Dirty Blonde

CHAPTER 38

Cate woke up to Nesbitt’s face in soft-focus fog. For a minute, she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming. He looked worried, so it couldn’t be a dream. Nobody worried in dreams. Also, she didn’t dream about Nesbitt. Much.

“Good morning, Judge,” Nesbitt said, and Cate blinked.

“Is it morning?” she said. Her mouth felt dry.

“I’m joking.” Nesbitt checked his watch. “It’s nine at night.”

“Oh.” Cate felt her head begin to clear. The room came into hazy focus. She was lying in a hospital bed with pull-up plastic rails. Light blue walls and a window on the right, its blue-patterned curtains drawn. An oxygen tube was under her nose. A mounted TV played on mute, a basketball game in too-vivid color.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel good.” Cate thought a minute. She didn’t hurt anywhere. She felt really happy. “Why am I so happy?”

“It’s the drugs.”

“I feel so calm.” Cate smiled, and Nesbitt smiled back.

“It makes a nice change.”

“What happened to me? Did I fall off a cliff?”

“No. They found you by the side of the road, passed out from the fumes. You got the full brunt. You were lying near a big crack of steam.”

“At least my pores are clean.”

Then Cate began remembering it all, albeit hazily. The cemetery. The cliff. The dark car. Russo. “Is he dead? He’s not dead, is he?”

“No. He’s upstairs, here. I saw him, and he’s resting. A bunch of broken bones, but the doctors say he’ll be fine.”

“Good. I think.” Cate felt her emotions revive, though buffered. “Now that he’s alive, am I allowed to wish he was dead?”

Nesbitt smiled. “Now that you’re alive, I can say I told you so.”

“So we’re even.”

“Exactly.”

“Is he in pain, at least?”

“I believe so.”

“A lot or a little?”

“Tell you what. As soon as he heals, I’ll beat the crap out of him for you.” Nesbitt’s smile faded. “We got the call almost as soon as it happened. He had his ID on him.”

“And his gun.”

“He took a shot at you?” Nesbitt asked, alarmed. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“I almost caught one, but I missed. Sorry.” Cate remembered the heat on her cheek. It didn’t even bother her. These must be some drugs. She resolved to show more empathy on the next drug case before her, then she remembered she wasn’t a judge anymore.

“He’ll be released into our custody, and we’ll charge him.”

“How does that work exactly? Will you charge him and then beat him up? Or beat him up and then charge him?”

“Usually we beat them up first. That way we get the confession.”

“Don’t vary it on my account.”

“Passers-by found his car and they called the locals, who were already on their way.”

“My genius car called the cops, didn’t she?”

“Right. How much you pay for that baby?”

“Not enough.”

“By the way, you’re gonna need a new one. That thing’s an accordion. Russo do that, too?”

“Yes.”

“Were you in it at the time?”

“No. It’s a Mercedes hate crime.” Cate saw Nesbitt frown, despite her excellent joke.

“We’ll need a statement. You’ll tell me in detail when you feel better.”

“I’ll never feel better than I do now.” In fact, I may be in orgasm, as we speak.

“I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know about Centralia. It’s incredible. Toxic smoke coming right out of the ground like that. I can’t believe the feds don’t cordon it off.”

“It’s a theme park for carbon monoxide.”

“I don’t understand why they can’t put it out, after so many years. We can land a man on the moon but we can’t put out a fire?”

Bootleg miners didn’t help, but that’s another story. “So when can I go?”

“They won’t let you go until morning. They want to watch your blood gases.”

“My blood has gas?”

Nesbitt laughed.

“I feel fine. Time to go.” Cate began to lift herself from the bed, then sank back down, dizzy. “Or not.”

“Chill. Or as my daughter says, chillax. By the way, I called your friend Gina, telling her you were fine, so she didn’t find out from the TV news. I told her that you’d be out tomorrow morning and she didn’t need to come up. That okay with you?”

“Good, thanks.” Cate nodded, pleased. Putting Gina out would have been the last thing she wanted.

“I’ll take you back to the city tomorrow morning, when they discharge you. You’ll need the ride. Okay with you, too?”

“Sure, thanks.”

“By the way, there is good news. Jenna Whitcomb was found in bed with Mark Melendez.”

Cate frowned, confused. “You mean Jenna Whitcomb, the actress?”

“Yes, the new Julia Roberts. She was caught by Access Hollywood, cheating on her husband, Ron Torvald, the new Russell Crowe.”

Cate smiled. “How could any woman cheat on the new Russell Crowe? I wouldn’t even cheat on the old Russell Crowe.”

“It’s a major scandal. They’ve released the photos, and he’s already said he’s filing for divorce tomorrow. Mark Melendez is the new new Russell Crowe.”

“How do you know these people?”

“I told you, I have a teenage girl. My house gets Cosmo. We vote on Hottie of the Month. We even take the quizzes. Don’t tell the guys on the squad. Boys can be so dorky.” Nesbitt rolled his eyes, and Cate laughed.

“So why does this matter to me?”

