Judge Me When I'm Wrong Read online

  “Our door’s been professionally repaired, and it was Mandy’s idea to get a company in to do a deep-clean of the downstairs. They even cleaned the stove. So, we feel like it’s our house again.”

  “How’s your dog?” Gil asked.

  “We took him to the vet on Saturday, just to get him checked out. He’s fine. By the way, the vet said you did a great job on his head wound, Judy.”

  “The neighborhood watch committee hasn’t come by to ask you guys to move?” Don joked.

  “Thankfully, no. But I told Mandy it would be good for us to be as normal as possible for the rest of the year. So, to help, we went out and bought about a hundred dollars’ worth of Halloween candy for tonight. The good stuff. We also put some cool decorations on the porch.”

  “I got a call this morning from my contact at the sheriff’s office,” Don said. “Your two bad guys are being transferred to a federal prison. They have the local charges of home invasion and assault, but the FBI wants them for a bunch of other things related to Canova’s activities over the past year. Apparently, they have a witness who gave them all the information they need.”

  “That’s probably Caspar the ghost,” Charlie said. “Clint called to say he’d visited Mrs. Andrews in the hospital. She’s getting rehab for a broken femur, but otherwise she’s going to be all right.”

  “Has anyone heard anything about that young prosecutor, uh, Thompson? After I did all that research on him I feel like I know him,” Judy said.

  “I haven’t heard anything,” Gil said. “But he made his own bed. Goulet will probably have plenty to report about him, too.”

  “Despite all that happened, I’m glad I served on jury duty. It taught me a lot about myself, and about the relative decency of people. For every one of those bad guys, there was a person, or two, or three, trying to do the right thing.”

  “Like you,” Judy said.

  “Thanks, Judy. Yeah, like me. But also Clint, and Mr. Naidu, Mrs. Andrews . . .”

  “And don’t forget Jason,” Gil added.

  “Right.”

  “We’re done now with the Ferry case?” Judy asked.

  “We’re done,” Gil said. “I finished the report over the weekend and drove to the Ferry’s on Sunday. I took the invoice too. I sort of wanted to check on Jason.”

  “Has he spoken to his father yet, about . . .” Charlie began.

  “Not yet. But I know he will. I had lunch with them after Jason’s testimony. He’s transferring to another school with his father’s blessing. So, I know everything will work out for them in the end. Mrs. Ferry and Jason will win the judge over.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Charlie said. “He’s a good kid. I trust anybody that Hamm trusts.”

  “By the way, here’s our final payment,” Gil said, sliding a check to Judy.

  Don ended the updates with a summary of the surveillance cases. Two more had been added to the roster, and despite Charlie’s disdain for such investigations she admitted being ready for a few simple cheating-spouse cases.

  Charlie and Judy reported on the agency’s cash flow, which, with the Ferry payment, was on solid footing. In the next few months they had work from the Wayne County Supervisor’s office and Wayne State University. They were also being hired as subcontractors on a security detail for a visiting head of state coming to January’s North American International Auto Show.

  “That will bring us full circle during the last two years with another presence at the auto show,” Don noted.

  “Right. So, this would be a good time to map out next year. Set some benchmarks for ourselves. Maybe block in vacation time if any of us have some planned,” Charlie said.

  “Well you can block me out for May. That’s when our baby girl is due,” Don said.

  “It’s a girl?” Charlie asked, grinning.

  “Yes, Rita finally agreed to an ultrasound, and everything looks good.”

  Don smiled like a man who had won the lottery. He accepted a hug from Charlie and a high-five from Judy. He reached across the table to accept Gil’s handshake.

  “I’m happy for you, Don,” Gil said.

  “Thanks, partner. It feels good. Rudy’s very excited about his baby sister.”

  “I have some good news, too,” Gil said. “It’s mostly good.”

  Don reached for a Danish, and Judy filled her coffee cup. Charlie stared at Gil, looking for a hint of his news. She felt a sick feeling in her stomach.

