Dick by Law (6 page)

Chapter 1
3

 

In the
Courthouse
Lunchroom

"Could you turn your head just a little that way?" Simon waved his pencil toward the left. "That'd be awesome, thanks."

Ishiko
the courtroom artist
, who sat across from him at
a
table
in
the
basement
lunchroom
at the courthouse
, giggled and turned her head.
"Is th
is
better?"

Simon smiled and sketched more lines on the legal pad he'd borrowed from Quinn.
He kept it propped against the edge of the table so Ishiko couldn't see his drawing.
"Much better." His improvised introduction to
her
--plopping himself down at
her lunchroom
table and
offer
ing to
sketch
her--
had been
a hit so far.

"I kind of like this," said Ishiko. "Being the
subject
instead of the
artist
for a change."

"
Please don't break your pose.
"
Just as Simon said it, someone bumped into him from behind, knocking
him forward against the table. "Like
that
, for example." He and Ishiko both laughed.

The lunchroom was packed and noisy; it seemed as if all two hundred spectators had decided to have lunch at once.
The whole place smelled like the day's special,
kolbassi
and sauerkraut--
not that anyone was likely to complain. Tucker County
and its people were
known for
their
Eastern European
heritage
.

A
s for
Simon
, he
was
n't
about to let the crowd
, the smell,
or anything else wreck his introduction to lovely Ishiko.

Ishiko
tipped her head to one side and gazed at him appraisingly
. "
You're a man of many talents, aren't you? Not only can you sketch, but
t
hat's quite a case you have going on in the
courtroom
today. I've sat through a lot of trials, but never one like
that
."

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Simon.

"Do you think you'll win?"

"That depends
on if you say 'yes,'" said Simon. "To
dinner
, I mean."

Ishiko's pale cheeks flushed
, and she smiled
. "Do you think you'll win
the lawsuit
?"

"Oh, sorry." Simon added more lines
to the sketch
with an extra flourish
, as if he were an accomplished artist and the drawing w
ere
actually a masterpiece instead of
a scribbled mess. "I thought we were talking about me asking you out! My mistake."

Ishiko narrowed her dark brown eyes at him. "Are you sure you're an artist? Let me see that sketch a minute."

"Not yet." Simon continued to scribble on the legal pad.
"I'm afraid it won't measure up to an original by Ishiko...
what's your last name?
"

"Yoshida." Ishiko craned her neck, trying for a peek at the sketch. "Ishiko Yoshida."

Simon angled the pad
toward him, blocking her view.
"What a beautiful name
." He smiled at her. "It has a nice rhythm."

Ishi
ko blushed again and looked at her half-eaten salad
, then met his gaze.
"Call me Ishi."

Simon's smile widened. "I like that, too."

Ishi cleared her throat. "Your name is interesting, also. 'Bellerophon.' What's the origin?"

"
Greek mythology," said Simon. "A great hero and monster slayer."

"Cool." Ishi nodded. "So you're Greek then? Your parents are Greek?"

"Not at all." Simon added more scribbles to the sketch. "
It's not my birth name. I picked it years ago, when I
change
d
my name."

"I
see." Ishi's voi
ce softened, and she frowned.

A little mystery wasn't a bad thing, but Simon decided to lighten the tone again.
"I needed a new start,
what with my artistic career and all."

Ishi grinned.
"And here you are, sketching me...
and fighting monsters
. Or should I say
dicks
?"

The more Simon listened to Ishi's chiming voice, the more he loved it.
It
was music to his ears, even through
the
clamor of the two hundred or so voices in the basement lunchroom.
"
Don't know if I'll slay
that
monster, though.
Horne Shaw
seems to be making more points with the judge."

"You never know, Simon," said Ishi. "I've been a courtroom sketch artist for three years, and I've seen
lots of
strange
things happen."

"Ishi," said Simon. "Will you be my 'either way?'"

Ishi gave him a funny look. "What's an 'either way?'"

"Go out with me whatever happens in court," said Simon. "Either help me celebrate a win or feel better after a loss. Either way."

Ishi
narrowed her eyes in a measuring gaze. As she stared at him, Simon focused all his willpower on guiding her answer, wishing up a 'yes.'

