Disclaimer: I do not own the book Secret Widow/ Secret Window, Secret Garden or any of it's characters. They are the sole property of one Stephan King.
Rating: Rated "M" for future sexual content, language, violence, and any thing else construed as vulgar.
CHAPTER 1: Telling off Amy
"Mort, are you mad? You are going to need legal help on your side before going through with this whole hog!" Amy shouted across the lobby of the spacious plaza building. It's walls made of slate stone, it's many windows creating natural light instead of wasting the money on the ghost white fluorescents. The floors were made of a black, pink, white polished marble which was protected by the yards of carpet, to collect the dirt from people's shoes, colored a dirty clashing red shade.
Mort threw Amy a stare so intense it should have knocked her over. Who the hell was she to tell him what to do when she barely knew what was going on? Although after being married to her for so long, he remembered how she thought of herself. She thought she was a goddess who knew all, saw all. He hated when she was like this. It used to be when she got like this she was about to shove his pecker into a vice. Not anymore. She wanted a divorce, by God he was going to give it to her, and all the rage and hate that came with.
"Amy, I will tell you for the last god dam time. I will talk to Leslie tomarrow. Now, unless you would like to tell me anything else that involves you running my life which only the person I can call my wife can do, I think I shall say Adieu," he then promptly turned on his heel and left Amy to stand there looking like a complete idiot with her open as wide as a large mouth bass.
Once he was safely beyond the borders of two steel and glass doors he yanked out his keys and put a smile on his face extremely proud of how he had completely humiliated Amy like that in public. Lord knows she deserved it.
Walking in the front door of his cabin which he was in the middle of remodeling to celebrate the soon-to-be finality of his divorce Mort yelled, "Hello Shooter! Oh wait, you're gone and things are finally starting to look up." After Shooter had helped Mort dispose of Ted permanently, Amy had become all of a sudden more okay with Mort Making some changes to their divorce that went more in his favor. It was all thanks to his new lawyer, Mr. Leslie Schroer. Without him Mort might never have signed the settlement. Him and Amy's new-found gullibility. Speaking of which, he had to call Leslie to make that appointment before he forgot.
Picking up his new black, cordless, UnidenĀ® telephone he dialed the law firm. He heard the familiar click of someone answering the telephone followed by, " Hello. You have reached the law offices of Schroer, James, and Stienbrook. How may I assist you?"
"Hello there, this is Morton Rainey in Tashmore Lake, New York. I was calling to see if Leslie Schroer could come over to may house for an after hours appointment as was done about three weeks ago? It is very important."
"Of coarse Mr. Rainey. I will make the appointment right away. It could be tonight at seven o'clock if that is soon enough?"
"That is perfect. Thank-you." He said hanging up and started to get ready as it was already 5:30.
---------- ------------ --------- -------- -----------
"Wait, Mr. Rainey! Damn," whispered Helen into the receiver of the phone. Mr. Rainey had forgotten to specify which Leslie Schroer. Mr. Schroer, CEO or his daughter Leslie jr. "Well, I guess I'll have to play Eenie, Meanie, Minie, Moe and hope I get it right." After finishing the childish song, she landed on Miss. Schroer. Then she walked down to Leslie Jr.'s office to tell her of her extra appointment.
When she reached the office, she found the young attorney talking on the phone twirling her golden honey hair around her finger flashing her $200.00 highlights with the flipping action. Helen waited.
"Yes Helen," she asked in her always soft sweet tone that was so far always deadly in the court room once she had finished the phone call she was in.
"Umm, Miss. Schroer, you have an unexpected at-home appointment in upper New York. He says you were there about three weeks ago and that it was extremely important."
"Who is it," queried the now very puzzled advocate.
"Mr. Morton Rainey. He's up in Tashmore Lake so you'll need to leave by 6:15 to be there by 7:00." With that Helen went out the door and grabbed her purse, as her day at the office was now over.
