In that sentence, the entire dynamic of the courtroom changes. It’s as though Quentin has suddenly taken a croaker sack from his briefcase and released a rattlesnake under the chairs.

“Holy fuck,” whispers Rusty. “This is where Quentin was headed all along.”

“Let’s see.”

“I’ll allow it,” Judge Elder says. “But we’d better see how this fits pretty quickly, Mr. Avery.”

“Understood, Your Honor. So, how was the money divided, Ms. Revels?”

“Just like the will said. I got thirty thousand, six hundred dollars, Lincoln got the same, and the rest went to Junius Jelks.”

“Viola’s husband?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And where does Mr. Jelks reside now?”

“In prison, in Illinois.”

“That’s right,” Quentin muses, as though he had forgotten. “Tell me, who drew up your sister’s will?”

“Mr. Alvin Dupuis. A Chicago attorney who had grown up in Natchez.”

I once met Alvin Dupuis, when he was in town for a reunion of some kind. He was old then, and a black police detective told me that Dupuis had worked in the gray margins of the legal profession for many decades.

“When was this?” asks Quentin.

“A long time back,” Cora answers. “Soon after Lincoln got out of law school, I think it was, him and Vee went down to Mr. Dupuis’s office and drew up the will. But he be dead now. Mr. Dupuis, I mean.”

“I see. Ms. Revels, when the will was probated, did anyone contest it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did anyone come forward with any other will that they claimed was your sister’s? Or did anyone claim that the will you’re talking about was invalid?”

Again Cora glances at Lincoln, who by now is looking everywhere but at his aunt.

“Well,” Cora says uncomfortably, “one lady did try to say that Viola had promised to give some money to that reporter, Mr. Sexton. But she didn’t have no proof, so the judge threw her out.”

“I see. Who was this woman you’re referring to?”

“I don’t remember her name. She was Mr. Sexton’s mama, I believe.”

“I see. How much did Mrs. Sexton claim that your sister had promised to give her son?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

More expressions of shock from the gallery.

“That’s more than sixty percent of your sister’s total estate. Why would she give that kind of money to Mr. Sexton?”

“She wouldn’t!” Cora blurts. Then she leans back as though embarrassed by her passion.

“What did Mrs. Sexton claim was the reason?”

“She said Viola had promised Mr. Henry that money to help finish some movie he was making.”

“What was this movie about?”

“I don’t know.”

Quentin’s skepticism is obvious to everyone in the room. “And Viola never spoke to you about willing Mr. Sexton some money?”

“No, sir.”

“Not even a small amount?”

“No.”