Dirty Blonde (25 page)

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.

CHAPTER 32

“Come in, Cate.” Chief Judge Sherman rose from behind his desk and motioned to her with a smile. “Please close the door behind you, dear.”

“Got it.” Cate closed the door. Cigar smoke lingered in the air.

“I’m having tea. Shall I ask Mo to get you some?”

“No, thanks.” Cate entered his lovely office, crossing the Oriental rug and passing the jewel-toned tapestry couch. Rain beat outside his window, too, because all of the chambers shared the eastern exposure, but it seemed less gloomy here. Warm incandescent light glowed from Waterford crystal lamps on the end tables, and Cate made a mental note to finally move into her office.

“Please, sit down.” Sherman picked up his black reading glasses, and Cate seated herself in a club chair in front of his desk. “Did you have some lunch?”

“No, I’m not hungry.” Cate had been trying to ignore the jumpy sensation in her stomach. She’d already thrown up this year.

“Our cafeteria served delicious chicken today. Chicken marsala, imagine!” Sherman chuckled, easing back into his chair. “Aren’t we fancy?”

“Chief, let me say how sorry I am, about all of this.”

Sherman raised a hand, still chuckling. “I must say, when I was growing up, you know what I ate every day for lunch?”

“No, what?” Cate asked, playing along. If he was trying to put her at ease, it wasn’t working. She could hardly meet his eye, and she’d been doing so well with the eye-meeting thing this morning.

“Every day, I went home for lunch. The school was only three blocks from my house. I went to Merion Elementary, in the suburbs. Do you know it?”

“No.”

“Merion’s only twenty minutes outside the city. The golf club is there.”

Cate sensed she should know it, but she didn’t.

“In any event, every day, I’d go home for hot dogs with baked beans. Every day, my brother and I ate the same thing. The only difference was that sometimes we put the hot dogs
in
the beans, and other days we ate the hot dog on white bread. You know, that soft white bread?”

“Wonder Bread.”

“Of course.
Wonder
Bread!”

Cate smiled. “It is a funny name.”

“‘Builds strong bodies twelve ways!’”

“What twelve ways?” Cate said, and they both laughed. “They used to
spray
it with vitamins.”

“Ha! Imagine if you tried that today. Think of it. At home, Ellen buys that artisanal bread, from Whole Foods. Dark brown, with what, tree bark sticking out, for God’s sake.”

Cate laughed.

“You can hardly tear it apart with your teeth. I lose my bridgework, every time. Fifty-five grains, or some such silliness.”

“Builds strong bodies fifty-five ways.”

“Right! Perfect, Cate.” Sherman laughed heartily, holding his chest, his reading glasses still in hand, their stems like crossed legs. “Everything old is new again, isn’t it?”

“It sure is.” Cate felt her stomach relax a little and eased back in the chair. “Your master plan is working, Chief. I’m starting to feel better.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Sherman said, doing a passable Montgomery Burns, and they both laughed again. Then he cleared his throat. “Tell me, Cate. How are you holding up through this travail?”

“Not terrible, not great.”

“I understand you had quite a morning.” Sherman nodded sympathetically. “Tell me about the man in your courtroom today.”

“It was bad, but it’s fine now.”

“Your attacker was unarmed, I understand from the marshal service.”

“I figured. He wasn’t really an attacker. He was more like a heckler. He began yelling during the colloquy and running wild. It disrupted the entire proceeding and I got off the bench.”

“Safely, I trust.”

“Yes.”

Sherman nodded. “The only problem with public service is the public, it seems. And yesterday, what happened?”

Cate had to think. “Yesterday was the longest day of my life.”

“I’m referring to the sentencing, for conspiracy to distribute. D’Alma.”

“Oh right.” Cate remembered. How had he heard about that? Meriden? “I had to end the proceeding.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was unprepared, frankly. My house and chambers had just been broken into, and I was distracted.”

“Understandable. Russo is targeting you, it seems.”

“Yes, definitely. He blames me for the ruling and for Marz’s suicide.”

“Terrible, just terrible.” Sherman tsk-tsked. “The risks we take, as judges. The responsibility we carry.”

“I hired a bodyguard. He’s sitting in your reception area with the FBI agent, as we speak. Between them and the marshals, I feel safe.” Cate thought again of Nesbitt, in the courtroom.

“Good.” Sherman sipped tea from a white porcelain mug with the tea bag hanging out. The little square of white paper fluttered on its string as the mug moved back to the desk. “Why did you end the proceeding, then?”

“You mean D’Alma? I wanted to hold it when I was fully prepared. It’s scheduled for this coming week, I believe.” Cate made a mental note to check with Val.

“But you’re on trial this coming week,
U.S. v. Blendheim
. How will you do both?”

“I’ll squeeze it in somewhere,” Cate answered, surprised. Sherman, as chief judge, had access to their dockets and schedules, but she hadn’t realized he followed them that closely.

“There was another matter, I understand, that you canceled.”

“There was?” Cate had to think a minute. She hadn’t expected to be talking about this, after what had happened in the courtroom today. Where was this coming from?

“A pretrial motion.
Schrader v. Ickles Industries
.”

“Oh, yes, right.” Cate thought back, nervously. That was what she’d canceled to go see Micah. “I had to run out. I was following up on something about Russo.”

“Did you reschedule that?”

“The motion hearing? I’m not sure, but I will.” Cate’s stomach tensed, its vacation over. “Why do you ask, Chief?”

“I got a call this morning from the parties. They needed a ruling on a question about an out-of-town deposition.”

Cate flushed. “Oh, sorry. I guess I didn’t call them back yet.”

“It was a simple discovery matter, so I ruled during a break in my trial. Mo will send Val a copy of the order.”

“Thank you.”

“I also got a number of calls this morning, from your colleagues. Bonner, Andrew, Gloria, Bill.” Sherman paused. “I couldn’t field all of them because I was on the bench. I forget who else called.”

“And Jonathan, he must have called.”

“Yes, he did, of course. Almost all of them weighed in about this newspaper coverage today, and about your…proclivities.” Sherman smacked his lips, as if the word had an aftertaste. “Your colleagues tell me that you said the reports are true, about these things.”

“Yes, they are.” Cate felt her stomach and face on fire, which might be a biological first.

“I see. They were unanimous in their judgment, and I must say, as a personal matter, I’m very disappointed in you. I had such hopes for you.” Sherman frowned behind his glasses. “I knew you were young but I was certain you’d mature into the position. I liked your…style, I guess I should say. True, you’re different, but refreshingly so. I saw you as the future of this court, or used to.”

Cate felt like dying.

“We think, as a court, that it’s conduct unbecoming. It hurts me to tell you this.” Sherman slid off his glasses and examined his reading glasses as if he’d never seen them before. “I normally wouldn’t consider your personal life a matter for public discussion, but you hold public office, Cate. You’re a public official. The duties you perform serve the public, and the cause of civil and criminal justice.”

“I know, Chief, and I’m sorry. It will never ever happen again.”

“I’m sure of that. I know you, at least I felt as if I did.”

“You do,” Cate rushed to say.

“All of us are married, as you know. We have families. Except for the one messy divorce every year, which is our annual allotment—” at this, Sherman smiled slightly—“we lead exemplary lives, on and off the bench. We have to. The first canon of judicial ethics is that a judge must uphold the integrity of the bench. The comments require us to ‘personally observe high standards of conduct.’”

“I know, Your Honor.”

“Canon Two instructs us to avoid impropriety and the appearance of impropriety in all activities, not merely those on the bench.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was wrong.” Cate felt like it was the quietest, longest and most excruciating dressing-down she’d ever had. “I didn’t think.”