Cold Paradise 07 Read online

  “Shouldn’t be a problem, then. It’ll probably take a month to get it heard.”

  “Do the Mannings have to appear?”

  “Not necessary, as long as they’re in agreement on the terms and they’re both represented by counsel. Who’s his lawyer?”

  “Edward Ginsky, of New York, but he’s licensed to practice in Florida.” Stone gave him Ginsky’s address and phone number.

  “I’ll call him and get us on the court calendar.”

  “Fred, is there any way to get this heard right away? And in chambers, if possible? I don’t want it to make the papers, even in the legal notices.”

  “I know a judge who might hear it in chambers sooner, rather than later,” Williamson said.

  “I’d appreciate it if you could handle it that way. Ginsky has his own jet. I’m sure he could appear on short notice, or appoint someone local to do it.”

  “Who’s got the paperwork?”

  “I have. Can you send a messenger for it?”

  “Sure. Where?”

  Stone gave him the address.

  “I’ll have somebody there inside an hour.”

  “Thanks, Fred. Call me if you need any further information.” Stone hung up. He went to his briefcase, extracted the documents, stuffed them into a manila envelope, wrote Williamson’s name on it and gave it to Juanito to leave with the security man guarding the front door.

  “Maybe I can get them divorced before Sunday,” Stone said.

  “Would that make you feel better?” Dino asked.

  “Yes, indeed. I’m uncomfortable about witnessing a client—two clients, in this case—committing bigamy in front of the crumbs of Palm Beach’s upper crust.”

  “When they get to that part about ‘if anybody can show just cause why these two people shouldn’t get married, ’ shouldn’t you, as an officer of the court, stand up and yell, ‘It’s bigamy!’?”

  “Probably, but this lawyer says he might be able to get it heard quickly.”

  The phone rang again, and this time it was for Dino.

  “Hello? Yeah, this is Bacchetti. Hang on, let me get something to write with.” He motioned to Stone for a pen.

  Stone handed him one, and a pad.

  “Yeah, yeah. Where? How many? And there’s no other clue? Why the hell didn’t this match pop up before? Oh, yeah, I see. Thanks. I don’t know yet. Sit on it until I get back to you.” He hung up.

  “What?” Stone asked.

  “You were right, pal. Our Mr. Manning knocked over a branch bank in Arlington, Virginia, four years ago.”

  “I knew it!” Stone said.

  “He left a thumbprint on a note that he handed a teller.”

  “Why didn’t the match turn up at the time?”

  “I asked about that. It seems that when we printed the guy at the Nineteenth, whoever did it didn’t put the prints into the system because he figured, what the hell, the guy’s being prosecuted in another country. It was stupid, but it happens.”

  “This is wonderful,” Stone said, meaning it.

  “It gets better. A man answering the description—at least height and weight—knocked over three other branches within fifty miles of D.C. Two in Maryland and one more in Virginia. He was smart enough not to leave any prints on those jobs.”

  “What sort of money did he get?”

  “Between a hundred and a hundred and fifty thousand at each bank; never more than that. Still, he had to do some planning or have some inside information to get that much out of a walk-in-and-hand-the-teller-a-note job. Usually those bring more like twenty-five or thirty grand a pop, and the banks don’t even bother to prosecute if there was no violence involved.” Dino stopped and looked at Stone.

  “Why the smug little smile?”

  “Gee, I don’t know. I just have this warm fuzzy feeling inside.”

  “You’ve got the guy by the balls.”

  “You bet your sweet ass I have,” Stone said with satisfaction.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to get Liz and Manning divorced and see her and Thad married, then I’m going to call the FBI and sic them on Paul Manning, and I’m going to take the greatest pleasure in doing it.”

  “I hope it’s that easy, pal,” Dino replied.

  50

  STONE WAS WOKEN FROM A SOUND SLEEP BY THE PHONE next to his bed. He picked it up. “Hello,” he said, sleepily. He looked at the bedside clock. It was shortly after ten A.M.

