17
"All Rise…" Bailiff Aaron Tuttle stood at his post. "Criminal Court Two is now in session, the honorable Harry T. Stone presiding." The former football player heralded the entry of Judge Harry Stone, the longest serving criminal circuit judge in Manhattan. The brawny African-American had replaced Bull Shannon much like several members of the court. Dan Fielding had retired with his wife to be replaced by Assistant District Attorney Brenda Walsh, formerly of the Public Defender's office. Billie Young was back to replace the former public defender position once served by Harry's wife, now on the Judicial Review Board. Even Roz had departed. She had retired herself after publishing a book on her experiences in the court system. Harry was now in the last months of his last judicial term and ready to retire himself and maybe move back to Boston to tease and cajole the gang at Cheers. Rumors were Sam and Rebecca just had their second little girl.
"Okay, Rick," Harry took his seat on the stand. "Who's up first?"
"Another underwear guy, sir…" Richard "Ricky" Cunningham Jr. was the son of movie director Richard Cunningham. The skinny red-haired clerk brought the arrest file up to the bench. "The people present Hector Jesus Dominguez, suspected burglary, possession, public mischief and public indecency."
Aaron and fellow bailiff Janice Bluth led out the short and stocky Hispanic gang member. Although his pants hung low, the back of his underwear had been pulled up over his head. He had sort of a permanent surprised look on his face. Dominguez briefly stood up against Harry's bench out of view, but Walsh and Young pulled him back into Harry's view.
"Another one?" Harry and Rich exchanged looks. "What is this girl's thing with underwear?" He looked back at Rich. "Rich, recall the old George Reeves series where he just bent bars around the bad guys."
"I remember it, sir…"
"Your honor…" Brenda spoke first. "Mr. Dominguez was found dangling from the electrical pole outside the home of Ed and Kate Harrison. His burglary tools with his fingerprints on them were found inside the house near a pillow case with several of the home-owner's possessions."
"Sir," Billie spoke up. "The defendant throws himself on the mercy of the court. He's seen the error of his ways."
"Yeah…" Harry continued. "Well, I'm still bumping him up the master court." Harry pounded his gavel, and Rick went to get the next case. Hector tightly turned to face Billie.
"Is that it?" He asked; he looked so pathetic with that underwear band over his head. "Is that it? That girl bounced me around the room for almost five minutes then hung me up like a piñata in front of the whole neighborhood. What about my anguish?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Dominguez." Billie sympathized as Aaron came to take him away. "But maybe you ought to go straight."
"What?" Hector responded. "And get out of burglary?" Aaron tugged him away to lock-up. Rick meanwhile carried several cases up to Harry's side. He took the top one and read from it.
"Langdon Oswald Temple, car theft and evading arrest…"
Janice led out a skinny African-American kid wrapped in car tires. His arms were trapped down by his sides, and he had the same surprised look Hector had before him.
"Oh, look, she got creative with this one…" Harry and Langdon met each other. "What's the story here?"
"I didn't steal that car!" Landon tried pleading his case. "I was just driving along, and some blonde bimbo stopped me, pulled me out of the car and dribbled me up and down the highway."
"Don't forget how your screwdriver was in the ignition and the seventeen cars you smashed into trying to escape the police." Brenda added to his testimony.
"This is incredible." Harry loved the fact he had stayed in this job long enough to hear these stories of a stunning blonde in a Supergirl costume catching these criminals. "Is there anything this girl can't do?"
"You're honor…" Janice spoke up. "Do you know there's a fifty foot yacht blocking Times Square?"
"I stand corrected!"
Down on Times Square, police were redirecting traffic as the crane came through to hoist the yacht out of the way. Seven Arab extremists had been found on board, each of them with their underwear pulled over their heads or pinned together like sardines in the hold with enough explosives to blow up the Statue of Liberty. The bomb squad had cleared the boat of more explosives and Homeland Security arrested the seven terrorists. Mac Taylor was on the scene to represent the New York forensics lab. His man, Danny Messer, was on board to collect forensics as fast as he could while the yacht was getting ready to be hoisted on a truck and taken back to the harbor. He counted over a hundred bullet holes from automatic weapons through the craft, countless shells and deformed slugs strewn inside the yacht and damage that possibly cost hundreds of dollars to fix once again. He pulled a long blonde hair from a curtain and bottled it. Chances were he was not going to get DNA from it if was indestructible. He also had fingerprints on the bent rifles. Chances were they would match the prints from the other case and several other mystery blonde cases in town.
"Danny, they're ready to haul." Mac patted the side to get him off.
"On my way!" Danny packed the evidence he had got and hurried for the deck, swinging his leg off the side as the city employees gestured to start hauling away back to the harbor. Climbing down the ladder, he hopped off six feet off the ground in front of Mac.
"Three guesses who dropped our guests here." He riddled. Mac exhaled a bit.
"You mean to tell me…" Mac walked away from the noise of the winch hoisting the fifty-ton craft but still had to raise his voice. "That a super strong blonde wearing a comic book costume who can fly left this boat here?" He looked around the pedestrians and on-lookers watching the spectacle. "If so, then where did she go?"
"Well, she couldn't have gone far…" Detective Don Flack was a few feet away. "NYPD has had a helicopter over head ever since she landed, and we've yet to see her go airborne."
They perused the crowds for blondes in psychedelic red, blew and yellow costumes.
"Ah…." Garbed in a black turtleneck and a green skirt, Bridget sat in MacLaren's Bar and Grill a few blocks away. "That hits the spot." She sipped her iced soda and took a bite from her club sandwich. Her ears listened half-interestedly to the police cars racing past the place, but they seemed to have it. Turning back to take another bite of her sandwich, she became aware of someone in her space. A guy had approached her. He was dressed dapperly in an expensive suit and shined business shoes. He suavely adjusted his tie, strolled casually toward her and mentally dressed her from her sweater and long skirt. Bridget took the second to last bite of her sandwich and awaited the pick-up line.
"Allow me to introduce my self…" He faked a British accent. "Stinson… Barney Stinson of Her Majesty's Secret Service, and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."
Bridget grimaced a big smile on her face and sipped her drink. Her grin turned into a giggle and then she started laughing hysterically.
"That's it?" She couldn't believe it. Her eyes started watering as she broke up. "Oh, my god!" She checked her bill and pulled a ten and a five-dollar bill from her purse to cover it, the whole time her laughter echoed through the tavern uproariously. "That's the most lame…" She was still giggling as Barney looked around the faces staring at him. "That's got to be the lamest…" She started laughing again, picking up her purse as she continued to break up laughing. "He actually thought I was going to…." She started laughing louder now as she held her abdomen. She pushed her way out through the throng of bar patrons as her laughter briefly dimmed then sounded louder than before. Barney just stood in shocked surprise. What went wrong? He turned to his best friends at their regular table.
"Ted, you're supposed to be my wing-man!"