“The good stuff,” Thelma whispered.
“Where is Melvin?” I whispered, not sure why.
Thelma shrugged. “Dunno.”
This wasn’t making a lick of sense. “First of all, don’t confess to anything,” I warned them, probably against the vow I’d taken for the job. But come on. “If you don’t know where Melvin is, then how were you arrested?” Logic had left the conversation.
“Well—” Georgiana flushed a deep red— “I pushed Thelma too hard through the kitchen window, and she knocked over some glasses on the counter. Eunice Johnson lives on the other side of Melvin. She called the police after she saw me climb through.”
Thelma sniffed. “That eighty-year-old trollop has never liked us. Always wanted to hook poor Melvin, and we wouldn’t let her.”
Could an eighty-year-old be a trollop?
Thelma continued. “The police took their time. We managed to search the kitchen, living room, and bathroom before the coppers showed up.”
“We had just started on the bedroom,” Georgiana said. “Who knew Melvin was a boxer man? I would’ve guessed briefs.”
“I thought he free-balled it,” Thelma said thoughtfully.
“All right, ladies.” I wanted to laugh, but the day had gotten completely away from me. I had a lot more to worry about than a couple of sweet old ladies wanting to smoke pot, which was legal just thirty minutes away in Washington state. “What would you accept in this case?”
Thelma’s red lips trembled. “Well, we figure we’re heading to the big house.”
No way would I let these sweet ladies go to jail. There had to be some justice in my job. I tilted my head to the side. “If Melvin wasn’t home, maybe you were watering his plants?”
Georgiana’s cloudy eyes lit up. “Um, yeah. And getting his mail.” She was obviously the criminal mastermind between the two.
“But,” Thelma started to argue before her friend shushed her.
I nodded. “We’ll see what we can do.” They ambled back to their seats.
Just then, the side door opened, and the big bailiff bellowed, “All rise as Judge Williams enters.”
Everyone stood, and pews creaked behind me.
“Be seated.” The judge smiled at the courtroom as she walked to sit at the bench. Her skin was a smooth and deep brown, her lips peach colored, and her salt and pepper hair curly above the judge’s robe. “Morning, Ms. Albertini. It’s good to see you again.” Her brown eyes were sharp and seeking, and she tilted her head to the side, inviting silent gossip or even answers.
I shook my head very subtly—because I had no clue what was happening with Scot or the DEA or pretty much anybody at the moment.
“I see,” the judge said, turning to the small stack of case files in front of her, clearly disappointed at the lack of gossip. “Let’s get to business, then. Georgiana Lambertini,” she called out in a clear voice.
I turned as Georgiana and Thelma shuffled up to my table. Georgiana had donned a pirate’s black eye patch.
I shifted my attention to the judge. “This is Georgiana and also Thelma Mullen. They were charged together.”
The judge raised her eyebrows. “For breaking and entering?”
Georgiana’s hands clasped against her chest. “It was a mistake, judge,” she said solemnly, her visible brown eye earnest and cloudy. “We were just trying to be good neighbors. We’re getting close to heaven’s gates, you know.”
“But,” Thelma started, then, “Ouch!” She grimaced down at her foot.
Georgiana smiled angelically next to her. “Yeah, we were just watering our dear neighbor’s plants,” she continued, her face beseeching and sad.
Thelma hummed and fluttered mascara-caked eyelashes. “Well, all right then,” she said.
The judge nodded at Georgiana’s eye patch. “Were you injured?”
“Oh no.” Georgiana flipped the eye patch up, revealing a cataract riddled brown eye. “I thought it was a good look for the big house. You know, so the bad bitches don’t mess with us.”
