37 comments/ 39884 views/ 14 favorites Miz Sarah Enlists a New Assistant By: FrancisMacomber When Brigadier General Harmon E. Marshall, U.S. Army, Ret., entered my office, I thought he carried himself with the air of someone used to command. He was tall and fit, with a weatherbeaten face and an erect carriage. "He cuts a very impressive figure," I thought to myself. On his arm was Mrs. Marilyn Hart, a lovely woman in her own right and one of the most eligible widows in Atlanta. When John Hart had had died unexpectedly five years ago from a brain aneurysm, he had left his heart-broken wife alone but extremely wealthy. Since then, one of the favorite games of Atlanta society was speculating on who might console the widow in her loss. Now, it appeared, that question had been answered. "Come in, come in," I said, extending my hand to Mrs. Hart. "I'm Sarah Cannon. It's a pleasure to meet you." Then I turned to her companion. "And you must be General Marshall. I've heard so much about you." "Don't believe a word of it," he said with a straight face. "But it's all good," I protested. "Then you definitely ought to discount it," he said with a smile and a wink. "How disarming," I thought, as I ushered them into my office. "For a distinguished soldier to be so self-deprecating is a charming way to put people at ease." General Marshall certainly came with a prestigious reputation. He was a decorated officer who had fought in the first Gulf War. Unlike most senior officers, General Marshall had actually led his men in combat, and had both the Silver Star and a Purple Heart to show for his efforts. "General Marshall," I said, "I can't help but ask: are you by any chance related to the famous World War II general George Marshall?" He smiled indulgently at me. "I get that question quite often. Actually, we are, but it's a very distant relationship. I think he was my great uncle once removed. Of course, that doesn't keep me from trading on the name." Once again I was charmed by the easy way he made fun of himself. I settled the two of them on the settee and fetched them a glass of fruit tea. Then I took the arm chair beside them. "Now, how can I help the two of you?" Marilyn was the first to speak. "Mrs. Cannon . . . "Please," I interrupted, "everyone calls me Miz Sarah." She smiled and nodded. "Miz Sarah, my dear friend Emma Wolfolk told me that you are the best family law attorney in Atlanta and that I had to come see you on this." I didn't know Emma Wolfolk, but I knew of her. She was another young widow in Atlanta society, not wealthy like Marilyn Hart, but certainly very visible in charitable and social activities. Her photo regularly graced the society section of the Atlanta Journal Constitution. "How very kind of her to recommend me," I said. "So what is it you need?" General Marshall intervened. "It will be easier if I explain." Marilyn deferred to him with an adoring gaze. "As I'm sure you're aware," the General said, "Marilyn has consented to have me for her husband, and our wedding is only a few weeks away. I've been a lonely old soldier since my wife died years ago, but Marilyn has brought joy back into my life." Marilyn clasped his hand in hers and beamed. "The thing is," the General went on, "Marilyn is a wealthy woman. While generals are paid decently, my net worth would be a small fraction of hers. The last thing I would ever want people to think is that I am some sort of opportunist trying to take advantage of her in her grief over the loss of her late husband." At this, Marilyn frowned and shook her head to make it clear she would never believe such a thing about her fiancé. "Accordingly," he continued, "I believe the only honorable thing for me to do is to enter into a pre-nuptial agreement that protects Marilyn. We need your help in drawing up such an agreement." "I can easily do that," I reassured them, "and let me commend the two of you for having the wisdom to take care of such matters in advance of your marriage. When two people are young and have few or no assets of their own, such considerations aren't as important. But when both parties are mature adults, reaching an agreement in advance can avoid future problems, especially in the event of a dissolution of the marriage." Marilyn was clearly perturbed at my last statement. "Harm and I are deeply in love, Miz Sarah, and there's no possibility of us ever parting." "If I were in your shoes, Marilyn, I would take General Marshall's wish as a very tangible sign of just how much he does love you," I reassured her. She sighed at my words. "I hadn't thought of that," she said. She clasped his hand even tighter. After that, we went on to have a discussion about the elements normally found in most pre-nuptial agreements. However, as I was about to wrap up, General Marshall interrupted. "There's just one more thing, Miz Sarah. In the event of a divorce, the agreement you've outlined calls for us to part with the same assets we had as when we entered the marriage. But that's not good enough for me." He cleared his throat. "I want Marilyn to know that I will love her and honor her forever, forsaking all others. Accordingly, I want it spelled out that if I should break my marriage vows and commit adultery, I will automatically forfeit half of my current and future assets to her. That's the only way I can think of to show her how serious I am about loving her forever." Marilyn gasped at his unexpected offer. "Oh, Harm," she said adoringly, "what a wonderful, unselfish husband you're going to be!" Then she turned to me. "Miz Sarah, the only way I would ever accept Harm's proposal is if it applies equally to me. I want Harm to know that I love him just as much as he loves me!" "But Marilyn," I objected, "even without having both of your financial statements in front of me, we've already agreed that there is a considerable disparity between your net worth and the General's. I really can't advise such a provision." "It doesn't matter," she said grandly, "it will never come into question. It's the principle of the thing: Harm loves me unreservedly, and I want him to know that I am no less committed." With that, she threw her arms around his neck and the two of them embraced before me. When we had concluded, the two of them left hand in hand. I still wasn't comfortable with what Marilyn wanted to do, but it was clear that they were not to be dissuaded. And I had to admit that the two of them appeared to be deeply in love. "Besides," I thought, "it was General Marshall who proposed the agreement in the first place." It was no trouble to draw up the agreement as they had specified, and I sent two copies off to them to review. If they were satisfied, I suggested they retain a signed copy for themselves and send one back to me for safe-keeping. Given how caught up they were in their wedding plans, I figured it might be a while before I saw them or the agreement again. As for me, I too had marriage-related concerns. I had been without an assistant for several weeks now, ever since my last one, Cindy McCarty, had gotten married. I had hoped I might be able to keep her even after she got engaged because she was so sharp and capable. And, if truth be told, I'd watched her grow up from a recent college graduate who acted more like a teenager into a mature young woman ready to take the next step in her life. It may be a natural part of life, but it still always hurts a little to watch one of your chicks leave the nest. But now that she was gone I couldn't deny reality any longer: I needed a replacement, and fast! So I followed my usual routine by contacting the placement office at Agnes Scott College, my old alma mater. I liked to pick my assistants from Agnes Scott because I knew anyone I found there would be sharp as a tack and of good character. Besides, it was a way for me to give back to the school. Mrs. Ryan had headed the career planning office for many years and had recommended a number of my former assistants. When I called her this time, however, she had a surprising suggestion. "I know you usually look for new graduates, Miz Sara, but would you consider an alumna who graduated four years ago? She's interested in a career in the law and has a background that might be interesting to you." I hesitated at that, but Mrs. Ryan had never steered me wrong before, so I asked her for more details. "Miz Sara, she's here in my office as we speak. Why don't I send her over and let you meet her for yourself? I think you'll be impressed." I agreed reluctantly. I didn't like the idea of buying a pig in a poke, but I was willing to give an Agnes Scott grad the benefit of the doubt. Approximately an hour later, there was a knock on the glass doors of my home, which also serves as my office. When I opened the door, there stood a tall, slim African-American woman. She was wearing a navy blue suit with skirt and jacket over a high-necked white blouse. Her shoes were black and utilitarian. "Definitely not a slave to fashion," I thought irreverently. She thrust out