Sycamore Row - John Grisham

10
Three well-dressed lawyers from out of town strutting through the courthouse on a dull
Wednesday morning were bound to attract attention, which didn’t seem to bother them
at all. One lawyer could have easily performed the menial task, but three could charge
triple for it. They ignored the local lawyers and the clerks and the courthouse regulars in
the hallways and purposefully entered the office of the Chancery Clerk. There they were
met by Sara, who’d been alerted by Jake Brigance, who’d been alerted by a surprise call
from Lettie Lang, then still at Seth’s house, with the news that an entire pack of lawyers
had just left and was headed for Clanton.
Stillman Rush flashed a killer smile at Sara, who was slowly chewing gum and glaring
at the men as if they were trespassers. “We’re from the Rush law firm in Tupelo,” he
announced, and not one of the other three clerks looked up. The soft music from a radio
failed to stop.
“Congratulations,” Sara said. “Welcome to Clanton.”
Lewis McGwyre had opened his fine briefcase and was removing papers. Stillman
said, “Yes, well, we need to file a petition to probate an estate.” With a flurry, the
paperwork landed on the counter in front of Sara, who, chewing, looked at it without
touching it. “Who died?” she asked.
“A man named Seth Hubbard,” Stillman said, an octave higher but still not loud
enough to draw the attention of anyone in the office of the Ford County Chancery Clerk.
“Never heard of him,” Sara deadpanned. “He lived in this county?”
“He did, up near Palmyra.”
She finally touched the papers, picked them up, and immediately began frowning.
“When’d he die?” she asked.
“Last Sunday.”
“They buried him yet?”
Stillman almost blurted, “Is that really any of your business?” but he caught himself.
He was on foreign soil and alienating the underlings could only cause trouble. He
swallowed, managed a smile, and said, “Yesterday.”
Sara’s eyes rolled up the wall as if she were bothered by something. “Seth Hubbard?
Seth Hubbard?” Over her shoulder she said, “Hey Eva, didn’t we get something already
on Seth Hubbard?” From thirty feet away Eva replied, “Late yesterday. A new file in the
rack over there.”
Sara took a few steps, yanked out a file, and scanned it as the three lawyers froze and
watched every move. Finally, she said, “Yep, got a petition to probate the last will and