Sycamore Row

approximately twenty years. Does that sound about right?”
    “It does, give or take a year here, a year there,” Lettie said, confidently.
    “And you’ve had no other employers in the past twenty or so years?”
    She shook her head. No.
    Lanier was going somewhere, but Jake couldn’t stop him. The inflections of his voice, the slight hints of suspicion, the arched eyebrows, the matter-of-factness of his sentences. He was trying to disguise all these, but to Jake’s trained ears and eyes they meant trouble.
    “That’s six employers in twenty years, Ms. Lang. How many times were you fired?”
    “None. I mean I was terminated after Mr. Hubbard died, and Miss Karsten got sick, and Mr. and Mrs. Tingley passed, but that was just because the job sorta played out, you know?”
    “You’ve never been fired for doing a bad job, or for doing something wrong?”
    “No sir. Never.”
    Lanier abruptly backed away from the podium, looked up at Judge Atlee, and said, “That’s all, Judge. I reserve the right to recall this witness later in the trial.” He walked smugly to his table, and, at the last second, Jake saw him wink at Lester Chilcott.
    Lettie had just lied, and Lanier was about to expose her. Jake, though, had no idea what was coming; thus, he had no way to prevent it. His instincts were to get her off the witness stand. He stood and said, “Your Honor, the proponents rest.”
    Judge Atlee said, “Do you have some witnesses, Mr. Lanier?”
    “Oh yes.”
    “Then call the first one.”
    “The contestants call Mr. Fritz Pickering.”
    “Who?” Jake blurted.
    “Fritz Pickering,” Lanier repeated loudly and sarcastically, as if Jake were hard of hearing.
    “Never heard of him. He’s not on your witness list.”
    “He’s out in the rotunda,” Lanier said to a bailiff. “Waiting.”
    Jake was shaking his head at Judge Atlee and said, “He can’t testify if he’s not listed as a witness, Judge.”
    “I’m calling him anyway,” Lanier said.
    Fritz Pickering entered the courtroom and followed a bailiff to the witness stand.
    “I object, Your Honor,” Jake said.
    Judge Atlee removed his reading glasses, glared at Wade Lanier, and said, “All right, let’s take a fifteen-minute recess. I’ll see the lawyers in chambers. Lawyers only. No paralegals or staff.”
    The jury was hurried out of the courtroom as the lawyers followed the judge into the rear hallway and into his cramped chambers. He did not remove his robe, but sat down and looked as confused as Jake. “Start talking,” he said to Lanier.
    “Your Honor, this witness is not an evidentiary witness; thus he does not have to be made known to the other side. His purpose is to impeach the credibility of another witness, not to give evidence. I was not required to put him on the list or in any way divulge his name because I was never certain he would be called. Now, based on the testimony of Lettie Lang, and her inability to tell the truth, this witness is suddenly crucial to our case.”
    Judge Atlee exhaled as every lawyer in the room racked his brain for bits and pieces of the rules of evidence and the rules of civil procedure. At the moment, there was little doubt Lanier had full command of the rules regarding witness impeachment. This was his ambush, one he and Lester Chilcott had planned perfectly. Jake wanted to gush forth in some cogent and sensible argument, but brilliance failed him miserably at the moment.
    “What will the witness say?” Judge Atlee asked.
    “Lettie Lang once worked for his mother, Mrs. Irene Pickering. Fritz and his sister fired Lettie when his sister found a handwritten will leaving fifty thousand in cash to Lettie. She just told at least three lies. Number one, she said she had worked for only those people I mentioned, over the past twenty or so years. Mrs. Pickering hired her in 1978, and they fired her in 1980. Number two, she has in fact been fired as a housekeeper. Number three, she said she has never seen a will. Fritz and his sister showed her the handwritten will the day they fired her. There may be another one or two, I can’t think of them all right now.”
    Jake’s shoulders fell as his gut clenched, his vision blurred, and the color drained from his face. It was imperative that he say something intelligent, but everything was blank. Then lightning struck and he asked, “When did you find Fritz Pickering?”
    “I didn’t meet him until today,” Lanier said smugly.
    “That’s not what I