Dirty Blonde (40 page)

Emily grunted when they made impact, colliding and tumbling together onto the hard lobby floor. The clerk grimaced and doubled over, the wind knocked out of her. Still she hung on to the gun and twisted it around until the muzzle pointed at Cate.

“No!” Cate shouted, feeling a furious surge of adrenaline. She grabbed Emily’s wrist with all her might and slammed it down into the hard floor.

Emily shrieked as the gun jarred loose and went skidding across the slippery floor. Both women dove to recover it, struggling and wrestling.

“Hey, freeze! Freeze, you two!” yelled authoritative voices, and Cate saw two marshals charging from the elevator bank, drawing their revolvers.

“Tony, it’s me!” Cate yelled with relief. “Get the gun!”

“Gotcha, Judge!” Tony shouted, running forward.

“Freeze!” the other marshal hollered, reaching them and aiming his gun at Emily with a two-handed grip. “Hands up! Get your hands up!”

Emily burst into tears and released her grip, prone on the floor and raising her hands, as the other marshal kept his gun on her. Cate scrambled away, her high heels skidding.

“Let me help you up, Judge,” Tony said, taking Cate’s right elbow and hoisting her to her feet. She felt her battered body sag in a sort of surrender. Aches appeared all over, and new pain stabbed the back of her upper arm.

“What’s up back there? I can’t see.”

Tony frowned, peering. “We’ll get you to the hospital. You’ll be good as new.”

“How about the jacket?” Cate asked, coming to her senses.

CHAPTER 50

“Go away, people!” Cate and Nesbitt slammed the front door against the noisy media mobbing her driveway and sidewalk. It was after midnight by the time she got home, but the TV klieg lights flooded her street with a noontime brightness and illuminated the drawn curtains in her darkened living room. Cate shivered against the residual chill and switched on the brass candlestick lamp on the hall table as Nesbitt turned the dead bolt and looked at her with concern.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine,” Cate answered, though she could feel an ache under the bandage they’d put on at the hospital. The bullet had only grazed her arm, but her jacket was DOA.

“Let me help you take that coat off.”

“Thanks.” Cate turned and let him lift the long topcoat from her shoulders. It was his, because hers was still in chambers. Her car was at the courthouse, too, and Nesbitt had driven her home. Unfortunately, her garage door opener was still in her car, so they’d had to park in the driveway and run the gauntlet of reporters. She could still hear them outside. “You know what bugs me about them?”

“What?” Nesbitt asked, folding the coat and setting it on the back of a chair.

“That they’ll camp out there forever and do almost as much harm as that dumb TV show.”

“But of course, it would make a better story if you had guessed the real bad guy.” Nesbitt smiled, his blue eyes bright and his crow’s-feet creased with warmth. His longish hair fell sideways, dark silver in unexpected patches, like weathered cedar shakes on a shed. “Imagine how much fun I had—me, a law enforcement professional—accusing a completely innocent young girl of a double homicide.”

Cate cringed. “Be fair. How could I know that Micah would be at her therapist’s that night? I said I was sorry.”

“I’ll never live it down. Roots called my cell twice when you were in with the doc. Even my useless nephew is lording it over me. He’s like, ‘Love is blind.’”

Love?
Cate caught her breath, and Nesbitt’s eyes flared a little when he realized he’d let the L-word slip.

“Uh. Well, anyway.”

“Whatever,” Cate said, and they laughed uncomfortably, which stopped the moment Nesbitt leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She closed her eyes, enjoying the cold brush of his mustache. When he pulled away, his eyes looked fairly soft for a detective, set in his wonderfully lived-in face.

“I should go.”

“I agree,” Cate said with a smile. They understood what they meant, and neither needed to spell it out. Because she sensed, in her heart, that Nesbitt was going to be the last man she took to bed.

In her life.

CHAPTER 51

Cate rode the judges’ elevator upwards, checking her reflection in the gold-plated panel of elevator buttons. Her makeup looked neutral and classy, her hair was combed into its judicial chignon, and she wore her favorite gold tweed suit. She had been resting at home for two weeks, and during that time, her cheek had almost healed, her shoulder felt better, and she’d ordered the new S 500 sedan, in Glacier White. The Mercedes was pure sublimation, because she was still on her sex diet, though she and Nesbitt had finally segued into light petting, which was officially tenth grade.

