“Maybe; it depends on the decree, if there is one.”
“What do you mean, if there is one? There must be one, somewhere.”
“I’ve got somebody looking into that now. Do you know where they were divorced?”
“In Miami, I guess; that’s where Paul lived at the time. Stone, what’s the worst this could mean?”
“Well, the absolute worst, legally, would be if they were never divorced. In that case, she might have some sort of rights as the wife in either Florida or Connecticut—I’m not familiar with the domestic or estate laws in either. On the other hand, if they were legally divorced and we can get hold of the decree, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. Let’s say the judge gave her three thousand a month for life, or until she marries; then she’d be entitled to claim that much from the estate. Or he might have put a time limit on it. It doesn’t seem likely that the payments were pegged to his income, since he was paying her only three thousand a month; they would have gone up as he became more successful. Did Paul seem to feel any great obligation to her?”
“Not really. He never complained about writing the checks, though.”
“He didn’t leave her any money, either.”
“Right,” Allison said, brightening. “How can she make any claim at all?”
“She can easily enough, if she has a court order, and that’s what a decree is. But she’s claiming they were never divorced, and if that’s true, there wouldn’t be a decree.”
“Stone, this doesn’t sound like the greatest problem in the world. Just tell her to call my lawyer in Greenwich, and if she doesn’t like that, then tell her to go fuck herself.”
Stone shook his head. “We can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s here, don’t you understand?”
“So what?”
“She’s a completely unknown quantity. Worst case, suppose Sir Winston gets his hands on her and charms or frightens her? Suppose she turns up at your trial and testifies that Paul told her that he was afraid you were going to murder him?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I did say it’s the worst case; people will do strange things when there’s a lot of money at stake. The thing is, I don’t want her hanging over our heads. She’s a loose cannon, and she could turn out to be very dangerous.”
Now Allison had grown quiet. “So what do we do?” she asked finally.
“I think we have to get her off the island as quickly as possible.”
“Maybe one of Thomas’s many brothers could kidnap her or something.”
He looked at her sharply. “Don’t even joke about that.”
She held up her hands. “Sorry. So how do we get her off the island?”
“How much money have you got in your Greenwich bank account?”
“Well, I’m not sure, exactly.”
“Allison, this is no time to fuck around. How much?”
“A little over a million dollars.”
“In your checking account?”
“Well, it’s an interest-bearing account.”
“Oh, great.”
“Are you suggesting I should pay her a million dollars?”