Page 37 of Two Kinds of Stranger

‘I’ve never heard of this. Something is up. Bernice gave you that trial date because she had to. There’s some need or advantage to the DA’s office in getting this case to trial fast. Right now, I can’t think of anything specific. Unless. . .’

‘Unless what?’

‘It’s a long shot, but it could be a witness problem. That’s the only thing I can think of. Your evidence dictates your trial. If you’ve got a witness who is key to your case, then you schedule your trial around their availability.’

‘Can’t they set a date that suits them and just subpoena their witnesses?’

‘They’ll subpoena them anyway, but if you’ve got a professional witness you have to incorporate their timetable because they might be under subpoena in a dozen cases.’

‘What kind of professional witness? Maybe forensics?’

‘Yes, maybe. Let me ask around. What are you going to do about Elly’s bail. Is Kate filing an appeal?’

‘That’ll take too long. I’m just going to get her out.’

‘Are we breaking people out of Riker’s Island now? I’ve got a steel file and Denise could bake a cake and send it to Elly.’

‘If Denise is baking, we won’t need the steel file. Elly could use Denise’s meatloaf to breach a steel door.’

‘I don’t like to cast aspersions on her culinary expertise.’

‘Leave Elly’s bail to me. I just need you to get me a couple of things first. I’ll pick them up at the office later.’

‘What do you need?’

‘Our filing fee receipts from the court office for last year. I don’t need all of them, maybe three months’ worth, copied.’

‘I can’t work the damn Xerox. . .’

‘Ask Denise to do it. That’s not all. I need a roll of duct tape, a pillowcase and a .45 caliber ACP cartridge.’

‘A cartridge. . .’

‘From the magazine of the Colt 1911 that’s in the holster under your left arm.’

‘I’m not sure the New York Bar Association would approve of your methods of legal practice.’

‘What they don’t know won’t bother them.’

11

Elly

She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten.

The peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich she’d been offered that afternoon in the holding area had a strange smell. She’d tried a little of it, but her stomach threatened to throw up the first bite and she put it back on the paper plate and left it in the corner of the holding room. No sooner had she put it down than two women in the cell began fighting over it. The smaller one whacked the other in the mouth with a closed fist and this seemed to be enough to claim the prize. The large woman with the dreadlocks who got punched, spat blood on the floor and walked back to her bench. The other ten women in the holding area watched her walk the whole way, like she was prey. She had exposed weakness, and now wore it like a badge of shame.

Elly made a mental note never to put herself in that situation. This wasn’t high school. There would be no teachers to break up a fight. This was survival, all over again, but for real this time. She had kept her eyes on her rubber gym shoes and sipped the juice box. It was sweet and full of sugar, but she didn’t care.

Kate had told her they would get her out in forty-eight hours.

Elly desperately wanted to believe that.

She couldn’t remember the journey from the courthouse to Riker’s Island. Elly had sat in the prisoner van and wept in her transport cell. Like a closet, not much bigger than a coffin setupright, but with a chair and metal hoops for the chains on her wrists and ankles.

She remembered the vague smell of the river. Then getting off the transport, her gym shoes hitting wet concrete as she stepped onto the island; the rattling of the chains as they shuffled into another holding room.

The smell of disinfectant.