Page 50 of Two Kinds of Stranger

‘Oh shit, lookee here, the TikTok killer, in da house. . .’ said a voice, but Elly couldn’t discern who had said it. She kept her head down, followed Suze to a table and sat beside her.

‘Keep your head down,’ said Suze. ‘Shit, I didn’t know you afamousbitch. They’ll all want a piece of you. Stay out here, where the COs can see you with the cameras. Don’t go back to the cell until lights out. Be ready. One of these bitches is gonna come for you.’

16

Bloch

Bloch stared at the ceiling in Grand Central Station and tutted.

The celestial ceiling in the main concourse is a representation of the ancient heavens, with the zodiac constellations rendered in gold on a turquoise background. Electric light bulbs illuminate the stars that form the original Greek signs of the zodiac–the crab depicting Cancer, the winged horse of Perseus, Orion as the figure of the hunter and so on. It is one of the most beautiful and breathtaking public artworks in the world.

Bloch shook her head, dug her nails into her palms, then looked away from the ceiling and tilted her head to the right, cracking her neck.

She looked around the concourse and spotted Lake approaching. He had his cell phone in his hand and he was flicking his thumb across the screen. He stopped in front of Bloch.

‘Did you get some pictures?’ she asked.

Lake nodded, said, ‘There’s an MTA security camera at the turnstile and two on the platform. None on the stairwell.’

Bloch nodded. They were checking out Elly’s story of the man with the yellow suitcase, identifying the cameras that would have picked him up. While New York’s public transport system was one of the easiest and cheapest ways to navigate the city, Bloch never used it. She drove. She liked driving, but there was another reason.

The tunnels and platforms of the subway made her feel uncomfortable. Bloch couldn’t handle any kind of confined space, particularly underground. Lake had to be the one to enter the subway and scope out the camera locations.

Lake paused, stared at Bloch. She clenched her fists, relaxed and then clenched again. Cracked her neck.

‘What’s bothering you? You don’t have to go into the subway. I’m pretty sure I got everything we need,’ said Lake.

‘It’s not that – it’s the ceiling,’ said Bloch.

Tilting his head back, Lake smiled as he took in the artwork.

‘What’s with the ceiling? It’s gorgeous. Is it too high? Don’t tell me you’re claustrophobic and agoraphobic too.’

‘I’m not claustrophobic. I just don’t like being underground. And I like the height. It’s the painting, it’s backward,’ said Bloch.

‘It’s what?’

Bloch pointed to the ceiling said, ‘The constellations are facing the wrong way. It’s like someone drew the stars from a mirror. Or they had the drawing at their feet and then copied it the wrong way onto the ceiling. It makes me. . .uneasy. It’s like a stone in my shoe. It’s not right.’

Lake nodded, said nothing. Only Bloch would notice small imperfections. It was what made her a talented investigator, but this ability also drove her crazy from time to time.

He followed Bloch out of the station, and they walked the route described by Elly, back to the building where she had been poisoned. There were two more cameras, in Pershing Square and at a crosswalk on 40th, that could have picked up images of Elly and the man with the suitcase. They also looked for cameras in stores pointed at the entrances and which might pick up passers-by on the sidewalk.

They tried the stores, but they struck out. Camera footage was erased after forty-eight hours.

When they reached the building, Bloch made a note of the address. Elly didn’t know the exact address or apartment number, but she had given Kate a good description of the building and this was the only one that matched. Bloch took some pictures, sent them to Kate so she could confirm this was the correct address when she next saw Elly.

They walked on, and Bloch made a call as they moved. Her contact in NYPD. She gave all the relevant information–approximate times of Elly entering the subway and camera locations. If there was anything remotely matching the description of the man, then her contact would find the footage and send it to Bloch. If it corresponded with Elly’s story, Kate could then subpoena the relevant security footage so that it could be used in court as evidence.

First, they wanted to see all the video. Make sure it backed up their client’s story. No point in obtaining evidence officially that only damaged their case.

Bloch hung up the call, said, ‘It’s going to take a day to get the footage. Anything else we can do?’

‘The homeless man who helped Elly,’ and he pointed to the corner of 40thStreet. One of the buildings on the corner had an alcove. There was a large shopping bag filled with rags and a bundle of cardboard boxes tied up with string tucked into the corner of the building recess.

‘Nobody’s home,’ said Lake.

‘Age range mid-thirties to early fifties. Caucasian. Unshaven. Red coat. Blue beanie hat. He was in the alcove on the corner of the street. That’s all that Elly could remember about him. Not much to go on,’ said Bloch.