Nightmare in Night Court (3 page)

One hand slid from my bottom up over my hip, tracing my curves until he arrived at the swell of my breast beneath my blouse. Braden was a boob man, and luckily for us both, I had a pretty nice rack. He cupped and lifted with his palm and brushed his thumb over the tip, sending shivers down my spine. His mouth moved to kiss my neck and whisper in my ear.

“Wait until I get you home tonight. I’m going to do bad things to you that will make you feel so good.” His tongue traced the edge of my ear and I moaned quietly and ground my hips against him. I could feel a bulge pressing against my abdomen that was filled with decadent promise.

“Uh oh, you’re indisposed. What are you going to do about that?” I ran my hands up his back, thoroughly enjoying the way his hard muscles tensed under my fingertips. I began gently biting his neck.

“For now I’ll walk it off and think about baseball,” he mumbled against my throat, pinning me against the wall with his hips and making me tingle from head to toe. “Later tonight I’ll give it you.”

“Oh, baby.” I giggled and writhed against him. I was starting to get lightheaded. A moment later, though, I heard Mr. Brenner calling my name from somewhere down the hall. Great. Braden sighed, collected himself, and stepped back, strategically buttoning his suit jacket in front.

“I think you’re needed back in court.” His voice was a little husky.

“Yeah, I guess so. Well, here we go.” I steeled my nerves, straightened my shoulders and prepared to return to the trenches.

“Round two.” He smiled.

Chapter Two

When we returned to the courtroom the Spirit Hunters gang seemed to be conferring about something exciting. Maybe they had found intelligent life here. Nah.

“Uh oh, I don’t see Mr. Marley anywhere. I had better go hunt him down,” Braden said, heading off in the other direction to do some spirit hunting himself. I saw Mr. Brenner head my way with a determined look on his face and a file in his hand. Great.

“Hey, Mrs. Pierce,” he said. “What’s going on with Norman Bates?”

“That’s Nathan Bates,” I corrected him.

“Right, sorry, Nathan Bates, the body snatcher.” He smiled.

“You have an offer for me?” I asked hopefully. He grimaced and shifted his weight from foot to foot. That didn’t look like a good sign.

“Mr. Peterman’s family is very upset about what he went through.”

“What he went through? You’re kidding me right? Mr. Brenner, Mr. Peterman is dead. It’s not like he cared about his little trip around the block.”

“Your client was absconding with their dead relative, to go do, God knows what. I kinda get where they’re coming from. Don’t you?”

“What are you trying to tell me here, Mr. Brenner, that you’re going to make me try this stupid case? Oh come on. Just tell the family about how the system works, how we rely on plea bargains to keep things moving along, so that live people can have their day in court.”

“I’m not going to
make
you try it. Your client can always just plead to the charges as filed and let the judge craft an appropriate sentence.”

“Are you serious? Let delicate Debra up there have at him? She’ll sentence him be racked and boiled in oil. And
then
she’ll make him do community service and pay a fine too.”

“Now, Mrs. Pierce, you’re not implying that Judge Epstein would be unnecessarily harsh with Igor over there are you?” He was trying hard not to laugh.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing, Mr. Brenner,” I answered, trying not to laugh myself. I wasn’t succeeding very well either. Both of us were on the verge of cracking up. This was just so freaking ridiculous.

“I’m sorry, counselor, but the office policy these days is that if the family strenuously objects, we don’t offer a deal anymore, even in Night Court on Halloween.” He gave me a boyish look that probably melted plenty of panties. “I really
am
sorry.” I had a feeling that Mr. Brenner was a ladies’ man like my Braden had been back in the day. I think the DA’s office recruited them right out of law school. They were like their not-so-secret weapon.

“Well, I hope you enjoy our defense, Mr. Brenner. It should be very entertaining.” He nodded and covered his mouth with his fist. As he turned around to leave, he nearly ran into one of the Spirit Hunters, who was coming up behind him.

“Hello, there. I’m Ernie, and this is ….”

“Burt!” I broke in gleefully as his partner approached. Three other guys in matching T-shirts brought up the rear. I noticed for the first time that their shirts had a picture of a ghost and the letters S.H.I.T. on the front.

“Spirit Hunters Investigative Team,” Ernie, who had noticed me noticing, explained. I nodded silently and Mr. Brenner actually bit down on his knuckle at that point.  At least somebody was having fun.

