The Reform Artists: A Legal Suspense, Spy Thriller (The Reform Artists Series Book 1) (20 page)

“Actually,” Martin said, “I’m only out of town twenty to twenty-five percent of the time. It could work.”

Swindell interjected. “So Bev, if I’m hearin’ you correctly, you and your client are now willin’ to have my client’s legal custody restored. Is that correct?”

“Yes Chester, I feel comfortable speaking on Katie’s behalf on that one.”

“Why not joint physical custody as well?” Martin insisted. “I love my kids every bit as much as Katie does, and I want to be able to see them as often as possible. Why should I accept a secondary role in their lives?”

West sat up straight in her seat and cupped her hands. “Well, Mr. Silkwood the degree of shared physical custody has other ramifications—”

“You mean, it could affect how much child support Katie would receive, right?” Martin asked, bristling.

“Yes.”

Swindell cleared his throat. “Well, Bev, suppose my client was willin’ to state that he would pay full child support, based on his proportionate share of the parent’s combined income. Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”

Even under a liberally applied layer of concealer, West’s face was starting to show some color. “Well, Chester, as you know, those conditions could change….”

“So, it all comes down to money. Is that it?” Martin glared.

“No, of course not,” West faltered. “But that is a consideration, Mr. Silkwood. I mean the children’s best interests—”

“Do you really believe my wife is the only one who cares about what’s best for our kids?” Martin’s voice had suddenly grown loud. “I’m not stupid, Ms. West. I understand that Katie wants me to pay for her upkeep, in the form of her fair share of the monthly mortgage payment, even while she continues to see some guy behind my back.

“She wants to have her cake and to eat it, too. Well, she’s not going to get everything she wants, unless she can convince a judge to give it to her after a full and fair hearing, in open court.”

West stared at Martin, sizing him up. “A court case, as I’m sure Mr. Swindell has told you,” she said firmly and deliberately, “is a costly and not always fair undertaking with results that can prove to be far from just or certain. I requested this meeting, this morning, Mr. Silkwood, in an attempt to spare you and your wife the need to bear those costs and from dealing with the uncertainty of how the court might rule. It goes without saying,” she continued, her voice growing steadily louder, “that you are free to reject our offer at any time and to take your chances in court.”

“I just may have to do that,” Martin said, staring her in the eye.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Swindell spoke up. “Well, let’s not make any hasty decisions, Mahr-tin. I think Ms. West and your wife are bein’ surprisin’ly flexible, so far. We may have a few points that we need to hammer out further, but let’s not abandon all the progress we’ve made just because every single item doesn’t line up precisely the way you want.

“You said you had three issues that you needed resolved in order to settle this matter, but so far, we have heard only one. What are the other two?”

Martin took a deep breath. “The second is relatively simple and doable, I think. I want all of the domestic violence and abuse charges that I face expunged from the court record and for that to be accomplished without me having to sign a Consent Decree.”

“We certainly can request that,” West said, “but the judge has to agree. Consequently, there’s no guarantee that he will agree or that you will ultimately get what you want.”

“But what if we make the settlement agreement contingent on the judge satisfying that condition?” Martin asked, as he turned to face Swindell.

“Why yes, Mahr-tin,” Swindell said. “We certainly could do that.”

“That’s problematic for us,” West said, “because both parties would still need to come to court fully prepared to try the case. That means you and your wife, Mr. Silkwood, would still incur a large portion of the projected court costs. If the judge refuses to accept any of those pre-conditions, we also would have to go forward with the trial.”

“Bev, haven’t you already incurred most of those prep costs?” Swindell asked. “I mean, the trial date is fast upon us. I don’t see how what my client is askin’ for really affects either party’s pocketbook. What it
could
do is save them both a full day of litigation costs, but that’s it. The only thin’ the contingency clause does require is for all of us to make a court appearance.”

“I would have to consult with my client on that point and get back to you,” West said.

“What’s your final issue, Mahr-tin?” Swindell asked.

“The final item is personal,” Martin said, turning left to look West in the eye. “I want Katie to write a formal letter of apology to me for having wrongfully brought domestic violence and spousal abuse charges against me.”

West looked aghast. “You mean you want that written into the settlement agreement?”

Swindell looked at Martin, frowned and subtly shook his head from side to side.

“Yes, I do.”

“That is
not
going to happen!” West said, slamming her fists down on the table and turning to face Swindell. “Is he serious, Chester? Did you know about this? He wants my client, in essence, to declare publicly that she has lied about him in bringing this court action. And he wants her to agree to do that in a document that the court
must
review. He’s asking her to violate her Fifth Amendment protection against self-incrimination and to invite the court to formally charge her with perjury!”

Now, Swindell was blushing. “No, I—Mahr-tin, are you serious?”

Martin sat at the table with his arms folded and slowly nodded his head.

