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?”
“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.”
“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?”
“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.
“Congratulations,” said the judge, but he still looked baffled.
“Mrs. Manning had already left the island, having done everything she could, and she was under the impression that I had been executed. By the time I was released, we had lost touch, and it was only recently that she learned that I was still alive. So, you see, she married Mr. Harding in good faith, believing that I was dead. In fact, she had been given a death certificate.”
The judge looked back and forth between Paul and Allison Manning as if they were escaped lunatics. “So this divorce is merely a matter of legal housekeeping, is that what you’re telling me?”
None of the lawyers would speak, so Liz did. “Yes, Your Honor. I think you can see what a horrible series of events this was and how Paul and I, having parted long ago, would not like this hanging over our heads.”
“Yes, I can see that,” the judge said. “Fred, I hope you brought a decree for me to sign, because after today, I never want to hear about this again.”
Williamson set the decree on the desk, and the judge signed it. “I’d like your clerk to notarize the property settlement, please,” Williamson said.
The judge pressed an intercom button and spoke: “Amy, come in here, please.” A woman entered the room. “I want you to notarize some documents for these people.” He stood up and put on his jacket. “I’ve just signed a divorce decree, and I want you to see that nothing is published about it, do you understand?”
