Sycamore Row - John Grisham

45
The flight to Seattle was overbooked. Lucien got the last seat on one to San Francisco,
where he would have twenty minutes to catch a nonstop to Chicago. If all went well, he
would land in Memphis just after midnight. Nothing went well. He missed the
connection in San Francisco, and while berating a ticket agent almost got himself
handcuffed by a security guard. To get him out of the airport, they put him on a shuttle
to L.A. with the promise he’d get a better connection to Dallas. En route to L.A., he
drank three double bourbons on ice, and had the flight attendants glancing at each
other. Upon landing, he went straight to a bar and continued drinking. He called Jake’s
office four times but got only the recording. He called Harry Rex’s three times, but was
told the lawyer was in court. When the nonstop to Dallas was canceled at 7:30, he
cursed another ticket agent and threatened to sue American Airlines. To get him out of
the airport, they put him on a four-hour flight to Atlanta, first class with free drinks.
Tully Still drove a forklift for a freight company in the industrial park north of town.
He was working the night shift and easy to find. At 8:30 Wednesday night, Ozzie Walls
gave him the nod and they walked outside into the darkness. Still lit a cigarette. The two
were not related, but their mothers had been best friends since elementary school.
Tully’s wife, Michele, was Juror Number Three. Front row, dead center, Jake’s prize.
“How bad is it?” Ozzie asked.
“Pretty bad. What happened? Things were rockin’ along fine, then the case blows up.”
“Couple of witnesses came outta nowhere. What are they sayin’ in there?”
“Ozzie, even Michele’s got doubts about Lettie Lang. The woman looks bad, man,
sneakin’ round, gettin’ old white folks to change their wills. Michele and the Gaston
woman’ll stick with her, don’t worry, but that means they got two votes. And the whites
on the jury ain’t bad people, maybe a couple, but most were goin’ with Lettie until this
mornin’. It’s not all black against white in there.”
“So there’s a lot of talk?”
“Didn’t say that. I think there’s a lot of whisperin’. Ain’t that pretty normal? You can’t
expect folk to not say a word until the end.”
“I suppose.”
“What’s Jake gonna do?”
“I’m not sure he can do anything. He says he’s called his best witnesses.”
“Looks like he got blindsided, like those Jackson lawyers got the best of him.”