Paradise (43 page)

"Because I find these documents very irregular from a legal standpoint."

"In what way?" Meredith asked, noticing that her father's lawyer had misspelled Matt's middle name as Allan instead of Allen.

"In
every
way," Parker said, flipping back and forth through the pages, truly agitated.

The tension in his voice communicated itself to Meredith, and because she hated thinking of Matt and the divorce, she immediately tried to reassure Parker and herself that whatever Parker was concerned about was meaningless, even though she hadn't the vaguest idea
what
he was concerned about. "I'm certain everything was done legally and correctly. My father handled everything, and you know what a stickler for detail he is, Parker."

"Well, he might be, but this lawyer—Stanislaus
Spyzhalski
, whoever
that
is—wasn't concerned with details. Look here," he said, flipping back to the cover letter that had been addressed to her father. "This letter says he's enclosed the entire file, and that the court has sealed the records, as your father asked."

"What's wrong with that?"

"What's
wrong
is that this 'entire file' does not contain a notice that Farrell was ever served with the petition for divorce, or that he ever appeared in court, or that he ever waived his right to appear—and that's only a small part of what bothers me."

Meredith felt the first twinges of genuine alarm, but she firmly ignored them. "What difference does all this make now? We're divorced, that's all that matters."

Instead of replying, Parker flipped back to the first page of the divorce petition and began reading it slowly, his scowl deepening with every paragraph. When Meredith couldn't stand the suspense anymore, she stood up. "What," she demanded in a calm, no-nonsense tone, "is bothering you now?"

"This entire document is bothering me," he replied with unintended curtness. "Divorce decrees are drawn up by lawyers and signed by the judge, but this decree reads like none
I've
ever seen written by any reasonably competent attorney. Look at the wording of this!" he said, jabbing
bis
index finger at the last paragraph on the last page as he read.

"In return for $10,000 and other good and valuable consideration paid to Matthew A. Farrell, Matthew Farrell relinquishes all claim to any property or possessions owned now or in the future by Meredith Bancroft Farrell. Furthermore, this court herewith grants a decree of divorce to Meredith Bancroft Farrell."

Even now the memory of the way she'd felt eleven years ago when she learned that Matt had accepted money from her father made Meredith wince. He'd been such a liar, such a rotten hypocrite when they were married and he'd protested that he'd never touch a cent of her money.

"I cannot believe the wording of this!" Parker's low, angry voice pulled her from her brief reflections. "It reads like a damned real estate contract: 'In return for $10,000 and other good and valuable consideration,'" he said again. "Who in the hell
is
this guy?" he demanded of Meredith. "Look at his address! Why would your father hire an attorney whose practice was on the South Side, practically in the slums?"

"Secrecy," Meredith said, glad at least to have an answer for something. "He told me at the time that he'd deliberately hired 'a nobody lawyer' on the South Side— someone who wouldn't guess who I am or who Father is either. He was very upset about everything, as I told you before. What are you doing?" she asked as he reached for the phone on her desk.

"I'm going to call your father," he said, and then with a brief grim smile to silence her protest, he added, "I'm not going to alarm him. I'm not sure there's anything to be alarmed
about."
True to his word, when her father answered his phone, Parker indulged in small talk with him for a few moments, and then he casually remarked that he'd been looking over Meredith's divorce decree. As if teasing her father about his choosing a lawyer on the fringe of the slums, he asked him who had recommended Mr. Stanislaus
Spyzhalski
, Esquire. He laughed at whatever Philip replied, but when he hung up the phone, Parker's smile vanished.

"What did he say?"

"He said he got his name from the Yellow Pages."

"So what?" Meredith said, trying desperately not to react to the generalized alarm shaking through her. She felt as if she were being thrust into dark, dangerous territory and threatened by something vague and unidentifiable. "Now who are you calling?" she asked when Parker took out the slender black phone book he carried inside his coat pocket and picked up the phone.

"Howard
Turnbill
."

Torn between concern and anger at his uninformative replies, she said,
"Why
are you calling Howard
Turnbill
?"

"We were at
Princeton together," he replied unhelpfully.

"Parker, if you are trying to make me really angry, you're going to succeed," she warned him as he began pressing the keypad on her phone. "I want to know
why
you're calling your old
Princeton classmate now."

Inexplicably, he grinned at her. "I love that particular tone of voice of yours. Reminds me of my kindergarten teacher. I had a crush on her." Before she could strangle him, which she looked ready to do, he added hastily, "I'm calling Howard because he's president of the Illinois Bar Association, and—" He broke off as Howard answered the phone. "Howard, this is Parker Reynolds," he began, then he paused while the other man said something to him. "You're right, I'd forgotten I owe you a rematch on that squash game. Call me at the office tomorrow, and we'll set up a date." He paused again and laughed at whatever Howard said, then he said, "Do you happen to have a roster of the
Illinois
Bar members handy? I'm not at home right now, and I'm curious to know whether a certain individual is a member. Could you check your roster and tell me if he is?" Howard obviously said he could do that, because Parker then said, "Good. The man's name is Stanislaus
Spyzhalski
. That's S-p-y-z-h-a-1-s-k-i. I'll hold on."

Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, Parker gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm probably worrying needlessly. Merely because the man's incompetent doesn't mean he isn't a legitimate attorney." A moment later, however, when Howard returned to the phone, Parker's smile faded. "He's not on the roster? You're certain?" For a moment Parker was lost in thought, then he said, "Could you get
ahold
of a current roster for the American Bar Association and see if he's listed there?" He paused, listening, then he said with forced joviality, "No, it's not an emergency. Tomorrow will be fine. Give me a call at my office and we'll set up the squash game then too. Thanks, Howard. Give my love to Helen."

