Free Last to Die by James Grippando

an inheritance.
    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.

    Chapter 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 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