her hand to me somewhat stiffly. "Mrs. Cannon? I'm Marcella Jackson. Mrs. Ryan sent me." "Come in," I said, and invited her back to my office. She headed for the chair in front of my desk, but I steered her toward the settee instead. "This will be a little less formal," I told her. After I'd offered her a glass of fruit tea, I sat down across from her. "Please tell me a little bit about yourself, Ms. Jackson," I asked. "What have you been doing since you graduated, and how did you come to be interested in the law?" "Mrs. Cannon," she began, but I interrupted her. "Most everybody calls me Miz Sarah," I said. She nodded. "Very well, Miz Sarah. After I graduated, I enlisted. I have spent the last four years in the Army." I was surprised. "I doubt many Agnes Scott graduates choose the military to start their careers. What made you do that?" She smiled wryly. "A couple of reasons. The big one was that my father, my grandfather and my great-grandfather were all in the Army, and I'm an only child. I was destined for the Army from before I was born. The other reason was sheer pragmatism: I figured the only way I could afford law school was with the help of the G.I. Bill." I nodded. "That makes a lot of sense. Where were you stationed?" "Afghanistan, ma'am." Now I was impressed. "That must have been quite an experience." Her eyes focused on something far away. "Yes ma'am. I saw some things there that I don't think I'll ever forget." "And now you're looking for some experience in the law," I said, trying to shift her away from some obviously painful memories. She snapped back to the present. "That's right. I wanted to enroll school right away, but Mrs. Ryan suggested I get some practical exposure first to see if it suits me." We talked at some length about her experience and interests. She was an impressive young woman. She'd been a history major at Agnes Scott and had done well in her studies. Since she wanted to join the military and was a college grad, I would have guessed that she'd have aimed for Officer Candidate School. Instead, she opted for the general infantry and took Basic Combat Training because she wanted to take the same path as the men in her family. After four years of service, including a combat stint in Afghanistan, she decided that she didn't want to make a career of the military. She wouldn't tell me about her experiences over there, but I got the impression that she'd lost some close friends. When she'd brought her history up to the present, I spent a little time telling told her about what I did, how my office operated and the kind of help I needed. Finally, I asked her what she thought about what I had said. She took a deep breath and then said, "Miz Sarah, I have to be honest with you: I don't think I'm the right person for this job." "Oh?" I said in surprise. "Why not? I thought this was what you wanted." "I do want to learn about the law," she said vigorously, "but not this kind of law. I want to help people in poverty with their legal problems, not work with a bunch of rich folks fighting over who gets to keep the country estate." "Interesting," I thought. "She's feisty enough. I'd have my hands full with this one." But as I thought about her, I found myself intrigued. I knew she was intelligent and idealistic, and I respected her service in the military. And Mrs. Ryan had seen something in her too. On the spur of the moment, I decided to take a chance. I smiled at her. "I think you'll find that an awful lot of the issues facing poorer citizens involve family law, and that the issues are much the same, regardless of income. Regardless, I can assure you that I work with all kinds of clients and I don't apply a means test. The one thing all my clients share in common is a need for the protection of the law." I sat up a little straighter. "How about this: you 'enlist' with me for a three-month probationary period. If I feel you're not working out, we'll shake hands and part company with no hard feelings." I could see her frown when I said "probationary period," so I hurried on. "At the same time, I'll be on probation with you. If you still don't feel like this is what you want to do, or if you decide you just don't like working with me, you can walk away without repercussions. In the meantime, I think you'll learn a good bit about the practice of law in the real world. And at least you're not likely to be shot at!" She grinned at that last comment, yet I could see she was still torn. But apparently she was capable of making quick decisions too. "Alright, Miz Sarah, if you're willing to take a chance on me, I guess I should be willing to take a chance on you." With that, she extended her arm and we shook hands. "Well," I said, "if we're going to work together, what should I call you?" "Oh," she said, embarrassed that we hadn't already established that, "please call me Marcy. That's what my family calls me." The first few weeks with Marcy were interesting. On the one hand, she was a quick learner and a hard worker. She wanted to know about everything I did and why I did it, so much so that I often had to shoo her out the door at the end of the day. In addition, she was extremely well organized, more so than I, if truth be told. On the other hand, she was very formal. Maybe I was reading too much into her past, but it seemed to me as though she had to hold herself back from snapping to attention every time I walked into the room. It was amusing at first, but I began to feel frustrated that she couldn't relax around me. I'd think we were starting to make progress, but then something would happen to get her guard up again. For example, when I received the signed prenuptial agreement from Marilyn Hart and General Marshall, I showed it to Marcy as one example of the kind of work I do. "Oh, I've heard of them," she said contemptuously. "She's that rich widow who's marrying the general who doesn't even know how to salute right. They're exactly the kind of people I don't want to work with." I was amused at her indignation. "Now, Marcy, Mrs. Hart can't help it if her husband died and left his estate to her. And as for General Marshall, what's wrong with his salute?" "I saw him once on the local news," she said, "and the salute he gave would have earned him a chewing out from my drill instructor." "I expect a Brigadier General has more important things to worry about than his salute," I said, but Marcy was not be persuaded. I just sighed and let the matter drop. "Patience is a virtue . . ." I reminded myself. The next learning experience for her came a few days later when I had a call from an old friend who wanted to come by to ask my help. We set up an appointment and I asked Marcy to sit in with us. When the appointed time came, she was closest to the door when a knock alerted us to our visitor's arrival. Opening the door, she beheld an elderly African-American gentleman escorting a woman young enough to be his daughter. "Marcy," I said, "allow me to introduce you to Lucius Rayford, an old friend and a member of my church. Lucius, this is Marcella Jackson, my new legal assistant." Lucius smiled cordially and shook Marcy's hand. "How do, how do," he said. Then he turned to the woman beside him. "And this is Cora Hopewell, the young lady I called you about." Marcy and I greeted her and led the two of them into my office. Marcy got everyone seated and I poured some fruit tea I had ready for everyone. When we were all settled, Lucius explained the reason for their call. "Cora has been with my wife and me for the past two years, and she's a real good worker. But now she's run into a bit of trouble: her husband wants to divorce her and she doesn't know what to do. I told her I knew just the person who could help her, and that's when I called you." I smiled at Lucius and then turned to the young woman, whose eyes were brimming with tears. "Mrs. Hopewell, I'm very sorry for your trouble. Can you tell me what happened?" "Miz Sarah, I don't rightly know what happened. Me and Jerrold had been married a while, and things weren't great between us, but they weren't bad, if you know what I mean. But week before last he came home one night and told me he'd found somebody he liked better than me and he wanted a divorce. I never would have believed it." With that she began to cry quietly. Lucius put his arm around her in a fatherly manner. "She's been taking it mighty hard, and when some fellow came round and handed her the papers, she just about lost it. I told her she needed a lawyer to make sure she was treated right, and then I called you." "You did just the right thing, Lucius," I assured him. I reached over and took the young woman's hand. "Mrs. Hopewell, if your husband doesn't want to be married any more, there's nothing we can do to stop him. But what we can do is make sure you're protected and treated fairly. That's what the law is for." "I just feel so helpless, Miz Sarah," Cora said. "Jerrold always took care of everything, paid all the bills and bought everything we needed. Now he's