Dirty Blonde

“Uh, yes, I do.” Cate wanted information, not weaponry, but she hadn’t had time to get a story in order. His assumption was as good as any. “Yes, I need a gun.”

“Wait a minute.” The man looked down at her. Up close, he looked about thirty years old, with large dark eyes and thick lips with a scar that vanished when he smiled, like now. “I know you. You’re that judge, been in the papers.”

Rats. “Yes, that’s me.” Cate introduced herself and stuck out her hand, and he shook it without crushing it.

“Lou Behrens.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lou.” Cate had to find a way to use it to her advantage. “So then you know that I’ve been getting a lot of publicity. My house was broken into, and I need protection. I can’t go another night without a gun.” She tried to sound like a damsel in distress, which she had seen on TV. “I feel so unsafe. Please, can you stay open a little? I won’t take long, I promise.”

“Well, okay,” Lou answered, his voice softer, and Cate started to think sexism had been getting a bad rap.

“Thanks so much. I appreciate it.”

“But you can’t buy a gun and start blastin’ away, you understand.” Lou twisted the key ring in the lock, setting it jingling, and opened the front door. “You have to take lessons. Learn firearm safety. We have classes on Saturdays and some weeknights.”

“I will, I will. I just want to have a gun tonight, so I can sleep better. Just in case.”

“Come on in, let’s see what we can do for you.” Lou flicked the switch, turning on old-fashioned fluorescent lights. He ushered Cate inside, then closed the door behind her and headed toward a doorway on the left. “Wait here while I turn off the burglar alarm.”

“Sure, thanks.” Cate looked around at a rectangular store that seemed almost stop-time. Old glass display cases framed with real wood flanked the room on either side, and ancient red-and-black linoleum tile covered the center aisle. On the right wall hung an array of dusty flags, a faded blue one that read COLT and next to it a sun- bleached yellow for RUGER. Under the flags, at least fifty antique guns had been mounted on cheap pegboard, leading to a rack of modern rifles lined butt down in the back, next to a room closed off with bars and padlocks. The air smelled vaguely of dirt and stale cigarettes, like a hardware store with attitude.

“Step over here, Judge,” Lou said, reemerging from the doorway. He set the store keys on the glass top with a clatter and went behind the counter on the left. A grimy cash register sat at the end of the counter, and the wooden shelves behind were filled with stacks of colorful boxes that read American Eagle, in cherry red and white; Winchester, in tomato red; and Remington, in kelly green and chrome yellow. It looked like a cute and cheery display until Cate realized the boxes contained bullets. She shuddered, thinking of the heat that had whizzed past her cheek last night. It reminded her of her purpose.

“So what’s a good gun for girls?”

“A girl gun?” Lou smiled, his scar dissolving into sweetness. “You mean pink? Or like these with the mother- of-pearl handle?” He waved a hand at some smaller guns, their whitish handles shining with opalescence.

“I mean a gun you’d sell to a woman, for example.” Cate leaned over the counter, which displayed an array of guns on top of their boxes. She skimmed the brands: Beretta, Colt, Rossi. Rossi. That was the gun that was the murder weapon. She remembered the name because it sounded like Russo. “What do you think about those Rossi guns?”

“The revolver? Good choice.” Lou reached for the keys, unlocked the back of the counter door, and plucked the gun from the top of its blue box. He pocketed the keys, brought out the gun, set it on the counter in front of Cate. “This is a good basic gun. It would be a fine choice for you.”

“Revolvers don’t have safeties,” Cate said, for lack of something better. How could she find out if Micah had bought this gun from him?

“Don’t worry about that. You don’t need a safety on a revolver. It takes some doing to squeeze off a shot. Check it out for yourself. Pick it up and squeeze.”

Cate hefted the heavy gun and pressed the trigger, which made a loud click. “I see what you mean. The other judges already have guns. I don’t want to be the last judge on my block to get one.”

Lou laughed.

“Judge Sherman told me he likes the gun he got, but I don’t know if he got his here. Do you know?”

Lou set his scarred lips. “I shouldn’t say, to be honest with you. We keep our customers strictly confidential. Nobody will know from me that you got your gun here.”

Great.

“But on the QT, I can tell you that the Common Pleas Court judges shop here and most of the Sixers. A few Eagles, too. We sell to police, also. We’re responsible. That’s why I say you have to have the lessons.”

“Cops buy this gun? I thought you said it was a girl gun.”

“Men use it, too, of course. It’s one of our bestsellers. It’s on TV all the time. Gangster gun of choice.” Lou ran a thickly ridged fingernail along the glistening silvery chamber, with its perfectly machined indentations. “Leaves no casings behind to identify the gun. Not like a semiauto.”

“I don’t usually watch the cop shows. Except that now I’m going to be on one, I guess.”

“I read that.” Lou warmed up immediately. “They use this gun on Cold Case, if you saw the episode the other night. It’s the same gun as you’re holding, only not all black. They like to use the stainless steel on TV, because it shows up better for the camera.”

“Really?”

Lou nodded. “They film parts of Cold Case in Philly you know, ’cause it’s set here. They had a casting call when they first started, and I went down to try and be an extra, but they didn’t hire me. Too big. I stand out.”

“I bet.” Cate smiled. “Attorneys@Law is filmed here, too. The exteriors.” Cate remembered the lingo from Micah. “I wonder if they use this gun in the show.”

“Sure, the Rossi’s on all the time. It’s the one the main detective carries. They buy from me.”

Cate blinked. Just like that? “For real?”

“Sure.” Lou perked up. “Hey, this is kind of a funny thing. If they make you into a character, you bought your gun here, for real.”

Funny. “Who buys the guns for them?”

“One of the assistants. She’s a nice girl.” Lou leaned over the glass counter. “Hey, they gonna make you a consultant? You could get five Gs an episode, they do that. It’s real money. You got an agent or a manager?”

“I’m a judge.”

“So what? You need an agent. I know people. I could ask around. Get yourself a good deal. Least they could do, since they based the character on you.”

“Good point.” Hmmm. “So you sell them the guns? This very store?”

“Yep.” Lou’s immense chest puffed under the red windbreaker.

“Who buys the guns for them? There was one assistant who used to watch the trial.”

“Micah Gilbert.” Lou grinned, his scar disappearing.

Yikes! “Yes, I think that was her name.” Cate squinted as if she were thinking, but her heart almost leaped through her chest.

“Sure, Micah. I know Micah. She works for Art Simone. She comes in here all the time. She buys the guns for the show, for when they shoot in town.” Lou chuckled. “I mean, shoot scenes, not guns.”

“Sure, right.” Cate managed a laugh. “So she buys the guns?”

“Yes. She handles props on the Philly end. They don’t want to deal with airport security, flying the guns here from L.A.”

Whoa. “So Micah bought these guns for the show? This exact one? I want to buy exactly what she bought.”

“That’s the exact one. Your gun will be on TV.”

Yay! “When did she buy it?”

“She bought a few. That one, she bought from me about six months ago. She bought three, as I remember. Two black Berettas, too, for the other characters. She picked up a few silencers, too.”