she showed no reaction. “Be sure and give Danny my best.”
Kate nodded. “So what’ll it be tonight?”
“A couple of beers, burgers with the works and some fries.”
“You got it, honey.” Kate came back instantly, put down a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and then took off again.
“Sorry about Kate’s remark,” he said, filling her glass.
“Think nothing of it. I’m getting used to those kind of comments.”
“You can’t blame people for resenting how these criminals get off, can you? But don’t be misled by Kate’s remark. She’s one of the great women of the world. Do you remember reading a few years back about this hopped up junkie who shot his girlfriend, set the house on fire, and before shooting himself put a bullet into the young police officer who came into the burning building to rescue an infant in a crib?”
“Oh, yes. That was so tragic. If I remember, they all died.”
“Not quite. The baby died…the woman died…the perp died, but the police officer wasn’t that lucky. He sustained first-degree burns over his face and hands, and the bullet severed his spinal cord. The doctors say with continued therapy he might be able to sit up in a wheelchair in another year. In the meantime, they’ve been working on plastic surgery to cover up the burns on his face. He was pretty maimed. That young police officer is Danny Harrigan— Kate’s twenty-one-year-old son. Her husband, Jimmy, had been shot and killed five years before that incident, when he stopped a car on a routine traffic violation.”
“That’s terrible! I’m so sorry, Doug.”
“Yeah, we’re all sorry. And poor Kate. Bad enough she lost a husband—and son—but she has to work her butt off to pay for the medical bills that the insurance doesn’t cover. Any woman dumb enough to fall in love with a cop ought to go to a shrink first before marrying one.”
“It sounds to me like you really mean anyone who chooses to become a police officer ought to pay a visit to that shrink. Why did you go into law enforcement, Doug?” she asked.
“I can tell you it wasn’t for truth, justice and the American Way. I like solving puzzles. Every crime leaves some kind of clues. The challenge is to recognize them. They’re like pieces of a picture puzzle. You keep moving them around until they all fit, and the whole picture is laid out before you.”
“I would have thought the FBI would hold more of an appeal to you.”
“They did try to recruit me when I finished college, but I come from a long line of cops, so I opted to join the Milwaukee Police Department. I put in the required five years in uniform—which had seemed like fifty at the time—counting the days until I could take the promotional exam for detective.”
“Is your father on the force?”
“Not here. He’s the police chief of a small town in Northern Illinois. What about you, Your Honor?”
“Jessica or Jess. We’re not in court now.”
“Okay, Jess. How come a beautiful young woman with brains and beauty to boot chose to become a felony judge?”
“I know you won’t believe me, but I became a judge in order to see justice done.”
“Yeah, but whose side are you on?”
“Doug, I don’t take pleasure out of seeing criminals get off scot-free, but until the arresting officers play by the letter of the law, it will continue to happen. Not only in my court, but also in courts all around the country. There are too many defense lawyers out there today who know every loophole in the book. Why blame the judges for upholding the same laws you’ve sworn to protect?”
Fortunately, Kate arrived with their food, thus preventing what might have become another argument.
Jessica looked at the hamburger heaped with onions, pickles, cheese, mushrooms and catsup dripping down the sides. “I should have brought my calculator.”
“Dinner’s on me,” he said.
“You’re darn right it is, McGuire. You pulled me away from a perfectly good meal. I just need a calculator to add up all the fat grams we’re about to eat. Looks like cholesterol heaven.”
Doug took a chomp of the sandwich and wondered why a woman with a body like hers would worry about a few extra calories. He wasn’t supposed to think about the body beneath that proper suit, but sitting across a table from her sharing a meal—instead of a murder case—made him more aware of the woman instead of the judge.
When they finished eating, they paired off in a shuffle-board game against an engaged couple on the force. Then they sat down and finished off the pitcher of beer—and discovered that they both liked old movies, old torch songs, Ella Fitzgerald singing jazz and Sinatra singing anything.
He also discovered she had a sense of humor, was easy to talk to and fun to be with. So what was missing? Why hadn’t some lucky guy nailed her with a marriage license? There’d had to be a better reason other than she couldn’t cook. The puzzle solver in him wondered about the missing piece. “You ever been married, Jess?”
She shook her head. “Dennis Wolcott and I were engaged, but we never got around to setting a date. As it turned out, it was just as well we didn’t—we weren’t in love. At least what I consider being in love. I’d never settle for anything less than what my parents had together. What about you? Have you ever been in love, Doug?”
“A babe in Sheboygan got a gold watch out of me once. The next day she returned it to the jeweler for diamond earrings. I figured we weren’t on the same wavelength, so I lost her phone number.”
“Just because the babe exchanged the gift you gave her.”
“I figure if someone you love gives you a gift, it ought to mean more to you than a damn pair of earrings!” She was tapping into feelings he couldn’t explain. Feelings he didn’t want to deal with—much less talk about.
She must have sensed that, because she grinned at him. “Maybe she just couldn’t tell time.” Glancing at her watch, she said, “But I can, and it’s getting pretty late.”
It was midnight by the time they returned to the parking lot of the Water Street Bistro to get their cars.
Jessica began to pull the pins out of her hair. “You’ll have to excuse me but I have to let my hair down. These pins are beginning to drive me crazy.” She raised her hands like claws. “I have a driving urgency to get my hands into it!”
They had another thing in common.
His stomach flopped over when she shook her hair out and the length dropped past her shoulders. “You ought to wear it like that more often,” he said, spellbound.
“I’m afraid that would make me look more woman than judge.”
“Is that so bad?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her face.
“I’m afraid you’re prejudiced, Detective McGuire.”
Detective McGuire. A few minutes ago, he’d been Doug