moved out and I don't know where to start." "I think we might be able to help with that too," I said. "Marcy, can you get together with Cora and help her figure out her budget?" When Marcy nodded enthusiastically, I turned back to Cora and Lucius. "Marcy is one of the most organized people I know. She'll get you straight in no time. Meanwhile, let me have the papers that were served on you and I'll contact Jerrold's attorney to get started on the settlement." Cora seemed a little more encouraged as she and Lucius headed for the door. Before he departed, Lucius turned back to me and gave me a little hug. "Thank you, Miz Sarah," he said. "She's been so down that I just had to try and help her out. I know she's in good hands now." "Thank you, Lucius, we'll do what we can," I said. "Please give my best to Mabel." After they had left, Marcy seemed unusually quiet. After a minute, she came and stood before me. "I didn't realize you worked with clients from the ghetto, Miz Sarah." "Don't be fooled," I told her. "Lucius Rayford is a successful, well-to-do businessman. He and his wife started a house-cleaning business some thirty years ago. Today they own one of the largest cleaning services in the city of Atlanta. "At the same time, I can also tell you that he has never forgotten his roots, and he has given a start to dozens of young men and women who needed work. Cora Hopewell is just one of the more recent ones." "Well, I'll be very glad to meet with Cora," Marcy replied. "I feel like I can really help her get herself organized. She's the kind of person I was hoping to be working with." "I'm sure you can help her, dear," I said. "But I do have a question," Marcy went on. "Why didn't you ask her for a retainer before she left? I thought that was your normal practice." Miz Sarah Enlists a New Assistant "Well, it was pretty obvious that she was in no position to pay me anything just now." Then I winked at Marcy. "When you go to see Cora, if you find she's doing much better than I thought, maybe I'll ask her for one then." Marcy just looked at me thoughtfully. I think she didn't know how to take me. The next day, Marcy contacted Cora to set up a time to help her with her financial situation. While she was doing that, I called Cora's husband's attorney to discuss the settlement. John Baxter was a good attorney and a decent man; I'd worked with him before on several cases and had found him to be a person of integrity. After we exchanged pleasantries, we got down to business. "John, I'm calling about Hopewell vs. Hopewell. I'm representing Cora Hopewell in the matter. Candidly, my client doesn't really want a divorce, but it appears that Mr. Hopewell is set on it, so I would like to discuss the settlement with you." "Yes," he replied, "he's given me no reason to believe he has any interest in reconciliation, so I've asked him for a statement of his finances. I assume you'll do the same with Mrs. Hopewell?" "There's nothing to provide," I told him. "This was one of those marriages where the husband handled all the finances. Cora simply turned her paycheck over to Jerrold every two weeks and he took care of everything. She has no funds of her own. We can obtain copies of her paystubs if you need them, but Mr. Hopewell should have all that information already." I could almost see John nodding on the other end of the line. "That's a pretty common situation with my clients, Miz Sara. Well, Mr. Hopewell promised to have the information to me by tomorrow. As soon as it comes in, I'll email it to you. Once we have that, I expect we can wrap things up pretty quickly." "That will be fine, John. I'll get back to you shortly after I get his statement." "A nice man," I thought, after we'd hung up. "I like dealing with people who don't play games." I was working at me desk the next afternoon when Marcy returned from seeing Cora Hopewell. She didn't look too perky when I asked her how it had gone. "It's worse than I thought," Marcy fumed as she recounted her visit. "Cora is very sweet, but she doesn't have a clue about their finances. She doesn't know how much money they have in the bank, she doesn't know how much Jerrold earns, and she has no idea about their household budget. All she has is a stack of bills that have come in since Jerrold left. How can a woman let herself be put in a situation like that?" "Well, there are a lot of men out there who feel it's their responsibility to handle the family's finances," I said. "It's more like a way to keep their wives under their thumbs!" she snorted. "Yes," I agreed, "I've seen it happen that way too." "Well," she went on, "I won't know how bad things really are until we get some notion of how much they have in the bank. But I'm already pretty sure that Cora can't afford their apartment. It's most likely she's going to have to move back in with her folks and get a second job until she can get things straightened out. "I would never allow myself to be put in that situation," she huffed, "never!" I had already witnessed Marcy's independent streak, so I wasn't surprised at her reaction. But I didn't want her to intimidate poor Cora, so I cautioned her: "Just remember that Cora needs you to be her instructor, not her drill sergeant." My comment caught Marcy off guard, but she quickly recovered. She drew herself to attention, gave me a perfect military salute and said, "Ma'am, yes ma'am." But I noticed she smiled just a little when she did so, and I felt like she understood what I was trying to say. The next day, when the financial statement came in from Jerrold Hopewell's attorney, Marcy was understandably eager to see it so she could help Cora with her budget. Both of us looked at each other in dismay as we saw the stark details. Jerrold's weekly earnings were about the same as Cora's. The Hopewells had no savings account and a negligible balance in Jerrold's checking account. It was obvious that they were living paycheck to paycheck; there appeared to be no easy answers for Cora's money problems. "How can two people live like that?" Marcy asked irritably. "I know neither one of them earns a lot, but this is ridiculous! I've seen the bills Cora received -- what were they spending their money on?" I'd already noted that Marcy was a disciplined person, and she seemed to me to be quite impatient with those who were not. Marcy was already scheduled to see Cora again; I feared their next meeting might not be a very pleasant session. But when she returned from their second get-together, Marcy was in a thoughtful mood. I asked her how it had gone. "Okay," she said, "but something very interesting happened after I left. I stopped by an ATM machine to get a little cash, and guess who was ahead of me: Jerrold Hopewell. I recognized him from all the pictures Cora has around their apartment." "Well," I said, "that's an interesting coincidence, but I don't see why it's significant." "May I see their financial statement again, Miz Sara?" she asked. When I handed it to her, she scanned it quickly and then looked up with her eyes flashing. "I was right! Look, Miz Sara, this says they have an account at SunTrust. But Jerrold was making a transaction at Citizen's and Southern!" "How very interesting," I said. "There's no mention here of a second account. I think I need to give John Baxter a call." When I reached him, John was as cordial as ever. "Good morning, Miz Sara. Did you receive the Hopewell's financial statement?" "I did, John," I replied, "but I have a problem with it. We have reason to believe that it's incomplete. Your client was observed conducting a transaction at a Citizen's and Southern ATM, but there's no listing here for any account with C&S. I could get a subpoena to force the bank to disclose any accounts Mr. Hopewell might have there, but that would be time-consuming and expensive. And if such an account were to be revealed, that would be prima facie evidence of attempted fraud. So I thought I'd see if you could persuade Mr. Hopewell to resubmit his financial statement, this time reflecting all of his accounts." "Miz Sara, this is very embarrassing. I accepted Mr. Hopewell's statement at face value; I had no idea he might be trying to conceal assets. I can assure you I'll speak with him as soon as we hang up, and I'll make clear to him the potential consequences if he attempts to perpetrate a fraud. You'll have a revised statement very shortly. I apologize for this; it's not the way I do business, Miz Sara." "No need to eat crow, John," I reassured him. "I know you're not that kind. If we can get an honest statement out of Mr. Hopewell, we can get all this wrapped up in short order." Sure enough, by that afternoon I had received a revised statement from John, and he followed up with a phone call. "When I confronted Jerrold about the 'missing' account, he readily admitted it. His attitude was 'if you don't try for it, you won't get it.' I made it clear to him that that sort of attitude might very well land him in prison. I can't promise you he's reformed, but I do believe