Lost in his own thoughts, Parker slowly replaced the phone on its cradle.

"I don't think I understand what you're worrying about," Meredith said.

"I think I'd like another drink," he announced, getting up and walking over to the liquor cabinet.

"Parker," Meredith said firmly, "since this involves me, I think I have a right to know what you're thinking."

"At this moment I'm thinking of several known cases of men who set themselves up as attorneys—usually in poorer neighborhoods—and who took money from clients who believed they were going to handle legal work for them. One of the cases involved a man who was actually an attorney, but who pocketed the filing fees charged by the courts and who then 'granted' his clients an uncontested divorce by simply signing the document himself."

"How could he do that?"

"Lawyers draw up the petitions for divorce. Judges merely sign them. He signed the judge's name to them."

"But how could he—they—get away with
that?"

"They got away with it by handling only uncontested matters, including divorces."

Meredith swallowed half her drink without realizing what she was doing, then she brightened. "But surely in those instances, when both parties acted in good faith, then the courts would honor the divorce decrees even though they weren't filed?"

"Like hell they did."

"I don't like the tone of this conversation," Meredith said, feeling a little woozy from the potent drink. "What
did
the courts do about those people who thought they were divorced?"

"If they'd remarried, the courts allowed them to be innocent of bigamy."

"Good."

"But the second marriage was invalidated and the first one had to be dissolved through the proper channels."

"Dear God!" Meredith said, and sank into a chair. But she knew in her heart, she absolutely
knew
her divorce was legal and valid. She knew it because the alternative was unthinkable.

Belatedly realizing how upset she was, Parker reached out and gently ran his hand over her silky hair.

"Even if
Spyzhalski
doesn't belong to the bar, even if he's never been to law school, your divorce could still be legitimate—so long as he presented that absurd divorce petition to a judge and somehow got it signed." She glanced up at him and her eyes were the same lovely blue-green as the sweater and slacks she wore—only darker now, and troubled. "I'll have someone go over to the courthouse tomorrow and try to find out if the divorce was filed and recorded. As long as it was, there's nothing more to worry about."

"Bad night?" Phyllis asked her the next morning as Meredith walked past her desk with an absentminded nod.

"It wasn't the greatest. What's on my calendar this morning?"

"You have a meeting here
with
the advertising division at
ten o'clock
to discuss the grand opening for the
New Orleans store. Jerry Keaton in personnel asked to see you about some raises you need to approve, and I told him you could see him at eleven. Is that okay?"

"Fine."

"And at eleven-thirty Ellen
Perkvale
from legal needs to discuss a lawsuit that's just been filed against us. It pertains to a lady who claims she broke a tooth in the Clarendon Room."

Meredith rolled her eyes in disgust. "She's suing us because she broke her tooth while eating in our dining room?"

"Not exactly. She's suing us because she broke it on a nutshell that was in her trout amandine."

"Oh," Meredith said, unlocking her desk and accepting the likelihood of having to reach a settlement. "That changes matters."

"True. Is eleven-thirty okay for that meeting?"

"Fine," Meredith replied as the phone on her desk began to ring. "I'll get it," Phyllis said, and the day launched itself with
the usual frenetic rush of store business that Meredith sometimes found exhausting yet always exhilarating. Occasionally, she had a moment to herself, and when that happened, she found herself staring at the phone, willing Parker to call and to say there was absolutely nothing amiss with her divorce.

It was nearly
five o'clock
when Phyllis finally said that Parker was on the phone. Racked with sudden tension, Meredith snatched the receiver from its cradle. "What did you find out?" she asked him.

"Nothing conclusive yet," he replied, but there was a new, strained quality to his voice. "
Spyzhalski
isn't a member of the
ABA. I'm waiting to hear from someone at the
Cook
County
courthouse. He'll call me with the information I've asked for as soon as he has it. I'll know exactly where we stand within the next few hours. Are you going to be home tonight?"

"No," she sighed, "I'll be at my father's. He's giving a small birthday party for Senator Davies. Call me there."

"I will."

"The moment you get your answers?"

"I promise."

"The party will break up early because Senator Davies has to leave for
Washington
on a
midnight
flight, so if I've already left, call me at home."

"I'll find you, don't worry."

Trying not to worry became increasingly impossible as the evening wore on. Half convinced she was agonizing over nothing, and yet unable to quell her mounting sense of alarm, Meredith managed to smile and nod and be reasonably gracious to her father's guests, but it took a supreme effort. Dinner had been over for an hour, and
still
Parker hadn't phoned. Trying to distract herself, she lingered in the dining room, supervising the clearing of the table, then she wandered into the library, where the guests had gathered for a brandy before leaving for their homes.

Someone had turned on the television and several of the men were standing near it, watching the news. "Lovely party, Meredith," Senator Davies's wife
said, but the rest of her words seemed to vanish into the nether as Meredith heard the television commentator say, "Another Chicagoan was in the news today—Matthew Farrell was Barbara Walters's guest on a taped broadcast earlier this evening. Among other things, he commented on the recent rash of corporate takeovers. Here's a clip from that interview ..."

The guests, who'd all read Sally Mansfield's column, naturally assumed Meredith would be interested in seeing what Farrell had to say. After glancing at her with curious smiles, the roomful of people turned in unison to the television set as Matt's face and voice filled the room.