The Reform Artists: A Legal Suspense, Spy Thriller (The Reform Artists Series Book 1) (24 page)

“Now,” Swindell said, “do you see two ticket stubs attached to this expense report?”

“Yes, I do,” she said.

“And this one here,” Swindell said, “dated November fourth, could you read the flight information contained on it?”

“Yes,” she said, “It refers to a USAir flight 912 leaving from Dulles on November fourth and going to St. Louis, MO.”

“And what was the flight’s scheduled departure time?” Swindell asked.

Katie Silkwood froze.

“Please read it,” Swindell said.

“It-it says, 8:48 p.m.”

“And whose name is written on the ticket?”

“Martin Silkwood,” she said.

“Now, Mrs. Silkwood, do you know approximately how long it takes to drive from your home, in Olney, to catch a flight out of Dulles airport?”

“Objection,” West said. “He’s calling on the witness to speculate.”

“Sustained,” Judge Farnsworth said.

“In the past, Mrs. Silkwood,” Swindell said, “has your husband taken flights out of Dulles airport?”

“Yes.”

“And on any of those occasions, did he leave from your present home address, in Olney, MD?”

“Yes.”

“On average, Mrs. Silkwood,” Swindell asked “how long beforehand did he leave your home in order to make those flights?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you sayin’ you don’t remember?” Swindell asked.

“Objection,” West said, “He’s badgering the witness.”

“Sustained,” Judge Farnsworth said.

“OK,” Swindell continued, “by your best recollection, ma’am, would your husband need to leave your home an hour before departure time—or earlier?”

“Objection, again, Your Honor,” West said. “He’s still asking the witness to speculate.”

“Sustained.”

“All right,” Swindell said, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing his perspiring face. “Mrs. Silkwood, have you ever taken a flight out of Dulles airport?”

“Yes.”

“And did you leave for the airport from your present address?

“Yes.”

“About how long before that flight’s departure time did you leave your home?”

“I-I don’t remember,” she said.

Swindell frowned. “Was it less than two hours?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Objection,” your honor, West said. “The witness has said she doesn’t know.”

“Overruled,” Farnsworth said. “And according to my notes, she said she didn’t remember and then that she wasn’t sure.”

“Mrs. Silkwood, considerin’ the distance between your home, in Olney, MD and Dulles international airport and considerin’ how far in advance of departure times travelers must arrive these days, just to get through security, and finally, rememberin’ you’re still under oath, would you be more comfortable sayin’ you left two hours or three hours before your scheduled departure time?”

“Hard to say,” Katie Silkwood said.

“Then, would you be more comfortable if we simply split the difference and said you left two and a half hours earlier?”

Katie Silkwood looked around for a moment as Swindell waited. “I guess I would be comfortable with that. Yes.”

“OK” Swindell said, “Now, let’s say your husband is a faster driver than you and that he leaves only two-and-a-quarter hours before a flight’s departure time. That would still mean, would it not, that he would have had to leave your house by 6:30 p.m. on November fourth, to make his 8:48 flight. Correct?”

“Well, I guess,” Mrs. Silkwood said.

“Please answer the question with either a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ response,” Swindell said.

“Yes.”

“Now, Mrs. Silkwood,” Swindell continued, “how reasonable is it to assume that your husband could have thrown a glass of Scotch into a roarin’ fire at 6:30 p.m. and that any traces of liquid alcohol would still have been visible to police two-and-a-half hours later?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” West said, rising to her feet. “My client is not a physicist or otherwise qualified to answer such a question. Mr. Swindell is once more asking her to speculate!”

“Sustained.” Judge Farnsworth said.

Swindell frowned. “Mrs. Silkwood, were you surprised that the police found liquid alcohol in that glass fragment?”

West cut him off. “Objection, Your Honor. Irrelevant!”

“Sustained,” Judge Farnsworth said. He stared at Swindell and gestured to him dismissively with the back of his hand. “Counselor, I suggest you move on.”

