Coco Pommel quietly entered the judge’s chambers. “My lawyer said you wanted to see me?”
Powdered Wig gestured toward a chair and shoved a report across the desk. “Blueblood will probably have a permanent scar.”
Coco nodded without looking up. “I-I couldn’t… He…” She wiped away the trickles on her cheeks.
“Yes, so the report says.”
The photo of a hatpin jabbed into Blueblood’s shoulder stared at Coco—another of it sewn up. Like a basket stitch.
“He’s my cousin.”
So her lawyer said. No chance of a fair trial with Wig ever, especially not with her cousin involved. They’d throw the book at Coco.
“What else did you do to him? Any previous offenses?”
“Just this.” She pointed at the picture. “Once.”
Wig gritted her teeth. “Not his first time,” she muttered.
“So what’ll you be?” Coco asked. “Strict?”
“Just.” Wig scrawled “dismissed” on her form and signed. “This once.”