’s advice to his son, Laertes, who, by poisoning the tip of his sword in the climactic duel with Hamlet, does not quite live up to the paternal admonition.