Swindell looked defeated. He stood perfectly still for a moment, arms slumped at his sides. Then, he raised the hand holding his legal pad and glanced at it. Just as he appeared ready to move on to the next question, the slightest hint of a smile played on his lips. He turned away from the witness to face the bench and looked up.

“Your Honor,” he said, “may I ask the court’s indulgence?”

Judge Farnsworth frowned. “About what?”

“Would the court take judicial notice that it is highly unlikely that alcohol could remain in liquid form in a glass fragment that had spent more than two-and-a-half hours in an active fireplace?”

The courtroom became deathly still as all eyes turned to Judge Farnsworth. He knit his eyebrows, in deep thought, as heavy furrows briefly appeared on his forehead. He glanced at West before continuing. “Yes,” he said at last. “The court takes judicial notice.”

Across the room, a pencil flipped out of Beverly West’s twitching hand and landed on the floor.

“Now, Mrs. Silkwood,” Swindell continued, “regardin’ the second incident, on Sunday, November sixteenth. You said you called 911 at about three-thirty in the afternoon, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Silkwood said.

“And you told them your husband had thrown your son’s bicycle down in anger on the driveway, damagin’ it, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it true, Mrs. Silkwood, that you threw the bicycle down in anger?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Objection!” West said.

“Overruled.”

“Weren’t you the one rakin’ the leaves that day?”

“No, it was Martin, who did it—”

“Mrs. Silkwood,” Swindell said, “this second trip expense report which I have in my hand, marked defense exhibit F, shows that your husband was in Albany, NY the weekend of the sixteenth performin’ an audit for a sheet metal manufacturin’ concern. His ticket stub says he wasn’t due back in at Dulles until 4:45 p.m. that Sunday.”

“That’s not true!”

“Well, I’d like to make this airline ticket attached to exhibit F available for the court’s and the plaintiff’s counsel’s review,” Swindell said, handing around the documents.

“You’ve been lyin’, haven’t you, Mrs. Silkwood?” Swindell asked.

“Objection!” West shouted, leaping to her feet. “Argumentative and highly improper.”

“Overruled,” Judge Farnsworth said.

“But judge?”

“Overruled, Ms. West,” Judge Farnsworth said, sternly. “Go ahead, Mrs. Silkwood, answer the question.”

“Your honor,” West interrupted, “under the circumstances, I must advise my client not to answer the question and to invoke her Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination.”

“Is that what you wish to do, Mrs. Silkwood?” the judge asked.

Katie Silkwood squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “Yes, your honor,” she said. “On the advice of my attorney, I invoke my Fifth Amendment right.”

Judge Farnsworth frowned and turned to Swindell. “All right, Mr. Swindell. You may proceed.”

Swindell walked to the defense table, retrieved the two remaining travel reports and held them up in his right hand for all to see. 

“Your Honor,” he said, “the defense can take up the next hour of the court’s valuable time reviewin’ these final two sets of trip expense documents, if you wish. But I think we already have established clear and convincin’ evidence that my client is innocent of the charges alleged in the temporary restrainin’ order petition, and I therefore move for a summary dismissal of this case.”

Judge Farnsworth looked at Mrs. Silkwood, and at the speechless Beverly West, as a slight hint of betrayal formed in his eyes. His cheeks reddened as he raised the gavel in his right hand.

“Based on the evidence presented today, I find the petitioner incredible, as a matter of law. Therefore, this court finds for the respondent,” he said, bringing the gavel down with uncommon force. “Case dismissed!”

At that, Swindell smiled and almost skipped a step in Martin’s direction. Then, a look of recognition flashed across his face. He quickly spun on his heels to address Judge Farnsworth once more.

“Your Honor,” he said, “in light of the extreme degree of misrepresentation and abuse of process involved in filin’ the original ex-parte petition and revealed through today’s testimony, I move that the court agree to expunge from the public record any trace of the domestic violence and spousal abuse charges brought against my client, Mr. Martin Silkwood.

“So ordered.”

Judge Farnsworth banged his gavel several times and asked everyone to be seated. “Mrs. Silkwood and Ms. West,” he said. “In my thirty-odd years on the bench, I have never been as concerned about the state of our judicial system as I am at this moment.

