Ana Leigh - The Law And Lady Justice

“You and probably every other woman he knows. He’s one sexy hunk.”

“I meant he makes me so angry I want to scream.”

“Oh yeah, right.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t believe you haven’t noticed he’s sexy.”

“Too much for his own good. That’s probably why he’s so arrogant. God’s gift to womanhood!” She headed for her chambers. “I pity his poor wife, if he’s married.”

“He isn’t,” Liz replied.

Jessica halted and turned around. “Really? How do you know?”

“His partner told me.”

“Ex-wife?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s got a live-in girlfriend.”

“Nope. No wife, ex-wife or live-in girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Jessica asked, hesitantly.

Liz rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“Well, obviously, no woman can tolerate him. He’s arrogant, overbearing, short-tempered, foul-mouthed and…” She stopped and bit her lip to cut off her words.

“And what?” Liz asked.

Jessica expelled a deep breath. “The sexiest man I’ve ever met.” Both women giggled.

“I never heard you say that about Dennis Wolcott in the whole seven years you went with him.”

“We’re not exactly comparing apples to apples here, Miss Elizabeth.”

“In fact,” Liz tapped a fuchsia-tipped finger against her chin, “I don’t remember you even mentioning poor Mr. Pomp and Circumstance from the time you broke your engagement to him six months ago. I think I’ve just figured out what the problem is here.”

“And just what would that be?” Jessica asked.

Liz leaned back in her chair, folded her arms across her still firm and very trim breasts, and poked her tongue in her cheek. “You’re horny, Judge Kirkland.”

Still steaming from his talk with the judge, Doug waited outside of the courthouse for Vic. Thankfully, Sherilyn the shark had left and had taken her microphone, camera and rawhide hair with her. Normally, he didn’t blame anyone for trying to make an honest buck—but making money off of other people’s misfortunes left him cold.

Too bad Sherilyn didn’t have the class of the judge—or her legs. Those legs of hers! His thoughts immediately conjured up one of his favorite images—Judge Jessica’s long legs. Keeping them hidden under that black robe was criminal.

A dark blue Crown Victoria pulled up. Doug walked over and opened the car door. Vic Peterson grinned at him from behind the wheel.

After removing his suit jacket, Doug climbed in, then tossed the jacket into the back seat. “What kept you?”

“I was watching the Judge Jessica Meets The Wolf Man show. It’s a sure bet for renewal in the fall.”

“She’s something, isn’t she?”

“You talking about the judge or the blonde?” Vic asked. When Doug threw him an exasperated look, Vic said, “You’ve really got a thing for her, don’t you? Since when are you the shy type? Why don’t you just ask her out?”

“I’m preserving my virginity for when Bev dumps you,” Doug said. “Besides, Judge Jessica can’t stand the sight of me, and she’s engaged to that prick lawyer Wolcott.”

“Boy, partner, you’re really slipping. Don’t you read the paper? They broke up six months ago.”

Doug’s pulses shot into overdrive. He grinned with pleasure. “No kidding?” Knowing Vic would spare no mercy if he suspected Doug was serious, he quickly tried to cover up. “I didn’t think you read anything but the sports section.”

“I don’t. Her secretary told me.”

Vic wheeled his way through the traffic to the House of Correction, where the criminals with minor offenses were incarcerated.

After signing in, and handing over a carton of cigarettes, they sat down in a small, private room. In a short time, they were joined by one of the convicts, his skinny five feet two inches decked in a bright orange jumpsuit of the Milwaukee County penal system.

“Hey, McGuire. Peterson.” He nodded his head, sparsely covered with strands of dank, dark hair. His wide grin revealed a mouth of nicotine-stained teeth in an advanced stage of decay.

“How ya doin’, Paulie?” Vic said.

“Good. Grub’s real good here,” he said.

“Must be. You’re sure eager to come back often enough,” Doug said. “What’re you in for this time?”

“Just passing some checks,” Paulie said. “I got a bum rap.”

“Right,” Doug said.

“You bring the smokes?” The little man nervously threaded his fingers through what was fast becoming a receding hairline.

“Yeah,” Vic said, “you ought to give ’em up. They’re gonna kill you.”

Paulie chuckled. “Naw. That’s why I smoke filter tips.”

“So, what have you got that’s so important?” Doug asked.

“I wuz talkin’ to this fella who wuz jest brought in today. He told me somethin’ you guys oughta know.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Doug said to the snitch.

“I figure it’s worth a sawbuck to ya.”

“We already brought you a carton of smokes. It cost a damn sight more than a sawbuck.”

“You sure they’re filter tips?”

“Get on with it, Paulie,” Doug said impatiently. “If you’ve got something good, we’ll throw in the ten dollars.”

“Okay, okay. This fella lives in the Third Ward and said the word on the street is that someone’s lookin’ to hire a hit man.”

Paulie paused to let his words sink in as Doug and Vic exchanged a long look.

“Who’s the target?”

“He didn’t know.”

“Who’s putting out the contract?”

“Didn’t know that, either. He only heard it involved a case McGuire and Peterson had handled.”

“Which case?”

“He didn’t know.”

“You’re saying he doesn’t know the case, the victim or who put out the contract,” Doug said. “You wouldn’t be holding out on us, would you, Paulie?”

“No, I swear, fellas, that’s all he told me. Ain’t I always been up front with ya?”

The guy was clueless. Doug headed for the door. “If you hear anything more, give us a call.”

“What about the sawbuck?”

“You’ll get it when you give us something more,” Vic said. “The name of the game is names, Paulie. We need names.”

On the way out, Doug stopped and added a ten-dollar bill to the carton of cigarettes.

Vic shook his head. “Under all that skepticism, you’re a real marshmallow, McGuire.”

Vic maneuvered the Crown Victoria into their parking space and killed the engine. He glanced at his watch, then at Doug. “You going home?”

Doug had already gotten out of the car and retrieved his jacket, shrugging into the sleeves, despite the late-afternoon heat. The captain frowned on detectives walking around without jackets in public. No displaying your weapon in front of the citizenry—probably wasn’t a good idea for the criminals to see it, either. Like nobody knew they were wearing Glocks. Right!

“I think I’ll go in for a while.” Doug’s gaze met his partner’s across the top of the car, just in time to see the flash of concern in Vic’s eyes. “What?”

“Why don’t you come over for dinner? You’ve got to eat.”

“Thanks, but no. I was over twice last week.”

“Bev loves to have you—and the kids do, too. Andrea has a crush on you a mile wide. Right now it’s cute, although I will have to kill you in about eight years. Justin and Brandon would love to toss the ball around.”

Doug ignored the stab of envy for his friend. Vic and Bev had been married twenty years. They had two teenage sons and an eight-year-old daughter—who was going on twenty-five. Vic was lucky. He was one of the few cops who had a marriage that had survived. His children were healthy, happy and thriving, and the Peterson clan always welcomed Doug with open arms. But lately he’d started to feel just a bit sad when he was there, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why.