Sycamore Row

someone, okay? Look, Jake, I was not here during the Hailey trial, but I heard all about it. I came home that Christmas and there was a lot of talk about the trial and Clanton and the Klan and National Guard and all that, and I sort of felt bad for missing the fun. But your name is well known in our parts. My mother told me a few days ago that she felt like she could trust you. That’s not easy for black folks, Jake, especially in a situation like this.”
    “We’ve never seen a situation like this.”
    “You know what I mean. With all this money being thrown around, well, we just sort of naturally expect to get the short end.”
    “I think I understand.”
    “So, when we got home yesterday, there was another fight. A big one, between Momma and Dad with a few other unwanted opinions thrown in. You see, I don’t know everything that happened before I came home, but evidently they’ve been fighting over some pretty serious stuff. I think my dad accused her of sleeping with Mr. Hubbard.” Her eyes watered quickly and she stopped to wipe them. “My mother is not a whore, Jake, she is a great woman who raised five kids practically alone. It hurts to know that so many people around here think she somehow screwed her way into that old man’s will. I’ll never believe it. Never. But my father is another story. They’ve been at war for twentyyears and when I was in high school I begged her to leave him. He criticizes everything she does and now he’s criticizing her for something she didn’t do. I told him to shut it up.” Jake handed her a tissue, but the tears were gone. She said, “Thanks. Anyway, on one hand he accuses her of sleeping with Mr. Hubbard, and on the other hand he’s secretly happy she did, if she did, because it might pay off. She can’t win. So, after we got home yesterday from court, my momma tore into him about the Memphis lawyers.”
    “So he hired them?”
    “Yes, he’s a big shot now, and he has to protect his asset—my momma. He’s convinced the white folks around here will conspire to invalidate the will and keep the money. It will all come down to race, so why not hire the biggest race baiter in these parts? And here we are. And there he is, sitting over there in jail.”
    “What do you think about that?”
    “Sistrunk? He wants to be in jail right now. Got his picture in the paper with a nice headline. Another black man wrongfully jailed by the racists in Mississippi. It’s perfect for him. He could not have scripted it any better.”
    Jake nodded and smiled. This woman could see around corners.
    “I agree,” he said. “It was all an act. By Sistrunk, at least. I can assure you Rufus Buckley had no plans to go to jail.”
    “How did we end up with these clowns?” she asked.
    “I was planning to ask you the same question.”
    “Well, from what I gather, my dad went to Memphis and met with Sistrunk, who, no surprise, smelled a big payday. So he hustled down here to Ford County, put on his show, and my mother fell for it. She really likes you, Jake, and she trusts you, but Sistrunk convinced her no white people can be trusted in this case. For some reason, he brought in Buckley.”
    “If those guys stay in the case, we’re going to lose. Can you imagine them before a jury?”
    “No, I cannot, and that’s what the fight was all about. My momma and I argued that we’re screwing up the case right now. Simeon, always the expert, argued that Sistrunk will take the case to federal court and win it there.”
    “There’s no way, Portia. There’s no federal question here.”
    “I didn’t think so.”
    “How much is Sistrunk getting?”
    “Half. And the only reason I know this is because it spilled out during the fight. My momma said giving half of her share to Sistrunk was ridiculous. My dad said, ‘Well, half of nothing is nothing.’ ”
    “Have they borrowed money from Sistrunk?”
    “You don’t mind asking questions, do you?”
    Jake smiled and shrugged, said, “It will all come out eventually, believe me.”
    “Yes, there was a loan. I don’t know how much.”
    Jake took a sip of cold coffee as both pondered the next question. “This is serious business, Portia. There’s a fortune at stake, and our side is losing right now.”
    She smiled and said, “A fortune? When word got out that this poor black woman in rural Mississippi was about to inherit twenty million, the lawyers went crazy. Had one call from Chicago, making all kinds of promises.