“I now realize just how easy it apparently is for women to take advantage of this court’s good intentions by bringing false charges of spousal abuse against their husbands in ex-parte proceedings.

“Mr. Silkwood,” he said, turning toward Martin, “I want to apologize for any duplicitous role this court may have unwittingly played in advancing this case. I apologize to you, sir, for the various ways we may have aided in abusing your rights, tarnishing your reputation and causing you and others unnecessary pain and suffering in what I can only describe as our overzealous efforts to protect the ‘fairer sex.’

“For that reason, Mr. Silkwood, I am awarding you all court costs in this case. That means your wife will be responsible for paying all of Mr. Swindell’s legal fees and expenses. Chester, please prepare a statement for my review at your earliest convenience.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Swindell said.

“As for the petitioner and her counsel,” Judge Farnsworth continued. “Neither one of you has heard the last of this matter. Court adjourned.”

After the hearing, Beverly West quickly and silently packed her briefcase as a stunned Katie Silkwood stood nearby, sobbing softly. The two women then repaired to a corner of the courtroom, where they spoke privately, and intently, for several minutes.

Martin met Swindell out in the hallway. Swindell was all smiles. He grabbed Martin’s arm above the elbow with his left hand and gave him a firm handshake with his right. “Congratulations, Mahr-tin!” he said. “I don’t think we could have hoped for a better outcome than that!”

Martin nodded. “I agree, Mr. Swindell. You did a hell of a job. Thanks so much! I’m truly grateful.”

“My pleasure,” Swindell said. “And please, call me Chester.”

“OK.”

For a moment, Swindell appeared to be looking off in the distance. Then, he sighed and raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got to tell you, Mahr-tin, somethin’ definitely felt different in there today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he said, shaking his head, “it was like the ground had shifted or somethin’. I mean, Judge Farnsworth is a fair man; don’t get me wrong. But I’ve never seen him quite so willin’ to consider the respondent’s point of view—or quite so determined to make the petitioner substantiate her claims. I hope it lasts!

“Considerin’ all that, it turns out you were right to refuse their settlement offer.”

“Where do we go from here?” Martin asked.

“Well, I suggest we file for divorce immediately—while you’ve still got the momentum in the case. I’d push for full custody, with liberal visitation for your wife. You just might get it. I’m guessin’ some of the fight has gone out of her, and she’ll be even more compliant, and gun shy, after the judge gets through with her.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

Swindell raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head, contemplating the possibilities. “Well, your wife really pulled a fast one on the court, creatin’ those police incidents out of nothin’ – and, I suspect, West may have had a hand in that, too. That’s perjury, a criminal offense with a maximum penalty of two years in jail. It’s the only punishment a petitioner can face in these ex-parte matters.

“Do you
really
think he’d send her to jail?” Martin asked. He suddenly felt genuine concern for Katie. On the one hand, he wanted her to suffer for what she had done but not with jail time. That was too extreme. And he didn’t want his kids saddled with that kind of shame, either.

Swindell saw the anxious look on Martin’s face. He shook his head. “Not likely. But he’s definitely not goin’ to let her get away Scott-free, either. My guess: She’s lookin’ at some serious ‘community service’ time.

“What about her attorney?”

“West?” Swindell asked, a subtle smile starting to play on his lips. “I’m sure she’s got a substantial fine and some additional form of penance to pay, in her immediate future.

He patted Martin on the shoulder. “Well, Mahr-tin,” he said. “You’ve got a busy few days ahead of you. Best get started. Then, why don’t you come to my office next Monday mornin’, and we can start formulatin’ a plan.”

“Sounds good to me, Chester,” Martin said. Then, the two men shook hands and went their separate ways.

Martin’s next stop was his office. He arrived in the early afternoon, and when he stepped off the elevator, Monique smiled and flagged him down.

“Mr. Silkwood!” she said.

He turned and approached her, “Yes?”

“Mr. Santori and Mr. Feldman want to see you, in Mr. Santori’s office.”

“Now?” he asked.

She nodded eagerly.

Moments later, he rapped on Santori’s door and poked his head inside. “You wanted to see me, Joe?”

