Sycamore Row - John Grisham

Sybil she was living on the beach and having fun with another husband, a much younger
man, she claimed. She said there were rumors that Seth was back in the timber and
lumber business, but she didn’t know much.” He swallowed hard and washed it all
down. He burped loudly, without the slightest trace of hesitation or embarrassment, and
continued, “You talked to his kids?”
“Not yet. You know them?”
“I did, at the time. They’ll make your life interesting. Herschel is a real loser. His
sister, what’s her name?”
“Ramona Hubbard Dafoe.”
“That’s the one. She’s a few years younger than Herschel and part of that north
Jackson crowd. Neither one got along well with Seth, and I always got the impression
he wasn’t much of a father. They really liked Sybil, their second mom, and once it
became apparent Sybil would win the divorce and make off with the money, they fell
into her camp. Lemme guess—the old man left them nothing?”
Jake nodded but didn’t say a word.
“Then they’ll freak out and lawyer up. You got a good one brewin’, Jake. Sorry I can’t
wedge in and get some of the fee.”
“If you only knew.”
A final bite of the hoagie, then the last of the chips. Harry Rex crushed the wrapper,
the bag, the napkins, and tossed them somewhere under his desk, along with the empty
beer bottle. He opened a drawer, withdrew a long black cigar and jammed it into the
side of his mouth, unlit. He’d stopped smoking them but still went through ten a day,
chewing and spitting. “I heard he hung himself. That true?”
“It is. He did a good job of planning things.”
“Any idea why?”
“You’ve heard the rumors. He was dying of cancer. That’s all we know. Who was his
lawyer during the divorce?”
“He used Stanley Wade, a mistake.”
“Wade? Since when does he do divorces?”
“Not anymore,” Harry Rex said with a laugh. He smacked his lips and grew serious.
“Look, Jake, hate to tell you this, but what happened ten years ago is of no significance
whatsoever in this matter. I took all of Seth Hubbard’s money, kept enough for myself,
of course, gave the rest to my client, and closed the file. Whatever Seth did after divorce
number two is none of my business.” He waved his hand across the landfill on his desk
and said, “This, however, is what my Monday is all about. If you wanna get a drink
later, fine, but right now I’m swamped.”
A drink later with Harry Rex usually meant something after 9:00 p.m. “Sure, we’ll
catch up,” Jake said as he headed for the door, stepping over files.
“Say, Jake, is it safe to assume Hubbard renounced a previous will?”
“Yes.”
“And was that previous will prepared by a firm somewhat larger than yours?”
“Yes.”
“Then, if I were you I’d race to the courthouse and file the first petition to probate.”