FiFty Fifty

Chapter Ninteen

leave.
That stopped the letters. No more came after that.
She imagined the rest of the equity partners conducted a thorough in-house
investigation and decided it wasn't worth it.
'I thought they were going to let it go,' said Kate.
'Nah,' said Bloch, 'not without a fight.'
It was going to turn into a fight, that was for sure. Kate knew then she would
have to countersue, citing Levy's lecherous approaches, and while everything she would put in that suit would be true – there was no way of proving it.
Bloch put the box of discovery down on the sidewalk, took out her keys and blipped open her truck. Kate sat down on top of the box, cupped her face in her hands and tried to steady herself.
'Come on,' said Bloch. 'We can deal with that later. Right now we've got a murder case to win. I've got a feeling all the answers are under your ass.'
Kate smiled, stood.
Together they lifted the box into the trunk, closed the lid. Kate got into the passenger seat, Bloch the driver's seat. Kate buckled her seat belt, then noticed her hands were shaking. She gripped her knees and told herself everything was going to be alright. She didn't believe a word of it.
The engine roared into life as Bloch pulled into traffic. Fifty yards ahead a stop light turned from green to yellow. Kate heard a motorcycle beside her. She turned and saw the rider wearing a black helmet, with a tinted visor. The rider stared straight at Kate. She could tell by the tight biker suit it was a woman. Suddenly, the motorcycle roared and took off, accelerating rapidly, the engine like a turbine in her ear. The motorcyclist, all in black, tore through the intersection on the yellow light, making the other side just before the red and then weaving through the traffic.
Bloch brought the truck to a stop for the light and said, 'Nice bike.'
The rest of that day, and into the night, Kate and Bloch worked through the discovery in Kate's apartment. They ordered in food, Kate kept the coffee coming and at two a.m., Bloch put down the last sheaf of paper and rubbed at her temples.
'You finished?' asked Kate.
'I think both girls are finished,' said Bloch.
The prosecution case rested on forensic evidence.
DNA from both defendants on the victim's body.
Fingerprint and DNA evidence from both defendants on the murder weapon. Hair fiber from Sofia Avellino on the victim's body.

Bite marks from Alexandra on the victim's body.
Both defendants had motive. Both had opportunity.
Both had a lot of the defendant's blood on their clothes.
'It's hard to split the responsibility. It'll come down to who the jury believe,'
said Kate.
Pointing at the stack of forensic reports, Bloch said, 'That kind of evidence
will put both of them away.'
The two-seater couch had a bow in the middle, where the central beam had
broken. The rest of it wasn't too comfortable either, but Kate sat down in the middle of the couch because she knew from experience she'd slide to the middle anyway, no matter where she chose to sit on it. She put her elbows on her knees and curled her hair around her finger – staring into space.
'Let's see what she says in the morning,' said Kate. She saw Bloch to the door, then slept in her clothes until five a.m., when the cold got too much for her. Getting up, she brought her blankets to the radiator, and slept again, curled up on the floor.
By eleven that morning, Kate was showered and dressed in a new suit to meet Alexandra at her apartment. Her client let her in and offered her a seat at the small dining table.
'I love your suit. Is it new?' asked Alexandra.
'It is. Thank you.'
They sat together at the table, sipping hot herbal tea and making small talk
before Kate got down to business. She explained the forensic evidence to Alexandra. How damning it looked. The only upside, maybe, was that it was damning to both sisters.
'There might be a way to minimize it,' said Kate. 'I want to stipulate we don't challenge the DNA, blood and fingerprint evidence. You told the police you went to your father and grabbed hold of him. You also used the knife before, when you were cooking. None of that evidence means you killed your father, just that it could have been you. I think if the jury has to sit and hear all this evidence from the experts, the sheer weight of it will make them think you had to have killed him along with your sister. This is about minimizing the case against you. Best way to deal with it is to say that it fits with your story.'
'So what happens, practically, if we don't challenge it?'
'We'll tell the jury this evidence exists, but we'll imply it's not important – that it doesn't prove anything. The bite-mark evidence is different, we'll fight that the whole way.'
Alexandra turned her head away, tears forming in her eyes.
'Whatever you think is best. I'm just so worried about the trial. I-I-I can't look

at her. I don't want to be in the same room as her. She killed my dad, she wants to ruin my life. I don't want to see her. Is there a screen or something that could be put up, so I don't have to see her every day of the trial?'
'Not that I know of ... I'll look into it. I know it will be hard ...' Kate broke off when she saw Alexandra's fingers trembling. It occurred to Kate that her client's main concern wasn't whether she would be convicted – it was the loss of her father, and the deep, perpetual wound caused by his murder.
'Leave it with me. I'll see if something can be done. If it can't, then I will need you to be strong. You don't have to look at her. Look at the jury. Let them see what I'm seeing now.'
Alexandra met Kate's gaze, her chin wobbled, and she licked a tear from the corner of her mouth.
'I'll do my best,' said Alexandra, taking in a long breath and holding it. While she exhaled, her fingers pressed on the table, then slid around in patterns, as if she was feeling for every imperfection in the wood and exploring it.
She let out the air in her chest, drew a handkerchief from the sleeve of her blouse and wiped delicately at her wet cheeks. Kate detected the smell of lavender and spice in the air, probably from the handkerchief. Alexandra took a sniff at the scented handkerchief, rubbed the cotton between her forefinger and thumb, then unfolded it and held it up for Kate to see.
The corner of the material bore the initials 'FA', which had been monogrammed onto the material in black thread.
'Dad's smell is still on these handkerchiefs,' said Alexandra, fresh tears forming in her corners of her eyes. 'It's all I have left of him.'
Kate took hold of Alexandra's hand, and they exchanged bittersweet smiles.
'It's the polygraph tomorrow. Remember this feeling. This will get you through it,' said Kate.