She was even prettier
sitting across
the
table from him than sitting all the
way across the courtroom. H
e
had
to see her again...
but
the heat was on.
If Judge Bartlebaugh resolved the case today, Simon might never have another chance to win her over.

"Well?" said Simon.

"Okay." Ishi grinned and shrugged. "I'll be your 'either way
.' But remember,
I don't sketch
on
a
first date."

"Phone number, please," said Simon. She told him, and he
wrote it at the bottom of the scribbled page.

"Now let's see that sketch of me!" Ishi got up and grabbed for the legal pad, barely missing.

"Seriously, it needs work." Simon clutched the pad
, hiding the scribbled top sheet against
his chest
. "
Lots
of work.
"

Ishi came after him,
grinning and
reaching for the pad. Simon backed up a few steps, then
stopped dead when he ran into someone.

Turning, he saw it was Quinn.

"Judge Bartlebaugh's back
.
"
Quinn
's expression was unreadable
.
"
It might be time for a verdict."

"Okay," said Simon.

"Whatever happens, we tried our best," said Quinn. "Remember that. You'll be all right."

"Absolutely." Simon winked at Ishi. "
I'll be fine e
ither way."

 

*****

Chapter 1
4

 

In Court

"To dick or not to dick," said Judge Bartlebaugh. "That is the question."

Laughter rippled through the crowd of spectators packing the overheated courtroom. There were more
people spectating
than before, th
ough
Simon
was to
o nervous to sit and count them. H
e guessed between
fifty
and a hundred more
had joined the first two hundred.

Simon wasn't one of the ones who were laughing, and neither was Quinn.
Cool sweat trickled down Simon's sides as he sat beside Quinn and listened
to the judge
. He had no idea what to expect;
Bartlebaugh's face
gave away nothing except amusement at his own quips.

At least Ishi was in the courtroom. Stealing glances at he
r was the only thing keeping Simon
from having a nervous breakdown as he waited to hear the verdict.

"On the one hand," said Judge Bartlebaugh, "this court cannot
and should not
provide
a forum for every citizen with a personal ax to grind."

Simon suddenly had a sinking feeling. He looked at Quinn, but Quinn
kept
staring at Bartlebaugh and
offered no
support. He looked at Horne,
but Horne was just sneering
in delight that made him feel worse.

"
However," said Judge Bartlebaugh, "
I
do
believe there is merit
to the idea of extending the public nuisance statute to include
individuals
.
I, for one, can think of a
long list
of
individuals
to whom a warning label of some sort should be applied."

Just like that, the tone of Bartlebaugh's remarks changed gear.
Just like that, the certainty of utter defeat became something else.

Something so unexpected, it was almost frightening.

Quinn dropped his pen on the floor and didn
'
t move to pick it up. Simon
gaped with a glazed expression at the judge, afraid to move a muscle lest he break the spell.

"That said, I
also
believe this sets a dangerous precedent," said Judge Bartlebaugh. "A potentially
disastrous
one."

Simon slumped.

"I can see it now
.
"
Judge Bartlebaugh
cracked his gum
.
The crack didn't echo much in the jam-packed courtroom.
"Suits and countersuits like swarms of bees c
hok
ing the courts. Everyone suing to brand everyone else a
dick
or an
asshole
or a
shithead
.
The floodgates will be
opened
.

"
As much fun as
this
lawsuit has been for me
," said Judge Bartlebaugh, "I suspect the fun factor will be somewhat
reduced
by the time I preside over the
hundredth
or so
copycat
suit."
He
shrugged. "But
until then, maybe we can benefit from letting this play out
."

"Oh my God."
Quinn whispered so softly, Simon could barely hear him
. "It's really happening."

"Plus which.
.." Judge Bartlebaugh wagged a finger at
Horne
. "...I can see the
dick
in
you
quite clearly.
Y
ou
, sir, have
dick
tasticness
aplenty.

"If anything, Mr. Bellerophon is
not giving you your
dickly due
.
I
would classify you more as a
super-dick
,
Mr. Shaw
. An
alpha dick
, if you will
.