“Did you have something to tell us?” I prompted.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, we felt that we should let someone know, we’re picking up some really weird stuff.”

“You should be fine as long you’ve had your shots,” Mr. Brenner replied.

“No, on our equipment!” his partner, Burt said, looking excited. “We’re picking up definite signs of an infestation.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure they sprayed,” Mr. Brenner added.

“He means we think there may be a malevolent entity here,” one of the guys in the background piped up, “but we’re not really sure it’s intelligent.”

“I thought Mr. Drake left,” I said to Mr. Brenner,

“No, he’s out in the hall having a pow wow with Delores in the Technicolor Dream Coat,” Mr. Brenner answered.

“Not him. He’s just a minor inhuman,” Burt offered.

“Those were my thoughts exactly,” I said with a smile.

“This is major spirit activity. The epicenter seems to be right in that spot right there,” Ernie said, turning around and pointing to precisely the place that Mr. Marley had been seated before he had vanished. Thunder clapped in background and lightening lit up the sky at that exact moment. Okay, not really. But if this had been a movie, that’s what would have happened.

“That spot, really? That’s where Mr. Marley was sitting,” I said to Mr. Brenner.

“Who was sitting there?” he asked.

“My husband Braden’s client, Mr. Marley. You know, the guy who supposedly died in 1905?”

“I don’t have a Mr. Marley. Edna must have him on her caseload,” he answered, referring to Edna Manson, the other prosecutor, who was working the room.

“Edna must have who on her caseload?” said a hardened-looking, Assistant District Attorney who happened to be walking by at the moment. She pushed a lock of jet-black hair out of her face, revealing a jagged scar and a charming sneer.

“Mr. Marley? He’s charged with trespassing and prowling at night?”

“Oh right. That’s just an administrative case, though. It was never closed, and we just have to figure out what to put in the file.”

“Why did you make him show up for that?”

“Make him show up? What are you talking about? The guy died in 1905, right here in this courtroom as a matter of fact.” Her mouth curled into a nasty grin, and I noticed that she had rather pointy teeth.

“From what, old age?” I asked, looking at my watch. There were going to be lots of warm drinks at Jessica’s Halloween party.

“He had a heart attack just as they called his case,” she answered in her gravely, three-pack-a-day lilt. “That’s why it was never resolved.” She cracked her knuckles.

“What are you talking about? He was sitting right over there,” I said, inching back. Edna was a little creepy.

“In the epicenter!” Ernie looked like he might wet his pants.

“We might be talking vortex,” Burt replied. He and Ernie gazed at each other like they had just struck gold. They darted off to go play with their lights in the spot Mr. Marley had been occupying with the entire S.H.I.T. following close behind. Well, at least I was fairly sure they could get a sample of
some
body fluid over there.

“It must be a mistake,” Edna said dismissively. She was such a cynic, but she was a regular in that courtroom. Her spirit had probably died in there a few decades ago too.

“The date must be wrong,” I suggested. “Maybe he had a heart attack recently, but he survived. That’s probably what happened.”

“I work this courtroom all the time. I would have remembered that.” Edna paused and seemed to give it some thought. “Probably.” She didn’t look like she was so sure.

“Well, I’m telling you, there was a Mr. Marley, who must have known the facts of the case, because Braden discussed it with him,” I insisted. I had just been kidding around about him being a ghost. This night was getting weirder by the minute.

“I don’t know what to tell ya.” Edna shrugged and ambled on. Judge Epstein’s clerk called Commonwealth vs. Bates. Mr. Brenner and I glanced at each other resignedly and headed up to the bench. When we got there, I turned to see if Mr. Bates was coming, but he had been standing silently right behind me. I yelped and jumped about a foot in the air, putting a hand over my racing heart and blowing out a ragged breath. I turned around and saw Judge Epstein’s glare and jumped again. I had to get out of there or I was going to develop a nervous condition.

“What are the charges Mr. Brenner?” the judge growled.

“Abuse of a corpse, Your Honor.”

“Charming. What, no littering charge you can tack on?”

“I’m afraid not, Your Honor,” Mr. Brenner answered.

“Please tell me that you’ve reached an agreement on this,” she said, dropping a couple of Alka Seltzer into a glass of water and taking a big belt of it before it had even finished plop-plopping and fizz-fizzing.

