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“What is the family firm’s position? I would be surprised if they or their insurance company haven’t made a pass at that account.”
“I’m looking at a printout from online,” Keener said. “There’s no notation to that effect. I’ll e-mail you the user name and password when we receive Mr. Fisher’s signed documents.”
“Is there a notation from the feds?”
“Yes, from the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York.”
“I’m willing to recommend to my client that he accept the account as full settlement in the divorce.”
“With a notation mentioning the federal freeze order, of course.”
“Yes.”
“All right, send me an addendum to the divorce complaint and I’ll get it taken care of.”
“Right,” Stone said, and hung up. He buzzed Joan and dictated the addendum. “And get me Herbie,” he said.
Herbie came on the line. “Yes, Stone?”
“I hope you didn’t catch cold.”
“No, your suggestion of the hot bath and the brandy worked very well.”
“I have a proposal from Stephanie’s attorney.”
“Shoot.”
“She’ll agree to the divorce with her abandonment as the cause, and she’ll sign over to you her account at the family firm, which amounts to three million dollars.”
“Really?”
“There’s a catch: the feds have frozen the account.”
“Any chance it will ever be unfrozen?”
“Slim and none, but I can have a go, and the best part is, you win. That will look just fine in the papers, if it makes the papers.”
“I like that,” Herbie said. “Send me the documents.”
“Will do.” Stone hung up and buzzed Joan. “Have you noticed Herbie becoming more sane?” he asked.
“Maybe it’s a prolonged lucid interval,” she replied. “He does seem more together.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you this, but he’s been going to law school for the past three years.”
Stone was astonished. “But he already has that bogus Internet law degree, and he ostensibly passed the bar exam.”
“I think he feels guilty about that, and after all, what else would he do with his days? It’s not like he works for a living.”
“You have a point.” The doorbell rang. Stone hung up and ran upstairs and opened the door. Arrington stood there, looking sharp in a Chanel suit with a gorgeous sable coat over her shoulders. They embraced and Stone sent her luggage up to the master suite.
“You look wonderful,” he said, helping her out of her coat and hanging it in the hall closet.
“I don’t know about the master suite,” she said. “Maybe I should sleep in a guest room.”
Stone thought about that. “It’s up to you,” he said, “but I wouldn’t enjoy sneaking around.”
