alimony you owe her is three thousand, four hundred and twenty-nine dollars. Because of your generosity regarding the King-size Relish Burger, the few odd cents can be forgotten.”
“Thanks.”
COLLINS AVIATION: 553-0477.
“Tell me something, Mr. Worsham—”
“Gillett.”
“As an attorney, I mean.”
“I would not be allowed to have you as a client. I might add that I would not want you as a client.”
“Nevertheless, there you are, sitting in a chair in my office, determined not to be thrown out, while I’m trying to get some work done. I know you come from a very distinguished law firm. Only partners of the most distinguished law firms come out personally to collect bills for three thousand dollars. You’ve been hanging around all week. It must be that your own office rent isn’t paid. Or are you nicking Linda for more than three hundred of the three thousand?”
“What is your question, Mr. Fletcher?”
“As an attorney, Mr. Gillett, do you think it makes any difference that I never agreed to any alimony settlement? I have never even agreed to the divorce.”
“I have nothing to do with that now. The court decided that you shall pay, and you shall.”
“I mean, doesn’t it strike you as peculiar that I came home one night and Linda wasn’t there and the next thing I know I’m divorced for abandoning her?”
“This is not the first time this has happened to you, Mr. Fletcher. For a boy in your early or mid-twenties, two divorces on your record seem more than adequate.”
“I’m sentimental. I keep believing in the old institutions.”
“As long as you keep getting married…”
“I promise. I won’t get married anymore. Being abandoned is too expensive.”
“Mr. Fletcher. Mrs. Fletcher has told me a great deal about you.”
“Did you ever buy her a King-size Relish Burger?”
“We’ve talked in my office.”
“I thought so.”
“She has told me that you are a vicious, violent man, a liar and a cheat, and that she left your bed and board because she absolutely couldn’t stand you anymore. She did not abandon you. She escaped with her life.”
“Vicious and violent. Bullshit. One night I stepped on the cat’s tail.”
“You pitched the cat through the window of your seventh-floor apartment.”
“The whole place smelled of cat.”
“Mrs. Fletcher, thinking reasonably that she might be the next one to go through the window, packed and left the very next time you left the apartment to go to work.”
“Nonsense. She didn’t smell. She was always in the shower. She washed her hair every half hour.”
“Mr. Fletcher, as you have pointed out, I have been looking for you all week. For some reason, your office would not let me know where you were. I have the choice of bringing you back to court, and this time, I assure you, you will appear. Now, do you wish to arrange to make this payment here and now, or do you force me to go back to court?”
“Easier done than said.” From his desk drawer Fletch took the checkbook he had found on the beach. The Merchants Bank. “It just so happens, Mr. Gillett, that I’ve been playing poker all week. I won seven thousand dollars. That’s why my office didn’t know where I was, of course. I deposited the money last night. If you would just take this check and hold it for ten days…”
“Certainly.”
“That would leave me enough for taxes and to get the car washed, don’t you think?”
“I should think so.”
“Now, what was the amount again?”
“Three thousand, four hundred twenty-nine dollars and forty-seven cents.”
“I thought we were forgetting about the forty-seven cents. The Relish Burger.”
“Yes. All right.”
“Every penny counts, you know.”
Fletch wrote the check for three thousand, four hundred twenty-nine dollars payable to Linda Fletcher and signed it I.M. Fletcher in an illegible handwriting.
“There you are, Mr. Gillett. Thanks for stopping by. I’m sorry we’re not on the seventh floor.”
“It’s been nice doing business with you, Mr. Fletcher.”
Standing at the door, Gillett still held the check between his thumb and index finger. Fletch noticed that his clothes were weirdly cut—the man had no pockets. No pockets at all. How did he get around without pockets?
“By the way, Mr. Fletcher, I read your piece in the magazine regarding what you termed the unfairness of divorce settlements, alimony in particular.”
“Thank you.”
“I feel obliged to tell you what a stupid and wrong piece that was.”
“Wrong?”
“Dead wrong.”
“I understand your thinking so. You’re a divorce lawyer. Why don’t you take an advance in career and become a pimp?”
“I suspect that any divorce attorney, such as myself, could sue you for that piece and win.”
“I quoted divorce attorneys.”
“None I know.”
“I’m only allowed to quote legitimate sources.”
Before leaving, Gillett tried to look haughty, but only succeeded in looking as if he were in the early stages of a sneeze.
“Collins Aviation. Good morning.”
“Good morning. I wish to talk with Mr. Stanwyk’s secretary, please.”
“One moment, please.”
Beneath his desk, Fletch pried off his sneakers. The linoleum was cool on his bare feet.
“Mr. Stanwyk’s office.”
“Good morning. This is Bob Ohlson of the
“Yes, certainly.”
“This is just a silly little story, of no importance.”
“I understand.”
“What we’re doing is a piece on who the private doctors are of prominent people around town. We thought it would amuse people.”
“I see.”
“I wonder if you could tell us who Mr. Stanwyk’s private physician is?”
“Oh, I don’t think Mr. Stanwyk would like to give out that information.”
“Is he there?”
“Yes. He came in just a little while ago.”
“You might tell him what we want. If we print the name of his doctor, Mr. Stanwyk probably will never get another doctor’s bill. Remind Mr. Stanwyk that doctors themselves can’t advertise.”
“Yes, I see.” The secretary’s laugh indicated a finishing school with office skills. She had a finished laugh. “Hang on a moment, I’ll see.”
While he was waiting, Fletch took the envelope with ten one-hundred-dollar bills off his desk and threw it into a drawer.
“Mr. Ohlson? Mr. Stanwyk laughed and said it was all right to tell you that his private physician is Dr. Joseph Devlin of the Medical Center.”
“That’s great.”
The man arranges for his own murder on Thursday night, and on Friday morning laughs at someone’s wanting
