The Empire State Cat’s Christmas Gift. Nic Tatano

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The Empire State Cat’s Christmas Gift - Nic  Tatano

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to the jury? Pretty slick.”

      “She’s got great eyes. I’ve never seen such a deep blue.”

      “Oh for God’s sake, I was talking about the eye roll to the jury that the judge couldn’t see.”

      “Yeah, that was a neat trick. She still has great eyes. You think she’s got colored contact lenses?”

      “Duh, she’s wearing glasses, Sherlock.”

      “Oh, right.”

      “Geez, if you ever have to face her in court you won’t have a chance.”

      The attorney finished up what could only be described as an inquisition of the witness and the judge looked at her watch. “I think this is a good stopping point,” said the judge. “We’ll recess for lunch and I want everyone back here at one-thirty sharp. And that does not mean one-thirty-one.”

      The blonde attorney raised one finger. “Approach the bench before we go, your honor?”

      “Make it quick, counselor. There’s a pastrami sandwich with my name on it in my chambers. Which I assume the bailiff remembered to order. And I hope he got one for himself.” The bailiff nodded and smiled as the crowd chuckled. The judge motioned for the attorney to come forward, put her hand over the microphone and leaned toward her. She listened for a minute, then nodded as the attorney went back to her desk. The judge looked up at the crowd. “It has been brought to my attention that there has been a good bit of distracting chatter from the back of the room. Apparently the last row in a courtroom is the same as the one in a classroom, filled with those hooligans who can’t keep quiet. Now I understand that since this is my first day there are a lot of attorneys here as you guys want to get a feel for the new sheriff in town. So let me say that if I hear so much as a whisper from a lawyer who is not involved in this case when we return from lunch, I will have no qualms about sending those who can’t shut the hell up for a mini-vacation in a rather uncomfortable cell. And speaking of cells, I’d better not hear any of those ring either.” She narrowed her eyes at the back row. “Do I make myself clear?”

      The blonde attorney looked in Spencer’s direction. He turned and looked to both sides, as if searching for the culprit.

      Ariel shook her head, wrote on her legal pad and slid it onto his lap.

       Bus-ted.

      Spencer handed his lunch menu to the waiter and turned to Ariel. “So, what did you think?”

      “I thought the judge was very fair. I don’t think she was biased either way. If she has an agenda it will take a while for everyone to figure it out. And obviously she has no tolerance for people who disrupt her courtroom. I think she got a bad rap from the people I talked to. I wouldn’t have a problem with her.”

      “Not the judge. What did you think about the attorney?”

      “The short brunette? Eh, she was okay.”

      “I meant the other one.” His eyes widened as he flashed a slight smile.

      “I know you did. Ah, I knew she was your type.”

      “I don’t have a type.”

      “Oh, bull. She’s just like all the other women you’ve dated.”

      “I’ve never been out with a blonde.”

      Ariel shook her head. “Nothing to do with hair color, sweetie. When it comes to what gets your motor running, they all have the same common denominator.”

      “Enlighten me, counselor.”

      “Let’s see…she checks all the boxes for you. Conservative outfit, skirt to the knee, practical heels, strand of pearls the only jewelry, pure old-school class. The kind of woman who wouldn’t be caught dead in a bikini or miniskirt even though she might have a killer body. Not stunning but attractive in a classic way. What you always refer to as quietly beautiful. Strong and independent, obviously in control. And the big one that really turns you on, she’s obviously smart and spunky as hell. Kicks ass and takes no prisoners. You have to agree the woman owned the courtroom. What she did to that witness probably violated the Patriot Act. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but she was tougher on a witness than you are, and you’re ruthless.”

      “I can’t believe I’m agreeing with you.”

      “Anyway, did I just describe your perfect woman?”

      “Okay, I admit I’m attracted to really smart women who are pretty but aren’t flashy. However, that’s a really broad brush.”

      “Ah, but the thing that drives all guys nuts…hair up and glasses. You fantasize that once the hair comes down and the glasses come off, she’s a hellcat in bed.”

      He couldn’t hold back a sly smile. “Hence the term, let your hair down. And I’ve found it to be true in most cases.”

      “What about women who never wear their hair up, like me?”

      “I plead the fifth on the grounds that I already love you. You’re the sister I never had.”

      “Good answer, Mister. Oooh, I almost forgot. Added to all that, she’s got another quality you can’t resist.”

      “What else?”

      “That scratchy, lives-in-a-smoky-bar whiskey voice. Demi Moore meets Lorraine Bracco meets Angie Harmon. Hell, if she ever got disbarred she could get a job with a phone sex company.”

      “Fine, I’ll give you that. Her voice was sexy as hell. Now can we get back to the case we have tomorrow? We’ve got a long night ahead of us already.”

      “Sure. But this is a lot more fun.” Ariel flashed a grin as their lunch order arrived. She picked up her fork and stabbed at a piece of salad. “Oh, before I forget, I wanted to run something by you. I have a possible case coming up with a man who…well…is pretty much a horrible person.”

      Spencer shrugged. “We represent a lot of people who are long way from being decent. Hey, unless he’s murdered someone, what’s the big deal?”

      “Yeah, but this one—”

      “Will the client’s checks bounce?”

      “No, he has extremely deep pockets.”

      “Well, then, I think that ends the discussion. We are in business to make money, after all.”

      Ariel nodded. “Hmm, that we are…”

      *

      Tish finished her research around six just as law school intern Brian Stevens entered her office. She reached over to pet Socks, who had claimed the corner of her desk as her own for the last several hours. “Hi, Brian. Meet your new assistant.”

      “Ah, this must be Socks.” The short, sandy-haired, third-year law student moved forward to pet the cat. “So, she actually saved your life, huh?”

      “Yep. I could sleep through an atomic bomb. If she hadn’t woken me up I’d be taking a dirt nap because the smoke

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