Lisa Scottoline - Dirty Blonde

“Yes.”

Meriden said, “Cate and I share a common hallway, and visitors are buzzed in to get past the locked doors. There’s a security camera, so each chambers can see whom they’re buzzing in.”

“Why are we discussing this?” Cate asked, confused.

Meriden answered, “We had a reporter buzz in this morning, posing as a lawyer in a products case. Luckily, my clerk stopped him.”

“That’s a different issue from Marz, isn’t it?” Cate asked, and Nesbitt nodded.

“Again, bottom line, you’ll both have to be on alert. Look out for each other. Be careful out there.”

Judge Sherman lit up. “That’s what they used to say on Hill Street Blues ! Tell me, Detective, was that show accurate, in your opinion?”

“ Barney Miller was my favorite.” Nesbitt broke into a smile. “Ask my partner here. He’s the expert. He wanted to be a technical adviser on Cold Case . He tells everybody, ‘I coulda been a consultant! I coulda been a contender!’”

Detective Roots came alive. “Well, I could have, and I almost was!”

Nesbitt chuckled. “The difference between a consultant and almost is a house down in Margate, a boat, and two million bucks.”

“All right, enough.” Roots rose, flushing, and brushed down his slacks. “Before we go, let’s walk around the eighth floor. See how it’s laid out.”

“I’ll take you there, detectives,” Meriden offered, beating Cate to the punch.

For now. But she wasn’t going to let it lie.

After their tour, Cate walked back to the chambers with Meriden, falling into step down the hallway. “What’s your problem with me?” she asked, when she couldn’t keep her own counsel a moment longer. “Is it because of Edge Electronics? That securities case, so long ago? Because if it is, let’s have it out, here and now.”

Meriden blinked, impassive. “Edge is in the past. Win some, lose some. No big deal. I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Oh, come on. You never miss a chance to undermine me. The next time you have something to say about me, how about you say it to me?”

“You’re sure?” Meriden’s dark eyes flickered with challenge.

“Shoot.”

“Okay, if that’s the way you want it, Cate. Here goes. You never should have said what you did in open court. Your comments were emotional and inappropriate for a judge.”

“I’m a human being, Jonathan. I don’t check my conscience at the courtroom door.”

“Your conscience isn’t the law.” Meriden’s mouth flattened to a rigid line. “You lack judicial demeanor in everything you do. The way you look, the way you act, even the way you dress. We wear black robes for a reason, to equalize us. But you insist on standing out.”

Whoa . “There is no one right way to act, and it’s none of your business how I dress off the bench.”

“It is my business, because it’s my court. You never should have ruled from the bench. You give new meaning to the term ‘judicial activism.’ Judges aren’t ‘knights errant,’ or haven’t you read your Cardozo?”

“I know the quote, and I don’t need you to lecture me on the proper role of a federal judge.”

“Beg to differ, Cate.” Meriden leaned so close she could smell Listerine. “A prudent judge would have issued a written opinion later. You made a mistake that endangers us all.”

Ouch . “Oh, go straight to hell.” Cate turned on her heel and stalked down the hall to her chambers. She couldn’t let him see how she felt. And worst of all, was he right? Should she have ruled from the bench? Sherman said it was okay, but was it? She’d been locked in that question loop all night.

Cate opened the door to her chambers, where Val was busy on the phone. She waved hello, walked by Val’s desk, and went back to the law clerks’ office. Just outside their door, she could hear them laughing and a TV playing. She popped her head in, with an automatic smile.

Emily jumped up and flicked off the TV. “We were just waiting for the news at noon, Judge.” She was sitting at her desk chair facing the tiny TV stuck on the bookshelf among the case files. She shared the small office with co-clerk Sam Herman, a slight and serious young man. He had a feathery brown haircut, pale skin, and a long, bony nose that divided brown eyes set too close together. He wore a gray sweater and khakis, since they weren’t in court today.

“Turn the TV back on. I’d like to see the news, too.”

“It’s only The View . It’s not time yet.”

“Okay, listen up.” Cate leaned against the desk. “Obviously, a terrible thing has happened, with Art Simone being killed. The police think Marz did it, and you may have some feelings about that. You in particular, Emily, since it was your case.”

Emily bit her lip but said nothing. Evidently, big Goths don’t cry.

“You have to understand one thing. The decision to grant the motion was mine, and no one else’s. You guys do legal research and write memos, but it’s my decision and my responsibility, you hear? I was right on the law and I had to make the decision I did.” Cate would believe that in five, maybe ten, years. “What matters is that the police are concerned about our security. They suspect that Marz may come back to chambers to hurt us.”

Sam’s eyes flared. “That’s not cool.”

“No, Sam. Not cool.” Cate wondered about this kid sometimes. Both clerks had flawless academic records and had served on their law reviews, but their personalities were a different question. She’d been confirmed at such an odd time of year, she’d missed the regular batch of clerk aps. “I want you two to stay together when you leave the building. All comings and goings, stay together.”

“But we stagger our lunches,” Emily said.

“Don’t. Go together. And don’t buzz anybody in without clearing it with Val. The media’s an issue, too. A reporter tried to get to us by buzzing into Meriden’s chambers.”

“Retard,” Sam said.

“I don’t like that word.” Cate was thinking of Warren. He’d been called that on the street, more than once.

“Loser, then.”

Cate let it go. “Marz drives a navy Subaru, so keep an eye out for that, too. I have the license plate number and-”

“Judge, it’s time for the news.” Sam jumped up and switched on the old Sony Trinitron. “We were on ET and The Insider last night, and that was before the murder.”

“Excellent,” Cate said dryly, but the news was beginning, with its bright blue and red graphics. The banner came on and behind the handsome anchorman floated a large photo of a grinning Art Simone. Cate stifled a wave of sadness and regret.

The anchorman said, “In our top story, police are still searching for Richard Marz, a former assistant district attorney being sought in connection with the shooting murder of Hollywood television producer Arthur…”

Cate watched the TV screen as they flashed photos of Marz, barely able to listen. She shouldn’t have said anything from the bench. She’d given Marz the validation he needed to kill. The TV screen changed to file footage of the male lead from Attorneys@Law , with a voice-over about a great loss and a tragic crime and how the show would go on. Then the picture changed again.

Cate froze when she recognized the photo on the screen.

It’s Elvis, from last night.

The anchorman was saying, “And in southwest Philadelphia, a tragic accident claims a man’s life. James Partridge was killed when he fell from a balcony at a motel here.”

“D’oh, I hate when that happens,” Sam joked, and behind him, Cate stood riveted.