DANCING WITH THE ICE LADY. Ken Salter

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      Saundra was busy with a new client when I popped through the door. She gave me one of her “you in deep shit” looks as I scooted past her work station and the sad-eyed woman she was tending to. I grabbed the pile of pink message slips and mail from my box that Saundra had sorted and read. I dumped everything on my cluttered desk and headed up the stairs to Nate’s office.

      His door was open and he was seated behind his desk with his nose in a file folder. He looked like shit. His fleshy face was blotchy and the big bags under his eyes sagged badly. He looked like he’d been on a two-day bender and desperately needed a shot of Scotch to pick him up. I couldn’t help thinking of the sorry-eyed waif Saundra was attending to and he would have to interview. Nate was going to have to get sobered up quick and back in the saddle if he was going to get through the morning.

      “Sit down, R.C. Did Saundra tell you what happened yesterday with Toni Perkins?”

      His words caught me by surprise. “No, Saundra didn’t mention anything about the Perkins’ case this morning. She was busy with a client. I met with Toni yesterday and everything seemed OK. She seemed more pissed off about Benny’s new lawyer than being kept waiting.”

      Nate didn’t appear too interested in probing me about my session with her, so I waited for him to spit out what was on his mind.

      “What an ungrateful bitch! I tried to explain to her that the private agreement they made violates public policy and is, therefore, unenforceable. That cocky piece of shit actually threatened me! Can you believe this crap?”

      I was surprised by what he said. I thought Saundra had diffused Toni’s anger and eased her out the door. It sounded like he’d had a run-in with her. “I thought she’d cooled down after meeting with me. Saundra was going to make her an appointment to see you next week when I left.”

      “The bitch waylaid me in the parking lot. Can you believe that? I work my butt off all day and when I drag my tired ass outta here to go home, I get jumped by her and her butchy girlfriend.” Nate was working himself up to a boil. I needed to redirect his negative energy.

      “She was OK when she left. It must have been her girlfriend who pushed her to make a scene. A good row with you probably plays well on the home front.”

      Nate wasn’t about to be mollified. “The bitch gave me an ultimatum. Can you believe this shit? She actually threatened me. She said if I didn’t get Benny Ross to drop custody and visitation rights, she was gonna sue me for malpractice and file a complaint with the State Bar. She was screaming in the parking lot, ‘if we lose the kid, you’re dead meat!’ Can you believe it? We bust our balls for these ungrateful bitches and they threaten to cut off our balls if we don’t win a case they fucked up from the start. Who needs this crap anyway?”

      Nate’s boiler was about to blow. His blotchy face had gone from red to purple. He desperately needed a drink to steady his rudder. Better try for a diversion.

      “I need to see Mrs. Simmons’ file. I’ve been thinking about the case and I want to kick around some ideas with you. But before I make a fool of myself with her, I need you to fill me in on some of the background missing in our meeting with her. I don’t want to look stupid asking her for info she’s already provided to you.”

      The change of subject worked. Nate slammed shut the Toni Perkins file and went over to a bank of locked file cabinets where he keeps his sensitive cases and his stock of Chivas Regal. Nate prides himself on not being an alcoholic by his special criteria. He likes to brag that he never takes a drink before cocktail time, which he roughly defines as starting somewhere between three and five in the afternoon depending on his needs and mood. I know for a fact that he nips throughout the day when he thinks no one is looking. His breath mints may fool his clients, but in our small office, there’s no way you can hide much for long.

      Nate’s broad back was turned to me as he rummaged in the file cabinet. I was sure he was trying to figure out how to sneak a slug of Scotch without me noticing it. He pulled a file and handed it to me. He lingered at the cabinet while I opened the file.

      I noted that the plain manila folder had no typed label like all the other files in our office. Nate had written ‘Gloria Simmons’ in his nearly illegible scrawl. Had Saundra organized the file, the label would have been neatly typed and read “Simmons v. Simmons – divorce.” Inside the file, there was no completed office questionnaire with the demographic info Saundra compiles at intake. Instead, Nate had scribbled some nearly indecipherable notes on a sheet from a lined legal pad.

      The notes were as follows: “husband – Jimmy Simmons – co-owner of Simmons Family Mortuary w/ brother Tony S. – Gloria (GS) married Las Vegas NV 4 yrs. ago – no childr. – joint checking – GS some separate prop. – royalty residuals from modeling & advertising – community prop? residence? autos? jewelry? Interest in family biz? Believes there’s lots of cash and unreported income skimmed from the biz. Value of H’s interest before and after 4 yrs marriage? Value of GS career before marriage?”

      Nate hadn’t been concerned with the usual demographic data: date of birth, date of marriage, reason for breakdown of the marriage, etc. Either Nate knew the info or left it for me to find out. His notes focused solely on evaluating her husband’s income and property interests that could be divided in a divorce or legal separation. I jotted a summary of his info and when I looked up, Nate’s eye were focused ruefully on his liquor cabinet.

      “Where would you like me to start?”

      “I want you to dig up financial info on the mortuary for starters. Mrs. Simmons reports that there are currently large amounts of cash washing through the business. As a result, the book value of the business is probably grossly underestimated intentionally. We may have to resort to a court subpoena to flush it out. They’re probably keeping two sets of books.”

      “What makes Mrs. Simmons so sure there’s lots of extra cash? Did she provide examples?”

      “As she stated yesterday, her husband started giving her large amounts of cash and putting more in their joint account about six months ago. Before that, he always deposited a business check into the account.”

      Nate’s information seemed to answer how Mrs. Simmons had $5,000.00 cash to pay a retainer. She also must be skimming fat off the monthly budget or else had a sugar daddy on the side. It solved her problem of hiding her hiring a divorce lawyer – no telltale checks or statements for services rendered to trip up her game. Lots of spouses planning to split and run use similar tactics.

      “Where does Mrs. Simmons believe the cash is coming from?” I asked boldly

      “She doesn’t know. She states that her husband likes to gamble and has always carried a big roll of cash on his person.”

      “Does she think maybe the mortuary gives him two checks as a monthly draw – one to deposit in his joint account and the other to cash for running-around money?” I thought the possibility was dubious but I wanted Nate’s take on it.

      Nate paused before replying. “I don’t think so. Mrs. Simmons believes the cash he gives her every month is just a token of what he carries on him.”

      Nate was carefully weighing his words. It was not like him to hide and hedge behind “Mrs. Simmons believes.” He’s usually more open and free-wheeling. I suspected he knew a lot more about the origins of the cash than he was prepared to reveal. I decided to try a different tack.

      “Why does Mrs. Simmons want to divorce?”

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