what you have in your hands is an accurate account of their finances." I thanked John for his prompt response, and went to show Marcy the revised statement. She was relieved to learn that Cora would be in better financial shape than Marcy had originally feared. "She's still going to have to scrimp and save, but at least there's enough money for her to get current on all her bills." She was so pleased that she reached over and gave me a little hug, and that pleased me as well. "Maybe we're making a little progress after all," I thought. A few days later when Cora was scheduled to come in to sign some papers, she was clearly grateful to Marcy for all her help. After she had signed the papers, she made a special point of thanking Marcy. I was pleased to see that Lucius Rayford had again accompanied her. He too was effusive in his praise. "Thank you, Miz Sara, thank you. I sure do appreciate you taking care of Cora," he said fervently. "She was so down in the mouth about everything, but you've got her about back to normal." "You're very welcome, Lucius," I replied, "but all we did was make sure Cora got the legal protection she deserved. Besides, the real work was done by Marcy here. She helped Cora straighten out her finances, and she was the one who figured out that Jerrold had a hidden bank account." Marcy turned her head away modestly, but I could see that she was pleased by what I had said. "And thank you too, Miz Marcy," Lucius added. "Cora's been like another daughter to Mabel and me. What you did for her is gonna make a difference in her life." As the older gentleman and the young woman prepared to leave, Cora went up to Marcy and embraced her, much to Marcy's pleased surprise. "You've been like a big sister to me," she told Marcy earnestly. Then the young woman left with Lucius. After they were gone, Marcy came over to me. "Miz Sara, you didn't have to say that to Mr. Rayford. I really didn't do all that much." "Nonsense," I replied. "You were observant, you remembered key details, and you drew good conclusions based on facts. Those are important qualities in the practice of the law." "Thank you, ma'am," she said. "I really appreciate that." I began to think that I hadn't made such a bad selection after all. After Cora Hopewell's case had been settled, I had expected that things in the office would be quiet for a while, but I was shortly to be reminded how unpredictable life can be. It was late one morning a week later when the front door flew open and Marilyn Hart burst in, tears streaming down her face. Marcy and I both hurried to her side, for it looked as though she might collapse at any moment. We ushered her into my office and settled her on the settee. "Marilyn, Marilyn, what is it? What's happened?" I asked her urgently. Unable to speak, she pushed a large envelope into my hands. When I opened it, I immediately recognized it as a petition for divorce. Scanning the contents, I was shocked to see that her new husband, General Marshall, was suing Marilyn for divorce. Even more astounding was the fact that his petition was based on the grounds of infidelity! Marcy had already fetched Marilyn a glass of sweet tea, and after a few sips Marilyn managed to get control of herself. "Oh, Miz Sara, you've got to help me. I don't know who else I can turn to." I patted her hand. "Tell me what happened, Marilyn." "I was out shopping today," she told us, "and when I got home, I noticed a car parked in front of my house. Before I could close the front gate, the car pulled into the driveway behind me. A strange man came up and asked if I was General Marshall's wife. When I said I was, he handed me these papers and told me I'd been served. I didn't know what he was talking about, but he had already turned around and was driving away." She paused to catch her breath. "When I opened the envelope and read the papers, I couldn't believe it. I knew there had to be a mistake, so I tried to call Harm on his cellphone, but the call just went to voicemail. I didn't know what to do, so I drove down to your office. This is all like some horrible nightmare, Miz Sara. Please help me." "Of course I will, Marilyn," I told her reassuringly. "But first, let me ask you a few questions. Were you and your husband having any problems?" "No, of course not," she said, beginning to weep again. "We've only been married a couple of months; we're still on our honeymoon." "Has there been any time when you and Harm were not together?" I asked. She thought about that. "Yes, the week before last I went out of town," Marilyn told us. "Emma Wolfolk and I had driven down to Macon to visit my mother. Harm had something to do at the Pentagon, so he couldn't come." "While you were in Macon, where did you stay?" "With my mother. She lives alone down there; my Papa passed away about seven years ago." "And while you were down there, did you see anyone else besides your mother?" "Yes, my sister lives there and I also have several cousins in the area, so Emma and I went to visit them." "And did you spend time with anyone other than your family?" "Well, one night my sister had a party, and there were a bunch of people there, including a number of old high school friends. But other than that, I just stayed with my family." I sighed. "Marilyn, please forgive me for asking, but I need to know: have you had relations with anyone other than your husband since your marriage?" "Oh, Miz Sara, how can you think that? Of course not!" "I'm sorry, Marilyn, but you must understand that others will ask the same question, and they won't be nearly as sympathetic as I am." At this Marilyn resumed her sobbing. "What is happening to me? First my husband wants to divorce me and now my reputation is to be ruined!" I squeezed her hand and said in as confident a voice as I could muster, "You've got to be strong, Marilyn. Let me handle the legal side of things. You need to go home and get some rest. My strong recommendation is that you stay at home and avoid talking to anyone else except your family until we can find out what's going on." After we'd gotten her into her car and seen her off towards her home in Buckhead, Marcy and I reconvened inside. She was shaking her head. "I never saw that coming," she remarked wryly. "For a marriage to end only three months after it's begun, and with the husband claiming adultery -- the rich folks sure do live different lives!" I smiled at her comment, but said nothing. I'd seen a lot stranger things than that happen in my years of practice. Instead, I wanted Marcy to focus on the case itself. "What was your opinion of Mrs. Hart?" I asked her. Marcy got a serious look on her face. "Well, she certainly seemed genuinely distraught. My only question is whether she was upset at the end to her marriage or at getting caught cheating." "Oh," I said in surprise, "do you really think she was having an affair?" "No, not really," she admitted, "but I think if we're going to represent her we have to be prepared in case she really was cheating on the general." "That's good," I thought. "Marcy isn't jumping to conclusions. She's trying to examine the problem from both sides." I decided to play devil's advocate with her. "Very well, let's assume for a minute Marilyn did have an affair. If so, why would she have done it that soon after her marriage?" Marcy pondered for a minute, then answered, "Suppose she had an old high school sweetheart. What if she ran into him down in Macon and sparks started flying? She thought her husband would never find out and just let herself go." "But don't forget that she signed a prenuptial agreement with her husband that would cost her millions if she were caught being unfaithful," I reminded her. Marcy thought for a minute. "Well, with both her and her husband being out of town, she probably never thought she'd get caught." Marcy paused, "Or, maybe her brain wasn't the organ that was guiding her at the time," she said, giving me a wink. "All those are possibilities," I agreed, "but none of them seem very likely. Marilyn certainly seemed like a woman in love when she and General Marshall first came in to discuss the agreement, and she seemed like a woman in real pain today. It's always possible that she's a great actress able to turn her emotions on and off, but I somehow doubt it." "So," I went on, "let's look at this from the other side. If I'm General Marshall, what reason would I have to want to divorce Marilyn Hart?" "Well," Marcy suggested, "with the prenuptial agreement they signed, he stands to get a lot of money in the property settlement." "That's true," I said, "but if he stays with her, he has twice as much. From a monetary perspective, it makes far more sense for the two of them to stay married." "That's true," Marcy agreed. "So maybe it does come back to the issue of infidelity. Maybe she did fool around on him and he found out. I just don't know what to believe." "It certainly is confusing right now," I agreed. "About the only thing we can do for the moment is to get in touch with General