Monday did not start out well for Isabel Reichert. She was ten minutes later than usual, and the buses were already arriving at the John C. Calhoun Middle School. It was her own personal charge to be in the building before the students came on the campus. It gave her a propriety feeling to be there when the first bus pulled in; it was her school, at least for the present. With what she had in mind, being a principal in the public schools of Covington County might no longer be a necessity.
A Sheriff’s deputy was waiting in the Main Office when she came in. There had been a fight on one of the buses, and the parents were on their way to the school. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence. However, it wasn’t something she wanted to deal with on this morning. Fortunately, she got there before the parents, so she could turn over the disciplinary conference to her assistant principal. He wouldn’t handle it well, but he would handle it. There were a number of financial reports dealing with the closing of school to be completed for the audit, and, at eleven o’clock, she had an appointment with Julia Prescott in Charleston.
Known in legal circles as “The Predator”, Julia Prescott was recognized as the leading South Carolina divorce lawyer. And it wasn’t just in South Carolina. Though she was only licensed in two neighboring states, she was frequently called on to consult in high profile cases throughout the country. Isabel didn’t need a piranha, not with the grounds she had against Bill Reichert. But she gleefully anticipated the fear that Julia Prescott’s name would strike in Mr. Self-Assured once he heard it.
At eight-thirty Isabel’s phone rang. As she picked it up, she resolved not let to anything disturb the rest of her day’s calendar.
“Mrs. Reichert? Superintendent Hamilton is here to see you,” her secretary said.
“He’s in the office?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Thank you, Martha; I’ll be right out.”
In front of the receptionist’s desk, Cedrick Hamilton was doing what he did best, schmoozing with the office staff, the custodians, and anyone else who happened to be present, making them equals, a part of the team. He’s amazing, she thought, as she approached him.
“Good morning, Cedrick,” she said with a broad smile. “Did we have a meeting or something?”
“Good morning, Isabel. No, no meeting. Just paying a visit.” Cedrick Hamilton didn’t just “pay visits”. Behind his smile and friendly greeting, she could discern an anxiety level in the man that was unusual. He didn’t look well.
“Well then, come on back to my office, and we’ll visit,” she said. Hamilton excused himself from the small group that was gathered around him and followed her. After entering the office, he shut the door and sat in the chair that faced her desk. He said nothing.
“You look like hell, Cedrick; what’s wrong?”
“Thanks for the compliment, but I know you’re right. I feel like hell. The Harold Taylor situation hit the fan this morning. I’m trying to deal with it, but I think a female’s input might be helpful, thus, my visit.”
“What happened?”
“Evidently, our Mr. Taylor, as has been rumored, is getting a bit more aggressive in his behavior with a couple of female teachers. One, in particular, is going to file charges against him and possibly the board, if we don’t do something about it.”
“What’s he done?”
“The teacher who contacted me this morning says he threatened her several times with the loss of her job, said that he’d see to it that she never teaches anywhere again, calls her at all hours, and then, on Friday night he called her a brainless cunt and said if she went to me I wouldn’t do anything. He made a mistake on that count. I’m just not sure how to proceed without creating a public uproar. We did hire him after all.”
“And with the bond issue, you don’t need that. It’s a shame she never read Dorothy Parker.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Dorothy said she was called a cunt for ten years before she realized it was a compliment.” Hamilton smiled. “Are you going to talk to him before you take any action?”
“I already have. This morning,” Hamilton said.
“And?”
“According to him, she’s lying like all the others, is a terrible teacher, has no control, and has done everything but verbally offer herself to him, which frustrated her because he didn’t take her up on it. And that under no circumstances will he resign.”
“Probably looking for a buy-out. He knows the position you’re in.”
“He might just get it. I’d hate to see that, but you know the board philosophy: ‘Keep the water flat at all costs’. I thought you might have a suggestion. Think talking to this teacher would do any good? Hold her off awhile? Let it be forgotten?”
Isabel looked at him and then away. The man had fallen a long way from the idealist who took over the district. There were many who questioned his genuine concern for the district and its students. Now it appeared he was giving credence to their doubts.
