“You know how expensive such services are. More often than not, investigators are employed by law firms, not directly by clients. That mandates additional overhead and administrative costs, let alone a mark-up for a reasonable level of profit. That’s just one small element of the legal system. It’s expensive. The more that’s at stake, generally, the more expensive it gets.”

“Yeah, yeah, and yada yada yada warden, how does that get us to Madelaine, you, and me, here, now.” There was, without doubt, a madness to this conversation. Outdoors, high on a hill, next to a house in which nobody was living at the moment. It was a little bit chilly, but comfortable if you stood in the sun. I wanted it to rain. Not a Catskill storm that drenches you in a minute with the thunder rolling down the mountains and up again like the magic men playing ninepins in the legend of Rip Van Winkle. It called for a British rain, just a tad heavier than a drizzle, and the women could put up umbrellas and I could let the water drip from my hair down my collar, so the absurdity would manifest itself in images. For the motion picture version.

“Our firm is actively expanding the utility and range of litigation finance,” Elizabeth continued in her PR pitch person voice. “The imbalance of financial resources is very common in divorce situations. There is a clear need for our services and the employment of our services is a virtual guarantee, based on actual statistical data, of improved outcomes.”

By then I’d counted the money in the envelope. “So why don’t you simply invest in Madelaine’s divorce? If her husband is as vile and reprehensible and disgusting as you say he is, Madelaine and her lawyers should be able to take him for a bundle, and then you just rake off your piece.”

“Sometimes the worse they are,” Elizabeth replied patiently, with just a tick of disapproval that crude power so often gets its way, “the more difficult the situation. Mick McMunchun, her husband, comes from the Roy Cohn school of litigation. Hide, lose, and destroy records. Attack, threaten, and smear. They’ve promised to go after Madelaine’s father as an embezzler, which he is not, but since he’s in the financial services industry it would do him great harm. They have photoshopped her mother into photographs having an affair with an African American busboy at an Applebee’s. Madelaine has two sisters and they’ve been targeted, too.

“As many rich people do, especially in divorce situations, he has hidden his money away. We have a sense of how much he has…”

“Which is?”

“…I have client confidentiality…”

“You’re not her fucking attorney. You’re a speculator. Betting on her husband dying so she can get money that she can then share with you. How much?”

She stumbled and stalled.

I turned to Madelaine. “How much?”