didn’t beat him. So he shoved him around a little bit. You can’t blame Vic. He has an eight-year-old daughter. Any parent on a jury would have done the same if they’d seen what that sick pervert did to that little girl.”
“I have no doubt you’re right, but, unfortunately, Mr. Bellemy was spared the jury process because of Detective Peterson’s actions—and yours for not restraining your partner.”
“I had all I could do to restrain myself. My mistake was stopping Vic from killing the bastard!”
“Oh right, Detective, that would make Peterson a condemned murderer and he’d be the one who would end up serving a life sentence.”
“Not if he came up before you, Your Honor. Seems like murderers get an easy walk in your court.”
Jessica watched him storm off with that panther stride of his.
When Jessica entered the office, her distress must have shown on her face. Liz Alexander glanced up with a sympathetic smile. “I watched it all in living color. I see he got to you again, honey,” she said, in reference to Nemesis-Detective Douglas I. McGuire.
Liz had been Jessica’s secretary when they worked together in the D.A.’s office, and had come with her when Jessica had been chosen to fill a sudden vacancy on the circuit court. She had toiled tirelessly to help get Jessica elected to that seat when the temporary term had expired. But Liz was more than a secretary to her. The fifty-year-old widow had become her confidant, her counselor, the sympathetic ear to her tribulations—the joyous smile to her accomplishments—a shopping companion, or the one to share a pizza and gabfest over a current novel or show. Mother or sister, whatever the moment called for, but above all—best friend.
Whether one liked or resented Jessica, everyone in the courthouse loved Liz: police officers, detectives, bailiffs, sheriffs, court reporters, clerks, maintenance crews—even the media. They gravitated toward Liz’s desk, and she mothered them all. The consensus among them that Liz could probably be a better counselor to the prisoners locked behind bars than the lawyers who defended them or the clergymen who attempted to offer them spiritual guidance.
Sighing deeply, Jessica shook her head. “That man drives me wild.”
“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?”
