Under the Table(31)
“What if he’s calling me to do a job?”
“Only you can make the call about that one. That’s business. And he has no problem opening his wallet. Turning him down would be cutting your nose off to spite your face. But then you have every reason to act professionally instead of chummy. See the pattern here? The key is getting him to make a move.”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” Zoey said, hating every bit of what Ruth was telling her. Their friendship was based on honesty. All of this ducking and diving reeked of deceit.
“Zoe, there’s a broken heart for every light on Broadway. He has money, he has looks, all the resources to help him get over it. He’ll find another friend to fawn over him.”
Suddenly Zoey regretted not telling Ruth the full story. About just how wholesome and uncorrupted he actually was. What a mess he was when she met him. That his only lover had been a call girl he was too naive to spot. Not that her sister would believe her after last night. Ruth would just accuse her of being oversensitive and sentimental.
“And if it turns out he feels the same way I do?”
“Hey, girl,” Ruth said with a smile. “I can’t dictate your life story for you. That one I’m staying out of. You are on your own there.”
Ruth resumed eating her bagel and sipping her coffee. Zoey went back to daydreaming. Then Ruth spoke up again, with her final thoughts on the matter.
“I don’t much see the point in all of this anyway. You know you’re going to go back to Derek. You guys have been together since you were kids. You two are lifers.”
Zoey hoped it was just coincidence that lifers was the word for people stuck in prison forever.
Chapter 12
Nobody expects an uninvited knock on their door on a Sunday evening. When Zoey looked through the peephole and saw two blue uniforms, she feared the worst. Someone was dead.
“Is this the residence of Ruth Dixon?” the older of the two asked, double-checking the name on the paper he was holding.
They didn’t have guns drawn, but it also didn’t look like a social call.
“I’m her,” Ruth said, getting up from the couch. She didn’t look like she expected them either.
“We have a warrant for your arrest, miss.”
“A what?” Zoey and Ruth said in unison.
They didn’t look like the cops you saw in the movies, all grizzled and by the book. These cops were more relaxed. Official-looking, but more like they were running an errand, not making an apprehension. The police handed over the piece of paper they had brought with them. Ruth scanned the document for the key words. It was easy to see when she got the gist by how pale she turned and her hands started to shake.
“I’m being arrested for assault. From that perv last night in the bar!”
“I don’t think we have to cuff her,” the younger cop said, and the older cop gave a single nod.
“I don’t think you understand. He assaulted me first!” Ruth’s pale face was replacing itself with a flush of anger. She handed over the warrant for Zoey to read.
“You can tell your side to the judge. We don’t want to use the handcuffs on you, if you’re willing to just come along with us. And you can make it easier for everyone if you leave all your valuables behind.”
“The offense you’re talking about is a misdemeanor. Aren’t there actual crimes that you guys could be dealing with? You know, murders, muggers . . . ,” Zoey tried to point out.
“We don’t make the rules, miss, we enforce them. They consider assault a felony when the victim is a federal employee, in this case a judge. Rumor has it when he swore out the complaint, he was taking it personally. The bouncers in the bar weren’t very gentle.”
Only Ruth would try teaching a hands-off lesson to a judge.
“This is ridiculous,” Zoey said, crumpling up the warrant when fisting her hand. She started to try and undo the damage by flattening it against the wall and hand ironing it. “A complete abuse of power.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.” Ruth looked down at her grungy Sunday sweatpants and black tank top, an attempt for normalcy as it started to sink in. “Can I change?”
The cops exchanged glances. The older one gave a half nod. “What you have on is perfect for jail. It’s not going to be like a night at the Ritz. We’ll let you grab another shirt. It gets cold. They probably won’t uniform you up. It’ll take most of the night to process you. You’ll be arraigned first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll wait right here. Just don’t close the door.”
“You do have the right to remain silent.” The young cop started reciting her Miranda rights as Ruth took off down the hall.
Ruth went to get a sweatshirt while the cops waited inside the open doorway. Zoey followed closely behind into the bedroom.
“Oh, my God.” Ruth started pulling shirts out of drawers in search of her most comfortable one. “I’m going to spend a night in jail.”
“What do you want me to do?” Zoey said.
“I don’t even know what I’m going to do. But if I get an inkling, I’ll call you. I do get to make one phone call, right?”
“I feel like I’m supposed to come with you or something,” Zoey fretted.