Sycamore Row - John Grisham

You never opened a file and you certainly weren’t paid a dime. See if you can convince
Ozzie to take some heat. If I recall correctly, he got about 70 percent of the vote the last
time he ran. He’s bulletproof. Plus, he wants Lettie to win the will contest. If you’re
getting hit with baggage, get Ozzie to shoulder some. He can handle it.”
Jake was nodding along, even smiling. Go girl!
She said, “Look, dear, right now you’re shell-shocked and you’re scared. Shake it off.
You’ve done nothing wrong, so don’t get blamed for anything. Control the damage, then
control the spin.”
“Can I hire you? My office needs some help.”
“You can’t afford me. I’m a schoolteacher.”
Hanna was coughing. Carla went to check on her.
The real damage control began about an hour later when Jake stormed into the
Coffee Shop, ready to convince one and all that he was not the lawyer for Simeon Lang
and never had been. So many rumors began there, over eggs and bacon. In the shower,
Jake decided to go straight to the source.
Marshall Prather was there in uniform behind a stack of pancakes, waiting, it seemed.
He’d been up all night too and looked as bleary-eyed as Jake. During the lull that was
caused by Jake’s entry, Marshall said, “Hey Jake, saw you at the hospital a few hours
ago.” This was a deliberate effort to start the spin because Ozzie was also controlling
damage.
“Yeah, just awful,” Jake said somberly. At full volume he asked, “Did ya’ll take Lang
to jail?”
“Yep. He’s still sobering up.”
“You his lawyer, Jake?” asked Ken Nugent from three tables over. Nugent drove the
Pepsi truck and spent his days hauling cases of beverages into country stores. Dell had
once said, in his absence, that no one spread more gossip than Nugent.
“Never have been,” Jake said. “I don’t represent him, nor do I represent his wife.”
“What the hell you doin’ in the case then?” Nugent fired back.
Dell poured coffee into Jake’s cup and bumped him with her rear end, part of the
routine. “Mornin’ sweetie,” she whispered. Jake smiled at her, then looked back at
Nugent. Things went mute as all other conversations stopped. Jake said, “Under the
law, I actually represent Mr. Seth Hubbard, who’s no longer with us, of course, but just
before he died he selected me as the attorney for his estate. My job is to follow his
wishes, present his last will, and protect his estate. My contract of representation is with
the administrator of the estate, and no one else. Not Lettie Lang, and certainly not her
husband. Frankly, I can’t stand the guy. Don’t forget he hired those Memphis clowns
who tried to steal the case.”
Dell, always loyal, piped in, “That’s what I tried to tell ’em.” She placed Jake’s toast
and grits in front of him.
“So who’s his lawyer?” Nugent asked, ignoring her.