  “Stone? It’s Fred Williamson. Can you have Mrs. Manning at the courthouse at three o’clock this afternoon?”

  “Why?”

  “We’ve got a hearing before Judge Coronado in his chambers at that time.”

  “Why does Mrs. Manning have to be there?”

  “This is an unusual situation, and the judge wants to talk to the couple face-to-face.”

  “But why? I thought we could do it with just their attorneys.”

  “He wants to know what the big rush is, I guess; whether these people are for real.”

  For real? Stone thought. They are definitely not for real. “Have you spoken to Ed Ginsky?”

  “Yes. He says he can have his client there.”

  “Well, okay,” Stone said. “We’ll be there.”

  “The judge is going to ask some questions, like how long have the Mannings lived in Florida. You know the answer to that one?”

  “I’ll have to ask Mrs. Manning.”

  “This whole petition is based on the fact that they’re Florida residents. Be sure you tell her that.”

  “All right. Have you told Ginsky about this?”

  “Yes. He says his client will bring proof of Florida residency. The judge is going to ask these people why they want a divorce, and there shouldn’t be any disagreement between them about that.”

  “You told Ginsky that, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll see you at three o’clock in Judge Coronado’s chambers, which are behind courtroom A.”

  “Good, see you then.”

  Stone got dressed and found Liz and Thad having breakfast on deck. “Good news,” he said.

  “I’m always up for good news,” Thad said.

  “Liz, you’re getting divorced this afternoon.”

  “Wonderful!” she nearly shouted.

  “You and I have to appear in the chambers of a Judge Coronado this afternoon at three. Paul and his attorney will be there, too.”

  “I don’t want to do that,” she said.

  “I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter,” Stone said.

  “I won’t be in the same room with him.”

  “Look, this is not the first divorce this judge has heard. He’s accustomed to people who aren’t speaking to each other.”

  “Liz,” Thad said, “Stone has gone to a lot of trouble to get this thing resolved this week. This is only going to take a few minutes, right, Stone?”

  “That’s right. I shouldn’t think it would take more than half an hour, at the most.”

  “Oh, all right,” Liz said. “I don’t have to talk to him, do I?”

  “No, but you’ll have to talk. The judge will ask you both some questions, and be warned, he’s not going to like it if you argue about the answers. Just don’t disagree with Paul.”

  “That may be difficult,” she said.

  “Liz, this is the quickest, quietest way possible to get you out of this marriage. Just do what you have to do,” Thad said.

  “All right, darling,” she said, and put her hand on his.

  “Can I be there?” Thad asked. “Liz might feel better.”

  “Absolutely not,” Stone said. “You’re a very recognizable figure in Palm Beach, and I don’t want you anywhere near that courthouse.”

  “Oh, all right,” Thad said. “Sit down and have some breakfast.”

  Juanito appeared, and Stone ordered. “Now, Liz, tell me: How long have you been a Florida resident?”

  “Sin
ce I married Winston, I guess. Three years. He was a Florida resident well before that, for tax reasons.”

  “The judge will ask you that.”

  “What about Paul? He’s not a Florida resident. At least, I don’t think he is.”

  “His lawyer says he can show proof of residency. The judge will ask you things like how long you’ve been married, and he’s going to ask you why you want a divorce. What are you going to tell him?”

  “That my husband led me into a life of crime and that, when he murdered three people, I didn’t want to live with him anymore.”

  “No, no, no,” Stone said. “You want to be general, not specific.”

  “You mean like, we just grew apart over the years?”

  “That’s better. And if he asks Paul first, just go along with whatever he says. Don’t worry, he has a very good lawyer, and he will have been well briefed.”

  “Whatever you say,” she said.

  “That’s the right answer, too. Now, another thing. Your agreement with Paul requires you to wire-transfer the money into his lawyer’s trust account as soon as the divorce is final. What I’d like is for you to transfer the money to my trust account today, and I’ll take it from there.”

