“I wouldn’t call my dad and Welch wouldn’t call his. A lawyer was visiting a client in jail and heard about the two drunk Ole Miss law students in a cell back there, sobering up and missing classes. He went to the judge, pulled some strings, and got us out. The dean was waiting on us at school, threatened to kill us or at least disbar us before we even graduated. With time we got it all dismissed. The dean knew I would be too valuable an addition to the state bar to give up on.”

“Of course.”

“Needless to say, Welch and I go way back. A lot of skeletons. He’ll take care of Simeon until the will contest is over, then get rid of him. Dude’s going down anyway, not much anybody can do for him.”

“How much damage to our case?”

Lucien, the pessimist, was convinced the damage was irreparable, but Jake wasn’t so sure. Harry Rex swiped his face with a cheap paper napkin and said, “You know how trials go, Jake. Once they start, the judge and lawyers and witnesses and jurors are all locked in the same room, all within spitting distance of each other. They hear everything, see everything, even feel everything. They tend to forget what’s on the outside, what happened last week, last year. They’re consumed with what’s happening before their eyes, and with the decisions they’ll have to make. My hunch is that they won’t be thinking about Simeon Lang and the Roston boys. Lettie certainly had nothing to do with that tragedy. She’s doing her best to get rid of Simeon, who’s about to leave the county for a long time.” A swig of tea, a bite of corn bread. “Right now it looks worrisome, but in a month or so it will be less so. I believe the jury will be so riveted by Seth Hubbard’s will they won’t spend much time thinking about a car wreck.”

“I don’t think they’ll forget that easily. Wade Lanier will be there to remind them.”

“You still plan to lobby Atlee for a change of venue?”

“That’s the plan. We’re meeting this Friday on his front porch, at my request.”

“That’s a bad sign. If he wants you to come over, fine. But if you have to ask, then it probably won’t go so well.”

“I don’t know. I saw him at church Sunday and he asked how I was handling the situation. He seemed genuinely concerned and even willing to talk about the case after the sermon. Very unusual.”

“Let me tell you something, Jake, about Atlee. I know you’re close to him, or as close as any lawyer can get, but there’s a darker side there. He’s from the old school, the old South, old family ties and traditions. I’d bet that deep inside he’s appalled at the notion of a white man taking the family money and leaving it to a black woman. We may one day understand why Seth Hubbard did what he did, or we may not, but regardless of why, Reuben Atlee doesn’t like it at all. He’s got what he’s got because his ancestors passed it down. His family owned slaves, Jake.”

“A thousand years ago. So did Lucien’s.”

“Yes, but Lucien’s crazy. He wandered off the reservation a long time ago. He doesn’t count. Atlee does, and don’t expect him to do you any favors. He’ll run a fair trial, but I’ll bet his heart is with the other side.”

“All we can ask for is a fair trial.”

“Sure, but a fair trial in another county sounds better right now than a fair trial here.”

Jake took a drink and spoke to a gentleman who passed by. He leaned in lower and said, “I still have to file a motion to change venue. It gives us something to argue on appeal.”

“Oh sure. File it. But Atlee is not moving the case.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because he’s an old man in bad health and he doesn’t want to drive a hundred miles every day. He’s still the presiding judge, Jake, regardless of where the trial takes place. Atlee’s lazy, like most judges, and he wants this spectacle of a case right here in his courtroom.”

“So do I, to be perfectly honest.”

“His days are filled with no-fault divorces and who gets the pots and pans. Like any other judge, he wants this case and he wants it at home. We can pick a jury here, Jake. I’m confident.”

“We?”

“Of course. You can’t do it by yourself. We proved that during the Hailey trial. You’re okay in the courtroom but it’s my brains that won the case.”

“Gee, I didn’t remember it that way.”

“Just trust me, Jake. You want some banana pudding?”

“Sure, why not?”

Harry Rex lumbered over to the counter and paid for two hefty servings of dessert, in paper cups. The floor shook as he waddled back to their table and sat violently into his chair. With a mouth full, he said, “Willie Traynor called last night. Wants to know what you’re thinking about that house.”

“Judge Atlee told me not to buy it, not now anyway.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“Didn’t know His Honor was in the real estate business.”

“He thinks it might look bad, thinks the gossip will be that I’m clipping the estate for a chunk of money so I’m suddenly in the market for a fine old home.”

“Tell Atlee to kiss your ass. Since when is he in charge of your personal affairs?”

“Oh he’s very much in charge. He’s approving my legal fees these days.”

“Bullshit. Look, Jake, tell that old fart to take a hike, to mind his own business. You’re gonna screw around and lose this house and then for the rest of your life, and dear Carla’s too, ya’ll will kick yourselves for not buying it.”

“We cannot afford it.”

“You cannot afford not to buy it. They don’t build ’em like that anymore, Jake. Plus, Willie wants you to have it.”

“Then tell him to cut the price.”

“It’s already below market.”

“Not enough.”

“Look, Jake, here’s the deal. Willie needs the money. I don’t know what he’s up to, but evidently he’s stretched pretty thin. He’ll cut it from two fifty to two twenty-five. It’s a steal, Jake. Hell I’d buy it if my wife would move.”

“Get another wife.”

“I’m thinking about it. Look, dumbass, here’s what I’ll do for you. You got your arson case so screwed up it’ll never get settled. Why, because your client is yourself and they taught us in law school that a lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client, right?”

“Something like that.”

“So, I’ll take the case at no charge and get it settled. Who’s the insurance company?”

“Land Fire and Casualty.”

“Crooked sonofabitches! Why’d you buy a policy from them?”

“Is that really helpful at this point?”

“No. What was their last offer?”

“It’s a replacement value policy, for one fifty. Since we paid only forty thousand for the house, Land is claiming it was worth a hundred grand when it burned. I kept the receipts, invoices, contractors’ bills, everything, and I can prove we put another fifty into the house. This was over a three-year period. That, plus market appreciation, and I’m claiming the house was worth a hundred and fifty when it burned. They won’t budge. And they totally discount the sweat Carla and I poured into the house.”