Also during that time, Chief Judge Sherman had met with the members of the court, the chief judge of the Third Circuit, and the circuit executive to decide what to do about reinstating her. Cate wasn’t betting on it. Taking her back would require a federal judge to admit he was wrong, which was highly unlikely. That was why they had appellate courts.

The elevator cab opened, and Cate stepped out, strode down the hall to Chief Judge Sherman’s chambers, and stood before his door, which was when her sense of humor vanished. She wanted this job, and she would fight to keep it. She could do it now, she felt it inside. What had Val said?
When you get yourself right with you, then you can
hold your head high
. Well, Cate had gotten herself right with her. She was ready to be a judge in a way she hadn’t been before. So she raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and twisted the doorknob.

“Hello, Mo,” Cate said, and Judge Sherman’s secretary looked up from her computer keyboard.

“Hello, Judge Fante.” Mo’s gaze was cool, and if she knew the verdict, she didn’t let it show. She swiveled in her seat, holding up a finger. “Wait a minute, please. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Sure.” Cate swallowed hard while Mo picked up the telephone receiver and pressed the intercom button. The door to Sherman’s office was closed.

“Judge Fante is here, Chief,” Mo said into the receiver. Then, “Of course.” She hung up and raised her dark gaze to Cate. “He’ll see you now, Judge.”

“Thanks.” Cate walked forward, opened the door, and almost fell over with surprise. The office was filled to bursting with judges, who broke into polite applause, including Chief Judge Sherman. Judge Bonner Menking clapped next to Bill Sasso and Gloria Sullivan. There were all eighteen judges of the Eastern District, and among them, beaming and applauding, were Val and Sam. And in front of the clapping throng stood Jonathan Meriden.

Huh?
Cate felt so shocked, she didn’t know what to say.

“Come to order, please.” Chief Judge Sherman waved the judges into silence, and his hooded eyes met Cate’s, his lips pursed. “Well, Cate. I won’t lie to you, you haven’t been the easiest judge to manage, and I can’t say I agree with you one hundred percent, in all things. But you showed enormous bravery, not only in saving the life of Brother Meriden, but in discovering the true murderer of two citizens who came before us seeking justice. In so doing, you brought honor on all of us, and on our court.”

Cate felt astounded and touched.

“We judged you too harshly, which may be an occupational hazard. So, we have discussed the matter, and in view of what has happened, our vote was unanimous. We, each of us, respect your talent, abilities, and commitment, and we welcome you back.” Sherman paused, with a sly smile. “And we will weather whatever TV does to us, together, as a court. As long as they get Eli Wallach to play me.”

Cate laughed and delivered good news of her own. “Chief, you should know that they’re not doing the
Judges@Court
series. They’re not interested in judges anymore. Househusbands are the new judges.” She’d heard it from Micah, who was quitting show biz and was going to law school, which was basically the same thing.

“Even better!” Sherman grinned, and Meriden raised his hand to speak, his smile genuine, if begrudging.

“And, Cate, may I publicly add my gratitude for saving my life, especially when we all know you hate my guts.” Everyone burst into new laughter, and so did Cate, who noticed for the first time that several bottles of merlot sat uncorked on Sherman’s polished conference table, behind rows of filled plastic glasses and a silver-foil tray of cheese and pepperoni slices, speared with multicolored toothpicks.

“Speech, Cate!” the other judges called out, clapping. “Speech!” Judge Sasso formed his hand-megaphone and bellowed, “And keep it short!” Judge Gloria Sullivan shouted at him, laughing, “Bill! Hush!”

“Thank you, okay.” Cate flashed on the dinner they’d held for her last summer, to welcome her to the bench for the first time. “I am deeply sorry for all the embarrassment I caused the Court. I apologize to each of you, and thank you for welcoming me back to a job I love. You all said a lot of nice things about me just now, and there’s one thing you need to know—I don’t deserve a word of it, but I’m going to try.”

“Brava!” “Way to go!” they shouted, giving her a fresh round of applause.

“And now a toast!” Chief Judge Sherman picked up a glass from the table, walked over, and handed it to Cate, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Do I need to ask you for a signed release, my dear?”

“Not if you withdraw that misconduct complaint,” she answered, and they both laughed as everyone milled around the conference table, picked up glasses of wine, and raised them.