“I’m sure he’s kiddin’ Beverly,” Swindell insisted. Then, he raised his voice. “Mahr-tin, tell Miss West you’re not serious about this!”

Martin sat perfectly still. “But I am,” he said.

“I’ve had enough,” West said. She stood up abruptly, gathered her pad and pen and threw them into her satchel. Then, she picked up her bags and took one step toward the door.

“Now, Bev—” Swindell stammered.

She turned, locked eyes with him and cut him off. “This is the last straw, Chester. I came here in good faith,
in good faith,
to attempt to settle this matter. I was willing to compromise further in order to give this man most of what he wanted. And this is the thanks I get? I should have known better!”

Swindell’s jaw dropped. He looked up at her forlornly, not sure of what to say.

West sneered and turned away. She walked over to the conference room door, opened it a crack and then paused for a second, turning to look at both of them one last time. “I hope you know what you’ve done, Mr. Silkwood. I’ll see you gentlemen in court!” Then, she slammed the door behind her and was gone.

No one spoke for what seemed like minutes. Martin took another sip of coffee and avoided making eye contact with Swindell, who sat opposite him glaring and shaking his head in disbelief.

“What in God’s name is wrong with you?” he finally asked.

“Pardon me?” Martin said, barely hiding his scorn.

“You heard me,” Swindell continued. “Beverly West just offered you every domestic violence respondent’s version of a wet dream: no trial, joint legal custody, a fairly generous visitation schedule with room to expand it, reduced child and spousal support costs, and a possible agreement to make expungin’ the charges against you a pre-condition for settlin’ the case.

“That’s a grand slam home run outcome for most respondent cases like yours – even the ones that go to trial and find for the respondent. She was offerin’ all of that to you without the expense, bother or worry, of goin’ before a judge. And what did you do? You gave her a resoundin’ slap in the face! She didn’t leave here disheartened and demoralized, Mahr-tin; she left angry and pissed off...at
you!
She’s back in the fight, now, and that just makes my job even tougher.”

“I’m sorry,” Martin said, “but I can’t get over the fact that my wife got the upper hand in this case by lying, and that the system allows it. I cannot pretend to feel grateful to her for giving me back things that she unfairly took in the first place!”

“You put your hurt feelin’s and pride above reason and pragmatism, Mahr-tin. And that’s never a wise course of action. The result: In this case, a golden opportunity—a pre-trial settlement package unlike any I’ve ever seen before—has been lost to you, forever.”

Martin recoiled at the finality of Swindell’s remark, as a familiar, but unpleasant, queasy feeling began to overtake him. “Forever? Aren’t you exaggerating a bit, Mr. Swindell? We can still settle this case. I understand cases can settle even after both sides rest, right up to the moment before the judge or jury delivers its verdict!”

Swindell shook his head in disgust. “You should stick to what you know, Mahr-tin: accountin’ work. Yes, cases
can
settle late, but it takes two to tango. Settlements only occur when both sides have an interest in settlin’. The closer you get to the conclusion of a trial the less reason there usually is.

“Consider what was motivatin’ your wife and her attorney today: They wanted to avoid the costs associated with a trial. With each passin’ hour of a court case, that motivation disappears as the real court costs are incurred.

“The other reason for settlin’ is the uncertainty of the outcome. Your wife’s attorney already offered you ninety percent of all the positive outcomes you could ever hope to achieve in a case like this, and you said ‘No!’”

“In court, the reality is that the worse the case looks for one side, the better it usually looks for the other. Where’s the motivation to settle in that? There is none!”

Swindell shook his head, looking like he had just bitten into a lemon. “When you arrived here this mornin’, Mahr-tin, I was ready to break out the champagne and celebrate your incredible good fortune. Now,” he said, looking squarely at his client, “I’m thinkin’ sacramental wine might be more appropriate. We can drink it while we pray we don’t get fucked.”

The Cider Mill Farms party room was a scene of pure chaos as Justin, his friends, his little sister, Monica, and several other guests’ younger siblings ran around in circles in the open center of the room, screeching and screaming at each other.

At the far end, opposite the door, Gloria Cheswick, Dougy’s mom, and Esther Finch busied themselves around picnic benches draped in red-and-white checkered table cloths. They were placing plastic forks and spoons, soda cups, and paper dessert plates at each seat.

“My God,” Esther said, stopping to clasp her ears. “What a racket! Can you imagine what this place will sound like when the kids get done eating their ice cream and cake?”

“Sure can,” Gloria said, as she placed her final plate down. It was blue-trimmed, like all the others. A curved blue headline above a picture of two prancing ponies boldly announced, ‘Happy Birthday, Justin!’ 

Then, Gloria pulled a pair of Styrofoam ear plugs out of her pocket and held them up for Esther to see. “That’s why I brought these babies with me.”

