The Summons by John Grisham Read Free Book Online Page B

set foot in this house. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
    “It is.”
    “I stopped by a few days after the election, told him how sorry I was that the voters had turned him out, then I asked him for money. We had words.”
    “Come on, Forrest, not now.”
    Stories of the war between Forrest and the Judge could be told forever.
    “Never did get that money,” he mumbled as he opened a desk drawer. “I guess we’ll need to go through everything, won’t we?”
    “Yes, but not now.”
    “You do it, Ray. You’re the executor. You handle the dirty work.”
    “We need to call the funeral home.”
    “I need a drink.”
    “No, Forrest, please.”
    “Lay off, Ray. I’ll have a drink anytime I want a drink.”
    “That’s been proven a thousand times. Come on, I’ll call the funeral home and we’ll wait on the porch.”
    ______
    A policeman arrived first, a young man with a shaved head who looked as though someone had interrupted his Sunday nap and called him into action. Heasked questions on the front porch, then viewed the body. Paperwork had to be done, and as they went through it Ray fixed a pitcher of instant tea with heavy sugar.
    “Cause of death?” the policeman asked.
    “Cancer, heart disease, diabetes, old age,” Ray said. He and Forrest were rocking gently in the swing.
    “Is that enough?” Forrest asked, like a true smartass. Any respect he might’ve once had for cops had long since been abandoned.
    “Will you request an autopsy?”
    “No,” they said in unison.
    He finished the forms and took signatures from both Ray and Forrest. As he drove away, Ray said, “Word will spread like wildfire now.”
    “Not in our lovely little town.”
    “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Folks actually gossip around here.”
    “I’ve kept them busy for twenty years.”
    “Indeed you have.”
    They were shoulder to shoulder, both holding empty glasses. “So what’s in the estate?” Forrest finally asked.
    “You want to see the will?”
    “No, just tell me.”
    “He listed his assets—the house, furniture, car, books, six thousand dollars in the bank.”
    “Is that all?”
    “That’s all he mentioned,” Ray said, avoiding the lie.
    “Surely, there’s more money than that around here,” Forrest said, ready to start looking.
    “I guess he gave it all away,” Ray said calmly.
    “What about his state retirement?”
    “He cashed out when he lost the election, a huge blunder. Cost him tens of thousands of dollars. I’m assuming he gave everything else away.”
    “You’re not going to screw me, are you, Ray?”
    “Come on, Forrest, there’s nothing to fight over.”
    “Any debts?”
    “He said he had none.”
    “Nothing else?”
    “You can read the will if you want.”
    “Not now.”
    “He signed it yesterday.”
    “You think he planned everything?”
    “Sure looks like it.”
    A black hearse from Magargel’s Funeral Home rolled to a stop in front of Maple Run, then turned slowly into the drive.
    Forrest leaned forward, elbows on knees, face in hands, and began crying.

CHAPTER 7
    Behind the hearse was the county coroner, Thurber Foreman, in the same red Dodge pickup he’d been driving since Ray was in college, and behind Thurber was Reverend Silas Palmer of the First Presbyterian Church, an ageless little Scot who’d baptized both Atlee sons. Forrest slipped away and hid in the backyard while Ray met the party on the front porch. Sympathies were exchanged. Mr. B. J. Magargel from the funeral home and Reverend Palmer appeared to be near tears. Thurber had seen countless dead bodies. He had no financial interest in this one, however, and appeared to be indifferent, at least for the moment.
    Ray led them to the study where they respectfully viewed Judge Atlee long enough for Thurber to officially decide he was dead. He did this without words, but simply nodded at Mr. Magargel with a somber,bureaucratic dip of the chin that said, “He’s dead. You can take him now.” Mr. Magargel nodded,