He stood up again, and Tracy led him to his place in front of the judge. Her name was Elizabeth Larson. Up close, she looked pretty tough.
“Dr. Malloy, you’ve been charged with using foul language in front of women and children. How do you plead?”
“Guilty, Your Honor.”
“I see,” she said. “Cursing is an offense we take seriously here, make no mistake about that, especially when there are children involved.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” he said, trying to keep cool. Trying to remember that Dan would fix this soon enough.
“So seriously, in fact, that I usually give jail time to first offenders.”
Conner felt a chill run up his back. The crowd murmured. Tracy took a step back, distancing himself from the bench and the accused.
“However,” she said slowly, and the word sort of hung in the air, “there is a lesser sentence I can offer you.”
The murmur behind him got louder, and Conner heard someone laugh. The judge banged her gavel loudly three times, but Conner figured it was the look she gave the townfolk that really quieted them down.
“I’m prepared to give you community service instead of a fine and a jail sentence,” she said.
Community service? He’d have to stay here? In this town? With these crackpots? Dick Tracy, for heaven’s sake. People lurking in doorways. Maybe jail wouldn’t be so bad.
“The decision is yours to make,” the judge said. Then she reached for some papers on her desk. Turned a page over. Then another.
The tension in the room grew perceptibly. Conner felt beads of sweat break out on his brow. He urged her to say it. To end the suspense.
She looked at him again, and her right brow rose as she leaned forward. “You can go to jail, or you can escort a very nice young lady by the name of Gillian Bates to a dinner dance a week from Friday.”
Chapter Three
Conner laughed. It was a joke. A big old practical joke, maybe for one of those silly television shows. He waited for the judge to smile, for the gallery to join in with applause. But his was the only voice. He turned to the crowd, and his laughter died. They were all staring at him, anticipation and excitement making them lean forward, making their eyes wide and a little frightening.
He turned back to the bench. “I’m sorry. I thought you said—”
“I’ll repeat it for you. Instead of jail and a fine, you may escort Gillian Bates to a dinner dance.”
He stared at the woman as he grappled with what he was hearing. He was being sentenced to a date? Impossible. Completely ridiculous. Quite possibly illegal. But it couldn’t be serious. “No,” he said, taking a step toward the judge. “Really, what are my options?”
The judge looked at him soberly. “There are some conditions to the community service,” she said as if this performance was as real as rain. “You’ll need to ask her out at least once before the dance. And you must let her think it’s all your own idea. If she discovers it’s part of your sentence, it’s an automatic jail term. If you don’t succeed in escorting her to the dance, it’s an automatic jail term. And finally, you must leave her kindly and you must wait at least twenty-four hours after the dance has ended.”
“You can’t do that,” he said. “You can’t force me to date someone.”
“Oh, but I can, sir. I can, and I am.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” the judge interrupted sternly. “Make your decision, Dr. Malloy. Jail or a dinner dance with a very nice girl.”
He knew he was awake. This didn’t feel like any dream he’d ever had. “Your Honor, I’m an attending physician at Texas Children’s Hospital in Houston, and I—”
“And you’re on vacation.”
Damn. How could she know that? “Yes, but I have other obligations and—”
“And you’ll have to find another way to meet those obligations. You’ve brought this on yourself.”
“But all I did was—”
“All you did was act crudely and in a vulgar manner in front of very vulnerable ears, Dr. Malloy.”
He glanced behind him once more and was met with eager grins. The woman from the bakery. The woman from the first doorway. Even the sheriff. They were all smiling, urging him silently to do it. To say yes. What he couldn’t understand was why? Why him. Why a date? What the hell was going on?
“Dr. Malloy?”
He turned back. The simplest thing to do was agree, then let Dan fix it. Let Dan expose this insane town with its insane judge. “All right, Your Honor,” he said softly. “I’ll do the community service.”
Now came the applause. The whole room burst with it. Even the judge smiled. Everyone seemed as pleased as punch. But he planned on taking each of them to court. To a real court. Not here in Wacko Land.
The judge banged her gavel a few times, and the room grew silent once more. She’d lost her smile. “Do you understand the full extent of your community service?”
“I think so.”
“Please repeat it for the record.”
He swallowed, suddenly aware that he really needed a glass of water. “I have to take this Gillian Bates to a dinner dance,” he said. “But I have to ask her out at least once before that. I can’t let her know this is all some twisted plot and I can’t leave until at least twenty-four hours after the dance.”
The judge nodded. “Except for the creative description in the middle, that’s fine. Remember, she’s not to know anything about this.” Then she turned her attention to the gallery. “Not one slipup, people. This one has to go off without a hitch. We owe that to Gillian.”
She stood up, and the whole room followed suit. Conner felt a hand at his elbow. It was Sheriff Dick Tracy, ready to take him downstairs. He led him down the aisle where several people patted him on the back and one person pinched his behind. He whipped around to see who it was, but no one looked the least bit guilty. Then they got to the exit, and headed down the stairs.
When they reached his cell, he saw that his clothes had been neatly folded on the cot. That his shaving kit had been retrieved from the bathroom. He grabbed them, anxious to get the hell out of there.
The sheriff moved into the doorway, forcing him to stop. “Listen here, Doc. I know you think this is crazy, but you’ll see. You just do like the judge says and everything will turn out fine.”
Conner nodded impatiently.
“And, Doc? Don’t even think about leaving town. We know where you live. Where you work. It’ll be hard on you, you understand?”
Conner nodded again.
“I’ll see you around, Doc.” The sheriff moved out of his way.
Conner stopped again just before he got to the exit. “Sheriff?”
“Yes?”
“How am I supposed to meet her? Gillian Bates, I mean?”
“She teaches kindergarten at the school on Fourth. And she lives on Hickory Street. Thursday night she runs a book club over at the library, so you might try there.”
Conner didn’t thank him. He just walked out into the sunshine and into what looked like an ordinary day in an ordinary town. But he knew better.
He could barely begin to imagine Gillian Bates.