  “Darla and I are getting married.”

  The conference room erupted in celebration. Don rose to circle the table and patted Gil’s back so vigorously he began ducking the blows. Judy and Charlie stood by, waiting to give hugs and kisses. Don poured juice and offered a toast: “To our long-lost bachelor. Marriage couldn’t happen to a better guy.”

  “Darla must be ecstatic,” Charlie said.

  “Yes. She’s very, very happy. So am I.” Gil smiled broadly. “The other news is Darla has a new job. It’s one she’s been waiting for.”

  “That’s great, Gil,” Judy said.

  “But, there’s something else, isn’t there?” Charlie said, her disquiet rising.

  Gil’s mouth tightened, and he closed his eyes for a second.

  “Darla found a job in Washington, DC. So, we’re moving to Washington in early January.”

  # # #

  Charlie and Mandy were propped up in bed with Hamm at the foot where he’d been starting off the nights since being tased. He usually got up after a couple of hours to curl up on his own bed. Mandy had been worried about him tonight with the dozens and dozens of strangers coming to the door for trick-or-treating, but he loved kids, and within a half-hour the sounds of footsteps on the porch didn’t send him into a panic. They had only a couple of bags of candy left over, and from the impromptu reviews from kids and parents, their house had the best candy on the block. They were finally relaxing and catching up on the day.

  “You told me after the Corridor case, with all the emotional trauma he suffered, that Gil might leave the agency,” Mandy said.

  “I know. But, when it didn’t happen right away, well, I wasn’t prepared for it now. I’ve come to rely on him too much.”

  “How did Don and Judy take the news?”

  “You know Don. He tried to be stoic, but I know how much he likes Gil. He doesn’t get along with everybody—not even Gil sometimes—but he trusts Gil. Judy broke down and cried. It took Gil fifteen minutes to console her.”

  “When’s he leaving?”

  “He’s going to work full-time through next month; then he needs to work part-time because he and Darla have to find a house in DC.”

  “Are they getting married in DC?”

  “No. They’re getting married right away. In the next few weeks. We’ll get an invitation.” Charlie put her book down and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Everything’s happening so fast.”

  “You’re going to need to hire somebody else.”

  “I can’t even think of that. Unless you want to quit your job and come work with us.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Working together and living together might put a strain on our relationship. We’d rarely have time to be our individual selves. Besides, that would make you my boss, wouldn’t it?”

  “I already thought I was the boss.”

  “In your dreams.”

  They laughed, and Hamm walked up the bed to get some of the kissing that was going on. Finally, Charlie shooed him to the floor.

  “Okay, buddy, time for you to get in your own bed.”

  He stared at her to be sure she meant it, then bounded off the human bed and plopped onto his doggy sleeping couch. Charlie and Mandy watched him fight to stay awake, and then with a deep sigh fall to sleep to the sounds of his own snores.

  “I guess I will have to hire someone. Don and I work well together, but I need another attorney in the office. Someone who can take on the filings and h
elp with court briefs and client depositions.”

  “You could do that yourself. What percentage of the work is it? Ten percent, fifteen?”

  “This year it was close to twenty percent of our work.”

  “That doesn’t sound like so much time that you need an attorney. What about the other stuff Gil does? The special forces stuff. That’s come in handy from time to time. And his charm skills. That’s the stuff you’re going to miss.”

  “You’re right, and you’re killing me. I’m never going to find anyone to replace Gil. The three of us, plus Judy, worked so well together.”

  “Don’t worry about it tonight. You’ve got more than a month to figure it out. Gil will help you.”

  “That’s the other thing I’ll miss. His brain. He was always the one asking the theoretical questions, bringing rigor to our decision-making. It’s going to be a challenge.”

  “Try to get some sleep, Hon.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep. Got any other ideas?”