“Smart lady. How much for the pair?”

Gloria shook her head. “Unh uh. I wouldn’t part with these for a year’s income. Right now, it’s every girl for herself!”

“I’ll remember that,” Esther said. “And next time, I’ll bring my own!”

“That a girl!”

The two chuckled to themselves.

The Cider Mill Farm staff had configured the party tables so that they formed an enormous “u” at the head of the room. Justin and his guests shared the seats in the center, while parents, family and siblings sat on either flank. Esther and Gloria stood in the center of the “u” and surveyed the scene. At a kitchen counter on the far right hand side of the room, Katie and Eddie were methodically scooping chocolate and vanilla ice cream into plastic bowls.

“I’m so proud of Katie,” Gloria said, watching them.

“Oh? Why?”

“Just look at her. I’m amazed at how well she’s holding up under all this stress.”

“What stress, honey?”

“Well,” Gloria said, suddenly stammering and glancing sideways at Esther, “her brave step in seeking the restraining order against Marty, for one. He’s such a hothead!”

“Really?”

Gloria turned and looked Esther in the eye. “Well, certainly
you
know. You’re her mother.”

“I know nothing of the kind. Right now, I wouldn’t be putting too much stock in what Katie says.”

Gloria scoffed. “That Marty has sure got you fooled!”

“No. I’m not saying he’s perfect. Who among us is? But he is no wife beater, and he is no bully, either.”

“Esther, you take my breath away!”

“Marty’s a decent man and a loving father. Do you know what he did to help out today?”

Gloria scrunched her face and turned away. “Nothing that I can see. But look at Eddie, over there. He’s so helpful. Such a good, caring friend to Katie.”

“The only thing Eddie’s been doing is helping himself to Katie. Big, generous scoops of her.”

“How can you talk that way about your own daughter?”

“My problem: I can spot a lie at thirty paces.”

Gloria folded her arms and shook her head. “I can’t listen to you defending Marty like this, particularly in light of his recent behavior.”

Esther crossed in front of her. “Gloria, there wouldn’t even be a party today, if it weren’t for Marty. In the midst of all these allegations Katie has hurled at him, he agreed to speak with Justin last night, to calm him down. The boy misses his daddy terribly. He had been acting out and he threatened not to come to his own birthday party unless Marty could be here.”

“Katie told me he only spoke to Justin so he could wangle his way into today’s party. She said he gets to spend ten minutes talking to Justin by Skype and watching him blow out the candles. He’s trying to steal the show and make himself the center of attention.”

Esther raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “I need some fresh air,” she said. Then she started to walk toward the door.

“Esther,” Gloria called after her. “Forgive me, but you’re the one who has been bamboozled. Katie’s attorney proposed an incredibly generous settlement to Marty this very morning, and your darling son-in-law sent her packing!”

“What?” Esther turned round. She had a concerned look on her face. She took a hesitant step toward Gloria. “How generous are we talking about?”

“According to my personal experience,” Gloria said, “It was unprecedented.”

The two were now standing toe-to-toe.

“Katie told me in confidence. I’m really not supposed to discuss this with
anyone,
but I’ll tell you, Esther, if you promise not to repeat a word of it to anyone, including Katie.”

Esther nodded.

“Beverly West gave Marty everything he could have hoped for...and more: joint-legal custody, reduced child support, and an offer to make expunging his record of the abuse charges a requirement of the settlement. To me it sounded like a complete capitulation.”

“And Marty’s reaction?”

Gloria knitted her brow in annoyance. “I don’t know the specifics. He made more demands, things that Beverly West would not even consider agreeing to, and when he couldn’t get his way on everything, Marty apparently said, ‘No deal.’ Beverly is livid. And, when your daughter called me earlier today, she was a total wreck. That’s really what I’m so impressed with: her ability to keep it all together, today, for Justin.”

“I don’t understand,” Esther said, a puzzled look on her face. “The other day, Katie told me she and her attorney had worked out a very generous settlement offer for Marty and that there would be no trial.”

Gloria smiled when she saw the confused look on Esther’s face. “You’ve been out of the loop then, haven’t you? Marty apparently didn’t think that offer was all that generous. He rejected it on the spot, and he said he’d see them in court. And his side never came back with a counter offer.”

Esther stood there, wide-eyed, as she tried to absorb everything she had just heard. Tears started to well in her eyes, so she looked down for a moment and slowly bobbed her head, as she tried to marshal her strength. When she had regained her composure, she looked up and smiled, faintly at her daughter’s friend.

“Gloria, this is deeply troubling news. Deeply. I’m just so disappointed...in them both.” Then, she lifted her head a notch higher. “But Marty did not start this; Katie did. And situations like this are why we warn children not to play with matches: They just might get burned!”