Page 52 of Fifty-Fifty

‘That must’ve made for a tense time growing up,’ I said.

‘Have you ever lived with your enemy? I have. I hate her. I wish she was dead. Getting out of that house was a blessing. Apart from that secret chess match, we didn’t communicate. Even our notes were just moves, no narrative. I

never got to beat her at the game, and I regret that, but I was glad when we parted. I could tell you stories that would make you want to vomit. No, my sister and I were not close. We were as far apart as two people could be. She told me Mom was dead because of me. That Dad withdrew from us because of me. I knew it wasn’t true, of course. I never forgave her for saying that, making me feel that way. Mom was a real piece of work, but she was still my mom. I loved

her. I don’t know if she loved me back, but that didn’t matter. Not really. I think about her a lot. I miss her.’

We talked a little more about the trial. I explained that the DA had forensics linking Sofia and her sister to the crime scene.

‘I checked if he was breathing. I held him. Of course I had blood on me. His blood, but I didn’t hurt him. I couldn’t.’

‘I believe you. There’s something you should know. I was going to talk to you about it tomorrow, but we may as well talk now. The DA is offering a deal. He’s going to try and have a joint trial, with you and your sister both up for murder in front of the same jury. I’m going to try and stop that and have separate trials. I don’t know if I can split the trials up, but I’m going to try. I have a former judge helping me with that. The DA is offering a polygraph test to both of you. If you don’t take it, he’ll try to use that against you. It could go hard against you if your sister takes the test and passes. If you take it and fail, you’re in trouble. On top of that, he’s offering a plea deal. Plead guilty to the murder, and tell the court you did it with your sister, and you could be out of jail while you’re still young. I can’t let you plead to a crime you didn’t commit, but I have to let you know about the deal.’

‘I didn’t kill my father. If I’d known that Alexandra was going to kill him, I would’ve killed her first.’

She spoke confidently and clearly for the first time. She made eye contact, no hesitation in her speech. No wavering up or down in her line of vision. No stumbling on the sentence. Her hands still and easy on her lap. No tells. This was the truth.

‘In that case, we just have to think about the polygraph. It’s your call. A polygraph is not an exact science. If you decline I can probably minimize some

of that damage. If you take it and fail, you could be in trouble. My advice – tell the prosecutor to go to hell. I don’t think it’s worth the risk,’ I said.

‘No, tell him I’ll do it. I didn’t kill my father. I’m telling the truth. He’ll see that and they will drop the charges,’ said Sofia.

‘He won’t drop the charges, you should know this. He’ll only make a deal for a guilty plea and testimony against your sister in exchange for a reduced sentence.’

‘I’ll take the test. I have nothing to be afraid of. I didn’t do it.’

If she performed like that in the polygraph then she could probably pass.

Suddenly, I felt a lot better about this case. Sofia had a well of strength, deep inside. I just had to mine it, keep it there for the trial.

I offered to get her a cab home, but she declined. Said she felt better. Her arm had stopped bleeding and she wanted to jog back to her apartment.

Said the run would help clear her head.

The talk with Sofia had cleared my head, for sure. She was innocent. I could feel it. I knew it. And what’s more, I now realized what was wrong with the autopsy report on Frank Avellino.

It was Frank Avellino himself.

Frank was in great condition at the time of his murder. Apart from some signs of stress on the respiratory system, which could have been caused by the attack, he was in perfect shape. His heart, lungs, liver, brain, stomach, intestines – all pristine for a man of his age.

After Sofia left, I found the report at the bottom of the papers on my desk. I’d already made a few copies for Harper and Harry, but I wanted Harry to see it right away. I fed it into the fax machine and dialed Harry’s number. After ten minutes, and another shot of bourbon, my phone rang.

‘What am I looking for?’ said Harry.

‘Anything strike you as weird in that report?’ I asked.

‘Apart from the brutality, the bite, and the surgical skill, nothing.’

‘What if I told you Frank Avellino was displaying dementia symptoms for a few months before he died?’ I said.

I heard Harry flicking through pages. He paused. A small, weak bark sounded on the line.

‘You took that dog home, didn’t you?’

‘What dog?’

‘The dog that took you for a sucker on the street tonight.’