The phone rang as soon as Joanna got it on the shoulders under her raincoat. Good thing both the nightstand and the coat rack were practically next to each other.
- Hello! - Joanna called back tiredly, wondering who it could be. Leaning against the wall, Beckett was relieved to throw off the day's wear and tear.
- Hello," the stranger was blindingly polite. - May I speak to Mrs. Beckett?
- You may. It's me. What else can I do for you?
A pleasantly soft laugh sounded softly in the receiver.
- We're talking not only of benefit to society as a whole, but primarily, ma'am, to your family," said the soft, trusting voice, which was not at all unpleasant. That's the tone you usually use with women or children. - And, as your secret admirer, I want to warn you in a friendly way not to make any rash moves. In defending people like Pulgatti, you defy society and question its morals. Don't you find your behavior strange?
Joanna shifted her eyebrows in displeasure. Why should anyone dare to lecture her in the middle of the night? Absolutely nothing to talk about!
- Excuse me, sir," Beckett was harsh in her reply, "but I don't need any cautions, so I do as my conscience dictates. By the way, why don't you introduce yourself?
The stranger laughed again, but this time there was a sarcastic, scratchy undertone to his laugh.
- You may call me Mr. Smith, if it makes you feel better. What I mean to say is this: you have no idea, ma'am, what loneliness means in today's world. And how insignificant a man can be. Anyone, absolutely anyone, and thanks to the communicative possibilities of our time, that any, even the most unsightly decision can be made right on the fly. And just as swiftly executed, without any critical consequences. I hope that you understand what we are talking about? - And the interlocutor underlined the last phrase in his voice.
- Are you trying to threaten me? I think, mister, you're too much in the way! - Beckett tiredly stepped from foot to foot. If it were not for her natural sense of tact and the ability to perceive any, even the most unpleasant and boring information, this polite "cheeky" would certainly be in trouble.
- God forbid! - Smith's indignation seemed quite sincere, and Joanna even believed him for a moment. - Believe me, I am not your enemy, and I mean well. I am well aware of your business reputation, your zeal and meticulousness in the processes - all this is commendable. And what you are working on now, I am also aware of. That's why you must take my request seriously - Pulgatti must not be released! Under no circumstances! I won't give you a time limit, but I won't let you forget about me!
The man passed out without saying goodbye. Lowering her hand, Joanna stared at the tube clutched in her fist for some time, as if trying to discern someone else's face on the black plastic. Of all the strange calls to work and home that had taken place in the last three days after the conversation with Pulgatti, this was the most "constructive. The previous calls had been characterized by a labored sniffling and sullen silence on the other end, followed by a hang-up. Today, it seemed to break through. It seems that with her restlessness and integrity, she - lawyer Beckett - has struck another hidden chord in the soul of the Big Apple. Though threats had happened before, Joanna had long ago learned to accept them as an unpleasant but inevitable facet of her profession. Especially since no one could ever do her job better than herself.
After massaging her throbbing temples with pain, Joanna pulled on her slippers and wandered into the kitchen, where mouthwatering smells wafted from the doorway. Jim was frantically tinkering with the stove, whistling something cheerful, but he turned around at the gaze of his wife.
- Darling, I heard the bell. Was that somebody from work? - he inquired, licking the sweet tip of his index finger.
- Not exactly," Beckett smiled wearily, leaning her shoulder against the jamb and crossing her arms over her chest. - Just another suave "well-wisher." They're always short on weekdays for barbs.
- What was it about exactly? - Jim was wary. He stroked his chin in thought as he adjusted his flour-covered apron.
- Against my current client going free.
Jim frowned. He furrowed his brow in anger for a while, then pulled off his apron and walked over to his wife, pulling her tightly around the waist.
- I do not like it! - he said anxiously. - Isn't it time to call the police?
Joanna kissed her husband confidentially on the lips and gently patted his cheek.
- Darling, let's not make it too much of a scene! Given the peculiarities of my profession, there will always be dissatisfied. Besides, I know what I do!
Shaking his head reproachfully, Jim pursed his lips.
- Jonah, I've always respected your choice, but please be careful! Promise? - Gently holding his beloved, Jim stared into eyes so familiar, yet glittering with professional stubbornness. He was sadly aware that his love could not be changed.
- Always! - Beckett smiled cheerfully, touching his prickly cheekbone with her soft lips. - It smells good! Will you call for me? I'll go upstairs for now.
They exchanged tender and touching kisses, then Jim went back to the stove, and Beckett went up to her office. She glanced at the piled desk, turned on the desk lamp, and sat down in a chair. In these piles of protocols and references, stacks of cardboard folders and reams of photographs was her whole uneasy quintessence of existence, the working core of her whole life. Difficult yet interesting, the Pulgatti case must be another victory, not for self-love, but for self-belief.
Joanna opened the folder in front of her and deepened her reading, at the same time making notes on a blank sheet of paper. The long talk with Pulgatti had been worth the effort. In Beckett's delicate but tenacious hands had fallen such trumps that the prospect was breathtaking. Famous people, blessed with money and power, turned out to be hardened criminals, without principles, honor and conscience. If a couple of them for a long time put behind bars, the city would breathe easier, and people will strengthen faith in justice. She would have to question a few more witnesses, and the picture of what had happened would be complete. And there, in a sense, it is not far from the court...
