Sycamore Row - John Grisham

was out of his mind. You can’t make a valid will if you lack testamentary capacity.”
“Of course not, but little is clear right now. On the one hand, he seems to have
planned his death in meticulous detail, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. On the
other hand, leaving it all to his housekeeper is hard to figure.”
“Unless she influenced him.”
“I’m sure that’ll be argued.”
Amburgh reached for a pocket and said, “Mind if I smoke?”
“No.”
He lit a menthol and flicked ashes into his oatmeal. His mind was spinning, nothing
made sense. Finally, he said, “I’m not sure I have the stomach for this, Mr. Brigance. I
may be named as the executor, but that doesn’t mean I have to serve.”
“You said you were a lawyer once. You sound like it.”
“In the day, I was a small-town hack, same as a million others. Over in Alabama, but
probate laws don’t vary much from state to state.”
“You’re right—you don’t have to serve as executor.”
“Who would want to get involved in this mess?”
Me, for one, thought Jake, but he bit his tongue. The waitress cleared the table and
topped off the coffee cups. Amburgh read the will again and lit another cigarette. When
he’d emptied his lungs, he said, “Okay, Mr. Brigance, allow me to think out loud. Seth
mentions a prior will, one prepared last year by the Rush law firm in Tupelo. I know
those guys and it’s safe to assume that will is much thicker, much smarter, and put
together in such a way as to take advantage of proper estate tax planning, gift
exclusions, generation-skipping transfers, the whole nine yards, okay, whatever is
available to protect the estate and legally avoid as much in taxes as possible. Are you
with me?”
“Yes.”
“Then, at the last minute, Seth prepares this crude document that revokes the proper
will, leaves virtually everything to his black housekeeper, and guarantees that much of
what he’s trying to give away will be eaten up in estate taxes. Still with me?”
“About 50 percent will go for taxes,” Jake said.
“Half, blown away just like that. Does that sound like a man who’s thinking clearly,
Mr. Brigance?”
It did not, though Jake was not ready to yield an inch. He said, “I’m sure that
argument will be made in court, Mr. Amburgh. My job is to probate the estate and
pursue the wishes of my client.”
“Spoken like a true lawyer.”
“Thank you. Are you gonna serve as the executor?”
“Will I get paid?”
“Yes, there will be a fee, to be approved by the judge.”
“How much time will be involved?”
“Could be a lot. If there is a will contest, which seems likely, we could be in court for
hours, for days. As executor, you’ll have to be there, listening to every witness.”
“But, Mr. Brigance, I don’t like this will. I don’t approve of what Seth did. I have not