“Nicholas Burnham.” She knew the name and disappeared instantly. And ten minutes later, when the client left, Nick was ushered in to see Ben Greer.
“Hello, Nick. How've you been?”
“I've been fine. More or less.”
“Oh, boy.” He took one look at Nick's face and knew that things were rough. There were circles under Nick's eyes, and his jaw was so tense that Greer could almost see him choking back rage. “Would you like a drink?”
“Do I look that bad?” Nick began to relax a little and sat back in the chair, producing a tired grin. “I guess things haven't been so hot after all.”
“I guess not, or you wouldn't be here. What can I do to help?”
“Kill my wife.” He said it as though it were a joke, but Ben Greer wasn't entirely sure. He'd seen that look on men's faces before, and at least once in his career, he'd ended up defending a man for murder instead of getting him a divorce. But Nick took a deep breath, sat back, and ran a hand through his hair. And then he looked sadly at Ben Greer. “You know, I've tried to make this thing work for ten years, but it just never has.” It was no secret in New York, and Greer knew it too. “And when I came back from Europe in July, I tried to impress on her that I wanted to keep the ship afloat. By then it was”—he groped for the words—”a marriage of convenience at best, but I wanted to stay married for the sake of the child.” Greer nodded. He'd heard the same tale ten thousand times before. “She was involved with Philip Markham by then. It had been going on for about a year. And I let her know, as best I could, that she could have free rein with him, but I wouldn't agree to a divorce. And do you know what the son of a bitch did yesterday?”
“I'm dying to hear.”
But Nick didn't smile. “He put a gun to my son's head. When I came home from work, there he sat in my living room, cool as hell. And he pointed the gun at John and said that if I didn't let Hillary go, he'd kill my kid.” Nick grew pale as he told the tale, and the attorney frowned. Things were desperate after all.
“Was the gun loaded, Nick?”
“No. But I didn't know that then. I agreed to the divorce, he put the gun down …”He thought back to the moment and clenched his teeth and his fists.
“And then what did you do?”
“I kicked his ass all over the room. He's got three broken ribs, a broken arm, and two chipped teeth. Hillary moved out last night and she tried to take Johnny with her. I told her that if she ever laid a hand on him again or showed up in my house, I'd kill her and Markham. And by God, I mean it.”
“Well, you've got grounds for divorce.” But that was hardly news. “Do you think you can prove adultery?”
“With ease.”
“But what grounds do you have to win custody of the boy?”
“Do I need more than that? He pulled a gun on my child.”
“The gun wasn't loaded. And Markham did that. Your wife didn't.”
“But she was a party to it. She just sat there and let him do it.”
“She probably knew it wasn't loaded. I'll admit, it was a cheap trick, but it's not grounds to get custody of the boy.”
“Everything else is. She's a rotten mother, she doesn't give a damn about John, and she never did. She wanted an abortion before he was born, and she's never given him a second glance. When I was stuck in Europe after war was declared, she dumped him with her mother for ten months and almost never saw him until I got home. She's a rotten mother to him! Rotten, do you hear?” Nick was frantic, and he began to pace the room. He should never have listened to Liane. He should have left Hillary six months before and fought for custody of the child then. But he hadn't. And now he had lost her too. If he had been free, who knew what would have happened. It was a loss that he still felt, as he had for nearly half a year.
“Is she willing to give up custody of the child?”
Nick forced his thoughts back to Hillary again and shook his head. “She's afraid of what people will think if she gives him up. She's afraid they'll think she's a drunk and a whore, which she is, but she doesn't want to admit it to the whole town. She might as well, she's slept with them all, for chrissake.” But not lately, he had to admit. She had been faithful to Markham, as she had never been to him.
“You're going to have a tough fight, Nick. Very tough. The divorce will be a snap, on these grounds, and she wants out, but custody cases are a bitch. The court almost always rules with the mother, unless she's a mental case locked up somewhere. Even if she's a drunk, as you put it, or a whore, most of the time that isn't enough. The courts believe that mothers should have the kids, not men.”
“Not in this case.”
“You may be right. But we have to prove that, and it's going to be an ugly fight. You'll have to pull out every ounce of dirt you can get. Do you really want to drag your son through that?”
“No. But if I have to, I will. And if you tell me I have no choice, then we'll start a smear campaign that won't quit. She's given me the ammunition over the years, and I'm going to use it all now. It's for Johnny's good in the long run.”
Greer nodded. He enjoyed a tough case. “And if you're right and she doesn't really want the boy, she may give up.”
“She might.” But he didn't really think she would. “And in the meantime, I want a restraining order on Markham to keep him away from my son.”
“Where's the boy now?”
“He's still at our apartment with me. I told the maid not to let Hillary back in for her things. I'll send them to Markham's place myself.”
“She has a right to see the child.”
“The hell she does. Not as long as she's consorting with a man who pulled a gun on him.”
“That was to impress you, Nick.” Greer's voice was painfully calm, but Nick was too wound up to hear him.
“Well, guess what? It did. Now, will you take the case?”
“I will. But I want to make something clear to you right now. I can't guarantee the outcome, Nick.”
“I don't care. Give it the best shot you've got.”
“Will you do what I say?”
“If it makes sense to me.” He smiled, and Greer wagged a finger at him from across the desk. “All right, all right. How long do you think it'll take?”
“You can agree to let her go to Reno for the divorce. That way it would only take six weeks. But the custody matter could take a long time.”
“How long? I don't want Johnny living with this thing over his head, or mine.”
“Maybe a year.”
“Shit. But if I win, she's out of his life for good?”
“Could be. You could also try to buy her off.”
Nick shook his head. “That won't do. She's got a trust for six million dollars, and Markham's worth a small fortune too.”
“So much for that. We'll have to win this one fair and square.”
“And if you can't, cheat.” Nick grinned, and Ben Greer did too.
“You tell me how and I will. Anyway, I'll get that restraining order for you today. I have to be in court in half an hour.” He glanced at his watch. “And I want to meet with you to plan our campaign. How about next week?”
Nick looked disappointed. “Not before that?”
“You won't get to court on this for at least six months.”
“All right. But, Ben”—he looked intently at his lawyer across the desk—“remember one thing.”
“What's that?”
“I intend to win.”