“I’m afraid not, Your Honor,” I echoed, throwing a baleful look at Mr. Brenner to let her know whose fault
that
was.

“Your Honor, the victim’s relatives …” he began.

“The victim?!” Judge Epstein screeched. “The victim is a corpse!”

“Nevertheless, Your Honor …” Mr. Brenner looked like he might be in pain.

“Oh …” she grumbled something unintelligible. “Get them up here!” Mr. Brenner sighed and headed off to find the late Mr. Peterman’s relatives. I turned around, and looking up, I saw that Braden was watching. He gave me a supportive smile. I smiled back and reminded myself that he was going to make my body an epicenter of
pleasure
later. 

A couple of minutes went by, and Mr. Brenner returned with a guy who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else and a woman who had such an angry, pinched look on her face; she made Judge Epstein look like Betty White. She was clutching a purse in front of her body like a shield, and I wanted to tell her it wouldn’t work in here. This whole place was like Kryptonite. She looked up at Riff Raff and a vein started pulsing on her forehead. Yikes. She made
Edna
look like Betty White.

“Your Honor,” Mr. Brenner said with another heavy sigh, “on my left is Mr. Irv Peterman, brother of the deceased. And
this
, is Mrs. Gladys Peterman, widow of Sid Peterman, who Mr. Bates took for a stroll.” Suddenly, I felt sorry for Mr. Brenner, and the late Mr. Sid Peterman.

“I want that sicko locked up!” Gladys shouted, waving her handbag at my client.

“Off the record!” Judge Epstein yelled back, glaring at the stenographer who immediately stopped typing and looked up at her in shock like a deer in headlights. She must have been a sub. “Mr. Brenner, what are the facts of the case?”

“During the early morning hours of October twenty-fourth of this year, in the city and county of Philadelphia, undercover vice squad officer, Jason Gallagher, observed Mr. Norman, uh, sorry,” Mr. Brenner cleared his throat, “Mr. Nathan Bates, dragging the mortal remains of Mr. Sid Peterman down the sidewalk on the fifteen hundred block of Broad Street. When Officer Gallagher ordered Mr. Bates to stop, he instead picked up Mr. Peterman and hurled him at Officer Gallagher, who ducked out of the way.” Mr. Brenner paused and looked up significantly. “I will note, Your Honor, that the Commonwealth has not added a charge of aggravated assault on Officer Gallagher.”

“Why not?!” Gladys shrieked, and the glass of Alka Seltzer on the bench shook.

“Order!” Judge Epstein banged her gavel, shaking the glass harder. Nobody was going to out-shrew her in her own courtroom. “Counselor,” she said, glaring at me, “why was your client taking a dead guy out for a midnight stroll in North Philly?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could get a word out, Gladys chimed in again, “He wanted to have sex with him!” We all turned and looked at her in confusion.

“I’m not a homosexual!” Mr. Bates piped up. We all turned to look at him in confusion. Gay? He was worried we would think he was
gay
?

“Your Honor,” I answered, ripping my gaze away from Mr. Bates and shaking my head to clear it, “my client was concerned with the rate of car theft in the area. He felt that if he stored Mr. Peterman in his car, that it would act as a deterrent to car thieves.”

I wondered if that explanation sounded as stupid as I thought it did. When several people waiting in the gallery broke out in laughter a moment later, I got my answer. Yep. It sounded as stupid as I thought it did. I looked up at Judge Epstein and winced. Somehow, I didn’t think she was really onboard with Mr. Bates’ anti-car theft strategy. She just sat there, glaring. Why wasn’t she saying anything? I started to sweat and shifted my weight to the other foot, waiting for her to crucify me.

“That’s the
stupidest
thing I’ve ever heard,” she said finally.

“Tonight, or in general?” I asked. Brenner coughed and quickly turned away to cover up his own laughter. Judge Epstein actually looked amused for about a millisecond. Gladys, however, would not be thwarted.

“I’m telling you. He wanted to have sex with Sid! I know about these narcoleptics. I saw it on the Discovery Channel.”

“And God forbid that Sid have sex for once,” the live Mr. Peterman spoke up. I had forgotten he was there. “It’s Gladys’ mission in life to make sure my brother never gets laid. Even in death.” He shook his head in obvious disgust.