Dirty Blonde

CHAPTER 31

“What happened?” Val asked, from her computer. “You’re back early.”

“You don’t wanna know,” Cate answered, coming into chambers with Justin Case, Sam, Special Agent Brady, and assorted FBI agents and federal marshals. They talked excitedly among themselves, hopped up on adrenaline and testosterone. At the disruption, Emily came out of the law clerk’s office and over to Val’s desk.

“It was so random!” Sam exploded, rushing to Val in his excitement. “This man went crazy and ran around the courtroom. He made a mess of everything. It was unbelievable.”

“Oh, no.” Val’s eyes flared in alarm, and she rose from her desk.

“Oh, yes.” Cate managed a smile. “And we’ll leave out the ‘tis a pity she’s a whore’ part, or the fact that one William Dow entered a courtroom to plead guilty today and his rights were trampled upon.” Cate thought of the poor man being knocked over in his shackles. “In fact, he was trampled upon, too.”

“That’s awful!” Emily said, her mouth a dark-lipsticked O. “Did he try to hurt you, Judge?”

“No, he just wanted to heckle me.”

“He was a psycho!” Sam interjected. “A total psycho!”

“Indelicate perhaps, but true,” Cate said, but beside her, Justin Case was frowning.

“He could have hurt you, Judge. We still don’t know if he was armed or-”

“That’s right, Judge,” Brady interrupted. “I’ll find out all the details after he’s taken into custody and let you know.”

“How could he be armed?” Cate asked. “He couldn’t get a gun or a knife through the metal detector.”

“A ceramic knife goes through a metal detector,” Justin answered. “I trained with the Mossad, and they routinely use ceramic knives. Those suckers cut a throat cleaner than a metal blade.”

Yikes. “Well, our visitor today didn’t look like the Mossad. They dress better.” Cate patted Justin’s shoulder, solid as an oak bookshelf. “Thank you, my hero, for spiriting me away to safety.”

“You’re welcome.” Justin flashed his sweet, ceramic-knife smile. “But next time I say go, you have to go, Judge.”

“Right. Sure.” Cate saluted. “Brady and the cavalry were all over it, too. Thanks to you all, too. You’re last but not least.”

Brady nodded, acknowledging the recognition, but his expression remained stoic. “Thanks, Judge, but I’m afraid the apprehension took longer than expected. Too many cooks.”

Give it a rest. “All’s well that ends well,” Cate turned to Val. “Will you call the parties, apologize for me, and reschedule for as soon as possible? Now that we know what this heckler looks like, we won’t let him in again.”

“Sure, Judge.” Val handed her a phone message and met her eye meaningfully. “This call came in while you were in court.”

“Thanks.” Cate didn’t have to look at the message to know the caller.

“Why don’t I order you a salad, so you can eat something before you go see the Chief Judge?”

“That’s okay, I’m not hungry.” Cate nodded to the assembled army. “Thanks again, all of you. If you will excuse me, I’ll go do my job. Are you all set for lunch?”

“Yes, thanks,” Brady answered. “When are you in court again, Judge?”

“Not until Monday, right, Val?” Cate couldn’t believe how much had happened in one week. Was it just last Monday that she had presided over a trial? And Simone had been alive, and Marz? And her scummy private life had been her own? “TGIF,” she said, and they all laughed.

“Right. Monday at nine, Judge. U.S. v. Blendheim. Cocaine trafficking.”

“Yay! Crime that doesn’t involve me!” Cate laughed, and they all laughed again. She got funnier the more stressed she got. Danger agrees with me. She pointed at Emily. “Blendheim your case, girl?”

“Yes, Judge.”

“Bench memo ready?”

“Just finished it, and the final draft of the Simone opinion is on your chair.”

“We’ll talk about both after I get back from Chief Judge Sherman’s chambers. Please make me a package to work over the weekend on Blendheim. And now, I depart. Thanks again, gentlemen.”

“Welcome, Judge,” they answered, and Cate slipped into her office, closed the door behind her, and crossed to the phone. She set down the message on her desk and sank into her chair, still in her robes. After two rings, the phone was answered.

“Graham?”

“Cate?”

“Yes. Hi. Sorry I missed your call. I just had a crazy guy loose in my courtroom. Film at eleven.”

YOU’RE A WHORE

“Cate, you’re so famous.” Graham sounded so cold that his voice had its own wind-chill factor. “The news is all you, all the time.”

“I know. This was really something. The FBI thinks he tried to kill me, but the Mossad disagrees, as do all sensible people.”

“So, is any of it true, in the newspaper?”

I’m fine, thanks. Cate found her thoughts straying to the man in the middle of the chaos in the courtroom, watching her go. Nesbitt. He had been there, evidently looking out for her. And he had faxed the photo of Russo to SpectaSafe.

“Cate? Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“I asked you, is it true?”

“About me being stalked or the dating or the TV series?” Cate asked, as if she didn’t know. She watched the rain hit the window and run down it in sooty rivulets, like tiny, polluted rivers. She was sure someone had ordered this ecological disaster just for her.

“I meant the dating,” Graham answered. “Is it true?”

You are beautiful, you know that?

“In a word? Yes.”

“Impossible!”

A NASTY, DIRTY WHORE

“It happened? It’s true? You go into those bars?”

“Yes, but it’s over.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I’m going to say this straight. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Cate eyed his roses, which weren’t even drooping yet. Can the flowers last longer than the relationship? “Graham, why don’t you give me a chance to explain it to you?”

“There’s nothing you can say. This party I was going to take you to on Saturday night, it’s with all my best clients and their wives. They read the paper.” Graham raised his voice, getting angrier. “I’ve already gotten calls from two of them who knew I was seeing you. You don’t want to know what they said.”

No, I don’t. Cate closed her eyes.

SHE’S A WHORE UNDER THEM ROBES

“You’ve made me a laughingstock.”

“We went out three times. It’s not about you.”

“Am I going to be in the TV show, too?”

“No, of course not.”

“And you gave me that crap about babysitting, and I fell for it!”

“I was babysitting-”

“I’m sorry. It’s over.”

“What if we had dinner and talked-”

“I don’t think so, Cate. This doesn’t work for me.”

Cate nodded, suddenly maxed out. “Okay, fine, I understand.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“You, too,” Cate said, and hung up. She couldn’t blame him, and she refused to feel sorry for herself. This wasn’t the time or the place. She had to move on. She got up, slid out of her robe, crossed to the closet, and hung it back up. Then she returned to her desk, lifted the bouquet of roses from their glass vase, and dropped them, dripping, into the wastebasket. The cloudy water in the vase left a funky odor.

“Eau de stockbroker,” Cate said, to nobody in particular. She shook down her wrist, so the gold bracelet slid out from under her black suit sleeve. She unfastened the clasp, and the bracelet fell into her cupped hand.

Give me your wrist.

Cate opened her drawer, pulled out an envelope, and slid the bracelet inside, to be sent back to Graham. She had more important things to worry about.

Like Chief Judge Sherman.