Stories of Tie Up Games

Jenny_S wrote: 1 week ago Battle lines are drawn.

Aren't they just!

Dear @LunaDog, we will see how deeply entrenched everyone is.

The elevator doors slide open into the dim hush of the underground parking garage, and Erica Sinclair steps out, the rhythmic click of her heels punctuates the cavernous silence. She adjusts the strap of her handbag over her shoulder, her eyes already fixed on the sleek silhouette of her black Volvo.
The car waits in its designated spot like a loyal sentinel, shadowed beneath cold, industrial light.

She unlocks it with a sharp beep.
The sound echoes briefly off the concrete walls.
Erica opens the passenger door, places the boutique bag on the seat - Claire’s careful shopping for Lucy Arden folded neatly inside - and then slips behind the wheel.
She starts the engine, the soft growl a familiar comfort.
Shifting into reverse, she eases out of the space and threads up the ramp, merging into the weekday congestion on Park Avenue.

Traffic is sluggish, predictable.
Midtown breathes with its usual organized chaos.
Horns blare in irritation, pedestrians thread recklessly through intersections.

Erica keeps her expression unreadable, one hand resting lightly on the wheel, her thoughts already ahead of her.

The precinct isn't far, but parking is another matter.
She circles once, then again.
A delivery van pulls out of a tight spot on 54th Street and she’s on it, maneuvering the Volvo with practiced precision.
It’s moments like these when she appreciates the size of her SUV - small enough to snake through Manhattan's madness, sturdy enough to shoulder its battles.

She locks the car and heads toward the building.

Outside Midtown North Precinct, a group of uniformed officers loiters near the entrance, smoking and laughing like a gang staking out territory.

Erica’s gaze cuts through them, unimpressed.
“Excuse me,” she says, her tone cool as she moves through their cloud of secondhand smoke and testosterone.

Inside, the air is stale - dried sweat, burnt coffee and resignation. The front desk seems quieter than usual today.
As she approaches, the duty sergeant barely glances up before pushing the clipboard into her direction.
“Morning,” he says, already recognizing her as an attorney.

Erica signs the sheet with a fluid flick of her pen. “I’m here to see Lucy Arden. She has a bail hearing tomorrow. Time for the pre-game talk.”

The sergeant nods, eyes flicking to the boutique bag. “Mind if I take a look at your gifts?”

“Certainly. Go ahead,” Erica says, offering the bag without hesitation.

He sifts through it with the swift, practiced movements of someone used to fishing contraband from innocent-looking items. Satisfied, he nods toward the door to the precinct's inner sanctuary.
“Box Two. Someone will bring her up.”

She walks through the bullpen, her pace steady.
Desks sag under the weight of overflowing files.
The murmur of phones and muted chatter buzzes through the air, tinged with fatigue and caffeine.
A male voice shouts from Interview Room One - anger, maybe frustration.
It bleeds through the wall like a bruise.

Room Two - hers - is cold, sterile, marked only by the bold numeral on the door.
The metal table, bolted to the floor, gleams under flickering fluorescent lights.
Erica settles into a chair with measured poise and pulls out her phone, scanning her messages.

One catches her eye - a law firm she once refused to work for now flaunting its newly redesigned website.
She makes a mental note to speak to Andrea Santos about finally dragging Sinclair & Associates into the digital present.

Then the door opens.
A uniformed officer enters with Lucy Arden. Again, she’s in handcuffs, wearing a grey jumpsuit with a number on her left chest and back. Her head droops until her eyes meet Erica’s - and in that moment, her whole posture shifts. Shoulders relax. Chin lifts.

“Ms. Sinclair,” she breathes. The relief in her voice is palpable. “I didn’t think you’d come today.”

“I said I would,” Erica replies. Then, to the officer: “Uncuff my client, please.”

The man hesitates, but eventually produces his key ring.
As the cuffs snap free, Lucy rubs her wrists with a grimace.
“That feeling of being chained… not being able to do anything…” she mutters, more to herself than anyone.

“I know the feeling,” Erica says quietly. “But don’t get used to it. Your bail hearing is tomorrow at noon.”

