Stir Sticks, Pens, and Kisses - A Sequel
0900
Courtroom ‘C’
“This is the time and place set for the hearing in the case of Private Ron Walters, Judge Amy Helfman presiding. All rise.” the bailiff intoned, as the few people in court came to their feet in a ruffle of sound.
Judge Helfman was well aware of the confrontational tactics that often flared when these two attorneys faced off against each other. She was also not oblivious to the rather unsettled personal interaction that had disrupted both courtrooms and bullpens during the last year or so. She didn’t follow or seek out gossip, but both attorneys had become bigger than life during their tenure at HQ, living legends so to speak, and few could escape hearing of them even when they tried.
‘Oh well,’ she sighed to herself. They were at very least the most competent two people who’d ever tried a case before her, and things were seldom dull when they were around.
She settled into to her seat and prepared for what was sure to be an interesting case regardless that the case file showed it as being rather cut and dried. The young private had obviously found himself in bad company and was now accused of receiving and selling stolen merchandise. Given the fact that Commander Harmon Rabb as prosecutor was squaring off against Lt Colonel Sarah Mackenzie for the defense gave every indication there was more here than the cryptic case file promised.
The formalities out of the way, she invited Commander Rabb to begin his case, her quick mind alert to listen to every word. There was a kicker in here somewhere of that she was certain.
One of Harmon Rabb’s planned courtroom tactics would be distraction. That little incident in the coffee room ten days ago had given him a powerful weapon to use in case Mac got too close to the weakness of his prime witness. He had inwardly groaned when he found the case assigned to Commander Helfman. She was usually aware of his flamboyance, and rarely allowed him to get away with anything. He’d have to be very careful.
Knowing Mac was extremely target driven when she tried a case, he felt he only needed a moment’s distraction to break her thought patterns. It might be enough to allow the opening to get past her. Regardless of this soft spot, his case against the Private was solid, though technical, and the decision could go either way. As always, the former fighter jock felt it should go his way.
With the precision of a dogfight he circled his adversary, coming up on her flank, diving beneath her, then soaring skyward, before attacking straight out of the sun. When it looked like she was finding a better position he pulled a fast roll and dive, winding up with her tail end squarely in his sights.
As he finished questioning his last and best witness, he sat down at the prosecutors table, satisfied he may have slipped this one past her, but not confident. Now was the time to distract her. She may have quickened to the question he had not asked, and if so, she was sure to go for the throat if he allowed the idea to form.
Sarah Mackenzie tried her cases like a force recon Marine, using camouflage, stealth, and planning, then attacking with everything she had when you least expected. She also had the enviable ability to think quickly on her feet, and change tactics in mid operation if new information came to light. This was what he had to intercept.
He fixed the corner of his eye on Judge Helfman and instantly realized that actually placing the tip of his pen in his mouth would not only be too obvious, but would garner him a reprimand. She would not be fooled by a protest that it was an absent gesture. She had his number big time.
With that in mind he relaxed into his chair just enough to throw a slight suggestion of calm self confidence, looked directly into Mac’s eyes, and lightly fingered the length of the silver writing tool, rubbing his thumb softly over the rounded end.
It worked perfectly. As Sarah Mackenzie rose from the defendants table, she hesitated for several seconds captivated by his stare, and the motion of his hand.
“Colonel, do you have questions for this witness?” Judge Helfman barked, just seconds before his little trick could fully do its job.
‘Damn, she’s caught me,’ Harm thought, as Mac’s attention returned completely. If either woman thought much about it, he was in for a double tongue lashing. Mac’s icy stare penetrated him, and he retreated to the outward appearance of calm. But deep underneath he knew he’d once again miscalculated his adversary.
With the deadly accuracy of a Marine sniper, Mac went straight for the gut of his witness, asking the very question he wished to avoid.
Tell me Mr. Johnson, did Private Walters know the items were stolen?” were the first words she spoke.
