Page 99 of Two Kinds of Stranger

Elly

The short months Elly spent in the mid-priced motel in Manhattan felt like years.

She had not posted anything on her social media since her viral video. She had not written anything, or sold her story to any news, TV or publishing outlets despite her agent’s protests. As a result, she no longer had any money coming in. Her apartment was up for sale, but buyers were put off by the events that had led to the property appearing on the market. Real estate is at a premium in Manhattan, but no one wanted an apartment that was the scene of a famous double homicide–not even the weirdos.

What little of her savings she’d had left after posting bail, were almost gone. If she didn’t sell the apartment, or agree to sell her story soon, she would have nothing.

And Elly didn’t care.

She rose from her bed and went to the bathroom, splashed water on her face and stared in the mirror. The energetic, vibrant young woman she had been four months ago was gone. She had swollen red eyes. Her clothes didn’t fit properly since she’d lost weight, maybe twenty pounds. The weight loss didn’t suit her. It only made her look ill and drawn. Harriet had always gently nudged Elly to lose weight. She would never say anything, butshe would give Elly a look if she bought a donut or ordered dessert. Harriet, the model, who had stolen her husband, had always been rail thin.

Memories of conversations she’d had with James took on new meanings. This was a constant source of torture. She remembered asking James, one night at a party, if he thought she should lose weight, and look more like Harriet. He had smiled and told her not to be foolish, but Elly couldn’t help but notice the hesitation before he answered, and the way she had caught him looking at Harriet sometimes when he thought he was unobserved.

It all made sense now.

And there was no way to fix any of this.

Betrayal and grief were powerful enemies.

She showered and dressed in a plain black pants suit. White shirt. For court.

No make-up.

Four months ago, the thought of leaving the house without make-up would have been inconceivable. Now, she couldn’t recall the last time she had worn any.

No point.

She cried too much.

For her friend. For her husband. For her father, and for herself.

Before Elly left, she turned to the full-length mirror bolted to the wall of the hotel room. A woman she didn’t recognize stared back.

Elly had changed. She no longer trusted people. Only Eddie and his team. She had seen the videos about Eddie on TikTok, and like a lot of New Yorkers she had vowed that if she were ever in trouble she would call Eddie Flynn.

She had made the right choice. She knew that.

And yet Eddie wasn’t a miracle worker. She knew he had a plan, and that the man would fight for her with his very soul.

But as the strange woman in the mirror stared back at Elly, she couldn’t help thinking this was the beginning of another horror.

This trial could send her to prison for the rest of her life.

And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

38

Kate

Kate lay in bed, wide awake, at five thirty in the morning as the wake-up alarm on her phone began to chime.

She had decided to get an early night. Always best to get as much sleep as possible on the eve of the first day of a murder trial. But from ten fifteen last night she had lain in bed, completely and comprehensively awake. This wasn’t Kate’s first rodeo, but when the clients were her law partner’s ex-wife and her husband, the stakes were that much higher. At first, the couple had been arrested on the assumption that they had acted together. Both of them had a reason to want Arthur Cross dead.

The NYPD forensics lab had found two sets of fingerprints on the murder weapon. Kevin’s and Christine’s. Christine told Kate she had only handled the gun twice. Once at a shooting range, after Kevin got the gun, and once maybe a week before the murder when she had gotten scared by a delivery driver and had taken it in hand.

The prosecution claimed this was a conspiracy to murder Arthur Cross and, with both sets of prints on the murder weapon, they had both been indicted. To make matters worse, Harry had been right–DA Castro had fast-tracked the trial to coincide with the Elly Parker case. That meant the defense of Kevin and Christine fell on Kate’s shoulders.

They’d had months of preparation. Bloch had done the legwork, gathered the evidence. Kate had prepared her noteson cross-examination. They were typed up, edited, deleted and rewritten many times. Christine, a good lawyer in her own right, had listened to Kate’s theory on defense, and agreed to it. Kevin, also a lawyer, had been impressed.