“Cedrick, that demeans you. You’re talking about one of your teachers who is being threatened by a man who is obviously very sick. Getting rid of him should be a feather in your cap, not something that would submarine a bond issue. Suppose she goes to the opposition? What then?”
“I’m not sure the people of Covington County care much about something like this.”
“If they don’t, it won’t hurt you either way, but I believe, and I think you believe, they do. They’re not going to crucify you for doing your job. You’re a superstar, remember?” Isabel smiled, hoping to relieve some of his stress.
“Yeah,” he said. “Of course, they usually lynch my kind of superstar.” He gave a weak smile.
“Cedrick, is there something else? Not just Harold Taylor?”
“Not at the moment. I’m just concerned. You’re one of the few people I know that doesn’t have an agenda involving me. I thought you might have a suggestion.”
If you only knew about my agendas, she thought. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, Cedrick.”
After seeing the superintendent to the door, she noticed Ray Breslin, the wildlife officer, in the attendance office. She couldn’t imagine what he was doing at the school. He didn’t have any children, as far as she knew, and if he did, they didn’t attend Calhoun. She hurried back to her office and closed the door. The last thing she needed on top of everything else was to have to talk with a wildlife officer regarding some environmental prank one of her students might have instigated.
Because of Cedrick Hamilton’s unexpected appearance and several other school items that demanded her immediate attention, Isabel knew she would be late for her appointment with Julia Prescott. She called and advised the secretary of her delay and was relieved to find out that Prescott had scheduled an office day and would be available.
Isabel chose Julie Prescott because of the legends she had heard. Prescott was enigmatic: she wouldn’t take just any case, no matter how much money was offered, nor would she do charity work. She wasn’t an idealist, yet she was pragmatic in her choice of clients. Her practice was limited to those who could afford her and who fit her personal moral profile for divorce. She wouldn’t work a case for a wealthy man who wanted to dump the wife, marry a bimbo and get off cheap, nor would she represent a man who used his wife to establish a career and then wanted to discard her. The same exclusion applied to women who married for money and wanted out for romance and sex. When she did take a case, she had a reputation for legally removing the gold from the defendant’s teeth.
She listened to Isabel’s story about the background of the marriage: her husband’s blatant infidelities, the fact that he no longer shared their bed on a regular basis, that he spent more money than he made as an officer of the bank, yet never explained where it came from. Isabel described periods of mental and emotional abuse he had put her through, his flaunting of his affairs, which were humiliating to her, and his arrogant attitude about their whole relationship, as if he were doing her a favor by remaining married to her. During the time she was speaking, Julia
Prescott said nothing. After a moment of thought, she started asking questions.
“How long have you been thinking about doing this, Mrs. Reichert?” the lawyer asked.
“This time?” There was no response. Julia Prescott obviously had no time for humor.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be glib. The idea has been around for a long time. Years, in fact. But that’s all it was, an idea. About a year ago I finally made up my mind that something had to be done. But, as much as I hate to admit it, I guess I held out some hope. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. Lost causes don’t normally interest me.”
“So why now?”
“Because it’s about damn time. That’s the only reason I can give you. That it’s time for me.”
“Good enough. Any physical abuse?”
“No.”
“Drinking, substance abuse problems?” Prescott asked matter-of-factly.
“No.”
“What about you? Alcohol, prescription drugs, any of the other things women are prone toward?”
“No.”
“Affairs?”
“I’ve already told you, he—” Isabel started.
“No, not him. You.”
“I wish.” Again, a moment of stony silence.
“Does he have anything morally he can throw at you?”
“Again, I wish.”
“Mrs. Reichert, we’re talking seriously here. This is not a game I play. Now. Important question: How much is your salary in the school district?”
“Fifty-seven thousand and all benefits.”
“So you don’t need his money,” Prescott said. The statement caught Isabel off guard. It wasn’t an attitude she expected Julia Prescott to have.
“Not to survive,” she answered.”
