The jurors left and the courtroom cleared out. Jake stayed at his table, as did Lettie. It was time to acknowledge each other. Portia moved her chair closer so the three of them could speak softly in a small huddle. Lettie began with “Jake, I’m so sorry. What have I done?” Her eyes were instantly wet.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Lettie? If I had known about the Pickerings, I could have been prepared.”

“It didn’t happen that way at all, Jake. I swear I never discussed no will with Miss Irene. Never. Not before she wrote it, not after. I didn’t even know about it until I came to work that mornin’ and all hell broke loose. I swear, Jake. You gotta let me explain this to the jury. I can do it. I can make them believe me.”

“It’s not that simple. We’ll talk about it later.”

“We need to talk, Jake. Herschel and Ramona are lyin’ through their teeth. Can’t you make ’em stop?”

“I don’t think the jury is buying much of this.”

Portia said, “They don’t like Ramona.”

“I can understand that. I need to run to the restroom. Any word from Lucien?”

“No, I checked the phone messages during lunch. Some lawyers, some reporters, and one death threat.”

“A what?”

“Some dude said they gonna burn your house again if you win all that money for them niggers.”

“How nice. I sort of like it. It brings back fond memories of the Hailey trial.”

“I saved it. You want me to tell Ozzie?”

“Sure.”

Harry Rex caught Jake outside the restroom and said, “Spoke with Chilcott. No deal. No interest in talking settlement. In fact, he almost laughed in my face, said they have another surprise or two.”

“What?” Jake asked in a panic.

“Well, of course he wouldn’t tell me. That would ruin the ambush, right?”

“I can’t take another ambush, Harry Rex.”

“Just keep your cool. You’re doing fine. I don’t think Herschel and Ramona impressed too many jurors.”

“Should I go after her?”

“No. Take it easy. If you pin her down, she’ll just start crying again. The jury’s sick of her.”

Five minutes later, Jake walked to the podium and said, “Now, Mrs. Dafoe, your father died on October 2 of last year, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Before he died, when was the last time you saw him?”

“I didn’t keep notes, Mr. Brigance. He was my daddy.”

“Isn’t it true that you last saw him in late July, over two months before he died?”

“No, that’s not true at all. I saw him all the time.”

“The last time, Mrs. Dafoe. When was the last time?”

“Again, I didn’t keep up with the dates. Probably a couple of weeks before he died.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Well, no, I’m not positive. Do you make a note every time you visit your parents?”

“I’m not the witness, Mrs. Dafoe. I’m the lawyer who’s asking the questions. Are you sure you saw your father a couple of weeks before he died?”

“Well, uh, I can’t be positive.”

“Thank you. Now, what about the children, Will and Leigh Ann? When was the last time they saw their grandfather before he died?”

“Oh, heavens, Mr. Brigance. I have no idea.”

“But you testified they saw him all the time, right?”

“Of course, yes. They loved their granddaddy.”

“Did he love them?”

“He adored them.”

Jake smiled and walked to the small table where the exhibits were kept. He picked up two sheets of paper and looked at Ramona. “This is the will your father wrote the day before he died. It’s in evidence and the jury has already seen it. In paragraph six, your father writes, and I quote: ‘I have two children—Herschel Hubbard and Ramona Hubbard Dafoe—and they have children, though I don’t know how many because I haven’t seen them in some time.’ End quote.”

Jake placed the will back on the table and asked, “By the way, how old is Will?”

“Fourteen.”

“And how old is Leigh Ann?”

“Twelve.”

“So it’s been twelve years since you had a child?”

“Yes, that’s very true.”

“And your own father didn’t know if you’d had any more kids?”

“You can’t believe that will, Mr. Brigance. My daddy wasn’t in his right mind when he wrote that.”

“I guess that’s up to the jury. No further questions.” Jake sat down and got a note from Quince Lundy that read, “Brilliant. You killed her.” At that moment in the trial, in his career, in his life for that matter, Jake needed a boost. He leaned over and whispered, “Thank you.”

Wade Lanier stood and said, “Your Honor, the contestants call Mr. Ian Dafoe, husband of Ramona Hubbard.” Ian slinked to the stand, no doubt primed and ready to fabricate another trip down memory lane. Halfway through his testimony, Quince Lundy slipped over another note. It read, “These people are trying way too hard to convince the jury. Don’t think it’s working.”

Jake nodded as he looked for an opening, a stray word that he might seize and turn against the witness. In the wake of his wife’s over-the-top drama, Ian came across as harmlessly dull. He gave many of the same answers, but without the emotion.

Through sources and back channels, Jake, Harry Rex, and Lucien had picked up some dirt on Ian. His marriage had been on the rocks for some time. He preferred to stay away from home and blamed his absences on business. He ran the women hard. His wife drank too much. And, some of his deals were in trouble.

On cross, Jake’s first question was, “You say you’re a commercial real estate developer, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Do you own all or part of a company called KLD Biloxi Group?”

“I do.”

“And is that company attempting to renovate the Gulf Coast Mall in Biloxi, Mississippi?”

“It is.”

“Would you say that company is financially sound?”

“Depends on how you define ‘financially sound.’ ”

“Okay, let’s define it like this: Two months ago, was your company, KLD Biloxi Group, sued by the First Gulf Bank for the nonpayment of a $2 million line of credit?” Jake was holding and waving some papers clipped together. He had the proof.

“Yes, but there’s a lot more to the story.”

“I didn’t ask for more. Was your company also sued last month by a New Orleans bank known as Picayune Trust for $2.6 million?”

Ian took a deep breath and finally said, “Yes, but these cases are still pending, and we countersued.”

“Thank you. Nothing further.”

Ian stepped down at 4:45, and for a moment Judge Atlee considered recessing until Thursday morning. Wade Lanier offered to help by saying, “Judge, we can put on a witness that won’t take long.”

If Jake had an inkling of what was coming, he would have stalled some more with Ian, burned some clock, and dodged another ambush, at least until the next day. As it turned out, however, the jury left for the night with an even lower opinion of Seth Hubbard and his proclivities.

Lanier said, “We call Julina Kidd.”

Jake immediately recognized the name as one of the forty-five Lanier had dumped on his desk two weeks earlier. Jake had tried twice to phone her, but got nowhere. She was fetched from a witness room and led to the stand by a bailiff. Per Wade Lanier’s rather clear and firm instructions, she wore a cheap, blue dress that was similar to what Lettie had on. Nothing tight, nothing sexy, nothing to show off a figure that usually commanded a second look. No jewelry, nothing fancy. She tried her best to look plain, though that would have been impossible.

The message was subtle: if Seth would chase this attractive black woman, then he would also chase Lettie.

She took the stand and smiled nervously at the jury. Lanier walked her through some preliminaries, then got right to the point. He handed her some paperwork and asked, “Can you please identify this?”

She took a quick look and said, “Yes, this is a claim for sexual harassment I filed against Seth Hubbard about five years ago.”