9
STONE GOT TO the courthouse at eight a.m. and went upstairs to the warren of cubicles and offices that housed the assistant district attorneys.
“Hey, Maria,” he said to the middle-aged Italian-American woman who ruled the front desk. “You’re looking beautiful today.”
“You’re so full of shit, Stone,” the woman replied sweetly. “What brings you downtown? Haven’t seen you since the Christmas party.” She waggled her eyebrows meaningfully.
Stone ignored the reference to the Christmas party. “A client has an appearance this morning. Can you tell me who caught his case?”
“What’s his name?”
“Herbert Fisher.”
Maria giggled. “Oh, him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s the one who kicked the cop in the crotch, isn’t he?”
“It is so alleged,” Stone said. “Who’s the ADA?”
“Oh, that would be Dierdre Monahan.”
Stone winced.
“Yeah.” Maria giggled again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, there have been rumors.”
“Don’t ever believe rumors,” Stone said. “Is Dierdre in the same stall?”
“Are you saying she’s horsey?”
“Cubicle.”
“No, she’s moved up a little. She has an office now, but no window.” She waggled a thumb. “Down at the end, there.”
“Thanks, Maria.” Stone walked around the desk and started down the hallway, feeling nervous. He and Dierdre had gotten drunk and had a little thing after last year’s Christmas office party at the courthouse. The thing had occurred on a conference table next to the chief deputy DA’s office, and the door hadn’t been locked. He hadn’t seen her since. He rapped on the glass door.
“Come in, but it had better be good!” she shouted.
Stone opened the door and stuck his head in. “Morning, Dierdre. Got a minute?”
Dierdre was a striking woman of thirty-something who came from a long line of Irish cops and had four brothers currently wearing the uniform. “Faith and begorra,” she said sardonically. “And I was thinkin’ you was dead in your grave.” She dropped the Irish accent. “Come in and sit down, Stone.”
Stone went in and sat down. “So, how have you been?”
“Since last Christmas, you mean? You could have called and asked.”
Stone felt his ears redden. “It’s been a crazy year,” he said weakly.
“You’re blushing, Stone. Don’t tell me the memory of our little time together embarrasses you.”
“Well…”
“Just because the chief deputy walked in on us? Now, why should you let a little thing like that bother you?”
“Well…”
“I’ve had to take the brunt of it around here. The razzing got so bad I managed to parlay it into a sexual harassment complaint that got me, among other things, this office.”
“I’m glad you were able to turn the situation to your advantage,” Stone said, trying hard to sound sincere.
“I’m glad you’re glad, Stone. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got a client at bat this morning at ten,” Stone said, grateful for the change of subject. “Maria says you caught the case.”
“Name?”
“Fisher.”
Dierdre emitted a deep chuckle. “Oh, Mr. Fisher! What a perfect pairing of client and attorney! And I suppose you’ve come to propose a deal?”
“Well, this sort of thing is really a waste of the court’s time-not to mention yours-and since Mr. Fisher is contrite and unlikely to repeat-”
“Mr. Fisher has already repeated,” Dierdre said. “That’s why I caught the case instead of one of the rookies.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, but-”
“And the cop in question-Mr. Fisher’s victim-missed two days of duty because of his injury.”
“Mr. Fisher is
“Which is why he was stopped in the first place,” Dierdre replied. She consulted a sheet of paper. “A two- point-oh reading on the Richter scale,” she said. “Judge Goldstein is going to just love that.”
“Judge Goldstein is hearing the case?” Stone’s heart sank. Goldstein’s wife had been injured in a collision with a drunk driver a couple of years back, and he was known as a hanging judge where DUIs were concerned.
“Isn’t that lucky?” Dierdre said. “What sort of deal did you have in mind, Stone?”
“I was thinking a written apology to the officer and community service,” Stone said hopefully. It was only an opening gambit.
“Tell you what: If he pleads out, I won’t ask for the death penalty.”
“Heh, heh,” Stone said.
“I’m glad you find this amusing. So do I.”
“Come on, Dierdre, give me a break here, will you?”
“The poor cop didn’t get much of a break, did he? There he was, just doing his duty, protecting the public from a driver too drunk to stand up straight-”
“All right, spare me,” Stone said, throwing up his hands in surrender. “What can you do for me, Dierdre?”
“How about three to five in Attica?” she proposed.
“Dierdre, please. Let’s be realistic; nobody died.”
“Have you ever been kicked in the balls, Stone?”
“Once, a long time ago.”
“I’m glad you had the experience. I was going to do it myself, just so you’d know the pain involved. Was it fun?”
“No, it hurt a lot.”
“Funny, that’s what the cop said. He’ll be using a cane to make his court appearance today.”
“Why don’t we spare him the court appearance, Dierdre? Make me an offer I can take to my client.”
“Six months and no license for five years.”
“Dierdre…”
“He’s lucky I don’t want his license for life.”
“Dierdre…”
“Propose what you feel is an appropriate punishment, Stone, all things considered.”
“He doesn’t deserve to go to jail, Dierdre.”
“Doesn’t he?”
“Let me explain something else: I’ve been retained by a branch of the federal government that I cannot name. He was doing their bidding at the time he was arrested.”
Dierdre clapped a hand to her breast. “Oh, God, he was drunk and violent for the CIA, is that what you’re telling me? I gotta admit, I’ve never heard that one before, though it’s right up there with the dog ate his driver’s license.”
“Shhhh,” Stone said, making tamping motions with his hands. “I didn’t say that, and you mustn’t repeat it.”
