Sycamore Row

later. Great lawyers skipped depositionsaltogether, and orchestrated beautiful ambushes in front of the jury. Wade Lanier and Stillman Rush were good lawyers, and they spent the first day collecting data. During eight hours of direct examination, there was not the first cross word, not the first hint of disrespect for the witness.
    Jake was impressed with his opponents. Later, in his office, he explained to Lettie and Portia that both Lanier and Rush were basically acting. They were presenting themselves as friendly guys who really liked Lettie and were just searching for the truth. They wanted Lettie to like them, to trust them, so that at the trial she might drop her guard. “They’re a couple of wolves,” he said. “At trial, they’ll go for your throat.”
    Lettie, exhausted, asked, “Jake, I won’t be on the stand for no eight hours, will I?”
    “You’ll be ready.”
    She had her doubts.

    Zack Zeitler led off the following morning with a series of probing questions about Mr. Hubbard’s last days. He struck pay dirt when he asked, “Did you see him on Saturday, October 1?”
    Jake braced himself for what would follow. He had known it for several days, but there was no way to avoid it. The truth was the truth.
    “I did,” Lettie answered.
    “I thought you said you never worked on Saturdays.”
    “That’s right, but Mr. Hubbard asked me to come in that Saturday.”
    “And why was that?”
    “He wanted me to go to his office with him, to clean it. The regular guy was off sick and the place needed cleaning.” Around the table, Lettie’s response was far more effective than the morning coffee. Eyes opened, spines stiffened, rear ends inched to the edges of chairs, a couple of telling glances were exchanged.
    Smelling blood, Zeitler pressed on cautiously. “What time did you arrive at Mr. Hubbard’s house?”
    “Around nine that mornin’.”
    “And what did he say?”
    “He said he wanted me to go with him to his office. So we got in the car and went to his office.”
    “Which car?”
    “His. The Cadillac.”
    “Who drove?”
    “I did. Mr. Hubbard asked me if I’d ever driven a new Cadillac. I said no. I had said somethin’ earlier about how nice the car was, and so he asked me if I wanted to drive it. At first I said no, but he handed me the keys. So I drove it over to the office. I was a nervous wreck.”
    “You drove him over?” Zeitler repeated. Around the table all heads were low as the lawyers scribbled furiously, their minds spinning. In perhaps the most famous will contest in the history of the state, the beneficiary, who was not a blood relative, actually drove the dying person to the lawyer’s office to sign a will that cut out all family and left everything to the beneficiary, the driver. The Supreme Court invalidated the last will on the grounds of undue influence, and gave as a significant reason the fact that the “surprise beneficiary” had been so involved in the making of the new will. Since that court decision thirty years earlier, it was not unusual for a lawyer to ask “Who drove him over?” when an unexpected will was discovered.
    “Yes,” she said. Jake watched the other eight lawyers as they reacted exactly as he anticipated. It was a gift to them, and a hurdle for him to clear.
    Zeitler carefully arranged some notes, then said, “How long were you in his office?”
    “I didn’t look at no clock, but I’d say a couple of hours.”
    “Who else was there?”
    “No one. He said they usually didn’t work on Saturdays, at least not in the office.”
    “I see.” For the next hour, Zeitler probed through that Saturday morning. He asked Lettie to draw a diagram of the office building to establish where she cleaned and where Mr. Hubbard spent the time. She said he never left his office and the door was shut. No, she did not go in there, not even to clean. She did not know what he was working on or what he was doing in his office. He came and went with his everyday briefcase, but she had no idea what was in it. He appeared to be clearheaded, certainly able to drive if he’d wanted, and she knew little about his pain medications. Yes, he was frail and weak, but he had gone to the office every day that week. If anyone else saw them at the office, she was not aware of it. Yes, she drove the Cadillac back to Mr. Hubbard’s house, then she went home, arriving there around noon.
    “And he never mentioned the fact that he was writing his last