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“But nothing will equal the Breitbart headline when we kicked off the tour.” That one had been THE B*TCH IS BACK. Kate had it framed, and by now it will be hanging in the study of her cliffside home in Carmel-by-the-Sea.
Hattie Delaney, her agent, called it a recipe to
bring out the kooks, nutbags, and Tru...
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Did Corrie see a woman precede her out of the hotel? She’ll say she honestly can’t remember. Nor does she care. In the ER she only cares about two things. The first is whether or not she’ll ever be able to see again. The second is this: if she can, how ugly will be the face she sees looking
back in the mirror? Those things will be her concerns.
The previous year, Corrie was chosen along with ten others to attend a graduate seminar taught by Kate McKay.
Kate has twelve million followers on Twitter. That’s twelve with six zeros behind it.
this—Kate is a monster of ego.
Kate was
a blond, Corrie what her mom called a brownette, but in Portland she went blond, saying it was just for a change. Kate probably knew better. “When you let your hair down, and from a distance, we could almost be sisters,” Kate said as they drove out of Portland, bound for Reno. Which was, of course, the problem.
“Suffer not a woman to teach, or usurp the
authority of man, but to be in silence. First Timothy, bitch.” The burn is immediate. Her vision blurs away.
“Go home, Kate. While you ...
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The detective has introduced herself as Mallory Hughes.
She doesn’t defer to Kate because she’s not the victim. At least not this time.
tonight.
Reno Aces gimme cap (which Corrie also found).
“If you want me to continue, this is non-negotiable. It wasn’t just a threat, Kate. Not some online troll with a potty mouth. The person said, ‘Go home while you still can.’ She’s out to get you, she got me by mistake, and she could try again.”
You only get 1 warning, so receive it well. Next time it will be you and it will be for real. She who speaks lies shall perish.
“We held back some evidence. There was a piece of paper
in Annette McElroy’s hand. Printed on it in block letters was a name—Letitia Overton. Does that mean anything to you?”
The northeast part of Buckeye City is called Breezy Point.
He puts PHILIP JACOBY in Dov’s hand. In Frank’s he puts TURNER KELLY.
John Ackerly is behind the stick,
Dom Hogan lets me off if it’s an afternoon meeting.” “He owns the bar?”
“Indeed he does.” “And Mr. Hogan values your expertise.”
“If I may recap, you want me to keep an eye out for somebody who’s mad this Alan Duffrey got framed for a crime he didn’t commit and then got shanked.” “Correct.”
“You think the guy goes to meetings because he calls himself Bill Wilson.”
“Yes. And a guy calling himself Bill Wilson, or Bill W., might really stand out.”
why?
Letitia Overton,
“Have you located Letitia Overton yet?” “No. Soon, I hope.” “When you do, ask her if she was on the jury that convicted Alan Duffrey.” Silence at the other end.
“Iz? Are you there?” “Fuuuck,” Izzy whispers. “Twelve people on a felony-count jury. That’s what you’re thinking?”
get…” “Fourteen,” Izzy says.
“Just to be clear, you were on the jury that convicted Alan Duffrey of a third-degree felony, to wit trafficking in pornographic material involving the sexual exploitation of a child or children?”
Is she going to tell this woman, who did the best she could with the evidence she had, that a woman was found murdered with Overton’s name in her dead hand?
start a new life, Detective. My husband was… mean. But when I listened to Buckeye Brandon’s podcast about how Alan Duffrey was framed, it seemed like that old life was following me.
Kate McKay’s new book,
A Woman’s Testament,
“Those three names were…” “Placed in the hands of the murder victims, yes.”
how does the killer know their names?
“Is this the Barbara Robinson who wrote Faces Change?”
to?
“Ma’am, are you… this is crazy, but are you Sista Bessie?” That rich laugh again. “I am when I’m singin, but otherwise I’m plain old Betty Brady. I flew in last night.
but it’s still hard for her to believe she hasn’t been pranked.
“I’m Henrietta Ramer, Betty’s agent.
Red yo’s her right back, then joins her singing:
bad writing
Vachel Lindsay called ‘The Congo.’ It’s racist as
Roxanne Mason stops and looks warily at Izzy. Then at the cup. She says, “That’s not mine.” “It is. I bought it for you. My name’s Isabelle Jaynes. I’m a detective with the BCPD. I’d like to talk to you.” “About what?”
Roxanne—the assistant to the six Buckeye County Assistant DAs—doesn’t know that three people have been killed with the names of Duffrey jurors in their hands.
“Ask Cary Tolliver, why don’t you? He’s the one who framed Duffrey, and did a good job of it, too.” Or maybe he had a little help from an ambitious ADA
Izzy thinks. One who’d like to step up to the big chair currently occupied by Albert Tantleff. An ambitious ADA who had a headline-friendly case dumped in his lap and didn’t want to see it overturned.
