The Chamber by John Grisham Read Free Book Online Page A

I was three years old when we left Mississippi, and my parents never talked about the place. My mother believes that there was no contact between Eddie and Sam from the day we left until she wrote him in prison and told him his son was dead. He did not write back.”
    “Damn, damn, damn,” Goodman mumbled to himself.
    “There’s a lot to it, Mr. Goodman. It’s a pretty sick family.”
    “Not your fault.”
    “According to my mother, Sam’s father was an active Klansman, took part in lynchings and all that. So I come from pretty weak stock.”
    “Your father was different.”
    “My father killed himself. I’ll spare you the details, but I found his body, and I cleaned up the mess before my mother and sister returned home.”
    “And you were seventeen?”
    “Almost seventeen. It was 1981. Nine years ago. After my aunt, Eddie’s sister, told me the truth, I became fascinated with the sordid history of Sam Cayhall. I’ve spent hours in libraries digging up old newspaper and magazine stories; there are quite a lot of materials. I’ve read the transcripts of all three trials. I’ve studied the appellate decisions. In law school I began studying this firm’s representation of Sam Cayhall. You and Wallace Tyner have done exemplary work.”
    “I’m glad you approve.”
    “I’ve read hundreds of books and thousands of articles on the Eighth Amendment and death penalty litigation. You’ve written four books, I believe. And a number of articles. I know I’m just a rookie, but my research is impeccable.”
    “And you think Sam will trust you as his lawyer?”
    “I don’t know. But he’s my grandfather, like it or not, and I have to go see him.”
    “There’s been no contact—”
    “None. I was three when we left, and I certainly don’t remember him. I’ve started a thousand times to write him, but it never happened. I can’t tell you why.”
    “It’s understandable.”
    “Nothing’s understandable, Mr. Goodman. I do not understand how or why I’m standing here in this office at this moment. I always wanted to be a pilot, but I went to law school because I felt a vague calling to help society. Someone needed me, and I suppose I felt that someone was my demented grandfather. I had four job offers, and I picked this firm because it had the guts to represent him for free.”
    “You should’ve told someone up front about this, before we hired you.”
    “I know. But nobody asked if my grandfather was a client of this firm.”
    “You should’ve said something.”
    “They won’t fire me, will they?”
    “I doubt it. Where have you been for the past nine months?”
    “Here, working ninety hours a week, sleeping on my desk, eating in the library, cramming for the bar exam, you know, the usual rookie boot camp you guys designed for us.”
    “Silly, isn’t it?”
    “I’m tough.” Adam opened a slit in the blinds for a better view of the lake. Goodman watched him.
    “Why don’t you open these blinds?” Adam asked. “It’s a great view.”
    “I’ve seen it before.”
    “I’d kill for a view like this. My little cubbyhole is a mile from any window.”
    “Work hard, bill even harder, and one day this will all be yours.”
    “Not me.”
    “Leaving us, Mr. Hall?”
    “Probably, eventually. But that’s another secret, okay? I plan to hit it hard for a couple of years, then move on. Maybe open my own office, one where lifedoes not revolve around a clock. I want to do public interest work, you know, sort of like you.”
    “So after nine months you’re already disillusioned with Kravitz & Bane.”
    “No. But I can see it coming. I don’t want to spend my career representing wealthy crooks and wayward corporations.”
    “Then you’re certainly in the wrong place.”
    Adam left the window and walked to the edge of the desk. He looked down at Goodman. “I am in the wrong place, and I want a transfer. Wycoff will agree to send me to our little office in Memphis for the next few months so I