“What about the jury consultant with the red hair?”
“Courtney Flavert? What about her?”
“Was she invited?”
“Yes.”
So Micah had been excluded. Why? “She went?”
“Yes.”
“Did you fly out together?”
“Yes.” George looked away and reached for his coffee, taking two long sips and replacing the cup with a tiny clink. “Now, can we change the subject? This is so morbid. Why did you call me?”
“Wait, I’m just curious, was it a big funeral? Did you see any celebrities?”
George brightened. “It was huge, I would say three hundred people, and all the actors from the show, plus the cast of The Sopranos, and Law amp; Order, too. It was a real treat. I got Dennis Farina’s autograph. The man reeks of credibility. He was a real detective, did you know that? Before he became an actor? He was great in Crime Story. Remember Crime Story?” George seemed to get happier, merely thinking of Dennis Farina. “Now, so, what is the representation you came to see me about?”
Cate had gotten all the information he could give her, so she switched gears. “I need you to go to war for me.”
“I’d be honored to represent you.” George smiled. “I did run a conflicts check and we’re not conflicted out. We represent the Inquirer, but we don’t represent the Daily News. Though they’re owned by the same entity, they divide their legal work among all the top-tier firms.”
“No, I’m not suing a newspaper. It’s not a defamation matter. All of what they printed about me is true.”
“Oh.” George’s eyebrows flew upwards, but at least he didn’t point and laugh.
“As you probably read, the chief judge has effectively relieved me of duty, and I don’t think he has the power to do that. It’s a constitutional question, probably of first impression. Let me frame the issue for you-does the active sex life of an unmarried federal judge qualify as impeachable conduct within the meaning of Article III of the U.S. Constitution?” Cate reconsidered. “Okay, to be fair, you probably have to include that some of my…paramours had criminal records.”
“You want me to sue the chief judge of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania?”
“And the circuit executive, and the clerk of court.” Cate thought a minute. “And the chief judge of the Third Circuit, on a respondeat superior theory, since he’s essentially the administrative boss.”
George reddened.
“I want my job back.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Why not? Are you man or mouse?”
“Judge.” George shifted in his comfy chair. “You have to understand.”
“How can I?” Cate asked, angering. “You haven’t explained it.”
“I’ve headed this trial group for seven years. My partners are in front of that bench and those judges, all day long. Furthermore, I’m managing partner now. I represent three hundred and twenty-one lawyers, in this office alone.”
“Good. I need a big gun, that’s why I’m here. It’s a cutting-edge legal question. It could go up to the Supremes. Let’s make some law.”
George shook his head. “I can’t afford the retaliation factor. If I litigate against the chief judge, it’s career suicide.”
“Or it’s protecting my right to my job.”
“I can’t do it.” George sighed heavily and smoothed down his tie. “No big firm could, and none would. You can’t fault me.”
“So you’re a mouse.” Cate rose to her feet, not completely surprised, and walked the few steps to the door. “You’ll beat up on a kid like Marz, but you won’t take on a chief judge.”
George rose, too, spreading open palms. “That’s just reality, Judge.”
“I thought you represented the legal principle.”
“But this is different.”
Cate turned on the threshold. “How?”
George blinked.
“Thought so,” Cate said, and left. She was already feeling more herself, thinking of where to go next. Because as much as she missed her job, she had realized something she could never have known before she got fired, however unconstitutionally.
You don’t need a robe to do justice.
CHAPTER 41
Odd. Despite the cold, the front door with the stenciled number 388 stood propped wide open with a brick, and Cate slipped through and climbed the stairs, almost banging into Micah as she descended, carrying a huge cardboard box that held papers and files, a chrome gooseneck desk lamp, and her white iBook.
“Judge?” Micah started behind the gooseneck lamp. “What are you doing here? I heard you were in the hospital, out of town somewhere.”
“I was, but I’m fine.”
“Detective Russo tried to kill you? That’s so random!”
“Yeah, ain’t it a bitch?” Cate smiled in a way she hoped was casual. “It’s a long story. Meanwhile, what’s going on here? You moving the office?”
“No, just me. I’m just not sure where yet. I’m out of a job.” Micah’s face fell, and the box slipped, but Cate grabbed the bottom.
“What happened?”
“Aw, they let me go.” Micah’s mouth made a flat line, devoid of lipstick, and she wore no eye makeup, either, revealing a clean look to her pretty brown eyes.
“Here, let me help you with the box. I’ll back down slowly.”
“Thanks.” Micah righted the lamp, gathering up its see-through electrical cord, and Cate eased back downstairs. They reached the bottom, waddled through the open door with difficulty, and stutter-stepped onto the cold sidewalk, with the box between them. Micah nodded down the street, from her side of the box. “My car’s the blue one, a few down. I got a great space.”
“You lead.” Cate let her go ahead, holding one side of the heavy box. “So how’d this come about, your being let go?”
“Gaone is cutting costs and he doesn’t think the show needs anyone in Philly anymore.”
“But Attorneys@Law has to be one of the most profitable shows on TV,” Cate said as they inched down the street with the stuffed box between them. It wasn’t the hard-hitting interrogation she had imagined, but she could make it work to her advantage. “Why do they need to cut costs?”
“Because he’s a greedy jerk?”
And maybe this’ll be easy. “But what about the Philly details? They give the show its realistic feel.”
“He’s willing to sacrifice that. He doesn’t care about the quality of the production, only the bottom line.” Micah’s brown ponytail swung left and right as they walked along. She wore a navy down vest over a thick fisherman sweater and jeans, with her red Converse sneakers. “I heard some of the writers are getting fired, too. Isn’t that terrible? Between crap like this and the new reality shows, there’s no work for writers anymore. It’s like all my friends are getting shoved out.”
“That’s a shame. A new broom sweeps clean, huh?”
“What?”
“It’s an expression. It means when a new guy comes in, he brings in his own people and he kicks all the old guys out, even if they’re good at what they do. It sounds like what’s happening.”
“Exactly.” Micah nodded. “Here’s my car. Can you hold the box while I get the keys?”
“Sure.” Cate glanced over at the car, then did a double take, unable to hide her surprise. At the curb glistened a brand-new navy blue Mercedes, the two-door coupe. Huh? “This gorgeous creature is your car?”
“Yes.”
“Wow! I’m jealous.” Cate almost buckled under the weight of the box as Micah dug in her pocket, retrieved the keys, and aimed them at the parked car. The trunk lid sprang open on cue, and the women struggled to dump the box inside and position it on the black-carpeted bottom. Cate was already wondering how the child owned a nicer Mercedes than hers, especially since hers was now an accordion. “I thought you said you had a Saturn.”