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Jack skipped the lengthy description of Sally’s will, the game, the murders-things he already knew. He went straight to the end, picking up with a quote from Homicide Detective Rick Larsen.
“She [Sally] probably hadn’t scripted it this way, but she had to have known that alliances would form, that some players might even go to the extreme measures that Tatum Knight and Miguel Rios had gone to-effectively a tag team approach to eliminating the other heirs, all done in a way to make it look like the work of a psychopathic stalker, the missing Alan Sirap.” Larsen shrugs, almost philosophical in tone as he unscrews the cigar plug from his mouth and adds, “The consensus view among Monday-morning quarterbacks is that Sally probably figured it would come down to a final battle between Tatum Knight and Alan Sirap, never knowing for certain that Sirap was actually her husband.”
In the end, that gap in Sally’s knowledge had tragic consequences for Miami attorney Gerry Colletti, Assistant State Attorney Mason Rudsky, and Tribune reporter Deirdre Meadows. “Clearly this got out of hand,” says Rene Fe
Editor’s Note: Tribune reporter Deirdre Meadows contributed to this report through articles previously published in the Tribune and materials from a book she was writing before her death.
Jack pitched the newspaper aside. Theo was seated across from him at the little round table, chewing roundly, as if he were trying to swallow an entire pancake in the fewest number of bites ever recorded.
“Something wrong?” he said in a muffled voice, his mouth completely full.
“Pretty lame article.”
Theo’s whole body jerked as he swallowed too much food. Jack half-expected to see the bulge in his neck, like a python having a bu
“Lame in what way?”
“It doesn’t even come close to answering the really big question.”
“Which is?”
Jack reached for his wallet to pay the bill, knowing without even asking that Theo had “forgotten” his again. He looked at Theo and said, “The question five people just died trying to answer: Who gets the money?”
Sixty-four
I’m going back to Africa,” said Rene.
She was standing on Jack’s front step, dressed in a sleeveless shell and a pair of jeans that fit loosely but still couldn’t deny her figure. Jack stood in the open doorway to his house, not sure what to say. “So soon?”
“I’m afraid so. I was on my way to the airport. Just thought I’d stop by, say thanks.”
“I’m glad you did. Come on in, please. If you’ve got a minute.”
“Thanks.”
Jack stepped aside and let her pass. Theo came from the kitchen to greet them. He’d been out fishing in the boat he kept behind Jack’s house, and he smelled of it.
“Sorry for the odor,” he said.
“No problem. My tolerance is quite high.”
He had to think a moment, then Jack said, “Rene’s on her way back to Africa.”
“Ah,” said Theo. “Back to fight the slave traders, are you?”
“My work isn’t finished there.”
“Good for you. You’re one amazing babe, you know that?”
“Thank you. Sort of.”
“Hey, I was wondering about something,” said Theo. “A while ago on TV I saw something about how the same rush you get from eating chocolate also comes from having sex.”
“Theo, come on,” said Jack.
“It has to do with the part of the brain that’s stimulated,” said Rene.
“Exactly. Which means that people who don’t have enough sex are the ones who crave chocolate, right?”
“I suppose that follows.”
He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Does that mean that people who don’t have chocolate crave sex?”
She just smiled.
“Theo,” said Jack, groaning.
“Well, shit, Swyteck. She’s go
“Theo, would you mind getting us something to drink?”
He considered it, then said, “Got just the thing. Be right back.”
Jack waited until his friend disappeared into the kitchen, then he offered Rene a seat in the living room. They sat in armchairs on opposite sides of the cocktail table, facing each other.
“He’s nonstop entertainment, isn’t he?” said Rene.
“He’s nonstop. I’ll give him that much.”
They shared a smile, then Jack said, “You mind if I ask you something a little personal?”
“I might not. Depends on what it is.”
“It’s about Sally.”
“That seems like fair territory, after all you’ve been through.”
“It puzzles me that she put the whole forty-six million dollars into this game she created for six-or as it turned out, five-people she considered enemies. Seems to me that she could have accomplished the same objective with forty-six million or twenty-six million or even six million.”
“She went with everything she had.”
“That’s exactly what confuses me. A guy like Tatum would have fought just as hard for a lot less money. I guess what I’m saying is this: She didn’t have to completely disinherit her sister. She could have left you twenty million dollars and let the others fight over the remaining twenty-six.”
“She could have. But she didn’t.”
Jack waited for her to say more, then simply asked, “Why not?”
She lowered her eyes, as if searching for the fortitude to say what she was about to say. “That’s one of the things I came here to tell you.”
Jack didn’t even realize it, but he had scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Yes?”
“Turns out she didn’t disinherit me.”
Jack blinked, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Say that again?”
“One of my jobs as personal representative of Sally’s estate is to find all wills and codicils. Well, turns out there was another will.”
“Another will?”
“Yes. It was in French. She kept it in a safe deposit box in Paris. It postdates the one she made in Florida.”
“Which means that it supersedes the one she made in Florida.”
“That’s my understanding.”
“And it leaves her fortune to…?”
Her expression turned very serious. “To me.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. Everything.”
Jack couldn’t help but smile. “That’s beautiful. So that means these jokers here in Florida were fighting, clawing, and literally killing each other over a will that was…”
“Not worth the paper it was written on,” she said flatly.
“What do you know?” said Jack.
“Yeah. What do you know?”
“Or maybe the more important question is, What did you know?”
“Meaning what?”
“Were you surprised when you found that will? Or did you know that Sally had AIDS? Know that she was pla
“I was hoping that you and I could agree that I was totally surprised.”
“Do I have reason to think otherwise?”
“Not unless you want to believe that I stood by and watched this bloodbath play out, knowing full well that I alone had the power to reveal the existence of this second will and put a stop to it.”
“I hate to think you’d do that.”
“I would never do that. Mind you, I’m not overwhelmed with grief over the passing of any of them. The divorce lawyer, the prosecutor, the reporter who wanted to get rich and famous writing that damn book. Every last one of them made life unlivable for Sally. But I’m a healer, not a killer.”
Jack considered it. She was looking him straight in the eye, and he could feel it all the way to his bones. He wanted to believe her, and he felt convinced. He’d been fooled before, big time, by his ex, and he was pretty sure he knew the difference.