“I ask you that because as long as you don’t need his money, we can probably get most of it. That is, if I decide to go forward with this. Does your husband have any idea what you are doing?”
“No, not yet.”
“Good. There are a couple of ways we can go with this, Isabel, but I do have to make sure that you understand a few things. I don’t know you yet, nor do I know your husband or his attorney, so I can say nothing definite about how we should proceed or how long it might take. Those things are all interdependent. Only if we go forward will I be able to answer those questions. You do know my fee.”
“Yes. I knew that before I called. Money is not an issue; results are.”
“Good. Who is your husband’s attorney?”
“I’m sure he will use Charles Clay in Covington. He does all the work for the bank, and he’s been our family attorney for years.”
“I’ve heard of him, but I don’t know him. How will your husband react to this? Any idea?”
“Outrage first, accusation second, and, hopefully, compromise third.”
“What kind of compromise do you want?”
“I want him to compromise, not me. Money, of course, that’s one of his most jealous mistresses. I should get the house, which he loves. By losing that, he will also lose a good part of his own personal security and identity. It’s where he runs when he’s in trouble.”
“So, personal revenge, ruining his reputation is not important to you?” Prescott asked.
“I don’t think anyone would be surprised.”
“That’s the right answer; I don’t get involved in suits that have revenge as a payoff. It’s not spendable, doesn’t hurt as bad as financial loss and doesn’t last as long, so, ultimately, it’s not the sweetest revenge. Does he have a passport, Isabel?”
“Yes. I saw him with it before he went to Mexico.”
“Why did he go to Mexico?” There was a look of concern on the attorney’s face.
“He said he was going to Salt Lake City, but I found some travel brochures and knew he was lying. His mistress du jour went with him, but I think she may have dumped him on the trip.”
“And how would you know all of this?”
“I followed them.”
“To Mexico?” she asked astonished.
“Yes. I even sat behind them in the Dallas airport on the way back. Their conversation led me to believe that she was finished with him. No shrinking violet that one. Bill got what he deserves.”
“I guess I don’t have to worry about your losing your nerve during this litigation then.”
Prescott smiled and shook her head in wonder. “So the Mexico trip was just a romantic getaway?”
“I don’t think so. He went by himself to see a man named Ortega, a banker of some kind. I found that out from the clerk at the resort where Ortega was staying.”
“That’s interesting.” Again she smiled. “You ever thought about being a private investigator?” Isabel laughed. It was the first vague attempt at humor that Julia Prescott had made in their entire meeting. “Does he have any accounts in Mexican banks that you know of?”
“I’ve never heard him mention any, but nothing would surprise me.”
“I hope not. Do you have any ready cash? Some that’s yours personally, that’s not in his bank?”
“I have a private account that he doesn’t know about. I opened it a couple of years ago when I began considering this. It’s at a bank in Charleston.”
“Is the account in your name?”
“My maiden name. I was pretty paranoid at that point.”
“Good. Here’s how I will proceed, Isabel, and the conditions I give you must be agreed to, or I will not represent you. I will need to get a complete file constructed before I build a complaint. I will try—and I’m usually successful—to get a judge to grant an early hearing. I’d like to go ex parte, meaning only we will be there. I will ask that Mr. Reichert’s assets be frozen until we can get an accurate inventory. Do you want him out of the house?”
“Yes.” Isabel was surprised at her own immediate decision. She hadn’t really thought about that part before because she usually saw so little of him.
“I believe we can manage that, but it might be tricky. Are you afraid of him?”
“Not really.”
“I believe you are and aren’t being honest with yourself.” Isabel could see the attorney’s point. “In any case, the less he knows about what you’re doing, the better, so I will ask you to agree to say nothing, to threaten nothing or even mention that you’ve talked to an attorney until we have everything in order and are ready to move. Surprise may get you what you want. All of this we will discuss in detail at our next meeting. Sometime within the next two weeks.” Prescott, once again, didn’t leave the decision up to Isabel Reichert.
“That’s fine,” Isabel said. At that point, a great weight lifted from her, and she felt the shackles fall.