Sycamore Row - John Grisham

“But why?” she managed to ask.
“To intimidate you, confuse you, frighten you. In all likelihood, the three of you, and
perhaps others who work here, will be called to testify about Seth’s behavior in the days
before he died. Was he of sound mind? Was he acting strange? Was he heavily
medicated? If so, were the drugs affecting his judgment? These will be crucial questions
down the road.”
She seemed to ponder them as Jake waited. After a long pause, he said, “So, Arlene,
let’s have some answers. He wrote the will right here in this office on Saturday morning.
He had to mail it before noon for me to receive it Monday. You saw him Friday, right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you notice anything unusual?”
She pulled a tissue from a pocket and touched her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, crying
before she’d really said anything. This could take some time, Jake thought. She pulled
herself together, stiffened her spine, and smiled at Jake. “You know, Mr. Brigance, I’m
not certain who to trust in this situation, but, to be perfectly honest, I trust you.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“You see, my brother was on that jury.”
“Which jury?”
“Carl Lee Hailey.”
All twelve names were forever etched in Jake’s memory. He smiled and asked, “Which
one?”
“Barry Acker. My youngest brother.”
“I’ll never forget him.”
“He has a lot of respect for you, because of that trial and all.”
“And I have a lot of respect for him. They were very courageous, and they reached the
right verdict.”
“When I heard that you were the lawyer for Seth’s estate, I felt better. But then, when
we heard about his last will, well, it’s pretty confusing.”
“I understand. Let’s trust each other, okay? Drop the ‘Mister’ stuff. Call me Jake, and
tell me the truth. Fair enough?”
Arlene placed the tissue on the table and relaxed in her chair. “Fair enough, but I
don’t want to go to court.”
“Let’s worry about that later. For now, just give me some background.”
“Okay.” She swallowed hard, braced herself, and let it rip. “Seth’s last days were not
pleasant. He’d been up and down for a month or so, post-chemo. He had two rounds of
chemo and radiation, lost his hair and a lot of weight, so weak and sick he couldn’t get
out of bed. But he was a tough old guy and wouldn’t quit. It was lung cancer, though,
and when the tumors came back he knew the end was near. He stopped traveling and
spent more time here. He was in pain, taking a lot of Demerol. He would come in early,
drink some coffee, and feel okay for a few hours, but then he would fade. I never saw
him take the painkillers but he told me about them. At times he was drowsy and dizzy,
and even nauseous. He insisted on driving and that worried us.”
“Worried who?”