Lucy’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” Erica places the boutique bag on the table. “Fresh clothes. Shampoo. Toothbrush. My assistant picked everything with care. You’ll walk into that courtroom looking like a person. Not a statistic.”

Lucy doesn’t move right away. Her eyes flicker down to the bag, then up to Erica’s face again - as if trying to confirm she’s still real and not a dream. She touches the bag hesitantly. “Why does it matter how I look?”

“Because optics can make a difference, Lucy. The truth should be enough, but it never is. You walk in looking like a convict, that’s how they’ll treat you.”

Lucy nods slowly, absorbing it.

Erica leans forward and opens a slim folder.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You'll be picked up here by Court Officers around eleven AM, so be ready half an hour early. You will be brought into the courtroom and I'll be there, waiting for you. The prosecution will do everything to paint you as unstable, violent and outright dangerous, trying to get the judge to refuse bail or to set is so high we can’t afford it."
She pauses, lets the words sink in.

"You will feel tempted to react, to defend yourself. Don’t. I will do the talking for you. Don’t speak unless addressed by the judge. Say ‘Your Honor’ when you answer. No eye-rolling. No sighing. No dramatics.”

She has seen it countless times that an outburst from a defendant helped the prosecutor to slam the door to a release on bail shut - fast.

Lucy nods again, quicker this time.

“I’ve arranged for a bond. If the judge agrees on bail - and I have no doubt that he will - you’ll be out by tomorrow afternoon. But only if you follow my lead to the letter. Understood?”

“I can do that,” Lucy whispers.
It sounds like more than mere compliance. She is committing herself.

Erica stands. She offers her hand. Lucy takes it, still trembling.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow in court."
Before she leaves, she turns to her client once more, her voice softer now. "Try to get some rest, sleep if you can. And don't worry. I’ve got this.”

"Thank you…"
A single tear tracks down Lucy's cheek as she nods. Not from fear this time, but from the fragile weight of belief.

As Erica leaves the precinct, something her professor at Harvard Law School, Arthur Kingsley, told her once, comes back to her: "No one teaches you how to stand in the ruins of someone else's life and ask them to trust you."

How true, she thinks. How true.


~~~

Jenny_S wrote: 6 days ago “You walk in looking like a convict, that’s how they’ll treat you.”

Says it all really. Something an experienced lawyer like Erica would know all too well.

Dear @LunaDog, we will see if Erica's tactics can get Lucy out on bail.

Erica knows that just because she has Lucy Arden to take care of, there are still a lot of other things waiting for her attention at Sinclair & Associates. But Monday evening belongs to her - and the kittens.
She needs the time to recharge.
A warm dinner, a half-glass of wine, and a little furball napping on her chest while she tries to focus on a book about dementia.
It's not glamorous, but it's peace.

Tuesday morning flies by in a buzz of calls, emails, and a terse update about the Slater deposition.
On the way to the Criminal Court, she rehearses her appeal aloud in the car, knowing Judge Glickman doesn't appreciate theatrics - nor does he tolerate them.
That’s fine.
Erica doesn’t do theater.
She does precision – lawyering Kingsley-style.

Incidentally enough, as she saunters up the stairs of the courthouse, she runs into Christopher Ullman, the public defender who was attending to Lucy Arden's case before Detective Ruiz showed up at the office.

"Ms. Sinclair!" his voice rings out, loud enough to get her attention.

Erica slows down.
She checks her Rolex, as always, she's a touch early, so she'll give the young colleague a couple of minutes.
"Mr. Ullman." she says by way of greeting.

The PD reaches out and they shake hands.

"I noticed that you didn't waste any time getting Ms. Arden a bail hearing. I couldn’t find a bondsman who would take the risk."

"I can imagine," Erica says, her tone devoid of professional courtesy.

Ullman scrolls down a list on his phone. "They put the Ice Queen up against you. The DA's attack dog."

Erica gives the PD an unreadable face. "She's good at her job." It certainly is not her style to talk badly about a colleague. "We'll see what she has to say."
She glances at her Rolex again. "Listen, I've got to get cracking. It was nice talking to you, Mr. Ullman."

Without further adieu she continues up the stairs.


~~~

And so, it begins. How much chance does Erica have in obtaining Lucy's freedom, if only on a temporary basis? Better than most, including the obviously way out his depth Public Defender, decent chap though he seems, but it still won't be easy, she's taking on some VERY powerful enemies here.

