Sycamore Row (Jake Brigance, #2)

by John Grisham

files?” “Why? It’s a waste.” “Because I love the legal history, Jake. I’ve spent hours in the courthouse reading old court files and land records. You can learn a ton about a place and its people. Did you know that in 1915 they hung a man in front of the courthouse one month after his trial? He robbed Security Bank, shot a man but didn’t really hurt him, made off with $200, then got caught. They tried him on the spot, then strung him up.” “That’s pretty efficient. I guess they didn’t worry about overcrowded prisons.” “Or congested dockets. Anyway, I’m fascinated with this stuff. I’ve read an old will from 1847 where some white guy gave away his slaves; talked about how much he loved and treasured them, then gave them away like horses and cows.” “Sounds depressing. You’ll never find a Brigance who owned a slave. We were lucky to have a cow.” “Anyway, I need written permission from a member of the bar to get into the old files. County rule.” “Done. Just do it after hours. You still digging for your roots?” “Sure. I’m looking everywhere. The Rindses abruptly left this county in 1930 without a trace, without a clue, and I want to know why.” Lunch in the rear of Bates Grocery was a selection of four vegetables chosen at random from a collection of ten pots and skillets simmering on a large gas stove. Mrs. Bates herself pointed, dipped, served, and commented as she loaded the plates and handed them over while Mr. Bates punched the cash register and collected $3.50, iced tea incl...