“In our study—we share it—in our apartment.”

“And you had the combination to the safe?”

“We each have a safe. He didn’t know that I knew he kept the combination taped to the side of a desk drawer.”

“How long have you been married to Bernie, Bernice?”

“Seven years.”

“And were you married before that?”

“No, I was a businesswoman. I founded a cosmetics company, small but growing fast. Bernie made me sell it when we got married. He did the deal for me, and I never thought I got enough for it.”

“Bernice, I’m going to need a copy of your financial statement as well.”

“I don’t own anything separate from Bernie,” she said. “I put all my money into our joint accounts when we got married.”

“And how much did you get for your cosmetics company?”

“Six and a half million dollars.”

“And did you have any other assets in your own name at the time of the marriage?”

“I had a co-op on Park, paid for. Bernie sold both our apartments, and we bought the co-op on Fifth.”

“And how much of the money used for that purchase was yours?”

“Half: two million dollars.”

“And that was seven years ago?”

“Yes.”

Stone referred to the most recent financial statement in the folder. Bernie had valued the apartment at a little over six million dollars. “How big an apartment is it?”

“Six bedrooms, living, dining, library, study, kitchen, butler’s pantry, two maids’ rooms.”

Bernie had seriously undervalued his real estate for some reason, and lying on a financial statement was a felony. “Bernice,” he said, “who recommended me to you as an attorney?”

“Bernie did,” she said.

“What?”

“He talks in his sleep. He was bitching about you, calling you all sorts of names.”

“In his sleep?”

“Yes, that’s what he does when he’s nervous about the opposition. So, I figured, if Bernie is nervous about you, you’re my man.”

“Bernice,” Stone said, “I would be very pleased to represent you in this action.” He explained his fees.

“Can you take a percentage, instead of a fee?”

“Of course. If you’d prefer it I can do it on a contingency basis.” He certainly could! “I’d need a retainer, to apply against the contingency on the final settlement.”

“How do you think we’ll do in court?”

“Bernice, with a little luck, I don’t think we’ll ever see the inside of a courtroom. I would expect this to settle, and fairly quickly.”

“Stone,” she said, “are you telling me I’ve got Bernie by the balls?”

“Bernice,” he replied, “that’s a very good assessment of your position. And his.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Stone pressed a button on the phone. “Joan, will you please print out a copy of our standard contingency agreement and bring it in, please?”

“Yes, Mr. Barrington,” she replied meekly.