"You've given this some thought. Anything else?"
"Yes. The last thing you do is leak it to the press. You need to find a reporter-"
"That shouldn't be hard to do."
"One that you can trust."
"Much harder."
"Not really. I've been reading the papers, and I have a couple of names for you. Check them out. Find one you like. Tell him to print the rumors, off the record, and in return you'll give him first shot at the real stories. That's the way these guys operate. Tell him the Sheriff is investigating reports of the wife attempting to procure the services of a contract killer so she can keep the money. He'll eat it up. He won't have to validate the story. Hell, they print rumors all the time."
Sandy finished his notes and marveled at his client's preparation. He closed his file, tapped it with his pen, and asked, "How much of this stuff do you have?"
"Dirt?"
"Yeah."
"I'd guess fifty pounds. It's been locked in a mini-storage in Mobile ever since I disappeared."
"What else is there?"
"More dirt."
"On who?"
"My former partners. And others. We'll get to it later."
"When?"
"Soon, Sandy."
TRUDY'S LAWYER, J. Murray Riddleton, was a jovial, thick-necked man of sixty who specialized in two types of law: big, nasty divorces, and financial advice aimed at cheating the government. He was a quick study in contrasts; successful but badly dressed, intelligent but plain-faced, smiling but vicious, mild-spoken but sharp-tongued. His large office in downtown Mobile was strewn with long neglected files and out-of-date law books. He politely welcomed Sandy, indicated a chair, and offered a drink. It was, after all, a few minutes after five. Sandy declined, and J. Murray drank nothing.
"So how's our boy?" J. Murray asked, flashing teeth.
"That would be?"
"Come on. Our boy Patrick. Have you found the money yet?"
"Didn't know I was looking for any."
J. Murray found this hilarious and laughed a few seconds. There was no doubt in his mind that he was thoroughly in control of this meeting. The cards were heavily stacked on his side of the desk.
"I saw your client on TV last night," Sandy said. "That sleazy tabloid, what's it called?"
" 'Inside Journal.' Wasn't she marvelous? And the little girl, what a doll. Those poor people."
"My client would like to request that your client refrain from any further public comment about their marriage and divorce."
"Your client can kiss my client's ass. And you can kiss mine."
"I'll pass, as will my client."
"Look, son, I'm a First Amendment hawk. Say anything. Do anything. Publish anything. It's all protected right there by the Constitution." He pointed to a wall of cobwebbed law books next to his window. "Request denied. My client has the right to go public with anything she wants, anytime she wants. She's been humiliated by your client, and now faces a very uncertain future."
"Fair enough. Just wanted to clear the air."
"Is it clear enough?"
"Yes. Now, we really have no problems with your client's desire to get a divorce, and she can have custody of the child."
"Gee thanks. You guys are being generous."
"In fact, my client has no plans to seek visitation rights with the child."
"Smart man. After abandoning the child for four years, he'd be hard-pressed to see her."
"There is another reason," Sandy said, as he opened the file and picked out the DNA test. He handed a copy across to J. Murray, who had stopped smiling and was squinting at the papers.
"What's this?" he asked suspiciously.
"Why don't you read it?" Sandy said.
J. Murray yanked his reading glasses from a coat pocket, and stuck them to his rather round head. He pushed the report away, got it just right, then read it slowly. He glanced up with a blank look after page one, and his buoyant shoulders sagged a bit at the end of page two.
"Disastrous, isn't it?" Sandy said when J. Murray had finished.
"Don't patronize me. I'm sure this can be explained."
"I'm sure it cannot. Under Alabama law, the DNA is conclusive proof. Now, I'm not quite the First Amendment hawk you are, but if this got published it would be very embarrassing for your client. Imagine, having someone else's child while pretending to be happily married to another. Wouldn't play well along the Coast, I'm afraid."
"Publish it," J. Murray said, with no conviction. "I don't care."
"Better check with your client first."
"It's insignificant, under our law. Even if she committed adultery, he continued to live with her after he knew. Therefore, he accepted it. He's barred from using it as grounds for divorce."
"Forget the divorce. She can have that. Forget the kid too."
"Oh, I see then. It's extortion. She releases her claim to his assets, and he doesn't go public."
"Something like that."
"Your client's crazy as hell and so are you." J. Murray's cheeks turned red and his fists clenched for a second.
Sandy, coolly, flipped through the file and extracted the next bit of damage. He slid a report across the desk.
"What is it?" J. Murray demanded.
"Read it."
"I'm tired of reading."
"Okay, it's a report by the private detective who followed your client and her boyfriend for a year prior to my client's disappearance. They were together, alone, at various places but primarily at my client's home, indoors, and we presume in bed, on at least sixteen occasions."
"Big deal."
"Check these out," Sandy said, and flung two eight-by-ten color photos, two of the nude ones, on top of the report. J. Murray glanced, then grabbed them for a more in-depth study.
Sandy decided to be helpful. "Those were taken by the pool at my client's home while he was attending a seminar in Dallas. Recognize anyone?"
J. Murray managed a slight grunt.
"There are many more," Sandy promised, then waited for J. Murray to stop his gawking. "And I also have three other reports from private detectives. Seems my client was quite suspicious."
Before Sandy's eyes, J. Murray was transformed from a hard-nosed advocate to a soulful mediator, a chameleon-like conversion common among lawyers who suddenly found themselves stripped of ammunition. He exhaled heavily, defeated, and sat low in his leather swivel, "They never tell us everything, do they," he said. It was suddenly us versus them. Lawyers versus their clients. He and Sandy were really together now, and what were they to do?
Sandy, though, was not ready for the tag team. "Again, I'm not the First Amendment hawk you claim to be, but if these found their way into the tabloids, then it sure would be embarrassing for Trudy."
J. Murray waved him off and glanced at his watch. "Sure you don't want a drink?"
"I'm sure."
"What's your boy got?"
"I honestly don't know, yet. And that's not the important question. What matters is what he will have left when the dust settles, and right now no one knows."
"Surely he's got most of the ninety million."
"He's being sued for much more than that. Not to mention the possibility of a long prison sentence and maybe an execution. This divorce, Mr. Riddleton, is the least of his worries."
"Then why are you threatening us?"