Sycamore Row

but I’d prefer to skip all this,” Amburgh said.
    “We’ll have plenty of time to deal with it later. And you, in the light gray suit?”
    The taller black lawyer stood purposefully and buttoned the top button of his tailored suit. “Yes, Your Honor, my name is Booker Sistrunk, and along with my partner here, Mr. Kendrick Bost, we represent the interests of Ms. Lettie Lang.” Sistrunk touched her shoulder. Bost stood and both lawyers towered over her. She shouldn’t have been there, not at this stage. She belonged beyond the bar on the benches with the rest of the spectators, but Sistrunk and Bost had jostled her into position and dared anyone to object. Had it been a proper motion hearing, Judge Atlee would have quickly put her in her place, but he wisely ignored the impropriety.
    “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor of seeing you gentlemen in my courtroom before,” Judge Atlee said in a suspicious tone. “Where are you from?”
    “Our firm is in Memphis,” Sistrunk replied, though everyone knew it. These days in the Memphis press their firm was getting more ink than the next five combined. They were at war with the Memphis Police Department and were winning brutality cases monthly, it seemed. Sistrunk was riding a wave of notoriety. He was loud, brash, divisive, and was proving to be a highly effective race baiter in a city that had produced many.
    Jake knew Simeon had kinfolks in Memphis. One thing had evidently led to another, and Jake had received the dreadful call from Booker Sistrunk. They were “entering” the case, which meant another layer of intense scrutiny of Jake’s work, along with another finger in the pie. There were already troubling stories of cars parked in Lettie’s front yard and vultures lounging on the front porch.
    Judge Atlee continued, “I’m assuming, then, that you have a license to practice law in this state.”
    “No sir, not as of this morning. But we will associate local counsel.”
    “That would be a wise move, Mr. Sistrunk. The next time you appear in my court, I expect to know the lawyer you’re with.”
    “Yes sir,” Sistrunk said stiffly, almost with a sneer. He and Bost sat down and squeezed next to their valuable client. Before the hearing began, Jake had tried to say good morning to Lettie, but her lawyers had shielded her. She would not make eye contact.
    “Over here,” Judge Atlee said, pointing to the crowded defense table. Stillman Rush was quick to rise and say, “Yes, Your Honor, I’m Stillman Rush with the Rush firm in Tupelo, and I’m here with Sam Larkin and Lewis McGwyre.” Both men stood on cue and noddedpolitely to the bench. They knew Judge Atlee; longer introductions were not needed.
    “And your firm prepared the 1987 will, is that correct?”
    “That is true,” Stillman said with a generous, sappy smile.
    “Very well. Next.”
    A large man with a round hairless head stood and growled, “Your Honor, I’m Wade Lanier, of the Lanier firm in Jackson. I’m here with my associate, Lester Chilcott, and we represent the interests of Ms. Ramona Dafoe, daughter of the deceased. Her husband, Ian Dafoe, is a longtime client of our firm and—”
    “That’s enough, Mr. Lanier,” Judge Atlee barked, rudely cutting him off. Welcome to Ford County. “I didn’t ask about your other clients or your firm.”
    The presence of Wade Lanier was also disturbing. Jake knew him by reputation only, but that was enough to dread dealing with him. Big firm, hardball tactics, enough success to fuel the ego and keep it hungry.
    Judge Atlee pointed again and said, “And you, sir?”
    A man in a gaudy sports coat jumped up and announced, “Yes, well, Your Honor, my name is D. Jack O’Malley, and I represent Mr. Herschel Hubbard, surviving son of the deceased. My client lives in Memphis and that’s where I’m from but I will most certainly associate local counsel the next time I’m here.”
    “Good idea. Next?”
    Wedged into a spot behind O’Malley was a thin, rat-faced young man with wild, wiry hair. He stood timidly as if he’d never addressed a judge before and said, in a squeaky voice, “Sir, I’m Zack Zeitler, also from Memphis, and I’ve been hired to represent the interests of the children of Herschel Hubbard.”
    Judge Atlee nodded and said, “So, the grandkids have lawyers too?”
    “Yes sir. They are beneficiaries under the prior will.”
    “Got it. And I’m assuming they are in the courtroom.”
    “They are.”
    “Thank