Page 126 of Precise Justice

Carvelli looked at the I.D. While it continued to play the song Rock and Roll by Led Zeppelin, his ringtone, he decided to answer it.

“Hi,” he said as politely as he could.

“Hi, please don’t hang up,” he heard a familiar voice.

“I won’t. You okay?”

“No, I’m sorry and ready to beg,” Paxton O’Rourke said. “I did something stupid and I’m looking for forgiveness.”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess. Your friend, the cheating judge, was not only cheating on his wife with you, but he was cheating on you with somebody else.”

“You are wise in the ways of cheating men,” Paxton said. “Are you home?”

“Actually, I’m in Chicago,” Carvelli said.

What!?”

“Business. It’s a long story.”

“Is it possible…?”

Carvelli paused while thinking over the question. “Yes, it’s possible.”

“Can I see you tonight?”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea plus I don’t have time. I’m going home tomorrow. I’m not angry, but I need some time,” Carvelli replied.

All the while he was on the phone with the woman who recently stabbed his heart, Carvelli held two thoughts. What is wrong with me? There’s no shortage of women. And, almost on the tip of his togue was the question he wanted to ask but did not want to know. Did you sleep with him?

“I’ll think about it, Paxton. Okay?”

“Sure, I’m very sorry. If nothing else I want you to know that.”

“Good night,” Carvelli said.

“Bye. I still love you,” Paxton said just a bit too late. Carvelli had ended the call.

Carvelli held his phone in his hand and while looking at it, said out loud, “I still miss you.”

Unknown to Carvelli, but he could have guessed it, Paxton’s next call was to a good friend. She needed Maddy Rivers on her side to try to fix this.

At precisely 9:45A.M.the next day he parked his rental Hyundai SUV in front of Joan’s house. She was looking out the window and was in the car in seconds.

“Paul’s home,” she said. “One question after another. Where you going?” What are you doing? Who is this guy? When will you be back? I’m telling you, Tony, how do men put up with it?”

“Not all women, wait a minute, she’s now a man,” Carvelli said looking at her.

“It gets confusing,” Joan said with laughter. “I called Camille. She’s anxious to talk to you. And, she’s willing to fly to Minnesota, meet with your lawyer and even testify. She’ll do it pro bono and even pay her own expenses, if necessary.”

“He can probably find out if he wants her to testify by calling her. We’ll ask for a copy of her curriculum vitae and yours,” Carvelli said. “Let’s go see your mentor. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

FORTY-SEVEN

Maddy warily parked the Corvette on the street in front of the restaurant. She was meeting Friedman’s former receptionist/administrative assistant.

The restaurant was on Lyndale and Twenty-Ninth a few blocks from Marc’s office. Not long ago this was a delightful neighborhood known as Uptown. It was now seeing bad times. Formerly safe, and a place to go, especially in the summer, since the riots, it was drying up and crime had skyrocketed,

The restaurant, a local place with a variety of dishes, was struggling. For the lunch hour at the place, the number of customers was barely worth the trouble of being open.

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