Lisa Scottoline - Dirty Blonde

Russo was still sitting there when she left.

Keep a look out, tonight. A dark blue Subaru.

Cate shuddered, driving away from the courthouse. It was almost dark, and she’d ended the workday early, having fussed all afternoon with the same opinion, unable to clear her head enough to write. She hadn’t heard a word from Russo. He made no attempt to call chambers or contact her. She’d called Nesbitt and left a message for him at the Homicide desk, but he hadn’t called back yet. In truth, she didn’t know what she’d have said to him. Russo hadn’t done anything wrong and he wasn’t the threat to her. Marz was.

Do you have a gun?

Marz really could be out there. She couldn’t be in denial. She’d been fairly safe in her office, walled behind locks and federal marshals, but now she was on her own. She glanced in her rearview mirror at the car behind her, but it was too dark to tell its make. Its headlights were too high to be a Subaru. It must be an SUV.

She eyed the cars around her as she traveled down Race Street. Plumes of exhaust curled from the car bumpers, chalky in the bitter-cold night. She didn’t see a Subaru, but she wouldn’t have been able to tell one from a Toyota or Honda. She felt tense the whole time and took a quick right when the light changed, heading east to vary her driving routine, just in case. She drove all the way to her street with an eye in the rearview, and after she saw no Subaru on her street, wasted no time barreling into her garage, closing the door behind her, and hustling into the house, checking all the locks.

It wasn’t five minutes later that her doorbell rang.

Cate hurried to the window and pushed the curtain aside an inch. She couldn’t see who was at the door. Maybe they’d go away.

Ding dong!

She went for her purse, dug out her cell phone, and flipped it open, her finger on the emergency button. She went to the door and pressed an eye to the peephole.

Russo . Cate froze. She didn’t know what to do. What did he want? Why was he here? Had he seen her come in? Was he watching her house, too? On the other hand, what was she afraid of? He was a detective, and she’d liked him when he testified.

Ding dong! She couldn’t ignore him, could she? She hated feeling so afraid, for no reason. She was working herself up for nothing. She finally pressed the intercom to speak. “Yes?”

“Judge Fante, it’s Detective Russo. I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes, if you don’t mind. I tried to see you after court, but your secretary said you’d left early. It’s important.”

“Hold on,” Cate said, relaxing. She was being paranoid. She flipped the phone closed, set it on the entrance table, and opened the front door. “Come in, Detective.”

“Thanks.” Russo entered the entrance hall, and Cate closed the door behind him. He took up most of the small room, taller in his brown leather coat than he’d looked on the witness stand. His eyes were dark, and his largish nose red from the cold, though his hair remained in glossy place, as if he had just combed it. He said, “Sorry to bother you at home.”

“Would you like a drink? A Coke or something?”

“No, thanks. I won’t stay long.”

“Come on in.” Cate walked ahead and gestured him into the living room, taking a quick look around to see if it was in order, a homeowner’s impulse. She straightened two magazines on the glass coffee table and sat down on the soft tan couch. “Please, take a chair.”

“Thanks.” Russo eased heavily into the side chair, looking around. “This is a lovely house. How long have you lived here?”

“About six years.”

“Nice.” Russo looked around again, and in the light from the Waterford lamp on the end table, Cate could see the pain in his eyes.

“I saw you in the courtroom today. Why were you there?”

“I just wanted to go back, I guess, like it was a crime scene. I’m still trying to figure this whole thing out. Simone, dead. Rich, a fugitive.” Russo’s voice softened with naked emotion. “I can’t believe he would do that. I can’t believe it all came to this.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Cate paused. “Let me say something that might not be standard procedure.”

“Go right ahead.” Russo chuckled, his heavy shoulders shifting once in the jacket. “My coming here sure isn’t procedure.”

“I’m very sorry about the way the case came out. I ruled the way I had to, not the way I wanted to. That’s probably all I should say on the subject. It’s not more than I said in open court.”

“I understand.” Russo’s full lips went tight. “I guess it’s just hard to swallow.”

“I know.” Cate felt sad for him. Detective Russo had had a dream, too. He would have been an equal partner with Marz, and unlike Marz, he wasn’t a young man any longer.

“Sometimes, what gets to me is, you can never get over. You know what I mean? No matter how hard you try, and how much you work, and even how good you are, you can never get over. We played by the rules and we played with honor, and in the end, we didn’t win. That’s the worst to me. When you work that hard, and you still don’t win.” Russo fell silent, seeming to examine his hands on his lap.

“I know it must be hard,” Cate said, when the silence became almost uncomfortable.

“It’s like, when I was a uniform, a beat cop, I’d risk my ass to collar some knucklehead, some lowlife. Then, a judge would come along and let him off, on a technicality.” Russo looked down. “That’s what this is like. Like they got off on a technicality.”

Cate shifted uncomfortably. “I feel for you, and for Rich Marz. I hope he turns himself in soon. Have you spoken with him?”

Russo looked up, shaking his head. “Not since yesterday.”

“I know they have him on videotape, but it’s so hard to believe he did it.”

“I don’t know what I believe, Judge.” Russo kept shaking his head, his cheeks slack. “I can’t figure this out. It stinks to high heaven. I don’t know who the hell’s on that tape.”

“You don’t think it’s him?” Cate asked, mystified.

“You tell me.” Russo got up abruptly and crossed to the entertainment center. “This your VCR?”

“Yes. Why?”

Russo withdrew a black cartridge from his jacket pocket and slid it into the VCR. “I want to know what you think of this, Your Honor. I value your opinion.”

“You have the tape ?” Cate’s mouth dropped open. “How did you get that?”

“I’m a detective, remember?” Russo turned on the TV and pressed the button for the video. “Hey, I got the same TV.”

“But I thought this was Nesbitt’s case, and the other detective’s.” Cate got up slowly, regretting she had let him in. “I don’t want to see that tape. I don’t think I should. It’s not right. It could compromise the evidence or-”

“No, it won’t.”

“Detective, I don’t want to see it.”

“Come on, tell me what you think. I can’t gure this out, and you’re so much smarter than me. Sorry. Than I .”

“But a man was killed.” Cate recoiled, as the tape started, grainy and fuzzy. “I don’t want to see that. Please don’t turn it on.”

“Look, Judge.” Russo pointed at the image on the screen, which wasn’t Marz and Simone at all. It was pornography. Amateurish. Grainy. A muscled man lay on top of a woman, making love to her on a bed. The man’s buttocks flexed as he thrusted, and the woman’s legs were wrapped around his waist, her breasts heaving. The audio was fuzzy, but for moaning.

“What are you doing ?” Cate said, appalled. “Are you sick?”