Lisa Scottoline - Dirty Blonde

“Judge?” Micah started behind the gooseneck lamp. “What are you doing here? I heard you were in the hospital, out of town somewhere.”

“I was, but I’m fine.”

“Detective Russo tried to kill you? That’s so random!”

“Yeah, ain’t it a bitch?” Cate smiled in a way she hoped was casual. “It’s a long story. Meanwhile, what’s going on here? You moving the office?”

“No, just me. I’m just not sure where yet. I’m out of a job.” Micah’s face fell, and the box slipped, but Cate grabbed the bottom.

“What happened?”

“Aw, they let me go.” Micah’s mouth made a flat line, devoid of lipstick, and she wore no eye makeup, either, revealing a clean look to her pretty brown eyes.

“Here, let me help you with the box. I’ll back down slowly.”

“Thanks.” Micah righted the lamp, gathering up its see-through electrical cord, and Cate eased back downstairs. They reached the bottom, waddled through the open door with difficulty, and stutter-stepped onto the cold sidewalk, with the box between them. Micah nodded down the street, from her side of the box. “My car’s the blue one, a few down. I got a great space.”

“You lead.” Cate let her go ahead, holding one side of the heavy box. “So how’d this come about, your being let go?”

“Gaone is cutting costs and he doesn’t think the show needs anyone in Philly anymore.”

“But Attorneys@Law has to be one of the most profitable shows on TV,” Cate said as they inched down the street with the stuffed box between them. It wasn’t the hard-hitting interrogation she had imagined, but she could make it work to her advantage. “Why do they need to cut costs?”

“Because he’s a greedy jerk?”

And maybe this’ll be easy. “But what about the Philly details? They give the show its realistic feel.”

“He’s willing to sacrifice that. He doesn’t care about the quality of the production, only the bottom line.” Micah’s brown ponytail swung left and right as they walked along. She wore a navy down vest over a thick fisherman sweater and jeans, with her red Converse sneakers. “I heard some of the writers are getting fired, too. Isn’t that terrible? Between crap like this and the new reality shows, there’s no work for writers anymore. It’s like all my friends are getting shoved out.”

“That’s a shame. A new broom sweeps clean, huh?”

“What?”

“It’s an expression. It means when a new guy comes in, he brings in his own people and he kicks all the old guys out, even if they’re good at what they do. It sounds like what’s happening.”

“Exactly.” Micah nodded. “Here’s my car. Can you hold the box while I get the keys?”

“Sure.” Cate glanced over at the car, then did a double take, unable to hide her surprise. At the curb glistened a brand-new navy blue Mercedes, the two-door coupe. Huh ? “This gorgeous creature is your car?”

“Yes.”

“Wow! I’m jealous.” Cate almost buckled under the weight of the box as Micah dug in her pocket, retrieved the keys, and aimed them at the parked car. The trunk lid sprang open on cue, and the women struggled to dump the box inside and position it on the black-carpeted bottom. Cate was already wondering how the child owned a nicer Mercedes than hers, especially since hers was now an accordion. “I thought you said you had a Saturn.”

“No, you said I had a Saturn, with two years of payments.” Micah managed a laugh, and so did Cate.

“I’m overruled.”

“I’ll say.” Micah closed the lid and brushed off her hands. “Okay, that’s everything except the plasma TV.”

“That big one on the wall? They’re giving you that?”

“They are now.” Micah smiled bitterly.

“Will it fit in the car?”

“It’ll have to. Can you help me carry it? I’d really appreciate it.”

“I will, if you’ll have coffee with me after. I’ll tell you the story of how I almost got run over.”

“Deal,” Micah answered, her smile lingering unhappily.

“I guess I’m wondering about the night Art Simone was murdered,” Cate said, after they’d both been brought a Niçoise salad that barely fit on the round Tuilleries-type table of greenish tin, at a neighborhood bistro pretending it was located in a chic arrondissement of Paris and not across from an electrical-supplies wholesaler.

“What about it?” Micah asked. She picked up her fork and speared a slice of hard-boiled egg.

Cate flashed on poor Sarah, sitting shiva by herself, at this moment. We eat round food to symbolize the cycle of life.

“I’m wondering why you weren’t at the celebration dinner that night, after you’d won at trial. You were in court every day, and I saw you taking notes.” Cate was treading a careful line between overt flattery and over-the-top flattery. She had no other way to get the information without the proverbial rubber hose. “I figured you were Simone’s right hand, at least as important as a jury consultant, Courtney Whatever.”

“I am. I mean, I was.”

“So why weren’t you there? They were, but you weren’t.”

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Micah answered, looking down as she ate. Her ponytail curled onto her shoulder. “Art said he thought it would be better if I weren’t, and I accepted that. He asked me to get the files back in order after the trial, which I did, back at the office.”

“All by yourself? Like Cinderella?”

“Exactly.” Micah laughed, hurt.

So, no alibi. “But why did he ask you to do that then? It seems like it could have waited.”

“Not for Art. He never waited for a thing.” Micah looked up, meeting Cate’s eye directly. “He wanted the decks cleared right away so we could get back to work, full-throttle. The lawsuit interrupted all of us and slowed the show’s production. That’s why I caved so fast when you threatened to sue me, that day in the office. Litigation sucks.”

“I agree, but the cleanup could have waited a night, couldn’t it? Isn’t it possible that you were intentionally excluded from the dinner?”

“By Art?”

Yes . “Not necessarily. By anyone else who was there?”

“Why do you ask? Why do you even care?”

Cate felt at a momentary loss. “I’m trying to understand everything about that night. Because I’m not sure Richard Marz was the one who killed Art Simone.”

“And you think I did?” Micah’s eyes flared with a shock that looked genuine.

Maybe . “No. You worked for Simone, and were loyal to him, I can see that. I’m just trying to understand what really happened that night.”

“The police know what really happened. Marz did it. They have him on security video, as if they needed that.” Micah scoffed defensively. “He tried to kill Art right in front of you, in court!”

“Marz’s wife doesn’t think he did it.”

“Of course, she wouldn’t.”

“But neither does Russo, who thinks I did it.”

“You? That’s ridiculous!” Micah said, incredulous. “Why would you ?”

“Because I supposedly wanted to stop you and Simone from making a TV series about me.”

“By killing Art? Ha! That wouldn’t have stopped a single thing.” Micah’s eyes remained wide. “Look, Art is dead and they’re making it without him, me, or any of our old writers. If there’s money to be made, Hollywood makes it happen.”

Cate tried not to think of Gina and Warren, on TV, Sunday nights at nine. “But you’d have to be in TV to know that for sure. So, back to this celebration dinner, did someone want you not to be there? Like the jury consultant?” Cate was making it up as she went along, but Micah leaned forward intently.