“This is the gossip of the decade, which means the heat is off of you, at least temporarily. You’re off the map. There’s no press for you outside the hospital, and I bet there’ll be very few at your house because there’s a big local angle to the story. Mark is from Doylestown.”

“Mark? You on a first-name basis?”

Nesbitt actually blushed. “Gimme a break. He’s Hottie of the Year. We voted for him.”

“So the press is gone? I feel so used.” Cate felt a residual sleepiness, and Nesbitt, watching, cocked his head.

“You want some water or something?”

“No, thanks.”

“I should tell the nurse you’re awake.”

“I don’t feel so awake,” Cate said, her eyelids drooping. Suddenly she felt good and drowsy, postcoital without the coital, and in the next second, she drifted into sleep.

The next time she woke up, the room was dark except for various red and blue numbers on her vital-signs monitor. Her heartbeat was a glow-in-the-dark green outline of jagged peaks and valleys that reminded her of the Appalachians. She touched the tube under her nose, and the oxygen was still there. But Nesbitt was gone, his chair empty. She tried not to feel let down. He was above-the-call, but he wasn’t crazy.

Cate breathed in and out, taking silent stock of her situation. On the plus side, she was alive, she hadn’t gotten Russo killed, and there was a new new Russell Crowe from Doylestown. On the negative side, she had no job, no boyfriend, and no reason to go home. She lay still in the dark watching the Appalachians march across the vital-signs monitor. She had no idea if it was truly nighttime, in the artificial day/night of the hospitals.

She felt oddly suspended in the middle of time and space. She didn’t belong here, up north, among the peaks and valleys. Centralia had loosened its hold on her; she had overdosed on its toxins and they’d almost killed her. She felt oddly free of it somehow. The fire that raged had burned from within, and consumed their family like so much fuel. She wouldn’t let it consume her, too.

Cate didn’t belong here anymore. She needed fresh air. She wanted to go home, and for the first time, home meant Philadelphia. She had to start over. She’d figure out how when she got there. Maybe on the way back, she’d talk it over with Nesbitt. She told herself she wasn’t looking forward to it, before her eyes closed again.

“Judge Fante?” It was Brady at the door the next morning, in his dark neat suit, worn with a black topcoat and a fresh shave. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine, thanks.” Cate rose from the bed and shook his hand, dressed in her sweats and sneakers, now dry. She was already in her coat, feeling herself again, and had even showered for the trip home with Nesbitt.

“You’ve had quite an experience, with Russo and all.”

“How is he?” Cate’s nurse hadn’t known.

“He’s fine, resting. He’ll be in the hospital awhile, unless they transfer him to Philly.”

“Good.”

“I heard that your car’s totaled. I came to take you back to the city.”

“No, Nesbitt’s taking me.” Another jurisdictional dispute over little old me.

“He can’t make it. He was called on a job, and when we heard you were stranded up here, I came up.”

Rats. I mean, thanks. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have taken a train or rented a car.”

“I’m detailed to you until the end of the week. I took the liberty of getting your personal items from your car. Your purse, your cell phone, and some boxes. I think your secretary called your insurance company. We’re good to go.”

“Great, thanks,” Cate said, then rose with her signed discharge papers. “We should stop by the hotel to get my stuff.”

“I did that, too. There wasn’t much, but I took it. We’re all packed.”

“Wow.” Cate managed a smile, and they left.

The trip home went quickly, the sun clear and cold outside the car window. Brady opened up about his feelings, the way people tend to do on long car rides, except that his only feelings concerned the Eagles. He was so annoyed by Terrell Owens that he almost drove over the divider and he believed that Donovan McNabb was “too damn happy” to win a Superbowl. Cate listened idly, making the appropriate noises and watching the RV dealers whiz past the window. By the time Brady had established that Andy Reid “totally deserved” Coach of the Year, they were pulling into her driveway, where not a single member of the press stood watch.

“Amazing,” Cate said, at the sight. “What a difference from the other day, remember?” Her house, peaceful and undisturbed. The street, quiet, and the neighbors, evidently all at work. The snow that had fallen so hard upstate was nowhere to be seen here. It was all back to normal, and she was home.

“I know. Even the Philly press is gone.” Brady leaned over and shut the ignition. “He’s from Doylestown, I hear, that movie star guy. The reporters moved up in there. Stalking his high school principal. Finding his prom date. You know, who went to the prom with Mark Martinez.”

“Melendez.” Don’t you read Cosmo? Cate grabbed her bag and got out of the car, in her dumb outfit. She thanked Brady with an awkward hug good-bye and went up her sidewalk, feeling separation anxiety for her federal babysitter.

She climbed the steps to the front door and remembered that she’d lost her house keys in the snow, so she went into the secret lockbox hidden behind a bush out front, pressed in the code, and retrieved the extra key. She unlocked the door with Nesbitt in the back of her mind, with his yin/yang of magazine subscriptions. She wondered if she’d see him again, now that the murders were solved and nobody was trying to kill her.

Not that it mattered.

