Trouble at High Tide by Donald Bain, Jessica Fletcher Page B

course, moving up from the appellate court to the Supreme Court is just a pipe dream. Too many things working against me, I think, starting with the fact that I’ve had four wives and been divorced three times. But hell, you never know. Reagan was divorced and he became the president.”
    But only divorced once
, I thought.
    “Like I said, it’s not a sure thing. I’m not counting on it happening, but I’d be less than honest to say that I’m not flattered by the possibility.”
    I knew that most of the members of the Supreme Court had served in an appellate court before being nominated to the higher seat. Since the Supreme Court only hears about a hundred cases a year, the judges of the thirteen U.S. Courts of Appeals have a powerful influence on the law, handing down decisions on the remainder of the ten thousand cases filed with them each year.
    Were Tom nominated by the president and confirmed by the Senate, he would have a lifetime tenure on the Court ofAppeals. Obviously having been the president’s law school classmate played a role in his being considered for this spot, but having been a federal judge for many years also gave him the requisite legal background.
    “I suppose the book I wrote caught people’s attention,” he mused. “It was controversial but still, it gave me a lot of good public relations, good exposure to those who don’t read the law journals but who make those kinds of decisions. At any rate, Jessica, I’ve decided that while I don’t want it made public knowledge, I do want to celebrate it with friends. That’s why I wanted you and Godfrey and his wife to join us tonight, to share in some good news, rather than focus on a tragedy. You know what I mean?”
    It struck me as strange that Tom was ready to pause in mourning his niece to celebrate something that wasn’t a reality yet, but I’ve learned over the years never to pass judgment on how people respond to misfortune.
    We’re all wired differently. When my husband, Frank, died, it was many months before I could lift my head from the pillow in the morning without a wave of grief sweeping over me. I went on. I never let my friends know how I grappled with those feelings daily, although those closest to me suspected my unhappiness. I’ve seen some people who bounce back immediately, and others who weep openly until people lose patience with them. There are no rules. Each of us has to find his or her way to deal with death. To have to deal with a violent end is even harder; so I gave Tom a pass. We would toast his possible good fortune.
    “Adam told me that there were people here from Scotland Yard today,” I said, changing the topic.
    “Oh yes. I knew I had something else to tell you.” He looked around. “I’ve got their cards here somewhere. Wait! I put them in the top drawer.”
    As he went to his desk to find the business cards, Norlene knocked on the door and entered carrying a tray. She put it down on the table between the two love seats and offered me the cup of tea that I had declined. I took it from her anyway, placing the cup and saucer on the table, while she set out the glass of ice for Tom, and a decanter with a silver label that said SCOTCH. She poured some of the liquor into his glass, placed a dish of crackers and another of nuts on the table, and left.
    “Here they are,” Tom said. “Thought I might have lost them.” He held up the business cards. “Thank you, Norlene,” he called out although she’d already exited the room.
    He handed me the business cards and I looked at them. They contained color photographs of the inspectors. One was for Inspector Veronica Macdonald, Forensics Unit.
    “You’ll find Macdonald’s picture doesn’t do her justice,” Tom said. “Beautiful woman.”
    “So Adam said.”
    I hadn’t told Tom about the press conference so there was no point in saying I’d already seen her at police headquarters.
    “Adam’s eyes were nearly popping out of his head,” Tom said,