Page 5 of Fifty-Fifty

I looked around the waiting room. The cream of Manhattan’s criminal defense attorneys were gathered, all the big players in their thousand-dollar suits with their assistants tagging along behind them.

I looked down. I wore a pair of black and white Air Jordan Low’s, blue jeans and an AC/DC tee under a black blazer. Most of my clients weren’t concerned

with my sartorial appearance after midnight. I clocked some of the suits nudging each other and nodding in my direction. Clearly, I didn’t look like any kind of competition for these guys. But what I didn’t understand was why this case was

such a big deal.

‘The sisters claim the other one did it. So what? They got money or something? What’s brought all the lions to the riverbank tonight?’

‘Shit, you haven’t seen the news, have you?’ said Bukowski.

‘No, I’ve been asleep.’

‘The girls are Sofia and Alexandra Avellino. Frank’s daughters.’

‘Frank’s dead?’

Bukowski nodded, said, ‘I talked to one of the ESU responders. Frank was gutted like a fish. Torn up with a blade. The responder told me this was a bad one. And you know the ESU – they see a lot.’

The Emergency Service Unit of the NYPD operated like a smart SWAT team.

There wasn’t much they hadn’t seen – from terrorist atrocities to bank robberies, hostage situations to live shooters. If someone in the ESU said it was bad, that meant it was straight out of a nightmare. But it wasn’t the extraordinary level of violence involved in the crime that had brought out Manhattan’s finest criminal sharks – it was the victim and the alleged perps.

Until November last year, Frank Avellino had been mayor of New York City.

‘What are the chances of me getting in on this case when I’m at the back of the line?’

‘You’re at the front of the line now. Carol couldn’t get the client signed up.

The guy in there now hasn’t got a prayer. I’ll take you through in a second,’ said Bukowski.

‘Hang on, I was third in line?’

‘Carol Cipriani bumped me a grand to be first, but she couldn’t get the client signed up. Sorry, Eddie. I gotta eat.’

‘Hey, what are we? Chopped liver? What gives here?’ said one of the suits.

‘Don’t worry, take it easy. He’s not bumping the line. You’ll get your chance,’ said Bukowski. ‘It’s okay, Eddie. Most of these pricks are here to see Alexandra. You’re seeing Sofia.’

‘Hang on, we’re not here to see both sisters?’ asked one of the suits, and they all raised their voices to complain.

Bukowski was my guy, along with half a dozen other duty sergeants who would tip me off if they caught a big arrest, and I always looked after them in return. This time, the NYPD smelled a big case and every cop who had a lawyer

feeding their pockets got on their phones. I’d seen it before. The detectives in charge of the case would complain to the sergeants, but as long as they didn’t cut into the arrest time too much there was nothing they could do. The detectives wouldn’t complain to their superiors because then they would be ratting out a fellow officer.

In the NYPD, rats die in holes. Some of the lawyers here would get their shot and those who didn’t wouldn’t complain. If they did complain then they wouldn’t get any more calls. The clients wouldn’t complain because they got the pick of the best lawyers. High-profile homicide was Christmas time for uniformed PD. Like most things in this town, a little corruption and a little money on the side helped to grease everyone’s wheels.

Welcome to New York City.

‘Let me grab my keys and I’ll introduce you to Sofia.’

‘Why am I seeing Sofia?’ I asked.

Bukowski leaned in close, said, ‘I know you. You won’t take the case if the client is trying to get off on a crime they committed. Alexandra, I got my doubts about her. This chick – Sofia – well, you’ll see. I get twenty to thirty people come through my cells every day. I can spot the real perps same as you. She ain’t a perp. But I gotta warn you, don’t make any sudden movements with this

chick. Don’t hand her nothin’, don’t leave any pens or paper with her.’

‘Why?’