James Grippando - Last to die

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Tatum Knight is a former contract killer. Ruthless. Conniving. And he's Jack's newest client. Tatum is the older brother of Jack's best friend, Theo. Theo himself spent time on death row until Jack found the evidence to prove him innocent. Jack isn't so sure about Tatum.
A gorgeous young woman has been shot dead in her Mercedes on a Miami street. Tatum denies that he had anything to do with it, but he admits to Jack that he did meet with her in Theo's bar, where she tried to hire him.
Sally Fenning was worth forty-eight million dollars when she died. Money had never made her happy, so she left it all to her enemies – left it for them to fight over, that is. She named six heirs in her will, but there's a catch: No one gets a penny until all but one of the heirs are dead. It's survival of the greediest.
Quickly the lawyers gear up for a bitter legal battle, but Jack braces himself for much worse. He alone knows that heir number six – Tatum Knight – is a professional killer. As the heirs begin to fall, Jack and his unforgettable sidekick, Theo, are in a race against time to discover if Tatum is behind all the killing. Or is someone even more frightening, more dangerous, the odds-on favorite to be the last to die?

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

There was a light chuckle in the background, which seemed to annoy Gerry. He was apparently the only person in the courtroom who didn’t find it goofy that the client was introducing himself as the lawyer.

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 Fenning’s estate. The law gives her ten days from the date of Ms. Fenning’s death to deposit with the clerk of the court a copy of Ms. Fenning’s last will and testament. As of today, ten days have come and gone, and the will is not on file.”

“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 running after him with a business card.”

Jack took another look, panning across a sea of faces that looked guilty as charged.

The judge flashed a thin smile and said, “Funny, but I’m suddenly reminded of something I watched the other night on the Discovery Channel. A helpless deer was surrounded by a pack of hungry coyotes with teeth bared. The pack slowly closed in, jaws snapping, until finally one of them lunged forward and took hold of a hoof. The others piled on. In a matter of seconds the deer was on its back, limbs extended, drawn-and-quartered as the ravenous coyotes pulled mercilessly for a share of the meal. Anyway, I digress. I guess that’s my way of saying that one third of forty-six million dollars is a contingency fee worth fighting over.”

“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. Fenning’s will is structured so that the surviving beneficiary inherits the entire estate.”

“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 Fenning tried to hire his own client as a hit man, or that the real reason for his motion was to test his theory that beneficiary number six was the hired gun who hadn’t turned Sally down.

“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.”

“Ms. Grasso, what’s wrong with that?” asked the judge.

“In theory, nothing,” she replied. “But we have to look at reality here. If I were simply turning the name over to Mr. Swyteck, whom I know and trust, I wouldn’t be worried. But let’s face it. Once the coyotes sitting on that side of the rail realize that everyone sitting on this side of the rail knows who the sixth beneficiary is, there’s no telling how much money they might pay one of us for that information.”

Gerry jumped to his feet. “I resent that, Your Honor! Ms. Grasso was looking right at me when she made that implied accusation.”

“I was not.”

“Oh, what a crock.”

“Enough!” said the judge, throwing his hands in the air. “I won’t have lawyers sniping at each other in my courtroom.”

Heavens to Mergatroid, no, thought Jack. Not in Whisper Court.

The lawyers apologized, but the judge had already made up his mind. “Ms. Grasso, I appreciate your concerns, but I can’t suspend filing deadlines based upon your abstract fear that some lawyers may act unethically in pursuit of a hefty contingency fee.” He peered out over his reading glasses, scanning the public seating area. “That said, let me make myself absolutely clear to the peanut gallery. If anyone oversteps the bounds of ethics and good taste in pursuit of this sixth beneficiary, they’ll have me to deal with.”

“Does that mean I’m required to file the will with the court?” asked Vivien.

“Yes. By the end of the day. And in the interest of avoiding a mad stampede on the clerk’s office, let’s do it this way. Please announce the name of the sixth beneficiary.”

“Right here, in open court?”

“No time like the present.”

“All right. If that’s the court’s ruling.”

“That’s my ruling.”

“His name is Alan Sirap.”

A rumble emerged from the public seating behind Jack, as scores of courthouse spies reached for pen and paper to scribble down the name. Jack glanced at his client, but Tatum shrugged, as if the name meant nothing to him.

“Anything further?” asked the judge.

No one answered.

“Then we’re adjourned.” With the bang of a gavel, the judge stepped down from the bench and exited swiftly through a side exit to his chambers.

The lawyers and their clients rose and gathered their briefcases. Colletti took the long way around the big mahogany table, and he didn’t stop until he was standing within Jack’s personal space. He spoke firmly but in a low voice, so no one but Jack could hear. “If you think you got a leg up because you’re buddy-buddy with Vivien Grasso, think again. I’m not in this to lose. Especially to a client like yours.”

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