Free Death By Sunken Treasure (A Hayden Kent Mystery Book 2) by Kait Carson Page B

investigation?
    Dissatisfied and feeling used, I moved the estate-planning file aside and turned my attention to the legal notice again. I wished I could shut up both my thoughts and the crowd in the lobby. If I was going to get anything done today, I had to get off the ground floor. I stood to move to the conference room on the second floor. The rumble of Grant’s deep voice cut through the chatter. I tiptoed across my office and cracked my door to listen.
    He announced Mike’s death to the assembled reporters. Explained that our law firm, Huffman Koons, had no information about the worker’s comp claim or any insurance claim. Then he told them all to go home and promised an update if one occurred. I overheard Ruth collect an earful of complaints about wasting their time. I rolled my eyes. Two seconds and a quick Google search and they’d have discovered we specialized in probate, not litigation.
    A blessed wave of silence rolled over me. I leaned against my door to shut it and headed back to my desk. This time the legal notice wrote itself. I printed it and scanned a copy to the local newspapers asking for an immediate publication. As the email receipts pinged in my inbox, I let my mind roam over Kristin’s motive again. Grant said she wanted revenge, but against whom? The divorce was so long ago. Who was she really trying to hurt?
    I clicked over to a Miami newspaper site and searched for a story about Mike’s death. Nothing. A little article tucked at the bottom of the Keys section of the Miami Metropolis talked about Mike. The writer referred to his death as a suicide. I shook my head as I hit print. Suicide. What were they thinking? No one opted to die by drowning.
    Thoughts of revenge, suicide, my conversation with Deputy Diego, and my impending dinner with Dana percolated as I worked my way through the stack of files on my desk. By four o’clock, I’d had it. My inability to concentrate led to errors in nearly every document I prepared. No way was I giving any of these to Grant. He’d swoop down on my errors like a hawk. Unless I wanted tomorrow to be a complete do-over of today, going home for a nice long bath would be my best option.
    I took a bit of time to straighten my desk and prioritize my to-do list for tomorrow. Then I realized I hadn’t created a docket for Mike’s estate yet. Letting out a deep sigh, I dashed off a quick text to Dana to tell her I would be at her house at seven. I rebooted my computer and pulled up a probate index form to record all the information I had based on the will. The task took only a few minutes. Figuring out how to list the beneficiaries took the longest.
    I touched the intercom on my phone. Grant answered immediately.
    “How do you want me to show the will benes for Mike’s estate list?” I knew he would automatically interpret “bene” as beneficiary.
    “What did Diego have to say?”
    With a start, I realized I hadn’t opened my door since Grant cleared the crowd. I gave him a quick outline, neglecting to mention my dissatisfaction. While I was speaking, I remembered I hadn’t mentioned the drugs to the deputy. Nor had Diego said anything about them to me. The fact that I had held back something, even accidently, restored my good humor. It gave me the feeling I had something to trade later for more information.
    Drawing the conversation back to the beneficiary list, I said, “The will Mike signed in our office left everything to his son. In trust, with a bank as trustee. No problem there. It’s the second will.”
    In response to Grant’s questions, I reminded him that Mike had crossed out the bequest to his son and added both Jake Patterson and Jake’s stepson, Devon Rutherford. I checked the copy on my desk. “Jake and Devon receive the bar, The Petard. For the first five years, Mike’s son’s trust gets a quarter of the profits. It’s the opposite for the salvage permit. Same five-year timeline for the payout split, but Mike’s son ultimately gets