“Never mind,” said Todd. “Now shall we get to it?”

“I’m sorry, Milstead, I’m really not with you. Get to what?”

Todd sighed deeply.

“The settlement,” he said. “Or whatever you lawyers call it.”

“Your divorce papers, you mean?” said Coughlan.

“Yes,” said Todd. “Finally. I’m here to sign the papers. Like we discussed.”

Coughlan looked genuinely puzzled now.

“You want to sign the papers?” he said.

“Yes,” said Todd. “Like I said on the phone last night. Janis agrees, I agree, so let’s sign and I will move out like I said last night. On the phone.”

Coughlan was about to say something, when his expression changed. He affected a businesslike face.

“Normally in a situation like this, I’d ask if you’d been drinking,” he said. “But it’s too early even for you.”

“Nice,” said Todd. “Now please can I sign the damn papers?”

Ten minutes later, Todd had signed everything.

“Don’t you want to read it first?” Coughlan had asked.

“No need,” said Todd.

Coughlan handed Todd his copy of the documents.

“And you’ll move out of the house?”

“Ahead of you,” said Todd. “Already did.”

Coughlan looked shocked. Call me Speedy, thought Todd.

“Okay,” he said, and held out his hand for Todd to shake. Todd thought about thumbing his nose, but went for the polite option and shook.

“See you ’round,” he said, and breezed out of the office.

*  *  *

“He signed it?” said Gillian.

“Like a lamb,” said Coughlan.

“Why did he keep saying you called him last night?”

Coughlan grimaced. “Who cares? Maybe he’s lost his fucking mind as well as everything else.”

*  *  *

Todd drove back to the motel, the divorce papers on the seat beside him. For a moment he considered pitching the envelope out the window, but then thought, Nah. Call ’em a souvenir of unhappier times. Besides, you never knew with lawyers. Coughlan might try and trip him up on some fine detail of law, and it would be good to have the facts at his fingertips.

Nobody gets to push Todd Milstead around, he thought as he pulled into the motel parking lot.

*  *  *

The bedside light had given up the ghost completely, and the toilet apparently needed to take the morning off to refill its cistern, but other than that, the motel room was a home away from home. Todd dropped the divorce papers on the floor and flopped onto the bed.

The phone rang.

“Todd?”

“Janis?”

“I just wanted to thank you,” said Janis, hesitantly.

“Hey, there’s no need,” said Todd.

“No, really. You didn’t have to agree to everything.”

“I—excuse me?” Todd could feel a knot beginning in his guts. “I didn’t agree to everything.”

“Coughlan called me,” Janis said, not listening. “He said you came in, signed the papers, didn’t even want to read them.”

Todd leaned over to grab the envelope from the floor and fumbled it open.