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 he got was: “You’d better come off your high horse and settle this son of a bitch.”
A mile passed before Jake responded. “What makes you think Wade Lanier would talk settlement now? He just won the case. That jury wouldn’t give Lettie Lang fifty bucks for a sack of groceries. You saw their faces.”
“You know the bad part, Jake?”
“It’s all bad. It’s worse than bad.”
“The bad part is that it makes you question everything about Lettie. I’ve never thought for a minute that she manipulated Seth Hubbard into redoing his will. She’s not that slick and he wasn’t that stupid. But now, all of a sudden, when you realize she’s done it before, you say, ‘Okay, could this be a pattern.’ ‘Could this old gal know more about will and estate law than we give her credit for?’ I don’t know, it just rattles you.”
“And why would she cover it up? Hell, I’ll bet she’s never told Portia, never told anyone about getting caught at the Pickerings’. I guess I should’ve been smart enough to ask her six months ago-say, Lettie, have you talked anyone else into changing their wills and adding a nice provision for you?”
“Why didn’t you think of that?”
“Stupid I guess. I feel pretty stupid right now.”
Another mile passed, then another. Jake said, “You’re right. It makes you question everything. And if we feel this way, think about the jurors.”
“The jurors are gone, Jake, and you’ll never get ’em back. You’ve called your best witnesses, put on a near-perfect case, saved your star to go last, and she did a fine job, and then, in a matter of minutes, the case was totally destroyed by a surprise witness. You can forget this jury.”
Another mile passed. Jake said, “A surprise witness. Surely that’s grounds for a reversal.”
“Don’t bet on it. You can’t let it get that far, Jake. You gotta settle this case before it goes to the jury.”
“I’ll have to resign as the attorney.”
“Then so be it. You’ve made some money, now get out of the way. Think about Lettie for a moment.”
“I’d rather not.”
“I understand, but what if she walks out of that courtroom without a penny?”
“Maybe that’s what she deserves.”
They slid to a stop in the gravel parking lot of Bates Grocery. The red Saab was the only foreign car there; every other vehicle was a pickup truck, and not a one less than ten years old. They waited in line as Mrs. Bates patiently filled their plates with her vegetables and Mr. Bates collected $3.50 from each customer, sweet iced tea and corn bread included. The crowd was almost shoulder to shoulder and there were no empty chairs. “Over there,” Mr. Bates said, nodding, and Jake and Harry Rex sat at a small counter not too far from the massive gas stove that was covered with pots. They could talk, but carefully.
Not that it mattered. Not a single person having lunch knew a trial was under way in town, and they certainly didn’t know how badly the trial had turned against Jake. Perched on a stool and hunched over his plate, he sat forlornly and looked through the crowd.
“Hey, you gotta eat,” Harry Rex said.
“No appetite,” Jake said.
“Can I have your plate?”
“Maybe. I envy these people. They don’t have to go back into that courtroom.”
“Neither do I. You’re on your own, buddy. You’ve screwed up the case so bad it can never be rescued. I’m outta there.”
