FiFty Fifty

Chapter Thirty - Six

EDDIE

Harry rested his elbows on his knees and studied Clarence. The little dog sat there transfixed by his master, his tail wagging.
'If someone was drugging Frank, taking control of his empire, making him submissive, and getting away with it, why was it necessary for him to die?' asked Harry.
Clarence licked his chops, moved forward onto all fours and stuck his nose under Harry's arm, prodding it away. Obliging his friend, Harry stroked his fur in something approaching contemplation.
Clarence didn't have an answer for Harry's question. Neither did I.
'We can't assume anything here,' I said. 'Frank was being slowly poisoned and controlled, but we can't know for sure that it was the same daughter that ended up killing him.'
'True, but it makes the most sense. My guess is Frank found out who was drugging him, called up Mike Modine to cut the culprit out of his will. That forced the hand of the poisoner – they had no choice but to kill Frank before he could make that change.'
'That explains why they had to take drastic action before he met his attorney on Monday. Kinda strange the cops haven't found Mike Modine, don't you think?'
'I'd say it's darn right suspicious. One thing I know is lawyers like Modine never run off to join the circus unless they're scared about going to jail.'
'I checked in with his firm. Everything's in order with Mike's files. He wasn't about to get sued, he was already divorced, and as far as anyone in the firm knew he wasn't seeing someone new. He just disappeared. It stinks, Harry.'
'Seems to be a lot of people involved with the Avellino sisters end up dead. Their mother, their stepmother, now Frank. Maybe Alexandra killed Modine too?'
'You still think Sofia is innocent?' I said.
Harry stood, attached Clarence's lead to his collar and made a few grumbling sounds as he straightened up. Harry wasn't getting any younger.
'I had my doubts in the beginning, but I trust your judgment. The more time I spend with her, the more I think she's just a mixed-up kid from a bad family.
 
She needs help. She needed her father. I can't visualize Sofia hurting anyone. Alexandra – I can picture it more easily,' said Harry.
'Why?'
'Whoever did this must've known they'd get caught. You don't kill your father with another witness in the house. No one does that. Even if you're in a blind rage – it would be stupid as hell unless you killed the witness too. I don't get why both women are still alive. One of them is a liar and a killer. Sofia is volatile, but Alexandra gives me the impression of someone who can be calculated in their actions. There's a lot about this case doesn't make sense, unless there's a whole other side to it that we can't see. Anyway, I'm not going to see much more tonight. Adios. Me and my amigo are hitting the sack.'
Harry and Clarence left the office just after eleven. I looked over the trial bundle again, then when I raised my head and checked my watch I saw it was coming up on midnight. I should sleep.
The thought of lying down in that cot in the back – I couldn't face it. Not tonight. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Harper's face. It was beyond grief now. It had become something else. I had cried for her, for weeks. It felt like bleeding. That some part of me had been hurt, and it was only making me sicker and sicker and I didn't know how to fix it. The pain of losing her had given way to guilt. No way to know when that happened, but I felt it all the same. I'd already lost or pushed away one family for fear of them getting hurt. Three years ago Amy had been taken by the Russian mob. If it hadn't been for Jimmy the Hat I would never have gotten her back. That changed things in my marriage. The biggest threat to Christine and Amy was my work, and the bad people who came along with it. Part of me had cut off my family, for their own safety. Now I was paying the price. I was a weekend dad, with all of the troubles and worry that came with it.
Did Harper's death have something to do with me, too? Would she still be alive if she hadn't met me?
That was a question I wanted to ask myself, but I was afraid of the answer.
I played the video again, for the fifth time that day.
It was us. Harry, Harper and me in Frank Avellino's house. Taking pictures.
Whispering theories so the sound guy wouldn't pick it up on the recording. This was one of the last things Harper ever did. These were the last images of her.
I cracked open the Scotch, poured a glass way too big and settled back in my seat to watch, my laptop perched on the desk in front of me. I studied every movement she made. I'd never noticed how graceful she was. I knew she was beautiful, but this was something else. She moved like she wasn't human, and yet was more human than any of us. Her heart was right there in her smile.
Cops thought Harper's murder was a robbery gone bad. There had been a spate of home invasions, but then again, there were always home invasions. It was part of the turf. Maybe it was my guilt, maybe it was grief, but I couldn't shake the feeling this was down to me. Every time I felt this I tried to rationalize. Tell myself what I wanted to hear. That it couldn't really be connected to the Avellino case. There was no reason to target her. If someone had killed Harper because of this case, I couldn't figure out why. Why target Harper? Why not me?
It should've been me.
Slam.
It should've been me.
Slam.
It. Slam. Should've. Slam. Been. Slam.
I stopped when I heard the crack. Didn't know if it was the desk or my hand. I
looked down and the wood at the corner of the desk had split along with my knuckles. In the bathroom I put on a Band-Aid and returned to my chair. The image of Harper, frozen on screen.
My head went gently to the desk, resting on the back of my hands. I wanted to sleep, but I knew it wouldn't happen.
The killer took some cash from a bureau in her bedroom. Five hundred in twenties. Maybe they'd thought about taking her necklace, and then thought again. And they smashed her phone.
The images from the night of her murder would never leave me. I saw blood on her hallway floor. The broken necklace in the blood, the little gold cross in the middle of the chain. There was something else I needed to remember. Something important. I squeezed my eyes shut.
There. I saw it. Playing out in my mind like a nightmare.
Beyond Harper's hallway was a set of French doors leading to a kitchen. Her laptop lay open on the kitchen table. I'd seen it when I came in. Although I hadn't registered it at first. I was too busy looking at the blood on the floor.
They took the money. Left her necklace. Smashed her phone but left the laptop.
My head shot up to the video. I played it again from the beginning. Harper's death had not been part of a robbery. She had no defensive wounds. She'd been stabbed as soon as the killer had stepped into the house. If it had been a robbery, the phone would've been fenced for a hundred dollars, and the laptop five hundred, easy.
This was no robbery. It was just supposed to look like one. Sofia had gotten a copy of this video. So had Alexandra.

What if Harper had seen something? Something none of the rest of us had seen. Something implicating the killer.
What if the killer had known this?
I clicked the track pad and started the video again.
When I was done, I scanned most of the Avellino case, started composing an
email and then attached the file and the video, and hit send.
There was one person in the world who I trusted to look at this. Maybe she
could see something I couldn't.