Marshall's counsel and try to find out more about their case." I picked up the divorce petition again and turned to the back to see whom the General had retained as counsel. "Well, this is interesting," I said when I saw the name. "Who is it, Miz Sarah?" Marcy asked. "The General is represented by Mr. Forrest Howell, Esq. with the law firm of Mason, Towson and Donovan," I told her. When she looked at me uncertainly, I went on. "That's the big New York law firm that's just opened a branch here in Atlanta. It looks like the General has brought out the big artillery." Since Mr. Howell had kindly included his phone number with the filing, I was able to reach his office that afternoon and set up an initial appointment the following day. "At least they're prompt," I thought. When I came downstairs the next morning to start the day in the office, Marcy was already there. "You'd better have a look at this, Miz Sara," she said grimly. She led me to her computer and showed me a website called "Atlanta's Gossip Girl." "What am I looking at?" I asked her. "It's a daily blog that dishes the dirt on people in Atlanta. Usually it focuses on sports and entertainment figures, but have a look at the lead item today," she said, directing my attention to the lede story: Miz Sarah Enlists a New Assistant "You leave that to us," I told her. I turned to my wide-eyed assistant. "Marcy, I'm going to have to leave shortly to go to my appointment with General Marshall's attorney. I need you to stay with Marilyn and handle these calls for her." "But what do I say, Miz Sarah?" Marcy asked uneasily. "You can confirm that Mrs. Marshall has received a copy of the divorce petition that her husband filed, since that is public knowledge. You can also tell them that she has asked me to serve as counsel to her in this matter and that I've advised her to have no comment because we prefer to handle this through the legal system. If someone identifies themself as a friend or relative, just take their name and number and let them know Marilyn will try to get back to them later." "But what if they won't accept that?" Marcy asked anxiously. "What if they won't take no for an answer?" She was understandably nervous; I knew this was something she had never done before. I pressed her hand in mine and said in a low voice, "You've been under fire in Afghanistan, Marcy. If you could face that, I know you can do this." With that she straightened her shoulders and got a determined look on her face. I knew then that she'd be alright. I turned to Marilyn, who had stopped her weeping to listen to the two of us. "Marilyn, I want you to relax and put your mind at ease. I have complete confidence in Marcy; she'll take care of all those nosy people till we can find out more about what's really going on." "Thank you, Miz Sarah," Marilyn replied. Then she turned to Marcy. "And thank you, Miz Marcy. I feel so much better knowing you'll be here with me." I could tell that Marcy was still nervous about her new assignment, but I also saw that she was touched by Marilyn's obvious sincerity. "Don't worry about a thing," she said bravely. "I'll hold down the fort until Miz Sarah returns." I like to see a young woman with some spunk. It was time for me to leave for my appointment at Mason, Towson and Donovan. Their offices were in midtown Atlanta, so I reluctantly drove across to busy I-75 and headed south. Fortunately, traffic was a bit lighter than usual, so I was able to pull into the parking garage and make my way to the elevator a few minutes before my scheduled appointment. I hate to be late. When I got to their floor, a pretty young woman met me in the lobby and escorted me back to Forrest Howell's office. He arose from his desk when I entered and cordially shook my hand. When we were both seated, he said, "Well, Mrs. Cannon, it's so nice to meet you at last; I've heard so much about you. Now, remind me please, which firm are you with?" I smiled. "No firm, Mr. Howell, it's just me." I could tell he was embarrassed, but he did his best to recover. "Of course, of course, I'd forgotten." I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. "He's decided this is going to be an easy one," I thought. Before we got started, I thought I'd engage him in a little polite conversation to see if I could get his measure a little better. It's always good to know with whom you're dealing. "So tell me Mr. Howell, why has a prominent New York law firm like Mason, Towson and Donovan decided to open an office in Atlanta?" "Oh, we've had our eye on your fair city for quite some time now," he replied, "but we decided to let some of our competitors test out the waters before making our move. Now we think the city is ready and the time is right," he said rather grandly. "That sounds like just the kind of thing a public relations firm would write," I thought. Of course I knew what it really meant: MT&D had missed the boat and were now scrambling to catch up. "And now that you're here, how do you find Atlanta, Mr. Howell," I asked. "It's lovely, of course, Mrs. Cannon," he replied magnanimously. "The weather is great, especially compared to winters in New York, housing prices are so much more reasonable, and the people are warm and friendly. I just love listening to that slow Southern drawl." I smiled and nodded. It's been my experience that people from outside the South associate slower speech with slower wits. I'd used that mistake to my advantage before. "Well, we're delighted to have such a distinguished law office in our midst," I assured him. "I am, however, a bit surprised that your firm would be active in the practice of family law. I would have thought you would focus on the corporate arena instead." "You're right, of course, Mrs. Cannon; corporate law is our specialty. However, when a person as prominent as General Marshall seeks our assistance, we felt obligated to respond," he explained. It didn't take an interpreter for me to understand what he was saying. MT&D was hoping that a high society divorce case would help raise their profile and bring in new clients from among the movers and shakers in the city. And to make sure those movers and shakers heard about the case, I figured it was very likely that MT&D had been the ones who'd leaked the news to the local gossip mongers, though I knew they would never admit to such a thing. "Not a very ethical way to act," I thought, "but this wouldn't be the first time a law firm seeking publicity had stooped to using a publicist." "And," I reminded myself, "I'll bet they're expecting to charge some big legal fees, especially since I'm sure they expect it will be Marilyn who will be forced to pay their bill." "Well, Mr. Howell, as pleasant as this all is, I suppose we should get down to the case in hand. I must admit that I was surprised to see the divorce petition contained an allegation of infidelity," I said. "Oh, it's not an allegation, Mrs. Cannon," Howell replied smoothly. "We have an eyewitness to Mrs. Marshall's indiscretion!" "An eyewitness!" I exclaimed in surprise. "I can hardly believe that!" "I'm afraid it's so," Howell said, rubbing his hands together in enjoyment. "We have a sworn affidavit to that effect. Would you like to have a copy?" "I certainly would," I snapped. He had obviously been expecting this request because he reached into the top drawer of his desk and produced a copy, which he handed to me. I quickly scanned the document. The gist of the claim was that Marilyn had slipped away during a party being held in Macon. When the affiant had gone to check on Marilyn, she discovered her in flagrante delicto in a bedroom at the far end of the house. All of that was shocking enough. But what really stunned me was the signature at the end of the affidavit: Emma Wolfolk, Marilyn Hart's best friend! Howell obviously felt he held the advantage so he pressed on. "Given the evidence, Mrs. Cannon, we believe that it would be in your client's best interests not to have this matter go to trial. The prenuptial agreement, which I believe you yourself drew up, provides an unambiguous formula for the division of assets in case of just such an eventuality as this. If your client will agree to abide by that agreement, I believe we can settle this whole unpleasantness quickly and without any further gossip such as was making the rounds this morning." I slumped in my chair. While I certainly didn't appreciate the implied threat in his last statement, I had no ready comeback in the face of this shocking development. After reflecting for a moment, I sat up straight and prepared to leave. "Thank you, Mr. Howell. You've given me a great deal to think about. I will, of course, have to take this information back to Mrs. Marshall and discuss how she wishes to proceed. I expect you'll be hearing from me shortly." "Thank you, Mrs. Cannon," he said unctuously, no doubt sensing victory within his grasp. "It's been a real pleasure to meet you." "I'll bet it has," I thought to myself. As I pulled into the service entrance at