Invasion of Privacy Read Free

Riesner’s other clients in the case, Doreen and Michael Ordway, ignored her greeting. These two looked to be in their middle thirties. Ordway wore a windbreaker and cowboy boots, as if he had just ridden in from the range. His wife wore her long, gold-streaked hair down her back, and a purple leather miniskirt that cried, hey, look at me!
    Nina stopped at the gate that separated the audience’s seats from the lawyers’ area, taking it all in again. A large room lit to brutal brightness, its center formed by the counsel tables and the high judge’s bench, a little circus maximus where the gladiators fought each day. The empty jury box on the right, where a couple of lawyers lounged. The scribes toiling at their tiny desks below the judge’s bench. The bailiff at his desk on the side, behind a new transparent bulletproof shield, answering the phone. And behind her, Romans in the rows of seats, bloodthirsty, spoiling for the fight.
    Really, the adversarial system was one hell of a primitive way to settle a dispute.
    The clock on the wall said eleven-fifteen. Judge Milne was late. Nina had thought everything was ready, but she began feeling unsteady as she sat down at the defendant’s counsel table next to Terry and took out her files, too aware of the attentive eyes behind her.
    The scene in the hall with Riesner had been business as usual, and she’d stayed cool—well, as cool as she could. As for Terry, all clients had their drawbacks. She preferred an intelligent client, and Terry was certainly intelligent, though she was also on the hostile side.
    She was perfectly fine, she told herself, perfectly safe. And ...
    This was the chair she had been sitting in right before ... She had been standing in front of that witness box. ... She had turned and seen the gun suddenly swing toward her, watched the finger pull the trigger from less than twenty feet away.... She should be dead....
    She squared her shoulders, fighting off the emotional overload, dragging her eyes away from the spot a few feet away where she had fallen. That case was over.
    Terry sat at her left at the counsel table, quietly wary. On her right, Jeffrey Riesner set his briefcase down on the plaintiff’s table and began pulling out his files.
    Deputy Kimura said, "All rise. The Superior Court of the County of El Dorado is now in session, the Honorable Curtis E. Milne presiding." You could almost hear the trumpets. Judge Milne appeared on the bench, flipping open his own file. Nina couldn’t help a quick nod to the emperor who would do a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down in his ceremonial robes.
    The court reporter flexed her hands and crouched over her machine, and Edith Dillon, the henna-haired clerk at the desk under the judge’s dais, began to wield her pen over a fresh pink form.
    "Be seated," the bailiff said. Everyone sat down except the two lawyers. Nina stood up straight, as tall as five feet three inches plus Italian pumps allowed.
    "Sweet v. London," Milne said, opening a thick file. "A hearing on a preliminary injunction, is that right, Mr. Riesner? All parties and counsel of record are present?"
    "Yes, Your Honor," Riesner said.
    "Welcome back, Ms. Reilly. We’ve missed you," the judge said, giving her a small smile.
    "Thank you, Your Honor. I’m glad to be back," Nina said.
    She watched Milne carefully, but his face was a model of judicial decorum. He gave no clue about his mood, the effects of his breakfast, or his reaction to the briefs he had read. He pooched out his lower lip and tapped it thoughtfully with a finger. "Proceed," he said.
    Riesner threw his papers down on the table, leaned on it, and said, "The court has on file our complaint for invasion of privacy, declaratory relief, and breach of contract. The relief sought in the complaint is an injunction providing that the defendant, Theresa London, be permanently prohibited from showing, publishing in any manner, distributing for sale, licensing, promoting or otherwise publicizing the