that my client has made full restitution. Then Judge Hillman will hear my argument for dropping all charges against him, and you can return this beautiful diamond into the hands of Mr. Leffler. Everybody wins.”
Julianne turned on her Marc Fisher heels and stalked down the hall.
“Coming, George?” she called over her shoulder, knowing full well that he matched her stride for stride. “We don’t want to keep Judge Hillman waiting.”
Judge Bradford Hillman had been on the bench in Hamilton County since long before he lost most of his hair. Will sometimes said Hillman grew a moustache to make up for it, but Julianne thought he looked rather dashing. Not every man in his early sixties could get away with a moustache. Just Hillman.
And Tom Selleck, of course.
Julianne racked her brain as she tried to think of another one, but Hillman joined them in his chambers before any more moustaches sprang to mind.
“Miss Bartlett,” he said as he dropped into the large leather chair behind his desk. “How is your fish doing? Jonah-like-the-whale?”
“Swimmingly, Your Honor. Thank you for asking.”
“And Mr. Flannigan. I hear birthing congratulations are in order.”
“Yes, sir,” Julianne replied, and she produced the plastic bag from her pocket and dropped it on the desk. When Flannigan reached for it, she sent the bag sliding across the desktop. It landed against Hillman’s hand like a base runner coming into home plate. “Mr. Bertinni has expressed deep remorse, Your Honor. In light of restitution of the diamond he borrowed from Leffler Jewelers—”
“Borrowed?” Flannigan objected.
“—we’d like to see the charges against him—”
“Not a chance, Julianne.”
“—dismissed.”
“I think that’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” Hillman asked, and he took a serious look at his judicial robes before nodding. “Yes. I’m the judge here. And Mr. Flannigan is right, Miss Bartlett. There’s not a snowball’s chance in a sauna.”
“Then perhaps we can agree to probation and six months of community service?” she suggested. “Since this is his first offense, I think it’s a more than adequate—”
“There’s nothing adequate about it, Judge,” Flannigan interrupted. “She knows very well that jail time is—”
“Oh, come on, George!”
“Enough.” That was all it took for both of them to zip it. “Mr. Flannigan, restitution has been made, an act I would venture to say did not come easily or without great discomfort for the defendant. Can we at least agree on that?”
“Yes, Judge.”
“And Ms. Bartlett, do you have anything to add to the usual first-offense-heart-of-gold yada-yada defense?”
The corner of her mouth twitched as she tried to keep the grin under wraps. “No, Your Honor. I’d say that about covers it.”
“Good then. Mr. Flannigan, you can see my bailiff in thirty minutes for the paperwork to return the diamond to its rightful owner. And Ms. Bartlett, I want to see Mr. Bertinni
in person
in my courtroom next week for sentencing. Bridget will schedule it for you. In the meantime, bail will stand. My gavel is at the bench, so this will have to do,” he said, and he pounded his fist on the desktop. “Now get out, both of you.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Julianne and Flannigan parted company the moment the judge’s door latched behind them.
“Dr. Phil,” she muttered as she waited for the elevator, then she slapped her hand against her raincoat. “Dr. Phil has a
great
moustache!”
In fact, Judge Hillman looked a little
like
the television psychologist.
“I beg your pardon?” the woman standing next to her asked as the doors slipped open.
“Oh,” Julianne replied with a snicker. “I was just counting men with good moustaches.”
The woman followed her onboard and pressed the call button to the lobby while Julianne checked email on her iPhone. A reminder from Will about dinner with the parents. Two messages from Rand Winters, her old
Julianne turned on her Marc Fisher heels and stalked down the hall.
“Coming, George?” she called over her shoulder, knowing full well that he matched her stride for stride. “We don’t want to keep Judge Hillman waiting.”
Judge Bradford Hillman had been on the bench in Hamilton County since long before he lost most of his hair. Will sometimes said Hillman grew a moustache to make up for it, but Julianne thought he looked rather dashing. Not every man in his early sixties could get away with a moustache. Just Hillman.
And Tom Selleck, of course.
Julianne racked her brain as she tried to think of another one, but Hillman joined them in his chambers before any more moustaches sprang to mind.
“Miss Bartlett,” he said as he dropped into the large leather chair behind his desk. “How is your fish doing? Jonah-like-the-whale?”
“Swimmingly, Your Honor. Thank you for asking.”
“And Mr. Flannigan. I hear birthing congratulations are in order.”
“Yes, sir,” Julianne replied, and she produced the plastic bag from her pocket and dropped it on the desk. When Flannigan reached for it, she sent the bag sliding across the desktop. It landed against Hillman’s hand like a base runner coming into home plate. “Mr. Bertinni has expressed deep remorse, Your Honor. In light of restitution of the diamond he borrowed from Leffler Jewelers—”
“Borrowed?” Flannigan objected.
“—we’d like to see the charges against him—”
“Not a chance, Julianne.”
“—dismissed.”
“I think that’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” Hillman asked, and he took a serious look at his judicial robes before nodding. “Yes. I’m the judge here. And Mr. Flannigan is right, Miss Bartlett. There’s not a snowball’s chance in a sauna.”
“Then perhaps we can agree to probation and six months of community service?” she suggested. “Since this is his first offense, I think it’s a more than adequate—”
“There’s nothing adequate about it, Judge,” Flannigan interrupted. “She knows very well that jail time is—”
“Oh, come on, George!”
“Enough.” That was all it took for both of them to zip it. “Mr. Flannigan, restitution has been made, an act I would venture to say did not come easily or without great discomfort for the defendant. Can we at least agree on that?”
“Yes, Judge.”
“And Ms. Bartlett, do you have anything to add to the usual first-offense-heart-of-gold yada-yada defense?”
The corner of her mouth twitched as she tried to keep the grin under wraps. “No, Your Honor. I’d say that about covers it.”
“Good then. Mr. Flannigan, you can see my bailiff in thirty minutes for the paperwork to return the diamond to its rightful owner. And Ms. Bartlett, I want to see Mr. Bertinni
in person
in my courtroom next week for sentencing. Bridget will schedule it for you. In the meantime, bail will stand. My gavel is at the bench, so this will have to do,” he said, and he pounded his fist on the desktop. “Now get out, both of you.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Julianne and Flannigan parted company the moment the judge’s door latched behind them.
“Dr. Phil,” she muttered as she waited for the elevator, then she slapped her hand against her raincoat. “Dr. Phil has a
great
moustache!”
In fact, Judge Hillman looked a little
like
the television psychologist.
“I beg your pardon?” the woman standing next to her asked as the doors slipped open.
“Oh,” Julianne replied with a snicker. “I was just counting men with good moustaches.”
The woman followed her onboard and pressed the call button to the lobby while Julianne checked email on her iPhone. A reminder from Will about dinner with the parents. Two messages from Rand Winters, her old
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