Read Death By Sunken Treasure (A Hayden Kent Mystery Book 2) for Free Online

forms we used to keep track of open questions stared blankly at me. Decedent’s name, date, and cause of death headed the page. A blank line followed each word. Automatically, I wrote “Michael Terry” on the name line. My pen paused over the date line. Then I filled in Monday’s date. Even without a death certificate, I knew the medical examiner would fill the blank with that date followed by the word “found.”
    In the cause of death blank, I wrote “accident.” A series of empty lines filled a quarter of the page under the cause of death. The instructional sentence asked for any unusual circumstance that might affect the cause of death or estate-planning documents. I left the space blank. My mind filled with images of the sea floor around the treasure site. What had gone wrong that day? Instead of filling in the blanks, I grabbed a sticky pad and scribbled “treasure hunter, experienced diver, will change, angry ex.” I pulled the sheet off the pad and stuck in on the blank space. That would have to do until the death certificate was final and we had the police report. Experience told me that the list would grow before I finally filled in the blanks.
    My office was a giant rectangle. At one time, the room served as the dining room of the house. Floor-to-ceiling windows graced the north side. Two comfortable wing chairs flanked the windows, one with a hassock. A wide table with a file drawer underneath sat between the chairs. Oftentimes, especially if I worked late or on a Saturday, I worked from a chair rather than my desk. Now I gathered everything pertaining to Mike Terry, including the form pad, and moved to the chair with the hassock. Much as I enjoyed the investigative aspects of my job, my relationship with Dana brought this one too close to home.
    The petition for administration needed a preliminary value of assets. The Quicken financial ledger Mike provided listed some of his holdings and his current and future anticipated payment information. Two future one-hundred-thousand-dollar payments of alimony showed up for February of this year and next. The memo reminder column for the final payment read “free at last.” I smiled at the comment. Considering Ruth’s remarks, Mike’s ex may have been in town to try for more alimony. That made sense if she’d somehow learned he found treasure. Or maybe she thought she didn’t get her fair share of his worker’s comp settlement. Rumor had it he’d gotten millions, with an s, from the case.
    Dana’s revelation that she knew about the change in Mike’s will played itself over and over in my thoughts. Why did she bring us his old will if she suspected he changed it? I picked up the check register printout and concentrated on the memo column. Goosebumps danced up my arms. He made thousand-dollar cash withdrawals every other week and noted the money was for Dana. As well as I knew her and as much as I loved her, there were parts of her life she kept strictly private. Money was one of them. I made a note to ask Grant to be the bad guy and find out about the payments.
    Drafts of the initial estate-opening documents done, I annotated the estate form on the pad to highlight the information still needed. I had an inch of paperwork and, thanks to my detailed review of Mike’s financial information, a fistful of pages of scribbled notes to show for my work. The initial set up always took the longest. I picked up the original will and put together a package to deposit the will in the court. I glanced at the clock. It was almost three. Time enough to get to the Clerk’s office before it closed. I shot Ruth a quick wave as I walked through the lobby, reflecting on how far the paralegal profession had come from its legal secretarial roots.
    “I’ll be available on my cell phone,” I called to Ruth before the door shut behind me.
    The heat of the day felt welcome after the deep freeze air conditioning of the building. Not a single cloud marred the sky as I turned my