Sycamore Row

said.
    “Overruled,” His Honor snarled from the bench.
    It was apparent, at least to Jake, that Judge Atlee was now the enemy. He viewed Lettie as a liar, and in his world there was no greater sin. Over the years he had jailed several litigants when they were caught red-handed telling lies, but always in divorce cases. A night in jail worked wonders in the search for veracity.
    Lettie was in no danger of going to jail; that would be far more preferable. At that dreadful moment, with the jurors squirming nervously and glancing around, she was in danger of losing about $20 million, give or take, before taxes of course.
    When a witness is telling the truth, and the truth hurts, a trial lawyer has no alternative but to attack the witness’s credibility. Jake sat stone-faced as if he expected Fritz to say what he was saying, but just under the skin he was desperately searching for a soft spot. What did Fritz have to gain by testifying? Why would he waste his time?
    “Mr. Brigance,” Judge Atlee said when Lanier tendered the witness.
    Jake stood quickly and faked as much confidence as possible. The first rule every trial lawyer learns is to never ask a question if you don’t know the answer. But when you’re staring at certain defeat, toss the rules. Shooting wildly from the hip, Jake said, “Mr. Pickering, how much are you being paid to testify here today?”
    The bullet landed between his eyes. He actually flinched as his jaw dropped, and he shot a desperate look at Wade Lanier. Lanier shrugged and nodded. Go ahead, it’s no big deal.
    Fritz said, “Seventy-five hundred dollars.”
    “And who’s paying you?” Jake demanded.
    “The check came from Mr. Lanier’s office.”
    “And what’s the date on the check?”
    “I don’t remember exactly, but I got it about a month ago.”
    “So about a month ago you guys closed the deal. You agreed to come here and testify, and Mr. Lanier sent you the money, right?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Didn’t you in fact demand more than seventy-five hundred?” Jake asked, still shooting wildly with no idea what the facts were. But he had a hunch.
    “Well, yes, I did ask for more.”
    “You wanted at least ten thousand, didn’t you?”
    “Something like that,” Fritz admitted and looked at Lanier again. Jake was reading his mind.
    “And you told Mr. Lanier that you would not testify unless you got paid, right?”
    “At the time, I wasn’t talking to Mr. Lanier. It was one of his investigators. I didn’t meet Mr. Lanier until earlier this morning.”
    “Regardless, you were not going to testify for free, right?”
    “That’s right.”
    “When did you drive over from Shreveport?”
    “Late yesterday afternoon.”
    “And when are you leaving Clanton?”
    “Just as soon as I can.”
    “So, a quick trip, say twenty-four hours?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Seventy-five hundred bucks for twenty-four hours. You’re an expensive witness.”
    “Is that a question?”
    Jake was getting lucky but he knew it couldn’t last. He looked at his notes, chicken scratch he could not read, and changed course. “Mr. Pickering, didn’t Lettie Lang explain to you that she had nothing to do with the preparation of your mother’s will?”
    Jake had no idea what Lettie had done; he had yet to discuss the incident with her. That would be an ugly conversation, probably during lunch.
    “That’s what she said,” Fritz replied.
    “And didn’t she try to explain that your mother never said a word to her about the will?”
    “That’s what she said.”
    “Where did you get this copy of the will?”
    “I kept it.” Actually, it had arrived anonymously in the mail, but who would ever know the difference?
    “Nothing further,” Jake said as he sat down.
    Judge Atlee announced, “We’ll be in recess until one thirty.”

44
    Jake and Harry Rex fled town. With Jake driving, they raced deep into the countryside, putting distance between themselves and the nightmare in the courtroom. They wouldn’t risk bumping into Lettie or Portia, or the other lawyers, or anyone, for that matter, who had just witnessed the bloodletting.
    Harry Rex was the eternal contrarian. When a day in trial went smoothly, he could always be counted on to see nothing but negatives. A bad day, and he could be unbelievably optimistic about tomorrow. As Jake drove and seethed, he kept waiting for his foxhole buddy to pass along an observation that might lift his spirits, if only for a moment. What