Sycamore Row - John Grisham

airport lounges, all of which he noticed. When the guards parked him he thanked them,
then got up and staggered to the nearest bar and ordered a beer. He was cutting back,
being responsible. He slept from Atlanta to Memphis, landing there at 7:10 a.m. They
dragged him off the plane, called security, and security called the police.
Portia took the call at the office. Jake was upstairs frantically reviewing witness
statements when she buzzed through with “Jake, it’s a collect call from Lucien.”
“Where is he?”
“Don’t know but he sounds awful.”
“Take the call and put him through.”
Seconds later, Jake picked up the receiver and said, “Lucien, where are you?”
With great effort, he was able to convey the message that he was in the Memphis City
Jail and needed Jake to come get him. He was thick-tongued, erratic, obviously bombed.
Sadly, Jake had heard it all before. He was suddenly angry and unsympathetic.
“They won’t let me talk,” Lucien mumbled, barely intelligible. Then he seemed to be
growling at someone in the background. Jake could visualize it perfectly. He said,
“Lucien, we’re leaving in five minutes for the courtroom. I’m sorry.” But he wasn’t sorry
at all. Let him rot in jail.
“I gotta get there, Jake, it’s important,” he said, his words slurred so badly that he
repeated himself three times.
“What’s important?”
“I got deposition. Ancil’s. Ancil Hubbard. Deposition. It’s important Jake.”
Jake and Portia hurried across the street and entered the courthouse through the rear
doors. Ozzie was in the hallway on the first floor talking to a janitor. “Got a minute?”
Jake asked with a look that was dead serious. Ten minutes later, Ozzie and Marshall
Prather left town in a sprint to Memphis.
“Missed you yesterday,” Judge Atlee said when Jake entered his chambers. The
lawyers were gathering for the morning’s pregame briefing.
“Sorry Judge, but I got tied up with trial details,” Jake replied.
“I’m sure you did. Gentlemen, any preliminary matters this morning?”
The lawyers for the contestants smiled grimly and shook their heads. No. Jake said,
“Well, yes, Your Honor, there is one matter. We have located Ancil Hubbard in Juneau,
Alaska. He is alive and well and unable to rush down here for the trial. He is an
interested party to these proceedings and should be included. Therefore, I move for a
mistrial and suggest we start over when Ancil can be here.”
“Motion denied,” Judge Atlee said without hesitation. “He would be of no assistance
in determining the validity of this will. How did you find him?”
“It’s quite a long story, Your Honor.”
“Save it for later. Anything else?”
“Not from me.”
“Are your next witnesses ready, Mr. Lanier?”