With a shrug, Grace brushes him off, "It's really not that newsworthy. Vigilante takes matters into his own hands after someone sent him off the deep end."
After a slight pause, Antoine nearly leaps out of his seat to hear more. "How do you know?"
"EMT's know everything,” she smooths back her white blonde hair. "Because it doesn't fit his MO, nobody is talking about it. But this creepy old guy had been asking about him and some friend of his around town. Next thing they know, his body washes up from the river, strangled so violently his neck broke. This boss dorka guy had to have gone ballistic and killed the dude with his bare hands. But they couldn’t prove it without revealing what the victim was into.”
The entire car sits in silence, waiting for the next part of the story no one's heard yet.
"Then he kind of just followed his trail to the next one, and the next. The police can't exactly release what kind of men his victims were. Encouraging vigilantism doesn't do them any favors and the rate for actually solving homicides is abysmally low, so they really wanted to make an example of the rare one they did catch, even if he was putting other's crimes on display and solving them for the cops."
There was enough evidence for this guy to trail these people and remove them from this world, yet they were roaming free. And now he's going to be behind bars, or worse, for the rest of his life.
"And his lawyer is likereallypushing the whole memory loss angle," Kelly laughs. "Either it's legit, or this dude is the best fucking actor I've ever seen."
Grace looks at me in the rearview, "You're a lawyer, right? What do you think?"
With a heavy breath, I answer sincerely, "I haven't watched the case; don't know anything about it. If they're pushing some kind of amnesia angle, they're probably stalling for more time, or they don't think the evidence will be enough to convict the guy without him implicating himself."
"Or it's real," Lena adds.
I nod, "Or it's real."
I'm no fucking doctor. Nor am I a criminal attorney. My knowledge on that side of my profession remained mostly theoretical. I have no interest in seeing what the worst of humanity is capable of up close and personal.
"I had to do a few courses on criminal law, of course," I explain. "But it was never the plan. I prefer the cut and dry, lack of violence, side of things. The worst thing I saw in my job was a single murder trial. That alone was too hard to stomach and the guy wasn’t even found guilty.”
“What happened?” Antoine pries, the whole car falling silent, waiting for the answer.
I shrug, “Nothing, really. He was accused of killing his dad for being cut out of the family company, but there wasn’t enough evidence to convict. His head of security and the lead investigator’s testimony’s matched and that was that.”
The car falls silent as we pull into the parking garage across from Mingle.
"I'll text Stella that we're here so we don't have to wait in that long ass line," Grace gets on her phone as soon as we're parked.
The walk across the street is full of idle chatter and raised brows at the throngs of people waiting to get inside. But sure enough, before we even get close enough to see the back of the line, Stella appears at the door, talking to the bouncer.
She sees Grace and points at our group before waving with a great big smile.
Her eyes land on me before roving right past like she didn't even notice.
The bouncer ushers us in, checking our IDs one by one until we're all piled inside, the familiar music and lights both comforting and unsettling.
I've never been here with a group before. I don't know if somehow it's going to destroy this little pocket of hedonism I've found for myself away from who I need to be all the time.
Stella, to her credit, pretends not to know me, which is a miracle in itself.
"Follow me, my lovelies," she gestures, the click of her heels trailing behind her as she guides us up a set of stairs to a private lounge looking over the dance floor. "You'll be right here."
The deep purple leather couch wraps around a circular table with dancing strobes directly above it, sending flashes of colored light across our seats and the gorgeous stone tabletop.
As we sink into the couch, Stella opens a hidden door in the center of the table, revealing a chest full of ice and already chilling bottles of liquor.
"Enid requested lots of vodka. I hope that's okay," she beams. "But I'm more than happy to grab you guys whatever else you'd like from the bar."
One by one, she grabs drink orders, setting up the gorgeous display of liquor and mixers in front of us before disappearing.
"This place is so cool!" Kelly beams, squeezing Antoine's arm.
"Hey, I'm gonna go find the restroom real quick!" I tell everyone before darting out of my chair, plotting to go find Stella and make sure she doesn't blow my cover, so to speak.
