Ms. Hanson watched from the doorway, clearly confused. Nancy pulled her out and closed the door.

“How did you and my dad get those paperweights?” she asked softly.

“One of the messenger services passed them out when they first started business-a nice public-relations gesture. Mine had a pansy, my favorite, so I-”

“Passed them out?” Nancy interrupted. “To whom?”

“Everybody. They’re all over the building. All over the square, for that matter.”

Nancy gasped. “The whole of Judiciary Square?”

“Here and in the professional building-and that highrise full of attorneys a couple of blocks over. What’s the matter?”

Nancy shook her head. “I don’t have time to explain. Thanks, Ms. Hanson.”

Something glinted in the thick brown carpet. Nancy bent down, picked up a dime, and dropped it into the secretary’s hand as she started for her father’s office again.

Suddenly she stopped short. Ms. Hanson was gathering the other change on her desk.

“Is that money for buying coffee supplies?” Nancy asked.

“Yes. Oh, will you do me a favor?” She opened the envelope and removed two twenty-dollar bills. “Keep that for your father. He put a fifty in because he didn’t have anything smaller. That’s his change.”

Nancy felt as if the sun had just come out after a long, cold night. She checked the envelope. It was office stationery, with no writing on it. “How often does he contribute to the coffee fund?”

“Oh, every couple of weeks.”

“And he just puts it in an envelope and leaves it for you?”

Ms. Hanson eyed her worriedly. “That’s right. Do you feel all right, Nancy?”

Nancy leaned over and kissed her. “I feel fine, Ms. Hanson. For the first time in days, I feel terrific!”

She ran back into her father’s office, grabbed the paperweight, and left.

Nancy had picked up Bess, and the two girls pelted through the halls of the courthouse as if they were trying for gold medals. People turned and stared, and a security guard shouted, “Hey!” and began to run after them.

“What took you so long?” Bess panted. “And what were you doing in that parking lot across the street from your dad’s office? I could see you from here.”

“Later,” Nancy said as they burst through the doors of Courtroom C. Judge Leonard, stern and unsmiling, lifted his gavel and pounded on his desk. “Bailiff, remove these-”

Carson had stood at the disruption, his face appearing ten years older than when Nancy had last seen him. One look at her-and the broad smile on her face-and the years began to drop away. He knew she had done it.

“Stanford,” he said, then corrected himself. “Sorry. Your Honor, this is my daughter, Nancy. And her friend Bess Marvin.”

“Oh. Very well. Take seats, young ladies. I regret that you’ve arrived at this particular point in the proceedings. I am ready to make a judgment.”

“Your Honor, please,” Nancy said, moving down to the table at which her father and his associates sat. “I have a few items I’d like to offer into evidence, if that’s the way to say it.”

Judge Leonard frowned. “This is highly irregular. Mr. Drew, was this your idea?”

Nancy’s father stood up. “You may or may not know, Your Honor, that my daughter is a detective.”

The judge’s brows flipped toward his hairline. “A detective?”

“She’s been investigating the charges against me, and from the way she made her entrance, I assume she’s met with some measure of success.”

“I have-” Nancy looked back at Bess. “We have, Your Honor.” Bess turned peach and grinned.

“I agree that this is highly irregular,” Carson continued. “But if she’s given a chance to present her evidence, we may save all of us a great deal of time and trouble.”

Nancy watched the judge closely. His reaction at that point would determine how she began-whether she should consider him one of the rat pack or one of its victims.

“Very well,” he said. “Present your evidence.”

Nancy removed the paperweight from her pocket and held it up. “Defense exhibit A. I just removed this from my father’s office. This is one of the foundations of the conspiracy against my father.”

“A paperweight?” Judge Leonard said, with barely hidden impatience. “What bearing could it have? I have one like it. So has my secretary.”

“Do they all have ladybugs on the flowers?”

“Yes, I believe they do.”

Nancy beckoned to Bess, who knew exactly what to do. She took out the paperweights she had removed from the box and put them on the table. Nancy scooped up the ladybugs and spread them out. “Defense exhibit B,” she said solemnly.

Then she took the heavy drill and, raising it above her head, smashed her father’s paperweight.

Carson Drew leaned over. “Nancy, what are you doing?”

Without answering, Nancy brushed aside the chunks of glass and carefully removed the ladybug. Turning it over, she showed it to the judge.

His eyes went round, his mouth opening in dawning horror. “Let me see that,” he said, and came down off the bench to stand beside her.

“There are microphones in all of the ladybugs,” Nancy said. “Fleet’s Courier Service drilled holes for pencil points into the tops of the paperweights and maneuvered the ladybugs down through one of the holes. Then they gave them away to judges, lawyers-”

“District attorneys,” the district attorney added tightly.

“Across the street in the parking lot, you’ll find a white Fleet’s van with two fiat tires,” Nancy said. “I slashed them a few minutes ago. The van’s full of electronic listening equipment and recording devices, and it’s been picking up conversations all over Judiciary Square.”

“Bailiff,” Judge Leonard snapped, “get some officers and locate that van immediately! Is there anyone in it, Ms. Drew?”

“Yes, sir. After I punctured the tires, I jammed all the locks. He’s stuck, just waiting to be picked up.”

The bailiff ran up the aisle and out the door.

“They used the paperweight to tape my dad’s voice,” Nancy said, continuing.

Bess, the ever-ready assistant, slid the tapes out of the envelope and said, “Defense exhibit C.” Then she darted back to her seat.

“We found these in the basement of Fleet’s. You can see they’re clearly marked-one with my father’s name, one with Judge Jonathan Renk’s, and one with both. They’re building a library down there.”

“And I imagine my name is on one of those volumes,” the judge said, his face red with anger. “Get somebody to send the police to this place,” he barked at the district attorney.

“They’re probably already there, to pick up the men who’re behind this. The owners of the Gold Star Cab Company.”

“What’s a cab company got to do with this?” the judge asked.

“Uh, if you don’t mind, Your Honor, if I don’t get exhibit-what is it? D?-on the table at this point, I’ll lose my train of thought.”

He smiled. “Then by all means go on.”

Nancy handed her father the two twenty-dollar bills. “Ms. Hanson-that’s my father’s secretary-sent this. It’s your change from the coffee money envelope, Dad.”

He took it. “This could have waited, honey.”

“I don’t think so,” Nancy said, holding up the envelope. “I’m told you make your contribution every couple of weeks.”

Carson Drew nodded. “That’s right. We all do. We-” He stopped, staring, then groaned. “The blank envelope. The coffee envelope. Is my face red!”

“One of Fleet’s couriers simply removed a blank envelope from the stationery rack behind Ms. Hanson’s desk,” Nancy explained, “slipped the coffee money into it, and kept the one you’d handled.”

“So simple. It was brilliant,” Carson exclaimed.

“The couriers are in and out around the clock. I’m guessing one got into your office at night while the cleaning crew was there and typed Unc-I mean, Judge Renk’s name on it.”

“And Fleet’s supplied the ten thousand dollars with which to implicate your father?” Judge Leonard said. “They could afford that?”