“That’s the plan,” Mimi said serenely. “Now, back to city business. Who is this Ben Harrison? The way you say his name makes him sound mean.”
“Mean isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe him. More like he’s a total bloodthirsty shark. No emotion involved. The guy functions on pure cold instinct. He’s a partner with the Miami branch of Martinez and Martinez and he’s rumored to never take a case he can’t win.”
Mimi frowned. “You mean the law firm with all those scary billboards along the highway?”
Jenna knew exactly which billboards Mimi referred to. Their trademark ads featured Jack Martinez, the founding partner’s son, wearing an expensive-looking coat and tie over a pair of boxer shorts while he glared down at the little people of Florida with slogans like, Let’s Sue The Pants Off Everyone!
“But isn’t Martinez and Martinez a personal injury firm?” Jenna asked, genuinely confused.
“Traditionally, yes,” Pilar said. “But Jack Martinez has been branching the firm out into a bunch of different things, including wills and probate.”
Earl Handy, the elderly grandson of one of Whispering Bay’s founding fathers, had passed away a couple of months ago, leaving the bulk of his estate, which included miles and miles of pristine, white-sand beachfront property, to the city to be used solely for public access. It was an extremely generous gift. One that his only daughter, Nora, and her husband, Vince Palermo, were now contesting.
“So what do we know about this Ben Harrison person?” asked Mimi.
Jenna tried not to show anything more than a mild professional interest in Pilar’s answer.
“I don’t know him personally. It’s not like all the lawyers in Florida know one another, but Ben Harrison was in all the papers and a bunch of legal articles last year when he represented Tiffany McAdams.”
Mimi sat straight up in her chair. “The woman whose dead husband supposedly had the airtight prenup?”
Jenna was vaguely familiar with the case but she’d been too wrapped up in work to pay attention to what had basically been a reality TV show. If she’d known Ben had been the attorney, she might have been interested in reading an article or two. Only because it was good to keep up with the news. Right?
“That’s the one,” Pilar said gloomily.
“Refresh our memories,” Jenna said.
Pilar went on to give them all the juicy details of the case. Tiffany McAdams, a former Playboy centerfold, had married south Florida billionaire Arthur Clendenin at the respective ages of twenty-four and seventy-nine. Clendenin might have been an old fool, but he’d made sure to have a supposedly airtight prenuptial agreement limiting the amount of money Tiffany would inherit in the event of his death. They’d been married a little over a year when Arthur had his now famous heart attack while dirty dancing with Tiffany in a Miami South Beach bar. The whole thing had been caught on cell phone video and replayed on TV dozens of times.
Afterward, a beautifully tearful Tiffany had claimed that Arthur had changed his mind about the will and that he wanted her to have half his estate. No one believed her. Especially Arthur’s two grown children from his previous marriage. So Tiffany hired hotshot attorney Ben Harrison and after two years of legal battles, she’d done the unthinkable, or rather, he’d done the impossible. He’d broken the prenup and gotten Tiffany not only half the estate, but he’d also sued Arthur’s children for all the legal fees. And won.
“Oh my God,” Mimi said. “I remember that case. That’s who we’re up against?”
“I’m afraid so.” Pilar shuddered. “I still have nightmares of that video showing poor Arthur dancing and having his heart attack.”
Jenna had never seen the video. “It’s pretty graphic, huh?” she asked sympathetically.
“I’ll say. There should be laws against eighty-year-old men twerking in public.”
The three women sat around the table looking at one another dejectedly. Jenna was the first one to speak again. “Let’s not panic. Just because this Ben Harrison was able to break some Miami billionaire’s will doesn’t mean he can do the same thing here.”
“True.” Pilar perked up. “I have more than enough witnesses to claim that Earl was perfectly lucid when he had his attorney write up his will.”
Mimi looked at Pilar thoughtfully. “Is that what you think Vince and Nora are basing their case on? That Earl wasn’t in his right mind when he had his will made out?”
“You tell me. He was your cousin. Or was he your uncle?”
“Neither exactly.”
This was news to Jenna. “You were related to old Earl?”
“Honey, half of Whispering Bay was related to Earl. He was my momma’s second cousin. Or something like that.”
“Small towns,” Pilar muttered. “Gotta love ’em.”
“It’s true that Earl had dementia,” Mimi said. “Everyone knows that. But it was only bad in the last year or so. Up to then, he’d been sharp as a tack.”
“I’m not sure exactly what Nora and Vince are claiming,” Pilar went on to say. “Only that they plan to contest the will. Frankly, I wouldn’t be worried, except I know enough about Ben Harrison through his reputation that he would never take this case if he didn’t think he had a pretty good shot at winning. My probate skills are decent, but I’m no expert. I’m already drowning in work as it is, so we’ll need to hire more legal help. And I’m pretty sure our resources are limited.”