Page 12 of Fifty-Fifty

She swallowed, nodded, and said, ‘My dad’s dead. My sister killed him. She says I did it, but I swear to you I didn’t. I couldn’t. She’s a lying, murdering bitch!’

Her hands flew up in the air and came down with slap on the table to punctuate the word ‘bitch.’

‘Okay, I know this sounds stupid, but I need you to stay calm. I’m here to help you if I can.’

‘Sergeant Bukowski said I should talk to the lawyers, but I shouldn’t make up my mind until I talked to you. I don’t know what I should do …’

She shook her head as tears formed in those eyes, which were much greener than I’d first thought. Looking away, she swallowed down a cry, her neck muscles standing out from her throat, and instead she took a big breath into her lungs. Closing her eyes, and letting the tears fall to the floor, she said, ‘I’m sorry.

I can’t believe he’s gone. I can’t believe what she did to him.’

I nodded and said nothing while she drew her knees to her chest and hugged her legs. She cried and rocked back and forth gently.

‘I’m sorry about your father. Truly, I am. The truth of it is you are in the worst possible situation. The cops are coming after you, and probably your sister too.

One or both of you could face a murder charge. Maybe I can help you? Maybe

not. I only need one thing. I need to know that you didn’t kill your father,’ I said.

Sofia had been listening through the tears. She dried her face with a napkin, sniffed and began to bring herself down to a level where she could talk. If she was faking it, she was very good. I didn’t see an actress across the table. I saw a young woman in pain. That was real. That was true. But whether that pain was

due to the death of her father, or the fear that she might have been found out as a killer, or some other reason, was not yet entirely clear.

‘Why are you asking me? The other lawyers didn’t ask me if I was guilty.

Don’t you believe me?’

‘I ask all my clients the same question. The ones I believe are innocent, I fight for as hard as I can. If they tell me they didn’t do it, I can usually tell when they’re lying and then we part ways. If they hold up their hands and say they’re guilty, then I help them tell their story to the court, so the judge can understand why they did it, and what mercy or mitigation is appropriate. I don’t fight for murderers who want to get off. That’s not my beat.’

She appraised me anew, like I’d taken off some kind of camouflage and she was now looking at a real person.

‘I like that you asked me,’ she said. ‘I want you to be my lawyer. I didn’t kill my father. It was Alexandra. She did it.’

I took my time, watched her closely as she spoke. Truth was in her eyes, her voice, her face. No warning signs, no tells which could be indicative of a lie. I believed her.

Now it was time to go to work.

‘Tell me what happened,’ I said.

‘I was in Dad’s house in Franklin Street. I have my own place not far away, and I usually visit. More and more recently, since he became more forgetful. I went to the house and at first I didn’t think he was home—’

‘Stop, just a second, tell me how you got inside.’

‘I have keys. So does Alexandra.’

‘Okay, I’m sorry for interrupting. You said you didn’t think he was home …’

‘I got inside, and he wasn’t in the den. That’s where he normally hangs out, watching TV or working. He wasn’t there. I called upstairs and he didn’t answer.

I thought maybe he’d gone out, so I fixed a drink from the bar in the den, finished it, and then I went upstairs.’

‘Why did you go upstairs?’

‘I heard a noise, so I thought he must be home and maybe he hadn’t heard me come in. I went up the first flight of stairs and he wasn’t on the first floor.’

‘What is on the first floor of the house?’

‘Three bedrooms and a gym. He wasn’t in the gym, and I didn’t check the bedrooms. No reason for him to be there. Then I heard the noise again, coming