“Does Russo know about this?” Cate asked, when it occurred to her.
“No. Just me.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“No. This investigation’s on the Simone case, so it stays with the Simone case. The Roundhouse can be a friggin’ sieve, so I always keep my investigations close to the vest. No leaks.” Nesbitt shook his head. “I didn’t even tell Roots about those papers on you. He doesn’t need to know. That’s why I came alone this morning.”
Cate felt grateful. “But you and Russo are friends.”
“No, we’re not. We used to be partners, is all.”
“On the cop shows, the partners are always best friends.”
Nesbitt smiled. “This is no buddy movie. Fact is, Russo’s okay, but there’s a reason we’re not partners anymore. We’re like Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy. Opposites. Russo’s not a by-the-book kinda guy.”
No, he certainly isn’t. “He came to my house last night,” Cate ventured, since she was feeling safer about confiding in him, and Nesbitt stiffened, his mouth tightening.
“He shouldn’t have. What happened?”
“He’s angry that he lost the case. He showed me a videotape of amateur porn and a man in a hotel room.”
Nesbitt’s features darkened. “He shouldn’t have done that, either.”
“So you saw it? With the man in the hotel room?”
“Yes. He showed it to me. He thinks the woman with the man, Partridge, is you.”
Cate’s heart hiccupped. “And what did you think?”
“I wasn’t sure. I thought it could be you, Judge, but I didn’t tell him that. I figured if it was you, with some guy you picked up-” Nesbitt caught himself. “I mean, dated.”
Cate flushed, mortified.
“I don’t know why you threw money at the guy, but it doesn’t mean you’re crooked. Or being blackmailed. Knowing what I know”-Nesbitt gestured at the papers lying between them on the worktable-“I figured it was a lovers’ quarrel.”
Cate winced.
“Hey, whatever. If there’s no murder, it’s not my job. Partridge wasn’t a homicide, so it’s just another weird coincidence. Philly’s a small town in lots of ways, and given what you were up to, it’s not unlikely you’d run into a guy like Partridge. In fact, it was just a matter of time.” Nesbitt pursed his lips under his brushy mustache. “Look at it this way. Russo doesn’t know about you, what you’re up to, so he figures it is what it looks like-a crooked judge. Or a judge being blackmailed. Not that I’m making excuses for him.”
“Did you know he was going to my house with the tape?”
“Of course not. You think I’d let him get away with that? Makes the squad look bush league.”
Cate believed him, because he looked so offended.
“Don’t worry about Russo. I’ve seen him like this before, and he gets over it. He had his hopes up about the TV thing. Me and him used to talk about it, and he took the verdict bad. He’d started spending the money before he even had it. Picturing himself at one of those infinity pools, or on the golf course. He’s a hothead, an emotional guy, but then it goes away.”
Cate wasn’t so sure. “I thought about reporting him, but I’m not, for obvious reasons.”
“Please, don’t.” Nesbitt looked worried again. “You don’t need that kind of blowback, and there’s no reason to. Trust me, I’ve known the guy twenty-some years. He’s all talk, no action.”
“Have you seen him since the news about Marz?”
“No, and he’s off today. I’ll catch him soon as I can.” Nesbitt rose to go, brushing down his dress pants. “Anyway, I got to get moving. The conference.”
“Right.” Cate rose, too. “Thanks for coming by. I do appreciate your judgment, and your discretion.”
“You’re welcome, Judge.” Nesbitt smiled. “I’m sure this has been a rough coupla weeks for you, but it’s all over now.”
“Case closed, as you guys say.” Cate walked him to the door, and Nesbitt smiled.
“You mean, ‘case cleared.’”
Cate laughed as he turned to go, and she shut the door behind him.
She leaned against the door for a minute, then looked out the window without seeing anything, and wondered why Simone would have someone follow her. Was something going on between him and his assistant? Was Gilbert jealous, and that’s why she followed her? That didn’t make sense. If that were the reason, why do it for so long? And why be so precise? 9:33. 10:23. From these papers, it looked like work, or research. She felt confounded.
Until a suspicion snuck up on her.
CHAPTER 17
Cate had come across it last night, drafting her opinion. She went over to her briefcase, opened it up, and unpacked it on the couch, taking out the three transcripts from the most important days of trial. She shuffled the thick green-bound transcripts and found the day Simone had taken the stand. She opened the transcript and flipped through. Where had she seen that reference? She’d thought it was just a throwaway at the time, but now it was looming large. She turned the pages, searching. 146. 147. 148.
There. Simone on direct examination:
A: For example, I could make this lawsuit into a TV series. Write a spin-off from Attorneys@Law. Call it Judges@Court. And it could star a blond female judge who looked a lot like you, Judge Fante. Charismatic, attention-getting. The most alive person in the room. What do you think?
THE COURT: Great idea, I’d love it. Get Charlize Theron, for me.
A: Done.
Cate closed the transcript, angered. What if Simone hadn’t been kidding? What if he really was making a new TV show, with a woman judge as its lead? What if he’d been having her followed for research? It fit the photos, too. The questions led to more questions. Did he start having her followed, then found out what she did at night, or vice versa? Could he really have turned her sex life into a TV show? Could he still, through his production company?
Cate shuddered at the thought. If he did, every judge on the court would know it was really her, and so would every litigant, witness, and juror who came before her. Her old partners at Beecker, and her clients, CEOs and VPs of Fortune 500 companies. They’d all speculate. Gossip. Whisper.
No. Cate wouldn’t have it, she couldn’t. She went back to the table, picked up the phone, and called information for the Four Seasons, then punched the number in and got through to the front desk. “May I speak to Micah Gilbert, please? I believe she was with the Arthur Simone group.”
“Please hold while I check the number,” the operator said, then came back on. “I’m sorry, Ms. Gilbert was never a guest.”
Damn. “Thank you.” Cate hung up, on fire. Gilbert hadn’t testified at the trial, but she had undoubtedly been deposed during discovery. But deps weren’t required to be filed with the court. She knew nothing about the Simone organization. She went back to her desk and logged onto her computer, clicked through to google.com and plugged in “Micah Gilbert” and “Arthur Simone.” Three zillion entries came up in a list, dominated by Attorneys@Law. She clicked the URL and the screen changed to a simple white page with a black border, which read: WE MOURN THE PASSING OF OUR CREATOR, MENTOR, AND DEAR FRIEND, ARTHUR G. SIMONE.
Before Cate’s disappointment had a chance to set in, the tribute dissolved, revealing the slick home page for Attorneys@Law, with gritty photos of the fictional lawyers and a lineup of standard webpage buttons. Cate clicked ABOUT US and two addresses appeared on the screen, one in the coveted 90210 zip code listing. After CREATOR, Arthur Simone, came EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS, CO-EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS, SUPERVISING PRODUCERS and the like. After that there was one name next to an address in the less-than-coveted 19006 zip code. Philadelphia. Attorneys@Law evidently had offices in town, and the PRODUCTION ASSISTANT, PHILLY was Micah Gilbert.