...Miss! - Kessler became seriously angry as he watched the student's absent gaze. - Miss, can you hear me or not? - he added grudgingly.
Kate had made so many mistakes in less than an hour of class that she should have been sent to the impound lot. Apparently, Irvin's displeasure did shake Beckett, because when she slowed down at the curb, she involuntarily asked again:
- Excuse me?
- What is wrong with you? - You're making one mistake after another, as if you'd just sat behind the wheel today! What happened to your focus and attention? Do you have a problem with your eyes, or are you suddenly sick in the head?
Nervously stroking his palms, Irwin began to flex his fingers, listing:
- First, forgetting to release the parking brake almost burned the brake pads. Second, nearly blew a tire by backing into the lawn. Third, we almost hit a signal bollard and almost rammed Heinz's car. After all this other little things are not even worth talking about! - Kessler grudgingly puckered his lips, dry as a frozen perch. - If you do not listen to my advice, you should not be in the driving school! Go, spin bicycle pedals, or sweat at the gym, or else I will have to clean up all your negativity! With such "diligence" as you did today, you won't get a "sheepskin" for a thousand years!
Kessler got so angry that he took a cloth for a windscreen from the glove compartment and nervously began to wipe his glasses with it.
- Oh, excuse me, please," said Kate, blushing, guiltily. She listened with a bowed head as she listened meekly to the sultry lecture. - I really am a little absent-minded. You see, my mother is ill.
- Sick, you say? - Irwin shifted his eyebrows sternly. He looked down at Kate, who was already biting her lips, and softened a little. The words of justification seemed quite plausible, and with a heavy sigh, Kessler said sadly:
- "It's the worst when the relatives aren't well. My Lottchen fought the disease for a long time, but alas...
Kessler looked through the lenses of his glasses, then pushed them against his thin, frame-rimmed nose.
- If you want to take a break, take a walk to that café, and I'll take care of all the rough stuff with Rachel," and Irwin pointed a finger at the big Starbucks logo on the front of the corner high-rise across the street. - All right, a fragrant tea and a cream puff with chocolate sprinkles should cheer you up. I hope the statistics don't lie.
- I prefer coffee," Kate smiled gratefully, "and can I get you anything?
- Green tea with mint and a couple of doughnuts, if you don't mind," Kessler smiled conciliatorily, pulling a folded newspaper from the glove compartment.
With a nod, Beckett grabbed her purse and made her way out. As she ducked through the intersection, she confidently pulled the polished glass sash toward her, so she didn't see Kessler furtively holding the phone to her ear...
...Inside the café was the familiar aroma of coffee and the tantalizing smell of vanilla, but the atmosphere was far from serene. The main irritant was a group of young Italians. Stretching along the counter in a long, uneven tail, they passed cups of drinks and bags of food along the chain to the table closest to them. The boys were gesticulating so impulsively, gibbering loudly and laughing about something, that Kate wondered how they managed not to drop or spill anything. While Beckett was idly looking at the window with sweets, tinkling with change, her head was spinning with very unhappy thoughts. She had to lie to Kessler, because it was all about yesterday's phone call! And Kate furrowed her eyebrows.
Her history elective had ended late enough. Her dad wasn't home, and her mom was hard at work on the stove. As she shared the day's events, Kate rushed over to help. Her mood was high, and when the phone rang, Kate cheerfully picked it up. But she genuinely didn't understand why her mother, who had come in after her, was frowning so anxiously.
- Hello.
- Good evening," he said politely. Who didn't want to introduce himself?" Could you put Mrs. Beckett on the telephone, please?
- Yes, of course! - Kate smiled sympathetically, and with a wave of her hand drew Joanna to her side: "Mother, it's for you!
Joanna slowly came to the phone, thanked Kate with a short raise of her eyebrows, but somehow turned her back to her daughter. She didn't even think of saying hello; her mother's voice sounded dry, unhappy, even a little nervous. After a few curt, harsh words, Joanna hung up. She looked as if she had been put under the pressure of a press, and then she wandered into the kitchen. And when she staggered back to the kitchen, her legs were lolling tiredly.
Kate stared after her, puzzled, wondering. What was so unpleasant about an ordinary phone call?
- Mama," Kate frowned, looking at the sullen figure. - Mother, who was that?
Half-turned, Joanna twitched her shoulder indifferently.
- No one. One pesky bastard. Next time don't tell him anything, just hang up.
- Then why did he call? To say good night? - Kate bit her lip anxiously. She really didn't like her mother's sudden change of mood, but Joanna noticed it. She beckoned her daughter to her and held her tightly to her chest, soothing her with light kisses on her forehead.
- It's nothing important. He's trying to get me to drop the Pulgatti case.
- Has he threatened you? Did he? You don't look like yourself, Mother! - Kate was alarmed, but Joanna, smiling encouragingly, stroked her daughter's luxuriant braid.
- I guess that's what you call direct threats to yourself, but I'm not easily intimidated. I'll see this through to the end; it's my duty.
