Sycamore Row - John Grisham

“Shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll need access to his office.”
“And where is that?”
“At the lumber yard near Palmyra. That was his only office. There’s a secretary there,
Arlene, who runs the show. I spoke to her Sunday night and suggested that she keep
everything locked up until she hears from the lawyers.”
Jake took another sip of coffee and tried to digest it all. “Twenty million bucks, huh? I
can’t think of anyone else in Ford County with that kinda money.”
“I can’t help you there, Mr. Brigance. I’ve never lived there. I assure you, though,
there’s no one here in Milburn County worth even a fraction of that.”
“It’s the rural South.”
“Indeed it is. That’s the greatness of Seth’s story. He woke up one day at the age of
sixty and said I’m broke, tired of being broke, and damned if I’m not gonna make
something. He got lucky on his first two deals, then discovered the beauty of using other
people’s money. He mortgaged his own house and land a dozen times. Talk about brass
balls.”
The waitress delivered oatmeal for Mr. Amburgh and scrambled eggs for Jake. As they
sprinkled salt and sugar, Amburgh asked, “Did he cut out his kids?”
“He did.”
A smile, a nod, no surprise.
“You expected this?” Jake asked.
“I expect nothing, Mr. Brigance, and nothing surprises me,” he replied smugly.
“I have a surprise for you,” Jake said. “He cut out both of his kids, both of his exwives,
who, by the way, are not entitled to anything, and he cut out everybody else
except for his long-lost brother, Ancil, who’s probably dead, but if not gets 5 percent, his
church, also on board at 5, which leaves a grand total of 90 percent left to his black
housekeeper of three years, one Lettie Lang.”
Amburgh stopped chewing as his jaws sagged and his eyes squinted. Deep wrinkles
broke out across his forehead.
“Don’t tell me you’re not surprised,” Jake said, victorious, then tossed back a forkful
of eggs.
Amburgh took a deep breath and reached out an empty hand. Jake pulled a copy of
the will out of a pocket and gave it to him. The deep wrinkles hardened as both pages
were read. He began to shake his head in disbelief. He read it a second time, then folded
it and placed it aside.
“Did you by chance know Lettie Lang?” Jake asked.
“Never met her. I’ve never seen Seth’s home, Mr. Brigance. Never heard him say a
word about it, really, or about anyone who worked there. Seth kept things in
compartments, most of which were off-limits to everyone. Do you know this woman?”
“I met her yesterday for the first time. She’ll be in my office this afternoon.”
With his fingertips, Amburgh slowly pushed the platter and bowl away; breakfast was
over, the appetite gone. “Why would he do this, Mr. Brigance?”
“I was thinking of asking you the same question.”
“Well, it obviously makes no sense, and that’s why this will is in serious trouble. He