Cate stood at the granite island in her kitchen, talking to Gina on the phone and sorting her mail. There had been a stack of it, slid through the mail slot in the front door and spilling in a messy heap when she got inside.

“Of course you’ll see him again!” Gina said, on the other end of the line. “Only you could find a bad side to the fact that you’re finally safe.”

“I’m not sure I want to, anyway.” Cate had thrown away the newspapers that came in while she was gone. She didn’t need to see those headlines. At least she was yesterday’s news. “Is he my type?”

“He’s your new type. Strong, reliable, and out of jail.”

Cate smiled. “This is silly, this whole conversation. I mean, nothing’s going on. He was a detective assigned to the case, and that’s that.”

“He’s a man, and you’re an Italian. Enough said.”

“He’s not attracted to me. If he liked me, he would have found a way to drive me home.”

“He got busy, catching murderers. Give the guy a break. He called here to tell me not to worry about you and he sounded worried about you. That reminds me, did you see a shrink yet?”

“I’ve been a little busy, dodging bullets.” Cate set aside for disposal the catalogs for Nordstrom’s, Ann Taylor, Strawbridge’s, Bloomingdale’s, and Neiman Marcus. Then she retrieved the Neiman’s.

“Call. Soon. Now tell me what happened in Centralia. What a nut job! Russo tried to run you over?”

“It’s a long story. I don’t want to tell you while you’re driving around. I’ll tell you tonight. It’s Monday. Our date night.”

“I can’t tonight. Uh, Justin’s bringing over a DVD he wants me to see, The Godfather. I never saw it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Lots of people have never seen it.”

“No, that you’re ditching me for Justin!”

Gina giggled. “Yo. Suburban moms need bodyguards.”

“Is it a love connection?”

“I just like the guy. His brother has cerebral palsy, and he lives at Elwyn. So Justin understands, at least some things.”

“He’s thirty!”

“Younger works for me. Nesbitt’s older, right?”

“Older works for me.” They both laughed, and Cate warmed at the excitement in her friend’s voice. She hadn’t heard her that happy in years. “Good. Great. Go for it. I bought him through next week. Consider him a late Christmas present.”

Gina laughed. “I’m not above paying for it, especially when you are.”

Cate smiled, stacking a PECO bill on top of a Verizon Wireless bill. Then Comcast. “How’s the baby?”

“Fine. He likes Justin.”

“He does?” Cate came upon a bill for a Cosmopolitan subscription and thought of Nesbitt. “I’m jealous. He’s not allowed to like anybody except me.”

“Way to be possessive of a kid I’m trying to socialize.”

“Hey, maybe we can go on an imaginary double-date. You bring your imaginary law-enforcement hunk, and I’ll bring mine.”

“I have a bone to pick with you. It said in the newspaper that you were stepping down indefinitely. Chief Judge Sherman is quoted. What does that mean? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gulp. “It means I’m fired, unless I sue the bastards. And first I need to find a lawyer willing to bite the hand that feeds him.” Cate came upon a yellow envelope forwarded from her chambers, according to the return address. The name on the front was in Val’s handwriting, and she felt a twinge of loss.

“I can’t believe this. They can’t fire you. District judges are appointed for life.”

“We’ll see what they can do. For now, I’m going to decompress and figure out my next move.” Cate opened the envelope and out slid a small white letter and a Sephora catalog bearing a Post-it from Val that read, “Miss you.” Cate thought, Miss you, too.

“You should get away. Take a vacation. Get some sun.”

“Nah.” Cate eyed the letter, feeling a draft from her back door, still boarded up from Russo’s break-in. The front of the envelope showed feminine handwriting, and it had been marked PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL, which was why Val had forwarded it unopened. Cate didn’t recognize the letter’s return address. “I have to do some things around the house. Things I’ve been wanting to do, to make it nice.”

“Who is this? You? Wanting to putter around the house?”

“Yes.” Cate opened the letter with a fingernail and pulled out a few leaves of white notepaper, folded in two. She skimmed the first few lines. “Dear Judge Fante, Please forgive me for writing to you, but you are my last resort and…”

Gina was saying, “Are you nuts? Miami’s perfect this time of year. Go to South Beach. Walk around Lincoln Road and buy shoes you don’t need, like we did last year.”

“I have enough shoes I don’t need.” Cate read, “I could tell by your compassion during our trial…”

“Then how about the Caribbean? Get away before the papers remember who you are.”

“…are the only person I could turn to and…” Cate set the letter aside to read later. Since she’d become a judge, she’d gotten so many letters from girlfriends, wives, mothers, and even children of inmates, asking for her help. They all believed their loved ones were innocent, and even if Cate agreed, there was nothing she could do except send a form reply. But something about this letter made her pick it up again. Then she realized who it was from.

“Or go to a spa. That’s the new thing. Cate, you there?”

“I know that you will feel the same way once you…”

“Hello?”

“I have to go, okay?” Cate folded the letter into thirds. “Talk to you later.”

“Where you going in such a hurry?”

Uh. “The bathroom? Give the baby a kiss for me.”

Cate felt a surge of renewed energy and ran upstairs to change.