the back of Marilyn Hart's home, I wasn't looking forward to the confrontation that was coming. Marcy let me in, and started to ask how the meeting had gone. I put her questions aside for the moment and asked her how things had been since I'd been gone. "It's a good thing I was here, Miz Sarah," Marcy exclaimed. "The phone rang almost non-stop." She held up several sheets of paper, and I was interested to see that every call was annotated as to time, duration, caller, subject matter and callback number. "Well, well, I see the army hasn't worn off of you quite yet," I teased her. Just then, Marilyn came into the room. "Don't you give Marcy a hard time, Miz Sarah," she said vigorously. "She was wonderful. She handled all those callers like a pro, and I could tell that some of them were pretty obnoxious. Someone even came to the door pretending to be a delivery man. Marcy wouldn't take any nonsense off of him, and shooed him away." As Marcy looked down modestly, I was impressed by Marilyn's praise. My ex-army assistant appeared to have made a positive impression. But then I remembered what I had to do next, and my mood darkened. I encouraged them to be seated. This was going to be hard, and there was no virtue in putting it off any longer. "Marilyn, my meeting with Forrest Howell did not go well. Their office has some pretty convincing proof that you did indeed violate your wedding vows when you were in Macon." Marcy gasped, and Marilyn began to protest. "That's not true; I did no such thing. How can there be any proof when I didn't do anything?" "Marilyn," I said sternly, "did you go to a party at your sister's house while you were in Macon?" "Of course," she replied, "I already told you that." "And during the course of the party," I continued, "did you go upstairs to one of the bedrooms?" She thought about it for a moment and then responded, "Yes, I remember now, I was feeling a little tired and I slipped off to lie down for a few minutes." "And while you were in that bedroom, did you have any form of romantic or sexual contact with a man?" "Absolutely not!" Marilyn protested vigorously. "I catnapped for a little while. Then, when I woke up, I went in the restroom, freshened my face, and then went back downstairs to rejoin the party. There was no one with me the whole time I was up there, and certainly not another man!" "I'm afraid that's not what this sworn affidavit says. According to this, you had intercourse with a man while you were in that bedroom." "What man?" she shrieked. "There was no man there, there was no one at all. Who does it say I was with?" "The eyewitness was unable to identify the man in the darkened room," I said, "but you were identified by your clothes and the rings on your hand." Marilyn was almost beside herself. "That's impossible. There was no one else there; I didn't do any such thing. Who is telling these lies about me?" "The affidavit was dictated by and sworn to as the truth by Emma Wolfolk," I told her sadly. Marilyn looked as though someone had slapped her across the face. Her eyes darted about in confusion and her lips moved but failed to form words. Finally, she collapsed on the sofa in a fresh gale of tears. "Why would she do that? Why would Emma lie about me? Why, why?" Both Marcy and I were concerned for her; she seemed in such a state. We helped her back to her bedroom and, after persuading her to lie down, we pulled a comforter over her. With the day she'd had, I knew that she was both physically and emotionally exhausted. "Try to get some rest, Marilyn," I said. "Marcy and I will check on you tomorrow. And we'll get to work to figure out how best to handle all this." As we left her darkened room, she was already falling asleep. I told Marcy, "I don't think it's a good idea for Marilyn to be alone right now. I'd like you to stay with her for the next few days until all the foofaraw dies down. Driving back to Virginia Highland, where my office is located, I was curious to hear what Marcy thought about our client now. "The other day," I started, "you seemed to think it likely that Marilyn had cheated. Do you still feel that way now?" "No I don't, Miz Sarah," she replied so vehemently that I was startled. "Whatever made you change your mind?" I asked. "Being in the Army taught me that you can learn a lot about people when you see them under stress," she said. "Today was a very stressful day for Marilyn, yet she was always gracious and polite to me. She fixed me some lunch and brought it to me when I was tied up on the phones, and she took the time to ask me about myself and my background when the phone wasn't ringing. "I guess what I'm saying is that despite being upset and harassed, she treated me like a person, not an employee. It's hard for me to believe that someone who is that nice to a virtual stranger under difficult circumstances could also be selfish and disrespectful to her husband," she finished. I was pleased by what Marcy had said because I thought her response was insightful. "For what it's worth," I told her, "I agree with you. But what matters is what the court determines, and right now the weight of evidence lies against Marilyn Hart. So you and I are going to have to start digging and see if we can't unearth anything that will help her case." "Where do we start, Miz Sarah?" "I'd say the obvious place would be with the three principals in our little drama: the General, Marilyn, and Emma Wolfolk. Why don't you see what you can find out about each of them?" "I'll take my laptop with me and work on it at Marilyn's house when I'm not handling callers," she promised. The next week was a busy one for us. The good news was that after a day or two the spotlight shifted away from Marilyn and her alleged affair. The crowd outside Marilyn's home disappeared and there were no more juicy tidbits from the gossip mongers. Marcy was encouraged by this development, but I warned her that it meant only that the General's law firm had called off the dogs temporarily, hoping for a quick settlement with us. "It could start again at any time if they think we're stalling," I cautioned her. The other good news was that Marilyn's sister made arrangements to come up from Macon to stay with her. Marilyn was still in seclusion, and I felt that having family with her would help keep her spirits up. The bad news was that we weren't making any headway in our efforts to undo Emma Wolfolk's damaging testimony. With Marilyn's sister's help, we contacted many of the guests who had attended the fateful party in Macon, but none of them could shed any further light on the events of the evening. Most of the people we spoke to had not even been aware that Marilyn had disappeared for a while. None of them knew of any old boyfriend with whom she might have had contact. We also developed a list of potential character witnesses, but despite their eagerness to attest to Marilyn's good reputation, I held little hope for such efforts. Her behavior in the past would be unlikely to sway the court in the face of eyewitness testimony to the contrary. Marcy was deep into some online research one day, and I had just hung up the phone when Lucius Rayford unexpectedly arrived at our office. He was not in the habit of visiting unannounced, so even though I was busy, I thought it best to take a few minutes to speak with him. I invited Marcy to join us, but she begged off, saying she was right in the middle of something important and didn't want to lose her train of thought. Lucius didn't stay long, but his visit left me with plenty to think about. In fact, I was still seated in my side chair when Marcy came bounding into my office. "Miz Sarah, I think you'd better come see this," she said urgently, tugging on my arm. I followed her into her office, and she had me take her seat in front of the computer screen. I looked at the information displayed there, but couldn't see the significance. "What am I supposed to be looking for, dear?" I asked her. "It's not so much what you see as what you don't see," she replied rather cryptically. Marcy began pointing at the columns of information and explaining what they represented. Then she pulled up several other windows with additional data. "Do you see what I mean, Miz Sarah?" she said. "Indeed I do, Marcy, indeed I do." "So what do we do now?" she asked. "First, I need to make a couple of phone calls. And you need to call Marilyn and find out when it would be convenient for her to meet with her husband." Marcy just smiled. The next day I called Forrest Howell at Mason, Towson and Donovan. "We're ready to meet with you to discuss a settlement," I told him. "Excellent," he replied almost gleefully. "Why don't we meet here again? I expect our offices are more capacious than yours." I was unperturbed by his little shot. I figured that my agreeing would make Howell more amenable to what I had to say next. "That will be fine, Mr. Howell, as long as all the principals are present. Mrs. Marshall, of course, will come with us, and you should have both General