Blindsided by Fern Michaels

at least from my perspective, that we are indeed onto something. Let’s bat it around and see how you all feel, and if you have any ideas, no matter how bizarre they might seem, we want to hear them. I don’t mind telling all of you that I like the challenge I’m seeing here.”
    â€œI agree; I’m tingling all over,” Annie quipped. “Let’s hunker down and get to work.”
    â€œWait a minute. Are you all saying that Ted, Espinosa, and I shouldn’t leave for Baywater tomorrow?”
    â€œNot just yet, dear. I think we need to give Charles and his people a few days to get us the real skinny on the twin judges. As well as Mr. Tookus. We certainly don’t want to tip our hand ahead of time. Let’s take a vote,” Myra said.
    The near-unanimous vote was six to one to wait.
    Maggie, the only dissenting voice, sulked.

Chapter 6
    J udge Celeste Ciprani looked around her chambers the way she did every day she was in the courthouse presiding over her courtroom. She had furnished and paid for the suite herself because she was addicted to fine things. In her opinion, being a judge made her worthy of fine things. Rich mahogany paneling, the Louis IV desk that had belonged to her great-granddaddy and was worth a fortune. The chairs were Chippendale. She had two, and her twin sister, Judge Eunice Ciprani, had the other two, left to them by their grandfather. A Windsor love seat that was worth more than the two chairs together just went to prove Celeste didn’t care if the furnishings matched or not. What she cared about was showing off what she had. Celeste was all about her image. Just like her sister, Eunice, whose offices were just three doors away and furnished almost exactly the way hers were. Eunice insisted that her plants and ficus trees were more luxurious, something Celeste didn’t dispute. Both sisters admitted that they considered their suites as havens away from home.
    Celeste and Eunice were the only two judges in the Baywater courthouse who had suites. The other judges, and there were nine, had small, cramped offices with furnishings liberated from some dank, dark place in the bowels of the ancient building. The reason they were small was because the Ciprani sisters demanded the extra room to create suites, and the only way they could be accommodated was to make the other offices smaller. Since the twin judges ruled the courthouse, they had only to ask to have their wishes granted. It was a wise person who kept quiet and sucked up the discomfort because that same person didn’t want to feel the wrath of the Ciprani twins.
    Celeste hung her pure silk robe on a scented padded hanger. She smoothed the sleeves, fastened the top snap, then ran her hands over the expensive material. Her robes were custom-made, and she had six of them, as did her sister. One for every day of the workweek and one extra, just in case of a spill or something equally disastrous. The robe defined who she was—Judge Celeste Ciprani. The stand that held the one-of-a-kind robe was an antique and could only hold one item, Celeste told anyone who cared to ask why she had two racks. A judge’s robe, she explained, was sacred and deserved its own place. The robe stand was the first thing a person saw upon entering the sacred domain. Well, not exactly the first thing; the solid gold nameplate on the door, appropriately engraved, was the first thing a person saw. The other antique stand had two hooks, one for her coat or jacket, the other for her designer purse and umbrella.
    Celeste took a last look around her office. Satisfied that everything was the way she wanted it, she walked over to her desk and pressed a button on the console. “Are you ready, Nessie?” Her twin said she was and would meet her in the hall. They would walk through the courthouse and out to the parking lot to Eunice’s car.
    Celeste checked the locked drawers on her desk and turned off the light. She