Sycamore Row - John Grisham

already lookin’ bad, at least in the eyes of the rest of the county. This all comes down to
a trial by jury, and ya’ll are pissin’ everybody off.”
Simeon’s first thought was to tell him to butt out, but his brain was numb and his jaw
was aching. He didn’t want to argue. Instead, he thought how cool it was, riding
shotgun in the big car and being escorted home.
“You hear me?” Ozzie asked. In other words, say something.
“What would you do?” Simeon asked.
“Get rid of those lawyers. Jake Brigance will win the case for you.”
“He’s a kid.”
“Go ask Carl Lee Hailey.”
Simeon couldn’t think quick enough for a response, not that there was one. For blacks
in Ford County, the Hailey verdict meant everything.
Ozzie pressed on. “You ask what I would do. I’d clean up my act and stay out of
trouble. What you mean drinkin’ and whorin’ and losin’ money at cards on a Saturday
mornin’, or any other day for that matter? Your wife’s gettin’ all this attention. White
folk already suspicious, and you’re lookin’ at a jury trial down the road. Last thing you
need is your name in the paper for drunk drivin’ or fightin’ or whatever. What’re you
thinkin’?”
Drinking, whoring, and gambling, but Simeon fumed without speaking. He was fortysix
years old and unaccustomed to being reprimanded by a man who was not his boss.
“Clean your act up, okay?” Ozzie said.
“What about the drunk drivin’ charge?”
“I’ll put it off six months, see how you behave. One more screwup and I’ll have you in
court. Tank’ll call the minute you walk through his door. Understand?”
“I got it.”
“There’s somethin’ else. That truck you been drivin’, from Memphis to Houston and El
Paso, who owns it?”
“Company in Memphis.”
“This company got a name?”
“My boss got a name, I don’t know who his boss is.”
“I doubt that. What’s in the truck?”
Simeon went quiet and gazed through the side window. After a heavy pause he said,
“It’s a storage company. We haul a lot of stuff.”
“Any of it stolen?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why is the FBI askin’ questions?”
“I ain’t seen no FBI.”
“Not yet, but they called me two days ago. They had your name. Look, Simeon, you
get your ass busted by the Feds, and you and Lettie can forget about a jury trial in this
county. Can’t you see this, man? Front-page news. Hell, everybody in town is talkin’
’bout Lettie and Mr. Hubbard’s will anyway. You screw up, and you get no sympathy
from any jury. I’m not even sure the black folk’ll stick with you. You gotta think, man.”
The Feds, Simeon almost said, but he held his tongue and continued looking through