Last to die

Jack did a double take. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited, just like the rest of you.”

“I wasn’t aware that you and Sally were…on good terms.”

“I wouldn’t say it was good terms. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I was expecting her to leave me a mile-high pile of shit and an extra large spoon. I just wasn’t expecting her to leave me anything. But when you’re worth forty-six million bucks, maybe there’s enough to go around for everybody. Even your ex. So here I am.”

“For the money?” said Jack.

The lawyer jumped in, as if pained by Miguel’s words. “That’s enough information, Mr. Rios. We came here to sit and listen, remember?”

“Oh, put a sock in it, Gerry. You don’t represent me here, so don’t be telling me what to do.”

“Hold on,” said Jack. “Are you saying that Gerry the Genius is attending this meeting in some capacity other than as your lawyer?”

“Excuse me,” said the attorney. “That’s Gentleman Gerry.”

Miguel said, “Genius here got the same letter I got. He’s named in Sally’s will, too.”

Jack leaned back, thinking. “Interesting. We’ve got an estate worth forty-six million dollars, but so far, the only people who appear to be in the ru

“I’m an attorney.”

“Another lawyer,” said Jack.

“I’m here on behalf of Mason Rudsky.”

Rudsky was a name that everyone but Tatum seemed to recognize immediately. Jack said, “Mason Rudsky, the assistant state attorney?”

“That’s the one.”

Jack said, “The same Mason Rudsky who oversaw the investigation into the murder of Fe

“Yes.”

Miguel glared at him and said, “The same Mason Rudsky who in five freakin’ years never brought an indictment against anybody for the murder of my daughter.”

There was anger in the father’s voice, and it cut through the room like an Arctic blast.

The door opened, and all rose as Vivien Grasso entered the conference room. “Keep your seats,” she said as she took her place at the head of the table.

“Thank you for coming. Sorry for the late start, but I wanted to give everyone a chance to get here. I would begin by saying that there was one other invitee, but I have as yet been unable to nail down a current address for him. I’ll assume he’s a no-show.”

“Who is it?” asked Jack.

“Not important for present purposes. You’ll see soon enough when the will is filed with the court. He won’t lose any of his rights as beneficiary simply because he failed to attend the reading of the will.”

“Does that mean everyone here is a beneficiary?” asked Jack.

“Let’s have the will speak for itself, shall we?” Vivien opened her leather dossier and removed the last will and testament of Sally Fe

But why?

“I, Sally Fe

Vivien read slowly, and Jack listened to every word. He was a lawyer, after all. Words were his business, and words were all you had when it came to dealing with the wishes of the dead. But he was begi

“When do we get to the good stuff?” asked Tatum. Jack glanced at his client. The big guy’s eyes were about to glaze over.

“I’m turning to that now,” said Vivien as she slid another document from her dossier. “The trust instrument.”

“Trust?” said Jack.

“Bear with me,” said Vivien. “This is a multimillion-dollar estate, after all. It’s a little more complicated than leaving Uncle Ralph the rice maker and a pair of old bowling shoes.”

“Take your time,” said Jack.

Vivien read on for another fifteen minutes. Although the language was just as dry and legalistic as before, she managed to hold the attention of everyone in the room. Especially at the end, when she mentioned each of the beneficiaries by name.

Jack scribbled down five names as she read them. “The sixth?”

“I told you, you’ll get the sixth after I’ve had a chance to meet with him.” Vivien returned to the document, reading all the way down to the date and place of execution. When she finished, she laid the papers on the table before her, saying nothing further.

The others looked at her, then at one another, as if not quite sure they’d heard it correctly. Or perhaps they were just stu

Finally, Sally’s ex spoke up. “Are you saying she actually left us her money?”

“Forty-six million dollars?” said the Genius. He seemed dumb-founded, somewhere between giddy and on the verge of a panic attack, almost speaking to himself. “I can’t believe she left it all to us.”

Vivien said, “Well, technically, she didn’t leave it to all of you. She’s leaving it to one of you.”

Tatum scratched his head, made a face. “I’m not followin’ any of this. Who gets what, and when do we get it?”

Vivien smiled patiently and said, “Mr. Knight, let me put this in terms that everyone here can understand. All of the assets of Ms. Fe

“Speak English,” said Tatum.

Vivien looked at him coolly and said, “Last one to die takes all.”

The reporter looked up from her notes. “Is that legal?”

“Sure,” said Vivien.

Tatum said, “Let me get this straight. If all these other jokers live eighty-nine years, and I live ninety years, I get the money, but I have to wait ninety years before I gets a single pe

“Exactly. But you get interest.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Let me give you another for instance,” said the Genius. “Let’s say that we all walk out of here, and these fine folks get hit by a bus. And I don’t. That means I’m a millionaire?”

“No. There is still one other beneficiary who’s not here.”

“Him too,” said the Genius. “Let’s say they’re all on the same bus, and it rides over a cliff. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“Then, yes, you’ve hit the jackpot. You inherit forty-six million dollars as soon as everyone else is dead. The only condition is that you’re still alive when everyone else dies.”

“Doesn’t matter how they die?”

“No. What matters is when they die.”

A tense silence filled the room, which was prolonged by an anxious exchange of eye contact among a group of strangers who now, for some reason, seemed forever linked to one another. Finally, Gerry the Genius said, “It’s as if she’s encouraging us to bump each other off.”

More silence.

Vivien looked each of them in the eye, then said, “I’m not suggesting that anyone here is so inclined, but if any of the beneficiaries under this will were to bump off the others in hopes of inheriting the whole pie-well, just forget about it. Your motive would be obvious, so you’d never get away with it.”

Miguel chuckled, more philosophical than angry, as if the beauty of his ex-wife’s scheme had suddenly come clear. “So the joke’s on us. She makes us feel close to the money, but no one can really get it. At least not soon enough for it to be of any use to us in our lifetime. We’ll just go on living and hoping we’ll be rich some day, but we’re all just going to die as poor as we ever were.”

Vivien said, “If you’re feeling abused, you can always opt out. Nothing prevents a beneficiary from rejecting his right to an inheritance.”