Free A Grain of Truth by Zygmunt Miloszewski Page A

prompted them to get treatment, which as a consequence saved their lives,” retorted the defence counsel emphatically.
    “Then let those ladies fund a reward for him and send parcels. What concerns us here is that the defendant committed an illegal act and must bear the consequences, because it is against the law to go about the houses telling lies and fondling women. Just as it is against the law to go about the streets knocking out people’s teeth in the hope that later on at the dentist’s some more serious problems will be discovered and treated.”
    He could see that the judge was having to stop herself from snorting with laughter.
    “And the case has led to a serious discussion within the province about preventive action and the need for mammograms,” said the relentless defence lawyer.
    “But is this a formal motion?” Szacki felt weary.
    “These are circumstances that should be taken into consideration.”
    “Your Honour?” Szacki looked enquiringly at the amused judge.
    “The session is closed. The sentence will be announced on Monday at ten. Mr Prosecutor, would you please come to my office for a moment?”
    The judge, whose name, as he discovered from the case list, was Maria Tatarska, had an office as ugly as the rest of the building, equally nastily decorated in dirty-green colours, but at least it was spacious. Szacki knocked and was invited to enter just as Judge Tatarska was taking off her gown. An electric kettle was already burbling away on a cabinet.
    “Coffee?” she asked, hanging up her court uniform.
    As Szacki was on the point of replying yes, please, one spoonful, no sugar, lots of milk, Judge Tatarska turned to face him, and he had to concentrate on making sure no signs of his emotions appeared on his face. And on trying not to swallow his saliva in a theatrical way. Under her gown, Judge Tatarska was a regular sex bomb, with the body of a girl from a centrefold, and the amount of cleavage revealed by her purple blouse would have been thought daring in a night club.
    “Yes, please, one spoonful, no sugar, lots of milk.”
    They chatted for a time about the case, while she made them both coffee. Small talk, nothing interesting. He imagined she had brought him in here for some purpose. Other than the pleasure of communing with his professional coolness, gaunt figure and ashen face of a guy due to turn forty in a few months’ time, who had spent the winter feeling depressed and neglecting his physical fitness. He knew he looked like a state official. Usually he couldn’t care less, but right now he would have liked to look better. He also would have liked her to get to the point, as he had to leave in the next five minutes.
    “I’ve heard a few things about you, about your cases – my colleagues in the capital have told me.” She was looking at him closely. Szacki didn’t answer, but waited for her to continue. What was he supposed to say? That he knew of her by hearsay too? “I won’t say we made any special enquiries when the rumour went round that you were staying on here. You must have realized by now that personnel changes are not an everyday event in the provinces. From your perspective it can’t have been obvious, but in our little world it was a minor sensation.”
    He still didn’t know what he was meant to say.
    “I also looked in the press, I read about your cases – some of them are first-class crime stories, well-known ones. I was intrigued by the murder that happened during Hellinger’s Constellation Therapy.”
    Szacki shrugged. Hellinger, Devil take it, if not for that case, if not for the affair, if not for the old secret police stories, right now he’d probably be eating boiled eggs in tartare sauce on Solidarność Avenue, and arranging with Weronika for one of them to pick up the child from school. If it weren’t for Hellinger, he’d still have a life now.
    “In my time I’ve been very interested in Hellinger. I even went to Kielce for a constellation,