Free The Reform Artists: A Legal Suspense, Spy Thriller (The Reform Artists Series Book 1) by Jon Reisfeld

his own, makeshift brand of shorthand: “M.S. rejects settlement. Believes wife cheating. Hire PI. No counter offer. Trial.”
    Then, he keyed in the next call he would make that day—the one to Beverly West, in which he would tell opposing counsel that there would be no deal in the case, at this time.
    That should put a smile on her face. Now, she can make an even bigger down payment on that beach-front property of hers.
    Swindell hit the Enter key with a flourish, restarting the program’s live timer, the proverbial ‘meter’ that accumulated billable hours for him whenever it ran. It had been idle for all of two minutes. He smiled. Everything was on track. The case of Silkwood v. Silkwood was proceeding nicely.
    Then suddenly, despite years of careful conditioning, Swindell felt a slight tinge of guilt. He wondered if he should have pressed Martin harder for a counter offer.                                                   After all, he knew this was the best time to negotiate a more favorable custody and visitation arrangement for his client. He was convinced Martin would not have cut off negotiations if he truly had understood the implications of that Temporary Restraining Order.
    Even though the court had granted the order solely on Katie Silkwood’s say so; even though it was temporary in nature and, therefore, should have no permanent bearing on the case; even though a one-sided ex-parte hearing decision deserved minimal legal standing, at best; Swindell knew better. The order, by its mere existence, already had changed the custodial status quo in the case. It could, and probably would, do his client grave harm.
    When the two parties were to appear in court the following Monday, Katie Silkwood would command the legal ‘high ground,’ as the children’s new, court-appointed sole custodian. Meanwhile, Martin would begin the proceedings as a non-custodial parent—with no presumptive right to custody at all! What Martin could not know, because Swindell had never told him, was that, in deciding matters of custody, Family Court judges almost always prefer to maintain the custodial status quo , no matter how new, tenuous or questionable its award might have been.
    Swindell winced over the discovery of his newly resurrected conscience. He picked up the phone and briefly considered calling Martin back. Then, he returned it to its holder and, instead, retrieved the small key to his desk’s top-right drawer, where he kept his private stash of hand-rolled, contraband Cuban cigars. A moment later, he finished rummaging through the drawer and withdrew the prize he sought: one of his cherished, six-inch long, H. Upmann Magnum Fifties.
    Swindell clipped the end and gently rolled the cigar between his thumb and forefinger several times, taking its measure. He closed his eyes and brought it to his nose to savor its rich, pungent aroma. What is it about this Silkwood fellah, he asked himself, as he struck a match and lovingly puffed the cigar to life, that has allowed him to get under my skin?
    Swindell took a deep, long puff, held it a second and then slowly released a fresh, new blast of smoke. As the roiling cloud fanned out and dissipated in the air above his desk, he shook his head and chuckled. He thought he was long past caring about these poor schlubs who couldn’t keep their wives in line. Like most of the men Swindell represented, this new one clearly loved his kids. A sign of the times, he thought. After all, he’s part of a new breed of husband—our second generation of fully ‘liberated’ co-parentin’ males.
    But there was something decidedly different about Martin. When Swindell had asked him the perfunctory background questions about his family life, he was surprised, almost touched, by the spontaneity and sincerity his client had exhibited.
    Martin’s entire demeanor had changed, brightening considerably, when he spoke about a recent afternoon he had