"So here's the four-one-one, folks
." Judge Bartlebaugh
threw his arms in the air
. "
Congratulations, Mr. Bellerophon!
You've just made history!"

Simon looked
at Ishi, who smiled and nodded. Quinn was smiling, too.

"Soon enough,
my
decision
will
be appealed," said Judge Bartlebaugh. "I can't guarantee this injunction won't be overturned at that point...but in the meantime..." He pointed both index fingers at
Horne
and twirled them in little circles
with a flourish
. "
You
,
sir,
are officially a
dick
."

All at once, the courtroom exploded with noise. Josie, Chip, and Ankha whooped and applauded, and the rest of the crowd in the
roasting courtroom
roared with excitement
.
Horne
howled in dismay, pounding his fist on the table. Swope shouted one objection after another, none of them acknowledged by the judge. Reporters in the back of the room babbled over cell phones, shouting details to office-bound editors.

And Simon just looked around in a daze in the midst of it all.
None of it felt real to him except the sweat crawling down his sides and back, the smell of
dust baking in the sunbeams around him, and the smooth surface of the wood tabletop under his fingertips.

"We won!" Quinn snapped him out of his daze with a smack on the shoulder.

"We sure did." Simon grabbed Quinn's hand and shook it hard.

Quinn laughed. "Do you
know
how
impossible
this is?"

"
Nothing's
impossible for the
Lone Appraiser
and Knight Ranger!" said Simon.

Suddenly, Josie grabbed him and spun him around, engulfing him in a
hug that was more like a wrestling hold. "Yabba Dabba Doo!" She twirled with Simon clamped
against her
bright yellow "Simon Says You're a Dick!"
t-shirt
,
his
legs fluttering like the cloth legs of a rag doll.
"Way to go,
Boss
!"

Chip reached up and tousled Simon's s
andy
hair. "Way to
stand up for
the common man, Sime! You da shit, mon!"

When Josie stopped spinning and put Simon down, Ankha stepped forward and cupped his chin between her thumb and forefinger.
It was weird seeing her in a bright yellow t-shirt instead of her usual all-black creature of the night wardrobe.
"Congratulations, Simon.
" Smiling, she
gave his chin a playful nudge
. "
You've made us proud."

"Thank you all for being here!" said Simon.
"Do you know how much it meant to me, having your support every day?"

"Nothing to it,
Boss
," said Josie. "
In¢entive$
takes care of our own."

"Especially when you're paying us O.T. for being here!" said Chip.

"Or at least buying the beer for our victory celebration!" said Josie.

Simon pointed at her and winked. "You got it, Sister." Then, between Josie and
Chip, he caught sight of Ishi,
heading for the door
with her arms full of art supplies
.

Before Simon could follow, he lost sight of her in the crowd. It seemed like everyone was pushing
toward
the front of the courtroom at once
.

T
hey were surrounding
Horne Shaw
.

Just as Simon wondered what was happening, the crowd
started
to clap and chant. Everyone, all at once, repeated the same word over and over:

Dick! Dick! Dick! Dick!

Horne
's face was
redder than ever,
on the verge of turning purple. He snarled at the crowd like a
n enraged lion,
but it made no difference. If anything, the chanting grew louder.

Dick! Dick! Dick! Dick!

"Shut up!" said
Horne
. "Shut the fuck up, you
fucking
assholes!"

Dick! Dick! Dick! Dick!

Finally,
Horne
roared and
plowed through the crowd, bowling people
over
on his way to the door.

The people just laughed and kept on chanting.

 

*****

Chapter 1
5

 

130 Million Years Ago

China

Long into the night, Grip howled over the bodies of his murdered mate and pups. The
forest
around him took no notice
; i
ts myriad creatures
, revived by the cool of night after the long, hot day,
screech
ed
and chatter
ed
and chirp
ed
and buzz
ed
like mad
.

By the time dawn finally came, and the
forest
started to brighten, Grip had lost his voice. He kept trying to howl, but all he could manage was a feeble whimper.

For the thousandth time, he nudged his mate's body with his muzzle...and hopped back in surprise. He couldn't believe what he'd seen.

Movement
.