“To Cate!” Chief Judge Sherman called out, hoisting his glass.

“To Cate!” they all repeated, except for Sam, the forgotten law clerk. He stood proudly, basking in the new spotlight that he’d earned merely by not trying to kill his boss, and he called out:

“To Judge Catherine Fante, of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania!”

Judge Catherine Fante.
Cate had never heard words so sweet, or seen a sight that made her happier. She raised her glass and couldn’t speak for a moment. Her eyes brimmed over, and for once, she didn’t try to hide her feelings.

Look, Mom,
she thought, unaccountably.
Look.

CHAPTER 52

The August sun burned hazy and low, dipping by this time of the afternoon behind a leafy maple tree. Cate and Gina sat on the elevated wood deck in gym shorts and tank tops, side by side in plastic beach chairs, soaking their feet in the warm water of an inflatable baby pool. Warren sat in the shady side of the pool, watching the dappled light on the water’s surface, turning from baby to boy before their very eyes.

“Happy birthday!” Cate said happily, hoisting a jelly glass of Miller, golden in the sunlight.

“Thank you, girlfriend.” Gina grinned, raising her glass, and they clinked in the middle, making a sloshy, satisfyingly low-rent
clunk.

“I’m younger than you now.” Cate took a sip of cold beer, tart and perfect on her tongue.

“By twenty minutes.”

“Older is older.”

“How can it be my birthday? I feel younger, and happier.”

“It’s the sex.”

“No, it’s the beer,” Gina said, and they both laughed, while she drained her glass. Cate wiggled her toes in the pool water, which was cloudy with Waterbabies sunblock, hiding Mickey Mouse’s black eyes and Gina’s red toenails.

“Open your present, kid.”

“Yo, I’m woozy.” Gina frowned. Her hair was back in its paintbrush ponytail, because she’d cut it too short again. “I forget, did I eat lunch?”

“No. You were doing You and Me with the baby. You didn’t even have your birthday cake.”

“I will later.” Gina set down her empty glass and picked the wrapped gift from her lap, shaking it with vigor. “A present! Yo, did I tell you Justin got us a treadmill?”

“Yo, three times.” Cate smiled. “You’re so in love.”

“You, too.”

“True.” Cate thought of Nesbitt. “We both have great men. Wonder how long it will last?”

Gina checked her watch. “Ten minutes.”

“Five, according to my shrink.” They both laughed again, and Cate said, “Open your gift.”

“Happy birthday to me!” Gina tore off the flowery wrapping paper, threw it on the grass, then tore off the box lid and threw it on the deck, and unfolded the white tissue paper. She looked inside the box and yelped. “I love it!”

Suddenly there was a splash, and Cate looked up as Warren tried to stand in the pool, reaching out for the deck’s wooden railing.

“Warren, no! You’ll fall!” Gina shouted, leaping up from her chair, dumping the sweater off her lap and onto the deck, and splashing through the pool to Warren. She scooped him up, and he burst instantly into tears.

“Gina, relax,” Cate said, surprised. “He wasn’t going to fall.”

“How do you know?” Gina turned and snapped, tears in her eyes. She cradled Warren’s head against her shoulder as he cried full-bore. “It’s all right, it’s all right, baby. I have you, it’s all right.” She rocked him until he finally stopped sobbing, then wiped his pink cheeks with her fingertips. Warren blinked, his eyelashes clumped, and he pointed to the pool with a chubby index finger. “You want to go down, Warren?” Gina asked softly, then set him back down in the water, and he sat peacefully, looking at the leaf shadows on the water’s surface, as he had before. Gina returned to her chair, shaken, her T-shirt wet from the baby.

For a minute, Cate didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry, I guess…sorry I yelled at you,” Gina stammered, leaning over to the deck and picking up the new sweater, now wet from the splashing. “It’ll dry.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“It’s okay. I guess I drank too much.” Gina folded the sweater and put it back into the gift box. Then she moved her bangs from her damp forehead, her eyes still wet.

“Are you okay?” Cate set down her glass and leaned over. “Geen?”

“It’s nothing.” Gina’s eyes glistened. Her lower lip trembled. She seemed to be losing control.

“He’s okay now. He wasn’t anywhere near the railing, which is five feet high anyway. What were you worried about?”

“The deck was wet.”

“He couldn’t have slipped off.”