Читаем A time to kill полностью

"It's not a gift you give or take away. It's an agreement between you and your attorney. Don't act as though you're doing me a great favor." Jake's voice was rising, his anger apparent.

"Do you want the case?" asked Carl Lee.

"Are you trying to rehire me, Carl Lee?"

"That's right."

"Why do you want to rehire me?"

" 'Cause Lester wants me to."

"Fine, then I don't want your case." Jake stood and started for the door. "If Lester wants me and you want Mar-sharfsky, then stick with Marsharfsky. If you can't think for yourself, you need Marsharfsky."

"Wait, Jake. Be cool, man," Lester said as he met Jake at the door. "Sit down, sit down. I don't blame you for bein' mad at Carl Lee for firm' you. He was wrong. Right, Carl Lee?"

Carl Lee picked at his fingernails.

"Sit down, Jake, sit down and let's talk," Lester pleaded as he led him back to the folding chair. "Good. Now, let's discuss this situation. Carl Lee, do you want Jake to be your lawyer?"

Carl Lee nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. Now, Jake-"

"Explain why." Jake asked Carl Lee.

"What?"

"Explain why you want me to handle your case. Explain why you're firing Marsharfsky."

"I don't have to explain."

"Yes! Yes, you do. You at least owe me an explanation. You fired me a week ago and didn't have the guts to call me. I read it in the newspaper. Then I read about your new high-priced lawyer who evidently can't find his way to Clanton. Now you call me and expect me to drop everything because you might change your mind again. Explain, please."

"Explain, Carl Lee. Talk to Jake," Lester said.

Carl Lee leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. He buried his face in his hands and spoke between his palms. "I'm just confused. This place is drivin' me crazy. My nerves are shot. I'm worried about my little girl. I'm worried about my family. I'm worried about my own skin. Everbody's tellin' me to do somethin' different. I ain't ever been in a situation like this and I don't know what to do. All I can do is trust people. I trust Lester, and I trust you, Jake. That's all I can do."

"You trust my advice?" asked Jake.

"I always have."

"And you trust me to handle your case?"

"Yeah, Jake, I want you to handle it."

"Good enough."

Jake relaxed, and Lester eased into the couch. "You'll need to notify Marsharfsky. Until you do, I can't work on your case."

"We'll do that this afternoon," Lester said.

"Good. Once you talk to him, give me a call. There's a lot of work to do, and the time will disappear."

"What about the money?" asked Lester.

"Same fee. Same arrangements. Is that satisfactory?"

"Okay with me," replied Carl Lee. "I'll pay you any way I can."

"We'll discuss that later."

"What about the doctors?" asked Carl Lee.

"We'll make some arrangements. I don't know. It'll work out."

The defendant smiled. Lester snored loudly and Carl Lee laughed at his brother. "I figured you called him, but he swears you didn't."

Jake smiled awkwardly but said nothing. Lester was a

nar, a- laieni wmcn naa proved extremely beneficial during his murder trial.

"I'm,sorry, Jake. I was wrong."

"No apologies. There's too much work to spend time apologizing."

Next to the parking lot outside the jail, a reporter stood under a shade tree waiting for something to happen.

"Excuse me, sir, aren't you Mr. Brigance?"

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm Richard Flay, with The Jackson Daily. You're Jake Brigance."

"Yes."

"Mr. Hailey's ex-lawyer."

"No. Mr. Hailey's lawyer."

"I thought he had retained Bo Marsharfsky. In" fact, that's why I'm here. I heard a rumor Marsharfsky would be here this-afternoon."

"If you see him, tell him he's too late."

Lester slept hard on the couch in Ozzie's office. The dispatcher woke him at 4:00 A.M. Sunday, and after filling a tall Styrofoam cup with black coffee, he left for Chicaga. Late Saturday night he and Carl Lee had called Cat in his office above the club and informed him of Carl Lee's conversion. Cat was indifferent and busy. He said he would call Marsharfsky. There was no mention of the money.

Not long after Lester disappeared, Jake staggered down his driveway in his bathrobe to get the Sunday papers. Clanton was an hour southeast of Memphis, three hours north of Jackson, and forty-five minutes from Tupelo. All three cities had daily papers with fat Sunday editions that were available in Clanton. Jake had long subscribed to all three, and was now glad he did so Carla would have plenty of material for her scrapbook. He spread the papers and began the task of plowing through five inches of print.