Dear @LunaDog, with Erica in her corner, at least Lucy has a fighting chance.

So she does.

Dear @LunaDog, are we ready for the bail hearing?

Inside the imposing building, the hallway is cool and dimly lit, the muffled shuffle of shoes on marble echoing just ahead.

Courtroom 3B is open, the clerk already setting up for the hearing.

Erica slides onto the empty floor.
In the last row of the gallery, she notices Greg Eastman, her bail bondsman, ready to do his job when bail is granted.
With a slight smile, Erica sets her bag down at the counselor’s table and reviews her notes once more - though she already knows them by heart.

The ADA, Jennifer Calloway - the so-called “Ice Queen” - walks in five minutes later, immaculately composed in a steel-gray suit and kitten heels clicking on the hardwood floor like a metronome - precise, unnerving.

They exchange a courteous nod of mutual respect.
No smiles.
No need for words.

A side door opens and a Court Officer - uniformed and armed - ushers Lucy Arden into the courtroom and toward Erica's table.
Her guard sits down in the first row of the gallery behind her.
Erica shakes Lucy's hand.
Her client has followed her advice, put on the clothes Claire had bought, did her hair, wears minimal makeup.
She looks naturally pretty, composed - not trying to impress, just to be seen as herself.

Then, only a moment later, it's time to play ball.

The bailiff announces the judge, and everyone rises.

Judge Glickman enters without ceremony.
He’s all angles and economy: thin-rimmed glasses, salt-and-pepper beard, his reputation for being sharp but fair preceding him.
Erica has appeared before him often enough to know: spare him the drama, and he’ll listen.

Glickman takes the next file from the Court Officer, pages through it, then looks over at Calloway, then at Erica and Lucy.

"The People versus Ms. Lucy Arden," the bailiff says.

Judge Glickman opens the hearing. "Please sit. We are here to discuss the defendant's motion for bail. Ms. Calloway, what is the People's statement?"

Stepping away from her table, Jennifer Calloway buttons her blazer with one hand, then points at Lucy while looking at Glickman.
Each little movement is practiced to perfection.

Erica notices how Lucy twitches, fear shaking her to the core.
She lays her hand on her client's forearm, letting her know that she is not alone in this.

"Your Honor," Calloway begins, cutting right to the chase, "the defendant bought a firearm in Vermont, a state where the purchase of firearms does not require a permit nor does Vermont register firearms. Before going to see the deceased, Mr. Gary Loudon, she armed herself with this gun, went to the victim's home, and when he opened the door, she shot him point-blank without remorse. The moment the victim dropped to the floor, Ms. Arden fled the crime scene."

She takes a step toward the judge's elevated bench, her fingers now clenched into fists.
"How much more intentional and cruel can murder be, your Honor."

Now she's hammering home the deed: the killing.
Cold-blooded murder.

"Ms. Arden went to Mr. Loudon's home with the intent to kill him. The People have an eyewitness who will testify during the upcoming trial, that the defendant rang the doorbell, and then shot an unarmed man in cold blood. She has proven to be unstable, unpredictable, and dangerous. She didn’t panic. She planned. That’s not heat-of-the-moment rage, your Honor - this is calculated violence. And that makes her a flight risk and a danger to the community. Therefore, bail should be categorically denied. The People request remand without bail."

