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.”
“I’d take him over your client any day, Gerry.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Jack watched as Colletti walked up the aisle to the main exit in the back of the courtroom, pushing his way through the crowd, as if he were determined to lead the pack of coyotes from the courthouse.
Ten
It was an hour before sunset and just minutes before tip-off as Jack threw together a tray of beer, chips, and salsa for the Knicks-Heat game on the tube. The stakes were high. If the Heat lost again, Jack would get a flood of calls and e-mails from friends in New York. Knicks rule, Heat suck, na, na, na-na, na. But it was one of those magical Miami nights when Jack would fall asleep to the soothing sounds and smells of Biscayne Bay right outside his open bedroom window, while his buddies up North had just one more day to decide which pair of long johns to wear under their Halloween costumes, so who were the real losers anyway?
“I got good news and bad news,” said Theo. He was peering through binoculars and standing on Jack’s patio beside the portable television he’d wheeled outside for the game. Jack adjusted the rabbit ears, then set up the goodies on the table beneath the umbrella. Nothing like beer, your best friend, and basketball under the stars.
“What now?” asked Jack.
Theo lowered the binoculars. “The good news is, your neighbor likes to prance around the house naked as a jaybird.”
“My neighbor is a seventy-eight-year-old man,” said Jack, wincing.
“Yeah. That’s, uh, kind of the bad news.” Jack chuckled as he grabbed a beer and fell into the chaise. Theo plopped down beside him and put the whole bowl of chips in his lap.
“You gonna leave some for me?” asked Jack.
“Get your own.” Theo reached for the remote control, but Jack snatched it away.
“That’s where I draw the line, buddy,” said Jack.
“I just wanted to see if Sally Fenning’s in the news again.”