Sycamore Row

interest.”
    “He can’t do that ethically, can he?”
    “You mean a lawyer would cheat?”
    “Or chase a case?”
    The lawyer calmly said, “Ethics are determined by what they catch you doing. If you don’t get caught, then you haven’t violated any ethics. And I doubt if Sistrunk spends too much time reading the latest ethical guidelines from the American Bar Association.”
    “He’s too busy reading his own press clippings. When’s he coming back to town?”
    The lawyer replied, “Judge Atlee has a hearing scheduled for next week.”
    “What’re they gonna do?”
    “Bunch of motions and such, probably another circus.”
    “He’s a fool if he shows up again in a black Rolls-Royce.”
    “I bet he does.”
    The insurance agent said, “I got a cousin in Memphis, works in the court system. He says Sistrunk owes money all over town. He makes a lot, spends even more, always running from banks and creditors. He bought an airplane two years ago and it damned near broke him. The bank repossessed it, then sued him. He’s claiming it’s a racist conspiracy. He threw a big birthday party for his wife, number three, rented a big tent, brought in a circus, rides for all the little kids, then afancy dinner with fresh lobster and crab and wines flown in. When the party was over, all his checks bounced. He was threatening to file for bankruptcy when he settled some barge case for ten million and paid everybody off. He’s up and down.”
    This had their attention and they mulled it over. The waitress refilled their cups with scalding coffee.
    The realtor looked at the lawyer and said, “You didn’t really vote for Michael Dukakis, did you?” It was an act of outright provocation.
    “I did and I’d do it again,” the lawyer said, and this was met with some guffaws and some fake laughter. The lawyer was one of two Democrats present. Bush carried Ford County by 65 percent.
    The other Democrat, one of the geezers, redirected things by asking, “When do they file Hubbard’s inventory? We need to know what’s in the estate, right? I mean, look at us here, gossiping and bickering over his estate and his last will and so on. Don’t we have the right, as citizens and taxpayers and beneficiaries under the Freedom of Information Act, to know exactly what’s in the estate? I certainly think so.”
    “It’s none of your business,” said the merchant.
    “Maybe so, but I really want to know. And you don’t?”
    “I couldn’t care less,” replied the merchant, who was then ridiculed.
    When the heckling died down, the lawyer said, “The administrator is required to file an inventory whenever the judge tells him to do so. There is no statutory deadline. Just guessing, in an estate of this size, the administrator will be given plenty of time to find everything and have it appraised.”
    “What size are you talking about?”
    “The same size everybody else is talking about. We won’t know for sure until the administrator files his inventory.”
    “I thought he was called the executor.”
    “Not if the executor quits, as he did here. The court then appoints an administrator to handle everything. The new guy is a lawyer from Smithfield named Quince Lundy, an old friend of Judge Atlee’s. I think he’s semiretired.”
    “And he gets paid out of the estate?”
    “Where else would the money come from?”
    “Okay, so who all gets paid out of the estate?”
    The lawyer thought for a moment, then said, “The estate lawyer, which is Jake for the time being, though I don’t know if he’ll last.Rumor is he’s already fed up with the Memphis lawyers and thinking of quitting. The administrator gets paid from the estate. Accountants, appraisers, tax advisers, folks like that.”
    “Who pays Sistrunk?”
    “I’m assuming he has a contract with that woman. If she wins, he’ll take a percentage.”
    “What the hell is Rufus Buckley doing slinking around the case?”
    “He’s the local counsel for Sistrunk.”
    “Hitler and Mussolini. They trying to offend every single person in Ford County?”
    “Apparently so.”
    “And it will be a jury trial, right?”
    The lawyer answered, “Oh yes. Seems like everyone wants a jury trial, including Judge Atlee.”
    “Why Judge Atlee?”
    “It’s simple. Takes the monkey off his back. He doesn’t have to make the decision. You’re gonna have big winners and big losers, and with a jury verdict no one can blame the judge.”
    “I’ll lay ten-to-one odds right