Head down, he crept toward her, watching carefully. He smelled the truth in her altered scent on the air, understood what was really happening...but he dared to hope.

There it was again. His mate's snout
twitched
.

Grip padded around to that side of her. Head cocked to one side, he dipped his nose and sniffed at her open maw, searching for a trace of her warm, sweet breath.

But what he smelled was rotten.

S
uddenly, a big, black beetle burst out of her mouth and took wing, flying straight at him.

Heart racing, Grip ducked and stumbled back through the weeds. The beetle looped around his head twice, then rocketed off into the
forest
.

Heaving and panting from panic, Grip backed against the
knobby
roots of the tree where his family had once nested. From a distance, he saw other things crawl in and out of his mate's mouth, things the night's darkness had mercifully hidden from him.

Still dead
.

Completely exhausted in every way, Grip collapsed among the roots. He closed his eyes to shut out the sight of his mate's twitching body...but when he did that, the scents of his family's killers burned more brightly in his mind.

The scents swirled in a cloud, each smoky tendril distinct
,
each painting a picture of the creature that
had
made it. Grip teased them out, one at a time, and tasted them, searing their unique flavors into his memory. Filing them away.

They all belonged to dinosaurs, he could tell that much...six of them. All the same kind of dinosaur, too--meat-eaters, unfamiliar but similar to others he'd known. Their scents were twined with the smell of dead flesh, simmering in the chemical cook pots of their bellies.

Killers
.

They were killers and nothing more, unlike Grip, who ate green growing things as well as meat. They were well-fed, so they were strong and fast and smart. Their bellies had been full or nearly so when they'd come upon Grip's family, so his mate and pups had been nothing but a snack.

Grip saw the killers so clearly in his mind's eye, he felt like they were there with him,
polished
teeth gleaming white
and
streaked with blood,
serrated
talons flashing and slashing. His lip curled in a snarl as he pictured them and imagined what they'd done to his family, again and again.

When he finally fell asleep, the pictures replayed in his dreams. He slept restlessly, rolling and thrashing and nipping as he fought in his nightmare, battling to save his mate and pups.

Grip woke long after the sun had gone down
for the day
. Rising from the loam on his stubby legs, he stretched and sniffed the warm air.

The first thing that struck him was the putrid smell of his family's decaying corpses. Pushing past that, he picked out the lingering wisps of the killers' mingled scents.

Grip walked out a little ways, following them. The trail was cooling, but not so much that his sensitive nose couldn't track it.

They were out there somewhere in the
forest
, probably killing more prey
,
the remains of Grip's mate and pups dissolving in their guts. The slaughter was probably already forgotten as they turned to their next targets, mouths watering.
Sneaking through the brush, hopping between trees, eyes popping to peer through the darkness. Mouths opening
, dripping saliva.

Suddenly, Grip was seized with a new urge. His heart beat faster, and the
wiry
fur on his back stood on end.

Go
.

Turning, he looked one last time toward his home. He glimpsed fur among the ferns in the silvery moonlight, the fur of the ones he'd loved. The ones who'd been taken.

And then he did something he'd never done before.

Turning from home, Grip set out on a hunt, following a trail not for food or to win a mate or protect his territory. For the first time in his life, and perhaps the first time in the world,
one
creature--a mammal, one of the first--set out to hunt another for a different reason.

Revenge
.

That was what it was, though Grip did not have the words to describe it. He set out with one goal in mind: to destroy those who had destroyed something he loved.

The damage was already done. The hunt could not bring back those who'd been killed. There was nothing to be gained. If anything, the hunt could lead to Grip's death, too.

But Grip didn't care. He didn't consider that possibility. All he wanted in the world was to take from those who'd taken so much from him. To make
them
feel the pain they'd made
him
feel.

To tear them apart if he could, or be torn apart in the process. To put an end to it one way or another.

Grip walked and then ran through the
forest
, tracking the fading scents of the killer dinosaurs. His stomach growled with hunger, and he ignored it. All he could think about were the six dinosaurs ahead of him and what he would do when he caught up with them.

It made him feel better, this new thing. It kept him alive.
His tail wagged at the pure hum and thunder of it.

Revenge
.