as a no-parking zone and you have continued to park there regardless. You chose to take the risk and you got caught, so you pay. That’s the law as it stands, and my verdict, accordingly. Now, step back or the bailiff will assist you over to the defendant’s podium. Then, as I said before, see the clerk about settling your account with the court. And we do accept weekly payments because—” she cast him a victorious smile “—we aim to please.”
For an instant Mike looked stricken—well, almost. For him it was stricken, and that was the biggest victory. Overall, Lilly was satisfied with the patience she was exercising in his case. God knows, he didn’t deserve it, but she wasn’t about to let him see how much she wanted to just hurl the gavel at him and do some good old cathartic screaming. But that’s what he expected from her, wanted from her, was trying to goad her into. And actually, that’s what she’d done on account of him a time or two, pretty much without reaction from him. But now, that little flinch of chagrin she evoked, the one she saw for just that split second…it was all the reaction she needed. Lilly—one. Mike—zero.
Mike hadn’t changed, she thought, waiting for him to actually step back, which he wasn’t doing with any great haste. Hadn’t changed in attitude, or in physical appearance, either. Tall, nice muscles, over-the-collar sandy-brown hair, a little shaggy and mussed…Her mind drifted to the tattoo and she shook her head to clear away the image. How long had it been? A year since the last time they’d met? Five years since the first time? And look at him now. Just standing there, holding his ground as if he owns the court, as if there hasn’t been a lot of water under our bridge. A positive deluge! Stifling an impatient sigh, Lilly toughened her stare. She didn’t need another go-round with Mike Collier. The first time should have been enough to teach her to stay away, and the second time absolutely did. And now, today—right here—she wasn’t going to be affected by him, not in the least. Cold, leery, impervious…she was counting the ways she’d promised herself she’d greet Mike should they ever cross paths again. In addition, every single one of those resolutions bottom lined at no way, no how, and the sooner she got him out of her courtroom, the sooner no way, no how could get back on track, because it sure as hell was fighting to slip.
So keeping with her own personal decree, Lilly lowered her glasses, then frowned over the top of them at him. No mistaking her frown, she thought. Even Mike wouldn’t misconstrue the meaning. “Get out of here now, Mr. Collier. Last warning. You’re wasting the court’s time.” Her time, too. But it was so good to hide behind the power of the court.
“Like I said, I won’t pay it,” he said, shrugging indifferently. “And I want to appeal your decision.”
“Appeal a parking ticket? Nobody appeals parking tickets, especially after they’ve already admitted guilt,” she remarked, tilting her head down just a little farther so her stare over the top of her glasses was even more pronounced. She didn’t need them, not even for reading. Clear glass all the way. She sure liked their effect, though. Thought they gave her a bit of an austere look—black glasses, black robe, black gavel…red hair. And that was the problem. Hair red and wild—barely tameable even when pulled into a knot at the back of her neck—plus that splash of freckles across her nose…Definitely not the image of a judge, at least not the image she had of one, so she did what she could to achieve the stern judicial look, including the monster-size glasses.
“So let’s get this straight, Your Honor. You’re denying me my legal rights?” Mike raised his head and looked down his nose at her. “Is that what you’re doing? Taking away my inalienable rights?”
“Inalienable rights, Mr. Collier, have nothing to do with your parking tickets.” Lilly took her eyes off Mike long enough to nod at her bailiff, Pete Walker, a small, near-retirement-age man who was simply serving out his last year of employment in an easy, low-profile job. Leaning on the wall under the exit sign, Pete moved his hand immediately to his gun holster, unsnapping it. Seeing that he was ready, Lilly continued her ocular duel with Mike, her over-the-rim glare meeting his down-the-nose stare. “There are other people here, waiting their turn to be heard, you know. Plus, you’re getting on my nerves. So I’m giving you thirty seconds to comply.” She raised her arm, looked at her wristwatch and started counting down the seconds. “Which I believe is generous, under the circumstances.” Better than you deserve.
“Thirty seconds, then what, Your Honor?”
She smiled at him—a practiced, patient smile that gave away nothing. Then she glanced at her watch again. “Twenty seconds.”
Mike merely stared back.
“Ten seconds, Mr. Collier.”
And he kept on staring.
“Five.”
Then he started to tap his right foot…a slow, meticulous rhythm that didn’t break its meter by a fraction.
Finally, bingo! “Pete…” Lilly said, waving him over.
Lilly’s call to her bailiff hushed the crowd, and Pete Walker snapped to attention, pulling the handcuffs from his belt. He studied them for a second since, in his nine months as bailiff, this was the first time they’d ever been off his belt. When he was satisfied that he remembered how to use them, he marched straight to Mike, each and every one of his footsteps clicking in sharp military precision on the floor. “You have the right to remain silent,” he said on approach.
“Lilly, you’ve got to be kidding,” Mike exclaimed, seeming genuinely surprised. “You’re not really going to do this to me, are you?”
“This is Friday, Mr. Collier. Consider yourself a guest of the city jail until Monday morning at nine, at which time we’ll resume this conversation. And maybe by then you’ll be persuaded to see it my way. Not that you really have a choice, because it is my way in my courtroom—such as it is. And that fine…let’s say we make it an even two thousand just on account of—” Lilly removed her glasses and looked directly at him “—I can.” Then she put them back on.
“Honest to God, I really think you’d do it, wouldn’t you?” Mike exclaimed. “You’d really throw me in jail. Over parking tickets. Come on, Lilly, give me a break here.”
“Please turn around and hold your hands behind your back, Mr. Collier,” Pete instructed, his voice on the verge of quivering, since this was, after all, the first time he’d ever arrested anyone. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and if you can’t afford one…” Mike, at six foot three inches, towered over Pete by a head and a half as he submitted to the man’s cuffs. And Pete, whose hands were shaking, fumbled with the latch until the cuffs slipped from his grip and hit the floor. A congenial-looking seventyish woman, decked in floral capri pants and a white straw hat, picked up the cuffs and winked when she handed them back to Pete.
“You do know that I own the newspaper, don’t you?” Mike asked, spinning back around to face Lilly. His hands still behind him, he inched forward to allow Pete sufficient room to continue the protracted cuffing ordeal.
“Boy, do I know,” she snapped. “And I certainly hope that’s not intended as a threat, because if it is…if you intend to use the power of the press to—”
“A news item, Your Honor,” Mike interrupted, a thin edge of anger finally sounding in his voice. “Not a threat.”
It never was a threat, she recalled. Her last year of law school, she had been at the top of her class with some great career prospects lining up for her future. Mike was working on his postgraduate degree at the time, teaching at the university and overseeing the campus paper. And she’d made that ominous mistake of
