Sycamore Row

of his mind when he was planning to kill himself and at the same time writing that will; said that the three of us would be crucial witnesses because we saw Seth the Friday before the suicide and it would be up to us to testify as to how doped up he was; and, to boot, the real will, the one prepared by real lawyers and such, leaves some money to us as friends and employees; so, he said, it would be in our best interests to tell the truth, tell how Seth lacked—what was the term—”
    “Testamentary capacity,” Dewayne said from deep within the menthol fog.
    “That’s it—testamentary capacity. He made it sound like Seth was crazy.”
    Stunned, Jake managed to maintain a grim face and give away nothing. His first reaction was anger—how dare another lawyer step into his case, tell lies, and tamper with witnesses. There were so many ethical violations Jake couldn’t think of them all. His second reaction, though, was more restrained—this lawyer was a fraud, a fake. No one would do this.
    He kept his cool and said, “Well, I’ll have a talk with this lawyer and tell him to butt out.”
    “What’s in the other will, the real one?” Dewayne asked.
    “I haven’t seen it. It was prepared by some lawyers in Tupelo, and they have not yet been required to show it.”
    “Do you think we’re in it?” Kamila asked without the slightest effort at subtlety.
    “Don’t know.”
    “Can we find out?” she asked.
    “I doubt it.” Jake wanted to ask if such knowledge might affect their testimony, but he decided to say as little as possible.
    Arlene said, “He asked a lot of questions about Seth and how he was acting that Friday. He wanted to know how he was feeling and all about his medications.”
    “And what did you tell him?”
    “Not much. To be honest, he was not the kind of person I wanted to talk to. He was shifty-eyed and—”
    “A real fast talker,” Dewayne added. “Too fast. At times I couldn’t understand him and I kept thinking, This guy’s a lawyer? Hate to see him in court, in front of a jury.”
    Kamila said, “He got pretty aggressive, too, almost demanding that we tell our stories a certain way. He really wanted us to say that Seth was unbalanced because of all the drugs.”
    Dewayne, smoke pouring from his nostrils, said, “At one point he placed his briefcase on Arlene’s desk, upright, in an odd position, and made no effort to open it. He’s trying to tape this, I said to myself. He’s got a recorder in there.”
    “No, he wasn’t too smooth,” Arlene said. “We believed him at first, you know. Guy comes in wearing a nice dark suit, says he’s a lawyer, hands over his card, and seems to know a lot about Seth Hubbard and his business. He insisted on talking to the three of us at the same time, and we didn’t know how to say no. So we talked, or, rather, he talked. We did most of the listening.”
    “How would you describe this guy?” Jake asked. “Age, height, weight, so on.”
    The three looked at each other with great reluctance, certain that there would be little agreement. “How old?” Arlene asked the others. “I’d say forty.”
    Dewayne nodded and Kamila said, “Yes, maybe forty-five. Six feet, thick, I’d say two hundred pounds.”
    “At least two hundred,” Dewayne said. “Dark hair, real dark, thick, kinda shaggy—”
    “Needed a haircut,” Arlene said. “Thick mustache and sideburns. No glasses.”
    “He smoked Camels,” Dewayne said. “Filters.”
    “I’ll track him down and find out what he’s up to,” Jake said, though by then he was fairly certain there was no lawyer named Reed Maxey.Even the dumbest of lawyers would know that such a visit would lead to sure trouble and an ethics investigation. Nothing added up.
    “Should we talk to a lawyer?” Kamila asked. “I mean, this is something new for me, for us. It’s kinda scary.”
    “Not yet,” Jake said. He planned to get them one-on-one and hear their stories. A group talk might sway the narrative. “Perhaps later, but not now.”
    “What’ll happen to this place?” Dewayne asked, then noisily filled his lungs.
    Jake walked across the open space and roughly yanked open a window so he could breathe. “Why can’t you smoke outside?” Kamila hissed at the vice president. It was obvious the smoking issue had been roiling for some time. Their boss had been dying of lung cancer and his office suite smelled like burned charcoal. Of course smoking was permitted.
    Jake walked back,