“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.”
“What makes you think she would be?”
“The name of the sixth beneficiary is out there now. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the media finds this Alan Sirap before the lawyers do.”
“You got a point.”
“Course I got a point. I always got a point. I don’t open my mouth unless I got a point. Unless I gotta burp.” He belched like a foghorn.
“Could you possibly be any more disgusting?”
“Only on a good day.” He put the bowl of chips aside and asked, “So, what are you gonna do about Tatum? You gonna represent him?”
“I already do.”
“I don’t mean this hourly bullshit you’re doing as a favor to me. Are you gonna jump in this case for the long haul or not?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Come on. Like the judge said, there’ll be plenty of legal back-stabbing to go around, with each of these beneficiaries trying to pick off the other ones. And it’s high profile, too. When’s the last time you had a case that was in the news like this?”
Jack shot him a wicked glare.
Theo coughed, as if suddenly recalling that the last high-profile case had nearly gotten Jack, himself, indicted. “Okay, forget the publicity angle. Let’s talk dollars and sense. You got pretty beat up in the divorce. The only thing Cindy didn’t take was your car and your best friend, and she probably could’ve had that too. Imagine me wearing a fucking cap and driving Miss Daisy all around Coral Gables in a Mustang convertible.”
“It wasn’t worth the fight. I just wanted to move on.”
“That doesn’t change the facts. You got a nice house here, Jack, but you don’t own it, and we’re sitting outside watching TV not because it’s such a beautiful night, but because you don’t even have an air conditioner.”