  “The two million dollars?” she asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “God, but I hate to give that son of a bitch any money.”

  “Liz, get a grip. You’ve already signed an agreement to that effect. Yesterday, you were delighted to get off so cheaply.”

  “Liz, honey,” Thad said, “two million dollars is small change to me. Let me take care of that.”

  “I couldn’t let you do that,” Liz replied.

  “No, really. I’d consider it a great favor if you’d let me do that.”

  “Oh, Thad,” she said, putting her hand on his cheek. “You’re so sweet.”

  Thad turned to Stone. “I’ll move the money this morning.”

  “You’re sure that’s the way you want to do this?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Stone watched, amazed, as they kissed.

  Later, when they were driving to the golf course, Stone brought Dino up to date.

  Dino’s mouth fell open. “He’s giving her two million bucks?”

  “Like Thad says, it’s small change to him.”

  “Holy mother! She’s good, isn’t she? She meets this guy, what, three weeks ago, and now he’s paying her ex-husband two million bucks to go away?”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “Well, Thad is either the sweetest guy in the world or the dumbest, or both,” Dino said.

  “Don’t talk about my client that way,” Stone said.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know; he pays his legal bills.”

  “That’s very important,” Stone said.

  “And you don’t even know if he’s really going to go away.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Stone said. “When the FBI takes him away, he’ll be gone.”

  “How do you know they can get a conviction?” Dino asked. “After all, when he gets Thad’s two million, he’s going to be able to afford a very good lawyer.”

  “I thought you said they have his fingerprint on a note he handed a teller.”

  “Sure they do,” Dino said. “Gee, I hope the FBI hasn’t misplaced it during the years that have passed since the robbery. They would never do that, would they?”

  “They’ll have the tellers’ identification of Manning,” Stone said.

  “How do you know? Maybe he dressed up like Ronald McDonald. And it’s been four years since the last robbery. I’d be willing to bet you that at least one of the four tellers is dead, and a couple more are retired and living in Costa Rica or someplace, and that the remaining one has come down with Alzheimer’s. And even if one of them is still around and can identify Manning, Ginsky is going to turn him inside out on the witness stand. ‘But, sir, it’s been four years since you say you saw the robber, and you also say he was wearing a red wig, a big nose and floppy shoes. How could you possibly say that man is my client?’”

  “You’re starting to annoy me, Dino.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re not nearly as annoyed as you’re going to be when Manning gets off scot-free and hires somebody to put his ex-wife at the bottom of Lake Worth in a concrete bikini.”

  Stone ran a red light, thinking about that.

  51

  STONE GOT LIZ TO THE COURTHOUSE HALF AN HOUR early. He wanted to talk to Ed Ginsky before they went into the judge’s chambers. There was too much happening this morning over which he had no control, and he didn’t like it.

  They had been sitting in the empty courtroom A for ten minutes, when a balding man in his mid-thirties came in.

  “Are you Stone Barrington?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Fred Williamson.”

  “Hello, Fred. This is Mrs. Manning.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Liz snapped.

  “Everybody’s going to call you that today, Liz. Just get used to it.”

  Williamson shook her hand as if he were afraid she might bite it.

  “I want to speak to Ginsky before we go into chambers,” Stone said.

  “Why?” Williamson asked. “I think we’ve got all our ducks in a row.” He took a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and handed them to Stone. “I’ve taken the liberty of making a few changes so that they more closely follow the Florida form.”

  Stone flipped quickly through the papers. Ten minutes to three. Where the hell was Ed Ginsky and his client? “They look fine to me, but everybody will have to sign again. We’ll need a notary.”

  “The judge’s clerk can notarize them,” Williamson said. “I’ve also written the decree for his signature. Judge Coronado is leaving on vacation today, and I don’t want to have to wait for his signature.”

  “Neither do I,” Stone said. He was looking forward to seeing Paul Manning’s face at last, and he wished to hell the man would arrive.