“No, Ma’am,” his witness answered. “We all thought he was kind of a doofus. He never did figgur it out s’far as we know. He jus’ wanted to be one of us so bad he’d do anythin’ we wanted,” recounted the man who’d made his deal. Since a civilian prosecutor had given Harm’s witness a lighter sentence than his cohorts in exchange for his testimony, Harm wasn’t certain his word could be trusted. That sort of plea bargaining wasn’t something the tall Commander generally approved of.
They’d used Ron Walter’s small town naiveté, and his desire to belong to the apparently ‘in’ group, convincing him that the items were personal property that the various members of the gang were liquidating. Harm had scoffed at the idea that anyone could be that simple when he’d first heard the statement. No one could possibly believe that cases of candy bars, brand new DVD players, multiple cartons of cigarettes, bottles of booze and currently hot top ten CD’s could possibly pass anyone’s perception of being anything but stolen.
Even if Walters were that gullible he needed to learn to pick his friends better. Who to trust was a big part of combat, and although his friends were civilians, the Private was very likely to see action in the future. His decision making skills were less than perfect for that activity. Harm wanted him out of the Marines.
1400
Courtroom ‘C’
“All rise,” the bailiff called again.
She’d dismissed them for lunch, promising to consider her opinion and give her ruling when they returned. With the serious look that Commander Helfman gave to all her cases, she walked to her seat and turned to give each attorney a contemplative look before seating herself.
“You may be seated,” she addressed them.
“I must say you’ve given me a case that has strong merits on both sides. However, I feel in the interest of justice, there can only be one decision here. The defendant will rise.”
With a shuffling of chairs, the defendant and his attorney rose to their feet.
“Private Walters I find you not guilty of receiving stolen merchandise. I believe you didn’t know what you were doing, even though the prosecution believes you should have. In this, he is correct. You need to learn to pick your friends better. I trust I won’t see you before this court again,” Judge Helfman finished sternly.
“No, Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am,” the Private replied with a huge grin on his face.
“And Commander,” she addressed Rabb.
He rose to his feet quickly. “Yes, Ma’am?” he replied.
“Don’t try that again in my courtroom or you’ll be held in contempt,” she cautioned.
“Ma’am…” Harm stumbled speechless.
“And don’t try any excuses or I’ll find you in contempt this time,” she warned.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Harm replied, thoroughly chastened.
A glance in Mac’s direction as the Judge exited the bench gave him only the same dark stare, before she turned to her client.
“Ma’am, did you hear what she said?” Private Walters crowed his relief.
“Yes I did, Private. Did you hear what she said?” Mac tried to penetrate his dense thought patterns.
“‘Course, Ma’am, she said not guilty. I can’t believe it. I thought I was a goner for sure,” he babbled.
“Private Walters,” Macs voice snapped, and the young man jumped to attention.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he looked suddenly less jubilant, wondering what this was about.
“Private, you are a Ma-rine,” Mac addressed him like a drill sergeant.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he stood ramrod straight.
“And as a Ma-rine, you are expected to adhere to the highest level of personal conduct, am I clear mister?” she berated him.
“Yes, Ma’am, but…” he tried.
“No ‘buts’ mister, if I ever hear about you being before any court, anywhere, ever again, I will personally see to it that you are drawn and quartered. Do I make my self clear, mis-ter?” As she finished, he withered before her, his elation suddenly dimmed by the seriousness of his misjudgment.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he gulped his reply. “Very clear, Ma’am,”
“Dis-missed,” she barked at him. The young private turned smartly, his pale face reflected his understanding, and was escorted from the courtroom by the guard.
Mac turned towards Harm, who stood openmouthed. He had felt she was showing unusual leniency, but knowing one of Mac’s tongue-lashings intimately, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have preferred a sentence from Judge Helfman.
Realizing he was in for his share, he smiled sheepishly and ducked his head, hoping she would go easy on him.
“Well, Harm,” she spoke matter-of-factly, “Aren’t you going to invite me to dinner? You did lose after all,” she eyed him speculatively.
