Chapter 1
Boy Scout Troop 1440 was dismissed by Major Ludwig promptly at five p.m. on Tuesday afternoon, and the boys hustled outside to their bikes. As always, Theodore Boone lingered for a moment to say good-bye to the Major, then he stepped into the cool evening with plans to head downtown to his parents’ law firm.
At the bike rack he saw Woody Lambert, one of his good friends, and noticed once again that he wasn’t smiling. Woody never smiled these days, and that in itself would not have been noticeable except that in place of a smile or a grin or any sign that life was normal or even okay, Woody was going about his business with a sad, sour expression, as if life was beating him up. As if he carried burdens and prob- lems too heavy for a thirteen-year-old boy.
Theo had known him since the fourth grade when the Lamberts moved to Strattenburg. Their home was unstable. His mother was on her second or third husband, and the current one was often away on the job. His real father had disappeared years ago. His older brother Tony had been arrested once and was gaining a bad reputation. Theo suspected that the Lamberts were having serious problems and that was why Woody seemed so unhappy.
Theo said, “Let’s go to Guff ’s and get a frozen yogurt. My treat.”
Woody immediately shook his head no, even frowned. “No thanks.”
He never had spare change, and he was too proud to allow Theo or anyone else to treat. Theo had known this for a long time and felt like a jerk for offering to pay.
“You okay?” Theo asked.
“I’m fine,” Woody said as he climbed on his bike. “See ya later.”
“Call me if you need me,” Theo said, and watched him ride away. Woody did not respond.
Home was the last place Woody wanted to go, though he suspected the house would be empty. His mother was working two part-time jobs and on Tuesdays she waited tables at a diner near the college. Her husband, Woody’s stepfather, worked in construction and made good money at times, but the jobs were sporadic. Currently he was out of town, two hours away, and Woody hadn’t seen him in a month. Tony was a sophomore at Strattenburg High but was in the process of dropping out, or flunking out, or getting kicked out for bad grades and low attendance. Tony’s attitude was so lousy he didn’t care how he left the school.
Woody parked his bike under the carport, walked through the unlocked door to the kitchen, yelled for Tony, heard nothing, and was pleased no one was there. He was spending a lot of time alone, and it wasn’t all that bad. He had choices, options. He could play video games, watch television, do his homework, or plug in his electric guitar and practice for an hour or so. Of the four, homework, of course, ranked last. His grades were slipping and his teachers were asking questions, but no one at home seemed to care.
There was rarely anyone at home.
Theo parked his bike outside the rear door of Boone & Boone, the converted old house his parents had owned since long before he was born. He entered through the door, stepped into his own little office, and was immediately met by Judge, his faithful dog who’d been waiting for hours. Judge spent his days at the office doing nothing of any importance except sleeping and begging for food. He moved quietly around the place, napping on one small dog pallet for an hour or so before easing along to another. He had at least four beds, three downstairs and one up, but his favorite was the soft one located under Theo’s desk. Each afternoon, in anticipation of his best friend returning from school, Judge went to Theo’s office and waited.
Theo rubbed his head, chatted with him for a moment, then the two of them went to say hello. Vince, the paralegal, had left for the day and his door was closed. Dorothy, the real estate secretary, was hard at work but stopped for a second to inquire as to how Theo’s day had gone. The door to his mother’s large office was closed, a clear indication that she was meeting with a client. She was a divorce lawyer, most of her clients were women, and when they met behind closed doors things were usually tense. Theo did not even think about knocking.
He had no plans to be a divorce lawyer. At the age of thirteen, he had already decided that he would become either a great courtroom lawyer, the best in the state with big, important trials, or a great judge who presided over those trials and was known for his wisdom and fairness. Most of his friends were dreaming of careers as professional athletes, or computer geniuses, or brain surgeons, or perhaps even a rock star or two, but not Theo. He loved the law and longed for the day when he was a fully grown man with dark suits and a fine leather briefcase. However, according to his parents, he must first finish the eighth grade, then suffer through high school, college, and law school. At least twelve more years of education awaited him, and he was not looking forward to the ordeal. At times he was already tired.
The front room of Boone & Boone was ruled by Elsa Miller, the firm’s long-time receptionist/secretary/paralegal/ adviser/referee, and, occasionally in the past, Theo’s babysitter. Elsa did it all, and she did it with an enthusiasm that Theo often found tiresome.
At the sight of him, she bounced up from her desk, grabbed him, hugged him, pinched both cheeks, all the while asking how his day had gone. It was the daily routine and it rarely changed.
“Just another boring day in school,” Theo said as he tried to wiggle out of her embrace.
“You always say that. How was Scouts?”
Elsa knew his schedule better than he did. If he had an appointment with the doctor or dentist, Elsa had it marked on her calendar. A science project due? Elsa reminded him. A scouting trip to the lake? Elsa was on it.
She looked him up and down to make sure his shirt matched his pants, another irksome habit, and said, “Your mother is with a client but your father is free right now.”
His father was always free, and alone. Woods Boone was a real estate lawyer who smoked a pipe, and because of the smoke no one else in the firm ventured upstairs near his office.
“Better hop on your homework,” Elsa said as she retreated to her desk.
Copyright © 2020 by John Grisham. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