He found Santori, Feldman and Rick Wainwright huddled together in the middle of the room, smiling.

Santori stepped forward, his arms spread wide. “Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour! Congratulations, Marty!” Santori gave him a big bear hug.

When Santori finally let him loose, Martin stepped back and squinted at his associate. “What’s going on? This isn’t yet another ambush, is it? Are you going to hand me my hat?”

Santori looked crestfallen and put his hand to his chest. “Boy, that smarts. Is that
really
what you think of me?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “It’s been the selection
de jour
around here lately, hasn’t it?” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Santori shrugged. “But that’s all in the past! Rick just told us about your stunning victory in court today, and we called you down here to celebrate!”

As if on cue, Wainwright produced a chilled bottle of
Pol Roger
champagne from his briefcase and quickly popped the cork. White foam overflowed the bottle and ran down its neck as Wainwright rapidly filled four flutes to the brim. Feldman then passed the tray around until everyone had a glass.

Feldman nodded his head at Martin and lifted his glass high. “To Marty Silkwood,” he said, “a man with bocce-sized balls of steel. Here’s to your complete, precedent-setting victory today, in Maryland District Court!”

Everyone clinked glasses, smiled and drank to the toast.

“How did you find out?” Martin asked Wainwright.

“I placed a call to the Clerk of Court’s office. Your hearing is all they’re talking about up there, today. It seems Judge Farnsworth gave your wife’s attorney a sizable piece of his mind—and, we understand, there’s more to come!”

“That sounds about right. Swindell told me she will probably get slapped with a substantial fine...and that’s just the beginning.”

“Yeah,” Wainwright said, nodding and smiling. “Farnsworth is on the war path now. The rumor mill says he’s going to make some big changes in the way these ex-parte domestic violence cases get handled.”

“That’s all well and good,” Santori said, putting his arm around Martin’s shoulder. “But the important thing is that our boy is back! You’ve been completely exonerated, Marty. No damning paper trail will ever link you to these charges, because the case ended, officially, in dismissal!”

“Here, here!” Feldman added, refilling everyone’s glasses.

“So, what’s my status
vis a vis
our audit program?” Martin asked.

“You’re back in the saddle, cowboy,” Santori said. “You can take the lead again in the Great Plains audit, if you want, and you can roll out the training program on the scale and schedule of your choosing.”

“What’s the matter?” Martin asked. “Is your nephew having difficulties?”

Santori blushed crimson. “Yeah! He’s turning out to be a bit of an embarrassment.”

“Well, I’m going to force him to see it through,” Martin said, “—with help and encouragement from me, of course.”

The other men looked surprised. “Oh, maybe you didn’t hear this part,” Martin said. “I’m back in the house now, with the kids, and I don’t know what Katie’s plans are. That means, I’m going to need ample backup for our out-of-town audits. The trainee program is looking like a godsend, for me. But more importantly, it could allow us to dramatically expand our audit work...and our profits.”

“Woohoo!” Feldman cheered in delight.

Santori began fumbling through his suit’s vest pocket. “Uh, Marty,” he said, withdrawing and holding up a white, # 10 envelope. “Here’s a little something to help you with the divorce expenses, and there’s more to come.”

Martin took the envelope. “Thanks,” he said. Later, back in his office, he opened it and found a bonus check made out to him for $20,000.

That evening, Martin returned to his home and to his children, while his wife packed her bags and prepared to move, at least temporarily, to her mother’s house. He could barely believe his good fortune at having regained so much of his former life, so quickly.

When he first arrived, he found Esther Finch standing in the foyer, waiting for Katie. She gave Martin a hug and a kiss. “I’m so glad that you’re reunited with the kids,” she whispered. “I hope Katie will regain her senses and return too, if you’ll still have her.

“Meanwhile,” she added, “should you ever need any help babysitting, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

Martin was touched. “Thanks, Es. You’ll always be at the top of my list!”

“Thanks, honey! I’m going to wait in the living room, so you two can speak in private.”

