Rough Justice

'Humanist.'

'Thank you.'

'No, Humanist is the font.'

The mayor colored. 'Good. Now what else?'

'Richter is still missing, and they haven't picked up the suspect in the security guards' murder. The other lawyer is fine.'

'Judy Carrier, right?'

'Right.'

The mayor grinned. When you're hot, you're hot. 'So Carrier can proceed with the Steere case.'

'Yes.'

'Excellent.' He rinsed his face and slurped water from cupped hands. He didn't know why everybody hated Philadelphia tap water. They called it Schuylkill Punch, but it tasted great to the mayor. 'Carrier a Philadelphian, too?'

'Not native.'

'Then she doesn't count, not with these voters.' He straightened up, snapped off the gold faucets, and snatched a fluffy white hand towel from the marble rack. He felt better already. If Steere still had a lawyer, his chances of a mistrial were low, considering that the case had already been submitted to the jury. Maybe he'd be convicted after all.

The mayor toweled off, deep in thought. Steere's lenders must be getting nervous. When would they call his notes? If Steere's properties went at auction, the city could buy them back at bargain prices. Or maybe the banks would sell them to reasonable businessmen; thieves he could deal with, not a prick like Elliot Steere. 'Steere's a prick, you know that?' the mayor said.

'I know.' Jen nodded. She'd listened to variations on this theme for years. The mayor was obsessed with Elliot Steere. He'd insisted the D.A. charge Steere with murder and ask the death penalty. The mayor always let his emotions get the best of him. That was why Jen was hedging her bets.

'Take the Simmons Building, for example. A hundred-fifty-year-old building, one of the most beautiful in this city. Historic building, all sorts of history. Important history, Philadelphia history, you know? Nice white arches, like the old Lit Brothers. Steere buys the building for two mil, watches it fall apart, then sells it to Temple for ten mil.'

'Sounds like a good deal to me,' Jen said, but she knew the mayor wouldn't agree. Not that she cared. She had to get out.

'Maybe so. Maybe it was a good deal. But you know what? The man didn't love the building,' the mayor said, wagging a wet finger. 'The man did not love the building. If you're gonna own a building like that, you gotta love it. It's not like toilet paper. That's a prick for you. You understand? Only a prick would do that.'

'Yes.'

The mayor wondered if Jen were really listening. 'Can you put that in a speech?'

'That Elliot Steere is a prick? I don't think so.'

The mayor shook his head. That wasn't what he meant and she knew it. Sometimes he didn't like Jen very much at all. She did good things for the city, though. The literacy program, the blood drive, the organ donor thing. All on her own initiative, back when they were at the D.A.'s office.

'Are we done yet?' Jen asked. 'The press is out there waiting.'

The mayor rubbed his face red. 'Where's our friend Alix Locke?'

'Gone, thank God.'

'She has a hard-on for me, Jen. She won't quit until I'm a civilian again. She's trying to screw up my chances for reelection, single-handed. What did I ever do to her?' The mayor dropped his towel on the edge of the marble sink, and Jen picked it up and hung it on the marble towel rack.

'Don't start with this, okay?' Jen ran her manicured nails through her dark hair. She was drained. She had to go. It was getting later and later. 'The reporters are waiting. There's more of them since the DiNunzio shooting. Let's feed the animals and go home.'

'Any national press, or just local?' The mayor leaned close to the mirror and fingered the stubble on his chin, trying to decide whether he had to shave.

'Local so far. CNN is on the way, but they're having trouble in the snow. You should shave.'

'Again? I shaved twice today. My face is killing me. I get those little red bumps.' The mayor shuddered, but Jen plucked a disposable razor off the shelf and handed it to him.

'Shave. We have company. Come on. We have to go. They're waiting.'

'If CNN shows up, I'll shave. How's that for a deal?'

Jen sighed. 'Listen, we have to go. I have to go.'

The mayor was appraising his reflection. He saw a strong, vibrant man, full of energy and passion. A figure of commitment, intelligence, and integrity in the prime of his political life. Courtney called him a total stud, but his wife didn't use words like that. Maybe because she was a different generation. 'Jen, I have to ask you something.'

'What?'

The mayor tilted his head down slightly. 'Am I going bald?'

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