Last to die

He looked around the room, seeming to be doing some quick computations in his head as to the odds of his outliving everyone else in the room. “No. I’ll play her little game. I’d be happy to take her forty-six million.”

“And she’d be happy for you to have it,” said Vivien. “And I mean that. Sincerely.”

“So all we can do is wait?” asked the reporter. “Just go on living our lives and wait for everyone else to die?”

“That’s exactly right,” said Vivien.

Gerry the Genius flashed his plastic grin. “And, of course, we should all rest a lot easier and live a lot longer knowing that none of us here is a trained killer.”

He laughed too hard at his own joke. They all laughed, but it only made the moment all the more uneasy.

“Yeah,” said Tatum, catching Jack’s eye as he spoke. “Thank goodness for that.”

Nine

Things were moving fast. On Tuesday morning, Jack and Tatum were in court already. The plan was to move things even faster. Jack didn’t often find himself in probate court, and it was a bit of an adjustment for him. In some ways it was the most uncivil of places in the entire civil court system, the bloody arena in which sisters fought brothers and sons betrayed mothers, all in pursuit of family fortunes. Yet it was regarded as a strangely courteous environment, at least among members of the bar. Lawyers held the door for each other, said good morning, shook hands, knew each other by their first names. They even seemed to talk softly when addressing the court, as if in respect for the dead. Here, the stakes were as high as in any courtroom, but the style was different. That was why they called it “Whisper Court.”

“Good morning,” said Judge Parsons from the bench. He was one of the more respected members of the Miami-Dade County judiciary, a wiry African-American with thick, gray eyebrows and a shaved head that glistened like a brand-new bowling ball.

“Good morning, Your Honor.” The reply was a mixed chorus of lawyers and clients. Since the meeting at Vivien Grasso’s office, the number of relevant players had grown appreciably. Evidently, none of the beneficiaries was willing to play Sally’s forty-six-million-dollar game without topflight legal representation. Ex-husband Miguel Rioshad hired Parker Aimes, the five-time chairman of the probate section of the Florida Bar and a distant relative of the late Will Rogers. (The joke was that he’d never met a decedent he didn’t like.) Reporter Deirdre Meadows was represented by not one, but two lawyers from Miami’s biggest firm. Assistant State Attorney Mason Rudsky had already dumped his first lawyer and replaced him with a former law professor who had literally written the book on Florida’s law of estates and trusts. With Vivien Grasso as personal representative of Sally’s estate, the introductions were starting to sound like a Who’s Who of the probate bar, with one notable exception.

“Your Honor, I’m Gerry Colletti…appearing on behalf of Gerry Colletti.”

There was a light chuckle in the background, which seemed to a

The judge said, “Mr. Swyteck, it’s your motion that’s brought us here. Please proceed.”

“It’s really quite a simple motion, Judge. As you know, Vivien Grasso is the personal representative of Sally Fe

“But according to Ms. Grasso, she read the entire will to you at her office.”

Vivien rose and said, “That’s exactly right, Your Honor.”

“That’s not exactly right,” said Jack. “She read the entire will to us, except for the identity of the sixth beneficiary.”

Vivien said, “If I may explain, Your Honor.”

“Please do.”

“We’re talking about a forty-six-million-dollar estate. Look at the interest this case is generating,” she said as she turned and pointed to the public seating behind her.

Jack turned and looked with everyone else. The gallery was nearly full, six rows of shoulder-to-shoulder seating.

The judge asked, “Where did the buzz about this case come from all of a sudden?”

Vivien said, “Obviously you didn’t see the paper this morning. Nifty little story about the missing heir in a forty-six-million-dollar game of survival. Doesn’t take long for word to get out when one of the beneficiaries is a reporter.”

Deirdre Meadows sank low in her chair.

Vivien continued. “Now, why do you think the courtroom is nearly full for a Mickey Mouse motion like this one? I’ll tell you why. Because every warm body sitting in the observation gallery this morning works for a lawyer. They’re chomping at the bit, just waiting for me to divulge the name of that sixth beneficiary, so that they go ru

Jack took another look, pa

The judge flashed a thin smile and said, “Fu

“You bet it is,” said Vivien. “And that’s why I don’t want to publicize the name of the sixth beneficiary until I’ve been able to locate him. If I’m forced to reveal the name, I’m afraid that one of these coyotes, as you say, is likely to reach him before I do. Frankly, I think that’s an utterly distasteful way for someone to find out they’re a beneficiary under a will.”

“I agree,” said Jack. “That’s why I haven’t asked the court to order Ms. Grasso to file the will with the court.”

“Then what are you requesting?” asked the judge.

“This is a peculiar situation,” said Jack. “Ms. Fe

“Which is exactly Ms. Grasso’s point,” said the judge. “Unless the beneficiaries are willing to wait fifty or more years for the money, they’ll either have to figure out some way to get the other beneficiaries disqualified or to work out a settlement. That means they’ll need a sharp lawyer, and I have little doubt that there will be plenty of them hunting down our mystery beneficiary once his name is revealed.”

“That’s one side of it, Your Honor. But consider another possibility. Immediately following the reading of the will at Ms. Grasso’s office, I believe it was Mr. Colletti who made a joke to the effect that it’s a good thing none of the beneficiaries is a trained killer, or maybe they’d all have to start looking over their shoulders. After leaving the office, it occurred to me: How do we know this unidentified sixth beneficiary isn’t a trained killer?”

“Do you have reason to believe he is dangerous?” asked the judge. Jack hesitated. He couldn’t very well inform the judge that Sally Fe

“I don’t know anything about him,” said Jack. “But for the sake of personal safety and peace of mind, each of the beneficiaries should know the name of the sixth beneficiary. So I ask the court to order Ms. Grasso to divulge the name to us immediately, under seal, for our eyes only. Then once she finds him, she can make the name public.”