  At one minute before three, Ed Ginsky and his client strolled into the courtroom. Paul Manning looked like hell. He was wearing bandages that covered his nose and much of his face, and at the edges, both his eyes seemed blackened. Surgery, Stone thought as he stood up. He and Ginsky shook hands. “I’m glad you’re here, Ed. I want to …”

  At that moment a door behind the bench opened and a solidly built, handsome Hispanic man stepped into the courtroom. His hair was completely white, and he was not wearing a jacket but sporting loud braces. “Everybody here, Fred?”

  “Yes, Judge. All present and accounted for.” He shepherded everyone into the chambers and made the introductions. Coronado waved them all to chairs.

  “Now,” the judge said, “you have a request, Fred?”

  “Yes, Judge. We’re here in the matter of a divorce between Paul C. Manning and Allison S. Manning. Mr. Manning is represented by Mr. Ginsky, and I am representing Mrs. Manning, with the consultation of Mr. Barrington, who is a member of the New York bar and Mrs. Manning’s attorney in that state.” He handed the judge a stack of documents. “The parties have agreed on a property settlement. Mrs. Manning’s petition and Mr. Manning’s waiver of response are all in order. We ask for a decree based on their mutual desire for a divorce.”

  The judge glanced through the papers, then returned them to his desktop and leaned back in his chair.

  “Mr. Manning, are you a legal resident of the State of Florida?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Manning replied.

  Ed Ginsky offered a sheet of paper. “Judge, this is a copy of Mr. Manning’s declaration of residency, filed at the Dade County courthouse two and a half years ago.”

  “This seems to be in order.” The judge turned to Liz. “Mrs. Manning, are you a legal resident of the State of Florida?”

  “Yes, Your Honor, for three years. I own a house in Palm Beach.”

  The judge nodded. “Mrs. Manning, Mr. Manning, you’re both obviously mature adults. Mrs. Manning, is it your desire to end your marriage?”
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  “Yes, Your Honor,” Liz replied.

  “Mr. Manning?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Are you both completely satisfied with the terms of the property settlement on my desk? Mrs. Manning?”

  “Yes, I am, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Manning?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “I would certainly assume that you are satisfied, since you are receiving a settlement of two million dollars. Mrs. Manning, does that sum represent a part of your net worth that you can afford to part with?”

  “It does, Your Honor.”

  Especially since she isn’t parting with it, Stone thought.

  “Has any duress been brought upon you to part with such a sum?”

  “No, Your Honor,” Liz replied.

  “Very well, then, I …” The judge stopped and looked oddly at Liz. “I beg your pardon, but have we met before, Mrs. Manning?”

  “No, Your Honor,” Liz replied. “I think I would remember,” she added, flatteringly.

  “Wait a minute,” the judge said. “Aren’t you Winston Harding’s widow?”

  Uh-oh, Stone thought. Here’s trouble.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Liz replied, as if it were the most natural question in the world, in the circumstances.

  “I’m confused,” the judge said. “Mr. Harding died only late last year, didn’t he?”

  “That’s right, Your Honor,” Liz said, still not getting it.

  “And when were you married to Mr. Manning?”

  Stone opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  Liz had no such problem. “Oh, Paul and I were married before Winston and I.” Then she realized what she had said and froze.

  Stone still couldn’t think of anything to say, and Fred Williamson was looking at him in panic.

  Then Paul Manning spoke up. “Your Honor, may I explain?”

  “I wish to God somebody would,” the judge replied.

  “Your Honor, Mrs. Manning and I were married eight years ago. Then, four years ago, I was accused of murder in a Caribbean country—unjustly, I might add. I was tried, convicted and sentenced to death. Then, at the last moment, the truth came out, and I was pardoned.”

  Stone looked at Ed Ginsky and thanked God it was Ginsky’s client who was lying to the judge and not his own. Ginsky seemed, as well, to have lost the power of speech.