  Epilogue

  February 2008

  Charlie was in a miserable mood. Truth be told, she’d been awful to be around for a couple of months and she knew it. One reason for her funk was seasonal affective disorder. She’d never been treated for the condition, but her mood always drooped when every single day was a cold, gray, dry-air assault to the soul, skin, and sinuses. That was a Detroit winter. However, the lion’s share of Charlie’s bitchiness could be attributed to losing Gil. He had moved to Washington, DC, with his wife in December. She missed him as a colleague and a friend.

  In the past six weeks, Charlie and Don had interviewed a half-dozen people for the open partner position, but everyone fell short of filling Gil’s shoes. For the second time Charlie asked Mandy to consider leaving the Grosse Pointe Park police to become a full-time private investigator. Mandy pointed out, again, the difficulties she thought they’d have navigating both a personal and professional life together. Charlie knew she was right.

  “Are you sitting here in the dark for a reason?”

  Judy didn’t wait for Charlie’s answer and flooded the conference room with light from overhead. She checked the coffee pot, decided it wasn’t too strong, and poured a cup. “You want another?”

  “Sure.” Charlie rose to accept the coffee Judy poured, then enhanced it with two quick dollops of half-and-half. They stood for a moment enjoying the smooth jolt of caffeine.

  “How do people live without coffee?” Charlie asked.

  “Okay. Here’s one I bet you don’t know,” Judy said.

  “A Broadway song? About coffee? Oh boy!”

  “Yep. It goes: You’re the cream in my coffee, dah-da-da-da-da-da. I can’t remember that part, but the rest is: You will always be my necessity. I’d be lost without you. It’s a really old song.”

  Charlie laughed and returned to the table to sit. “How do you know this stuff?”

  “My grandfather. I think he took me to every Broadway show from the time I was eight until I was fourteen.”

  “Amazing. What was the name of that show?”

  “I don’t remember. But at least I made you laugh. You’ve been a sourpuss for more than a month. It’s getting old.”

  “I’m down because I miss Gil.”

  “Yeah. Me too. You haven’t found anyone you like yet?”

  “No. There were a couple of people who were okay, but Don didn’t like them.”

  “What didn’t he like?”

  “They weren’t tough enough.”

  Judy shook her head. “By the way, Don called. He’s taking Rita to a doctor’s appointment this morning. He’ll be in this afternoon.”

  “Okay.” Charlie could feel her dejection returning.

  “What about somebody from Spectrum?” Judy asked. “Some of their guys seemed sharp. In fact, what about Cynthia? She’d be great.”

  Charlie sat upright. “Cynthia would be good, wouldn’t she? She’s organized, smart. She’s not a lawyer but, remember, she really knew technology and seemed to work day and night. But I doubt she’d want to give up the auto show security duties. That’s a really big job, and it pays a whole lot more than we can offer.”

  “It’s worth a call, isn’t it?”

  “Do you still have her number, Judy? It’s been two years since that investigation.”

  “I’m sure it’s in the case file, but if I can’t find it I know how to get it.”

  “Cynthia. That’s a really great idea. I’d never have thought of that.”

  Judy pushed the manila folder she’d brought to the conference room toward Charlie.

  “Inside are checks to be signed for our bills. Our new insurance policy is also in there. I’ve read it. Nothing’s changed except, of course, the premium’s gone up. Also, we got two more inquiries for domestic jobs. The phone slips are in there. I’ll get you Cynthia’s number.”

  # # #

  “What’s shaking, Mack?”

  Don joined Charlie at the conference table and poked around in the always-present basket of cookies, crackers, candy and chips. He settled on a bag of M&M’s.

  “Everything okay with Rita’s pregnancy?”

  “Yeah. She’s good. We had one of our regular appointments. Everything looks fine and we’re still on track for a May delivery.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Charlie watched Don eat candy until he felt her eyes on him.

  “What is it, Mack?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “So, talk.”