“I…uh…yes…sure, Mac. I’d love to take you to dinner,” he stuttered.
“Nope, I think I’d rather have you cook for me,” she looked at him again as though he were a double cheeseburger, and she was very hungry. Good lord, what was she up to?
“Sure, anything you want Mac. What would you like me to cook?” He was stunned but he couldn’t be happier. They had been on shaky ground since his return and this was a positive step. He still felt there would be a price to pay for his indiscretion in court today.
1900
Harms apartment.
She walked up the stairs to the sounds of soft music and the aroma of her favorite pasta dish. As she approached his apartment, she found his door ajar in welcome. Inside was the delectable form of Harmon Rabb tending the meal. His movements were not quite a dance, yet they matched the soft rhythm of the song unconsciously.
She satisfied herself with watching him. His body was so fluid. There were lots of things she could think of that his muscle control would be good for. She was tired of there being nothing between them, and try as she might she couldn’t help think there was something more behind his recent flirtations than sandbagging her in court. Well she’d challenge him tonight and see just what he had in mind.
As she leaned against the doorframe, he turned from his bubbling pots to pour himself a cup of what was surely a decaf coffee. Although the smell wafting from the pot alluded to an expensive blend, she knew he wouldn’t be serving full strength coffee this late on a work night. She noticed that he’d already set out cream and sugar with the foreknowledge that she preferred her evening coffee sweeter.
Grabbing a stir stick from the cup on the counter, he gave his drink several twirls before taking a sip, then absently popping the stick in his mouth. She smiled as she recognized the move, and realized in that moment that it was an unconscious habit, something he did without thought. He had apparently discovered that morning in the break room the effect it had on her, and he’d used it. He’d tried again in court, but he’d been caught by the judge. She smiled secretly; he wouldn’t try that again.
Entering the room, she walked slowly and deliberately up to her tall, one-time partner. The man who unwittingly held her heart captive.
“You know, Harm,” she scolded mildly, “you shouldn’t have tried that in court today.”
“Mac,” he greeted around the plastic stick. It was useless to protest his intent. “Sorry,” he looked contrite. “But it wasn’t nearly as bad a feeding you false clues,” he smiled.
“No, Harm,” she replied softly. “You’ve mellowed. If I had to pick, I’d say this was the preferable tactic.” She was still walking towards him, and his eyes were widening, wondering what she was up to.
Stopping barely six inches from him, she reached up and gently removed the stir stitch from between his lips then laid it on the counter top.
“However if you want to play with something in your mouth, I have something much better,” she told him in a throaty whisper.
Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him into a kiss, then slipping her tongue between his lips. He hesitated only a fraction of a second before he caught up. Meeting her assault with his own weapon, he gave back everything she was giving him. His hands went around her waist, then slipped to enfold her entire body. In very few moments, he had her pressed against him, kissing her soundly in return. Not to be bested, Mac tightened her grip around his shoulders and pulled herself closer still, until they could no longer breathe.
Utter surprise filled both their faces, as they slowly drifted apart. Not far, just enough to look into each other’s eyes.
“Mac?” he asked, confused but not the least unhappy.
“Hungry Marine here, Harm, I need dinner,” she smiled wickedly at him.
“Oh…uh…yeah,” he was completely off balance and wondered if the pasta was all that was on her mind.
“But maybe we could think of something different for dessert,” she held his eyes as she turned to take her seat at the table.
Recovering his self-control instantly, he took the three steps that separated them. Pulling her gently back to her feet, he wrapped her once again in his arms.
“Works for me,” he told her, “but I think I want a second helping of the appetizers you brought.” He dipped his head and captured her lips for another taste, and she obliged him with abandon. At the limits of their self-control, they finally parted. Stunned by the overwhelming emotion, both were shakier than they cared to admit.
The three little words he whispered in her ear before he released her to dish up the dinner changed forever the way both of them would think of stir sticks.
End