CHAPTER 1
CASEY ROBERTS LOATHED WAITING . Tardiness showed a blatant disregard for the other party—in this case her . The only thing worse than being late was not showing up at all.
She glanced around the restaurant, then checked her watch. Her appointment was ten minutes late. She had no idea why Judge Chase Hamilton had asked to meet her at Mario’s for a late lunch—which some could’ve argued was an early dinner this late in the afternoon—but they were going to have to get a few things straight, beginning with the importance of common courtesy.
Hunger pangs rumbled in Casey’s stomach, setting her on edge. To hell with it, she was ordering. She flagged down the waitress.
The girl approached with a smile. “The other party is running a bit late?” she asked, as if it were no big deal.
“Yes.” Casey nodded. “I’m going to go ahead and order.”
The waitress pulled her pad from her apron. “Great. What can I get for you?”
“A burger and fries,” she said. “And perhaps a refill on my iced tea.”
Ten minutes later, Casey was munching on her food, and the judge still hadn’t shown up.
This is bullshit , she thought, popping a French fry into her mouth. As far as judges go, Chase Hamilton was young, in his mid to late thirties, but youth was no excuse. And he might look like he’d just stepped out of GQ, but that didn’t give him the right to blow people off like this—even if he had made the list of L.A. Afternoon’s Most Eligible Bachelors three years in a row. Chase Hamilton could definitely have his pick.
So what’d he ask me here for anyway? Surely this wasn’t about Peter’s tactics in court the other day.
Casey and Peter Cummings practiced law at the same firm. They were often paired as co-counsel, working well together, although Casey didn’t care much for his courtroom antics. Peter had a habit of trying judges’ patience with unsubstantiated facts, among other things. And just the other day he’d really pissed off Judge Hamilton by reintroducing facts that had already been ruled inadmissible.
But why the hell was Casey paying for it? Not showing up seemed like a rather petty antic for a judge. Maybe, once she was done with lunch, she’d go back to her office and give him a call. She wanted to know why he’d set up the appointment and then stood her up.
Casey finished lunch, ordered a latte to go, and after settling her bill and tip with the waitress, she collected herself and headed for the door. Glancing at her watch—6:35—she thought about calling Rosanna and Veronica. Maybe they’d like to get together for drinks later. Rosanna had just returned from the Sierra foothills, and Casey wanted the dirt on Jase Elliot.
A few steps from the exit, Casey inadvertently checked the opened doorway to the bar. Sitting in the middle of the counter, talking to a guy on his left, was none other than Judge Chase Hamilton. The stool to his right was empty, and Casey saw no reason not to approach him from that side.
With her long legs, Casey easily strutted across the bar’s open expanse in just a few steps. She didn’t recall his email saying anything about meeting him in the bar. Maybe she’d misunderstood.
She leaned against the bar and waited for him to look at her. When he did, she smiled. “I didn’t realize we were supposed to meet at the bar.”
He looked her over, one corner of his mouth turning up with a mocking smile. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
Annoyance, entwined with a bit of confusion, surged up into Casey’s throat, nearly choking her. “Seriously? Are you kidding me?”
The judge looked at Casey with vague familiarity, which pissed her off even more. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “I beg your pardon?”
“You’ve got nerve. I’ll give you that.”
“Miss…” His forehead wrinkled, drawing his eyebrows together. “Is there someone I can call for you?”
Unbelievable. He had no idea who she was. There were two reasons why his
Learning to Kill: Stories