  “I’m frustrated about not being able to find someone to replace Gil. It’s been almost two months, and we need the help. I called Cynthia Fitzgerald today.”

  “From Cobo? She’d be a swell fit. Good thinking.”

  “It was Judy’s idea.”

  “Okay. So, it was Judy’s idea. What did Cynthia say?”

  “She doesn’t want the job.”

  “Well . . . too bad. It was a long shot. She makes more money than we could ever pay her, right?”

  “Right.” Charlie picked up her pencil to doodle on her legal pad. “Cynthia had another suggestion. A good one.”

  “Oh yeah?” Don was now working his way through a packet of cheese crackers.

  “When Cynthia asked why I thought of her for the job, I told her because she was smart, organized, hard-working, good with technology, and nobody’s fool.”

  “Right. She’s all those things,” Don said, plopping a cracker into his mouth.

  “So is Judy.”

  Don choked so hard his face turned red. He stood, trying to dislodge the cracker from his throat. Charlie handed him a bottle of water. He took two big gulps.

  “You can’t be serious,” Don bellowed.

  Charlie closed the door of the conference room. “I am serious, Don. Will you hear me out?”

  “There’s nothing to hear. That’s the worst idea you’ve ever come up with.”

  “I didn’t come up with the idea. I told you, Cynthia suggested it.”

  “I don’t give a damn whose suggestion it was. It’s absurd. Judy cannot replace Gil. She doesn’t have any of the skills to be an investigator.” Don leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Bottom line. End of discussion.”

  Charlie began doodling. Don’s default response to things he didn’t want to hear was to hunker down in his opinion. If Gil were here, they’d come at Don from two angles. Usually, one of them would combine the right words or push the right button to get Don to reconsider his position. She knew she would need to keep him reeling with a combination of arguments and questions or, better yet, she could do her Post-it notes exercise.

  Charlie stood and walked to the whiteboard. She erased the notes from yesterday’s meeting and put a packet of green and red notes on the credenza. She tore off five green notes to jot down the facts, and lined them up from top to bottom on the left side of the board.

  “What’s that supposed to be?” Don grumbled.

  “Here’s what we know about Judy. Organized. Intu
itive. Tech-savvy. Charismatic. Problem-solver.”

  Don shook his head. He wasn’t playing along. Charlie wrote and posted two more green notes on the board.

  “Innovative and trustworthy.”

  “What’s she so innovative about? She labels and relabels those damned files every other day.”

  Don took another swig of water, and crossed his arms on the table. Charlie was making some headway. She peeled a red note from the packet, wrote a question on it, and leaned across the table to hand it to him. He sneered, shook his head, and finally reached for the note.

  “Read it out loud,” Charlie said.

  “No,” Don said, putting the note in the middle of the table.

  “You don’t have to read it aloud. You know it’s true. It was Judy’s ringtones idea that saved my life in the Birmingham case.”

  “It was just luck,” Don countered.

  “Oh yeah? Well what about this one?”

  Charlie furiously jotted another question, then passed it to Don: “Wasn’t it Judy who led us to the bombs in Cobo?”

  Don dropped his eyes to the table. Charlie stood silently, letting him think. Finally, he looked up at Charlie. “Give me some of those notes.”

  Charlie shoved the green and red stickers his way and sat in the chair across from him. She watched him take her pencil and print first on the green pad, then write out a question on a red note. He slid them toward Charlie. The green note pointed out the fact that Judy wasn’t an attorney. The red note asked: What will Judy do when the shooting starts?

  “I’ve been thinking about whether or not we need another attorney. Only about 20% of our work requires a lawyer. If we have a client who really needs a lot of court procedural work, I’ll do it or we can outsource it.”

  “What about this question?” Don snarled.

  “It’s true Judy is never going to pick up a gun. She doesn’t even like that part of our work, let alone is she trained for it. I concede your point. But how many times will we be in a firefight?”