Martin heard footfalls on the stairs and turned around just in time to see his two distraught children coming in his direction. Justin bounded down in a near panic, well ahead of Monica, who had to take the steps far more slowly.

“Daddy!” Justin shouted, out of breath “Mommy’s packing her clothes! She says she’s going to stay at Grandma’s for a few days. Make her stay! We want to be a family again!”

“Yeah, Daddy,” Monica added, tears welling in her eyes. “Mommy’s crying! And that makes me sad! Can’t you
do
something?”

Martin sat on the bottom stair and collected his kids as they arrived and held them both close. “I’m sorry, guys! It
is
sad. It makes me feel sad, too. I wish it could be different.”

Monica was suddenly a torrent of tears. “Why can’t it be, Daddy? Why can’t we all be together?”

Justin was crying now, and soon Martin joined them, as he rocked his kids in his arms.

“It’s hard to explain guys, but this is a grown-up thing, and it can get complicated.

“What I can promise you,” he added, “is that Mommy always will be an important part of your lives. You’ll be able to see her whenever you want. She may be moving out, for now, but she still loves you very much, just like I do. So, please don’t worry. Mommy and Daddy will work it out.”

“I still wish we could all be together, like it was before,” Justin said.

“I know you do.” Martin rubbed Justin’s mop of blond hair.

“Let’s give Mommy a little time to get settled at Grandma’s, and then, we’ll make plans for you to see her, OK? And no matter what happens, I promise you we’ll always be a family, even if we all don’t live together anymore.”

“Really, Daddy?” Monica asked excitedly, as she pulled away, wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled hopefully.

“Your daddy and I promise,” Katie Silkwood said. She was standing at the top of the stairs with a suitcase in one hand and a smaller carrying case in the other. She put the smaller bag down momentarily, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, and started down the steps.

“OK, guys,” Martin said, standing up. He took both kids by the hand and cleared the stairs for Katie. When she reached the bottom, she put her bags down and opened her arms. Justin and Monica ran to her and she hugged them tight.

“Please don’t go, Mommy!” they both said.

“It’s going to be OK, you two. I promise,” she said, showering them both with kisses. “I love you so much! Once grandma and I get to her house tonight, I promise, I’ll call you on the phone. OK?”

She released them and Monica and Justin looked at her nodding their heads slowly and wiping away their tears.

Katie smiled. “Now, would you two go get grandma? I need to talk with Daddy for a minute, OK?”

“All right,” they said. They went into the living room and ran to their grandmother, who was seated on the couch. She scooped them both up, hugged them and they said their good-byes for the night.

In the foyer, Katie Silkwood looked up at her husband. “I heard everything you said to them. Thank you. It was very generous of you.”

Martin shrugged. “Don’t mention it. I meant every word. The kids are the real victims in all of this, and I think we should do what we can to minimize the damage.”

Katie’s eyes began to well up with tears again. “Marty,” she said, looking away, and sniffling, “why don’t you bring them by mom’s first thing in the morning on your way to work. I’ll fix them breakfast, make sure they’ve finished their homework and take them to school. That is,” she added, looking back up at him, and smiling faintly, “if that would be OK with you?

“I think that’s a great idea,” Martin said.

“Fine. Thank you.” Katie sniffled again, stood up straight and forced a smile. “Well, I guess we should be going.” She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. Then, she turned toward the living room.

“Mom,” she shouted. “Are you ready to go?”

Just then, Esther and the children turned the corner from the living room. “Yes, Katie,” she said. “I’m ready.”

The children ran to their mother again and Katie bent down and hugged and kissed them once more. Then she stood up and collected her bags.

“OK, guys. I’ll see you again real soon. And I’ll call you later tonight!

Martin got the door and Katie and Esther started out. When she was halfway through, Katie turned around smiled at Justin and Monica and blew them both a kiss. Then, they were gone.

At about 9:45 p.m., the phone rang. It was Robert Brooks. “Hi, Martin. Just checking in to see how your tour went.”

“Great,” Martin said. “My attorney can’t stop talking about it. Thinks he’s the next best thing since sliced bread. I’m sure he’s already thinking about raising his fees, too, of course!”