Marshall and Emma Wolfolk in attendance." "Emma Wolfolk? She's not a party to the settlement. Why does she have to be there?" he sputtered. "We've seen nothing but Ms. Wolfolk's affidavit. My client feels she has a right to confront her accuser in person." "Just a minute," Howell shot back, "this is supposed to be a meeting about a settlement, not a confrontation." "Oh, don't worry," I told him, "I can assure you that my client will hold her peace. But I can also assure you that there will be no meeting and no settlement if my client is denied the right to see her accusers. She is adamant. We can do that now and get all this over with, or we can wait until the hearing date, whenever that may be." Howell saw his opportunity for a quick resolution slipping away, and he scrambled to redeem the situation. "Now, now, I didn't say they wouldn't be there, just that this is highly irregular. However, if your client is in fact ready to resolve this matter, we'll be sure to have all the parties present." "I assure you," I said thinly, "we'll have a resolution before the meeting is over." It was a week before we were able to arrange a suitable time to meet, and Marcy and I had not shared our strategy with Marilyn. "There are too many opportunities for something to go wrong, Marcy," I told her. "Let's keep our cards close to the vest." As a result, Marilyn was quite apprehensive as we drove to the MT&D offices. She'd arranged for a car so none of us would have to drive, and as we sat together in the passenger compartment, she fidgeted nervously. Despite what I had said to Forest Howell, Marilyn clearly was not looking forward to facing her husband and former friend. To my surprise, Marcy reached over and took her hand. "Don't you worry, Marilyn. Miz Sarah has everything under control. Everything's going to be OK." Marilyn smiled weakly and sat back in her seat, but she kept hold of Marcy's hand. "Those two have become pretty close since all this started," I noted approvingly. When the elevator deposited us at the MT&D offices, we were led into a large area decorated more like a living room than the conference room of a law office. No sooner were we seated than Forest Howell joined us. "I hope this is acceptable, Mrs. Cannon. I thought an area like this would be less confrontational," he said with a smile. I merely nodded. I could tell that he was feeling very confident; that suited me just fine. In another minute, the door opened again and in walked General Marshall and Emma Wolfolk. The General was wearing his uniform and all his medals. I guess he wanted to impress us. This was the first time I had met Ms. Wolfolk. She was slim and attractive, apparently a few years younger than Marilyn Hart. As she entered, she studiously avoided Marilyn's eyes. I could understand that. "Well," Howell began, "as you can see, we're all here as agreed, so I think we should begin to discuss the terms of the settlement." Miz Sarah Enlists a New Assistant "Actually," I interrupted him, "there are a couple of other people who will be joining us in a few minutes, but I'll introduce them when they arrive." Howell looked at me uncertainly, but then apparently decided to let that pass. "Very well," Howell continued. "Now, as I was saying, the purpose of this meeting is to reach an agreement on a property settlement, relying on the prenuptial agreement which Mrs. Cannon prepared as our guide." "Excuse me, Mr. Howell," I interrupted again, "but wouldn't any discussion of a settlement be predicated on the issue of Marilyn Hart Marshall's alleged infidelity?" "Of course," Howell piped up impatiently. "That's already been settled." "Based on the sworn testimony of Emma Wolfolk," I added. I noticed that Ms. Wolfolk flinched slightly. "That's right, Mrs. Cannon, Ms. Wolfolk witnessed Mrs. Marshall's indiscretion and has given her affidavit to that effect," Howell said impatiently. He spoke slowly, as though I were a child. I ignored Howell and turned to General Marshall. "And you are willing to rely solely on Ms. Wolfolk's testimony, General, even though it means the end of your marriage to Marilyn?" Marcy was looking at me quizzically; we hadn't discussed this. Howell tried to regain control of the meeting, but General Marshall's deep voice overrode his. "Reluctantly, I am forced to believe what Ms. Wolfolk reported. I, of course, was in Washington at the time this all transpired. But Ms. Wolfolk was there and saw what happened. She has no reason to lie about it." "Isn't this sufficient reason?" I asked, pulling a photograph from my file folder and passing it to him. The General's face turned a bright red as he sat there looking at the picture, and his anger seemed to render him incapable of speech. Howell reached across and snatched the photograph from his hands, then gasped as he realized what he was seeing. The picture clearly showed the General lying nude on his back in a large bed. Astride him in what I believe is called the "reverse cowgirl" position was an equally nude Emma Wolfolk, her eyes closed in a grimace of passion. Howell too was groping for words as he tried to take in the full ramifications of what he was seeing. But before he could gather his thoughts, we all heard a loud wail coming from Emma Wolfolk. "They know, Harm, they know." "Shut up," the General hissed at her. "No," she replied, "they know. It's over, Harm." Then she grabbed the General's arm. "Listen, forget the money. It doesn't matter, we can still be together. We can go away like we talked about, just you and me. Please, honey, please, let's just go." Howell tried to reassert himself. "You can't use that picture -- it's not admissible in court." "Maybe, maybe not," I replied, "but I also have a sworn affidavit from a chambermaid who saw the two of them together in the General's room at the Omni. I believe in New York they give great credence to the testimony of hotel maids." Howell sputtered, but I ignored him and turned my attention to Emma Wolfolk. "I'm afraid, Miz Wolfolk, that General Marshall will not be going anywhere with you, whether with or without any money from Marilyn Hart." "Why not?" she cried. "Because he's likely to be spending the next few years in prison. You see, General Marshall is not a general at all, he's simply a con man who's been impersonating an officer." Emma fell back in her seat in shock, but the "general" rose, fists clenched, and began to stride menacingly in my direction. Before any of the rest of us could move, Marcy slid out of her chair and, crouching on one leg, whipped her other leg around, chopping Marshall's feet out from under him. The scene reminded me of my father using an old-fashioned scythe to cut weeds on the farm. And just like the Johnson grass Daddy hated, Marshall fell in a heap onto the carpet. In an instant, Marcy had scooted over to him and forced her right knee into his back, shoving his face into the floor. Then she grabbed his arm and twisted it high behind his back. "Move again, 'General,' and I'll dislocate your shoulder," she snarled at him. Then, to my amazement, she looked up at me and winked! "I was number one in hand-to-hand combat in my basic training class," she said proudly. When she'd performed her self-defense move, Marcy's skirt had risen to a very un-ladylike level. As she knelt over Marshall, she struggled to tug it down, but not before I noticed that her panties were green camouflage. "You can take the girl out of the Army," I thought with amusement, "but you can't take the Army out of the girl." At that moment, the door to the office swung open and two men in dark suits entered. "Ah," I said, "my other guests have arrived. May I introduce agents Murphy and Riordan of the Federal Bureau of Investigation?" The two agents swiftly handcuffed Marshall, read him his Miranda rights and led him away. I walked over to Emma Wolfolk, who was slumped in her chair, crying piteously. When she saw me approach, she shrank back, but I gently touched her arm to try to calm her. "My dear, as I see it you are guilty of having committed perjury as well as conspiracy to defraud. But you're not the first woman to make a fool of herself for love, and I doubt that justice would be served by pursuing an indictment against you. However, I don't think you'll find you have many friends left here in Atlanta, and I doubt there's a married woman in the five counties who would let you get near her husband. My advice would be for you to start fresh somewhere else." I walked back to Forrest Howell. He wouldn't look at me as I spoke to him. "My client will, of course, abide by the prenuptial agreement she signed. However, as you have learned today, it was the General, not Mrs. Marshall, who committed adultery. And it will be Mrs. Marshall who will be filing for divorce and asserting her claim against him. Of course, given the likely future of that unfortunate man, I very much doubt whether he will have any net worth for her to claim. For that matter, I also doubt whether Mason, Towson and Donovan will be able