Dirty Blonde

after the trial, which I did, back at the office.”

“All by yourself? Like Cinderella?”

“Exactly.” Micah laughed, hurt.

So, no alibi. “But why did he ask you to do that then? It seems like it could have waited.”

“Not for Art. He never waited for a thing.” Micah looked up, meeting Cate’s eye directly. “He wanted the decks cleared right away so we could get back to work, full-throttle. The lawsuit interrupted all of us and slowed the show’s production. That’s why I caved so fast when you threatened to sue me, that day in the office. Litigation sucks.”

“I agree, but the cleanup could have waited a night, couldn’t it? Isn’t it possible that you were intentionally excluded from the dinner?”

“By Art?”

Yes. “Not necessarily. By anyone else who was there?”

“Why do you ask? Why do you even care?”

Cate felt at a momentary loss. “I’m trying to understand everything about that night. Because I’m not sure Richard Marz was the one who killed Art Simone.”

“And you think I did?” Micah’s eyes flared with a shock that looked genuine.

Maybe. “No. You worked for Simone, and were loyal to him, I can see that. I’m just trying to understand what really happened that night.”

“The police know what really happened. Marz did it. They have him on security video, as if they needed that.” Micah scoffed defensively. “He tried to kill Art right in front of you, in court!”

“Marz’s wife doesn’t think he did it.”

“Of course, she wouldn’t.”

“But neither does Russo, who thinks I did it.”

“You? That’s ridiculous!” Micah said, incredulous. “Why would you?”

“Because I supposedly wanted to stop you and Simone from making a TV series about me.”

“By killing Art? Ha! That wouldn’t have stopped a single thing.” Micah’s eyes remained wide. “Look, Art is dead and they’re making it without him, me, or any of our old writers. If there’s money to be made, Hollywood makes it happen.”

Cate tried not to think of Gina and Warren, on TV, Sunday nights at nine. “But you’d have to be in TV to know that for sure. So, back to this celebration dinner, did someone want you not to be there? Like the jury consultant?” Cate was making it up as she went along, but Micah leaned forward intently.

“How do you mean?”

“Do you think someone, let’s say Courtney Flavert, asked Art not to have you there for some reason, when you rightly should have been?”

“Is that what you think?”

No. “Maybe. I’m trying to figure out her role. In my experience, jury consultants don’t always stay so involved after the jury is empanelled. But she was there all the time at trial.” Cate pressed ahead, putting her cards on the itsy-bitsy table. Sort of. “And, for example, I know that she was invited to Simone’s funeral, and so was George Hartford.”

Micah set her fork down, her lips parted slightly. “Courtney was invited to the funeral? That can’t be right.”

“It is.”

“I can’t believe Erika invited her. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?” Micah asked, the question a challenge that Cate was happy to meet.

“George Hartford told me. They flew out together.”

“They did?” Micah’s eyes narrowed to streetwise slits, and her forehead knit unhappily, if not downright angrily.

“Yes. You told me it wasn’t supposed to be a big Hollywood funeral, but that’s exactly what it was. All sorts of celebrities were there.”

“I saw that on the news.”

“If there was room for Courtney, there was room for you.”

“That bitch!”

“Absolutely.” Cate couldn’t stop the questions. What was going on? Was Micah sleeping with Simone? Had he bought her that delicious coupe? Had he dumped her after the trial, when she was no longer useful? Had Erika excluded her from the funeral because she suspected an affair?

Micah was frowning. “Wait a minute. Why were you talking to George?”

“Confidentially, I was there to discuss my own legal trouble. I don’t know if you heard, but I got fired, too. That’s why I’m free today, to haul around plasma TVs.”

“I did read that. Sorry.”

“I thought I would be an episode already. ‘Judges Behaving Badly Within the Meaning of Article III.’” Cate made quote marks in the air, and Micah cringed.

“Sorry. I’m off the show. The scripts I helped with are done.” Micah looked sympathetic. “But you were a really good judge.”

“The winners always think that.”

“No, you cared.”

“Bet you say that to all the judges.” Cate faked a laugh. “Getting back to the point, George told me he stayed at the restaurant while Art went outside to catch his car. Who arranged for the car?”

“I did.”

“What was the car service?”

“Alpha. They’re good. We used them during the trial.”

“It was due to pick him up at six to make it to the airport by seven-fifteen, for a private plane.”

“Right.”

“But the car got there a little late, in the rain. Simone was waiting out there alone when he was killed.”

“Right, the traffic held up the driver.”

Cate made a mental note to double check. “Who made the dinner reservations?”

“George did, or probably he had his associate or his secretary do it. He picked the restaurant, too.”

Cate considered it. She couldn’t see immediately what George Hartford would gain by killing his own client, unless George was messing around with the jury consultant and Simone had found out. Still, would Simone tell George’s wife? No. And did it matter anyway, in one of those crusty upper-crust marriages? Cate thought of Prince Charles and Camilla, her only reference point for upper-crust marriages, since there weren’t many in Centralia.

“So you actually think Marz didn’t kill Art? But then why would Marz kill himself?”

“Maybe he didn’t.” Cate readied herself to watch Micah’s reaction, since she was about to tell her everything. “Maybe somebody did it for him and made it look like a suicide.”

Micah gasped. “You’re kidding!” she yelped, then covered her mouth.

Ten out of ten on the Shock-O-Meter. “It’s possible.”

“Who would do that?”

“Whoever killed Simone.”

“Why?”

“To set up Marz as the shooter. After all, Marz was easy to frame. He had attacked Simone in open court and lost a lot of money to him. He had motive and opportunity aplenty. Marz makes the perfect killer, except that I’m not sure he did it.”

“You’re like a real detective! That’s incredible!”

“Tell me about it.” Cate leaned over. “I’m asking you if you knew if George was having an affair with the jury consultant, Courtney. I mean, I’m not stupid.”

“Honestly, yes,” Micah answered, her tone ringing true. She leaned forward, only too happy to dish now that she’d been excluded from the funeral. Or perhaps because she could cast suspicion on someone else.