to collect any legal fees from your client." I started to leave, but then turned back to Howell and added, "However, please feel free to pass on the news of our meeting today to your gossip-mongers. I'll bet Atlanta's Gossip Girl would love to have this story." With that, Marilyn, Marcy and I departed. As we rode back in the car, I reached over and gave Marcy's hand a big squeeze. "Thank you so much for protecting me the way you did. I'm not sure what would have happened if you hadn't intervened." "When I saw him start toward you, I froze for a second. I just couldn't believe that an officer would ever strike a woman," Marcy said. "But then I remembered that he wasn't really an officer and I guess I reacted instinctively the way I'd been trained." When we arrived at Marilyn's house, she begged us to come in so we could talk some more about all that happened. Even though I was worn out from all the goings on, I acquiesced because I realized that she didn't know the full story. "I guess I understand now about Emma and Harm," Marilyn said, "but how did you find out about the two of them?" "That's right," Marcy added, "you never told me about that." "I'm sorry for keeping both of you in the dark," I replied, "but it was absolutely imperative to keep that secret until we held the meeting. If even a hint of that had gotten around, Marshall might well have disappeared." "But what made you suspect them in the first place?" Marilyn piped up. "Well, Marcy and I were confused at first, but both of us believed that you were telling the truth. If you were telling the truth, then Emma had to be lying. But she had nothing to gain by doing so unless General Marshall was somehow involved. The problem was we had no way to prove that. Then I got some help from an unexpected source: Cora Hopewell." Marcy looked up in surprise at the mention of the young woman she had helped so recently. "She had taken a second job as a maid at the Omni," I explained. Of course I had to stop at that point and tell Marilyn who Cora was and how we'd come to help her. As I was doing so, Marcy was fidgeting. When I ended my explanation, Marcy immediately spoke up. "But Cora didn't know either General Marshall or Emma Wolfolk. I still don't understand how she got involved." "She didn't know them," I agreed, "but she likes to keep up with the latest gossip. When she read about the scandal and saw the pictures, she realized she had seen the General with another woman at the hotel where she was working. When she learned that I was representing Marilyn, she wanted to help us. But she didn't know how, so she went to Lucius for advice. He gave her the camera to put in the General's hotel room so she'd have proof; then he came to me. You know the rest." "How ironic!" Marcy exclaimed. "All that gossip the law firm spread around really backfired on them. All it wound up doing was to alert the one person who could demolish their whole case!" "But I still don't know how Harm and Emma got together in the first place," Marilyn protested. "Marilyn, this is going to be hard for you to hear, but I'm pretty certain that he started a relationship with Emma while he was engaged to you. I think he seduced her and then convinced her that the only way they could be together was if she would help him swindle you out of half your assets." Marilyn shed a few more quiet tears as she began to realize just how treacherous her Prince Charming had been all along. "The thing is," I went on, "if their little scheme had been successful, I think Marshall would have abandoned Emma soon after he had divorced you. You see, Marcy had felt that something wasn't right about Harmon Marshall all along. After that first day she spent out at your house, she began researching the general. She started checking her military sources but couldn't find anything about him. That was when she began to think that he wasn't a general at all." "But the medals, his trips to Washington," Marilyn protested. "Anyone can fly to Washington," I reminded her, "and you can find almost any medal you like at a pawn shop." Marilyn groaned. I went on with my account. "Once Marcy showed me what she'd found -- or rather hadn't found -- I made a call to the Atlanta bureau chief of the FBI. He's an old acquaintance of mine, and he was very interested in what we had learned. The Bureau ran a check and quickly confirmed that the general was an imposter. "But then they began to dig deeper and discovered that this wasn't Marshall's first scam. In fact, he's wanted on a number of charges for flimflamming women around the country." Even though Marilyn already knew that her soon-to-be ex-husband had lied and tried to cheat her, learning that he was actually a career criminal was very hard for her to take. And I had another blow to deliver. "The agents also learned that Harmon Marshall wasn't even his real name. The man you married had many aliases, but his mother named him Allen Snead." "Anyway," I concluded, "pretending to be a general was pretty brazen, but he figured the chance to get his hands on an heiress's trust fund was worth it. If he could have pulled it off, he'd have disappeared and be living the good life from now on." "How could I have been such a fool?" Marilyn moaned. "Please don't be too hard on yourself," I consoled her. "It wasn't just you; he managed to con Emma Wolfolk and me and virtually everyone else in Atlanta he met. He's a gifted liar who's taken advantage of many people over the years, and the FBI is very happy to have him in custody." One of Marilyn's qualities we'd observed several times was her ability to think about others even in the midst of her own troubles. She showed that again now. "Poor Emma. I can't help but feel a little sorry for her. Even though she was part of his scheme and told those awful lies about me, in some ways she was a victim just like me." I was not so ready to let Emma off the hook. "It's true that Emma was deceived, but when she yielded to temptation, she not only abandoned her moral values, she betrayed her best friend. Now she's going to have to leave Atlanta the way Eve was sent from the Garden. Emma may not deserve prison for her sins, but she certainly deserves her banishment." "Well, all I know is that I would have been in a bad way If it hadn't been for you and Marcy," Marilyn said. "I can never thank you enough for what you've done for me." Then she stood and hugged us both. As we turned to leave, Marilyn caught Marcy's hand. "I have especially enjoyed getting to know you during all this," she said earnestly. "I hope you'll stay in touch with me." "Marilyn might have lost one friend in this whole misadventure," I thought, "but it appears that she's made a new one." As Marcy and I drove back toward Virginia Highland, there was little conversation. We both had a lot to think about. When we arrived, I figured Marcy would want to get her car and head on home, but she followed me into the office instead. I could tell she had something to say, so I just waited until she was ready. Finally, she looked at me and said, "Miz Sarah, I think I owe you an apology. When you offered me this job, I wasn't very appreciative. In fact, I think I told you I really didn't want it because I wanted to help people in need." She took a deep breath. "But the thing is, Marilyn needed our help every bit as much as Cora Hopewell did. It would have been an injustice to Cora if Jerrold had been able to hide that money from her, and I'm glad we were able to get her what she deserved. But it would have been just as big an injustice to Marilyn if that fake general had scammed her out of what was rightfully hers. And without us, Marilyn would have been every bit as helpless as Cora." She sighed. "I still want to help the poor, Miz Sarah, but now I realize that there are a lot of folks out there who need legal help, whether they live in the projects or Buckhead. I wish I hadn't taken that attitude with you." I took her hands. "Marcy, there's no apology needed. You spoke your mind, and that's what I wanted: someone who's not afraid to do so. If you've changed your mind as a result of what's happened, that's good too, because that means that you're open to new ideas and ways of thinking." I dropped her hands and put my own on my hips. "You've done very well, young lady. You've shown intelligence and initiative, you have good powers of observation, and you've proven that you can work effectively with people from different walks of life. And it doesn't hurt that you know a few karate moves!" We both smiled at that. "Anyway, that three-month probationary period is just about up," I went on. "There's no question in my mind that you've proved yourself. Now the only question is: have I passed my probationary period with you? Do you still want to work with me?" She paused just long enough to make me wonder if I had misjudged the situation. So I was startled when, with a big smile on her lips, Marcy suddenly snapped to attention, gave me a knife-edge salute, and said, "Ma'am, yes ma'am!"