Glickman doesn’t show any emotions.
He scribbles notes into the file, then, without looking up, carries on with the hearing.
"Thank you, Ms. Calloway. Ms. Sinclair representing the defendant, please."


~~~

Calloway is really the proverbial Ice Queen. You capture the Atmosphere in the Court Room perfectly, dear @Jenny_S - now is Erica´s turn to turn the Tide.

Quite an opening gambit. The so-called 'ice queen' has showed beyond doubt just where that nick-name came from. Just as Erica expected her to, of course.

Dear @Caesar73, dear @LunaDog, first blood has been drawn. Tomorrow, we will see if Erica has something to fight back with.

Erica stands, smoothing the front of her blazer.

In her full-blown offensive, Calloway painted Lucy as a villain who murdered Gary Loudon without a motive.
Now, Erica must level the playing field to secure bail.
Her voice is calm but resonant as she positions herself between Lucy and ADA Calloway.

“Your Honor, when we look at Ms. Arden, what do we see? We see a woman with no criminal history, no violent tendencies, no flight risk. She works at a neighborhood grocery store. She’s lived in the same apartment for years. Her coworkers describe her as quiet, kind, and steady. Not one complaint of aggression - ever.”

She steps forward, her eyes flicking briefly to Lucy, then back to Judge Glickman.
“The prosecution wants us to believe she came to Mr. Loudon’s door with a plan to kill. But they offer no motive - because the truth is far more complicated, and far more tragic.”

Erica lifts a file jacket.
“This file – submitted for your Honor’s review - contains the NYPD's investigation into Mr. Loudon holding Ms. Arden against her will. It details how he restrained and repeatedly sexually assaulted her over an entire weekend. It also includes hospital records - records that document the injuries he inflicted on her. The police convinced Ms. Arden to press charges. She did.”

A pause. Then, softer but firm:
“But after the detectives interviewed Mr. Loudon – undoubtedly, a man with influence and resources - he threatened her. He told her to drop the charges or his lawyers would destroy her. Scared she’d lose everything she had worked for, Ms. Arden withdrew.”

Another pause, letting the courtroom breathe.

“Then he began dating one of her closest friends. Terrified that her friend might be forced to endure the same horror, Ms. Arden went to plead - nothing more.”

Erica’s voice drops slightly.

“And when he attacked her - put his hands around her throat to strangle her – to silence her forever - she acted in fear, because Mr. Loudon was trying to kill her. And when she pulled the trigger - it wasn’t vengeance. It was desperation wrapped in fear. A heartbeat between staying alive or her own death.”

From the corners of her eyes, Erica notices the Ice Queen shift in her chair, sees her tightening her lips.
She puts a steadying hand on Lucy Arden’s shoulder, feels her client’s hands tremble in her lap under the table.
Of course, the young woman is scared.
Everybody would be in this situation.

“We are not asking this court to decide guilt today. All we ask is to recognize that this is not a woman who should be locked away while awaiting trial. We respectfully request bail, with any conditions the court sees fit - ankle monitoring, supervised check-ins. Ms. Arden will comply. And she will return to face justice.”


~~~

Beautifully played. Completely remembering that this is just a bail hearing and NOT the main trial itself. Concentrating on informing the Judge that Lucy Arden WILL be there for that. And, from what you've already told us about this man, i should imagine that Erica agreeing to any 'precautionary' measures that he imposes, electronic tag systems etc. will have gone down very well with him.

Dear @LunaDog, Erica doesn't try to tug at Judge Glickman's heartstrings. Let's be honest: Lucy Arden is not a cartel lieutenant. She's a store clerk and with the limited resources she has, can't just jump on the next plane to Somewhere. Tomorrow, we'll see what the judge has to say.

Judge Glickman looks up from his notes.
“Thank you, Ms. Sinclair.”

His decision comes without delay.
“Bail will be set at one hundred thousand dollars, in cash or bond. The defendant holds no passport. She will wear an ankle monitor and report twice weekly to Pretrial Services. Any violations of these terms will result in immediate revocation of bail.”

His gavel falls.

In the gallery, Greg Eastman rises, briefcase in hand.
“Your Honor, Greg Eastman of Eastman Bail & Bonds. We are prepared to post bond for Ms. Arden immediately.”

Glickman raises an eyebrow, surprised.
Calloway’s eyes narrow.
It doesn’t usually happen that someone like Lucy Arden has bail arranged ahead of time.

“Very well,” Glickman says. “Officer, please process the defendant’s bail and get her ankle monitor fitted. Next case!"


~~~


Lucy looks at Erica, eyes wide, trying to process what just happened.
In under five minutes, her attorney had dismantled the prosecution’s narrative with surgical precision - calm, unshaken, devastating.

The Court Officer steps forward to escort her from the room.
Lucy turns to Erica, as if to speak, but nothing comes out.
Erica meets her gaze. “I’ll be waiting for you in the hall,” she says softly, gathering her notes with practiced efficiency.

As Lucy is led away, Erica can see that her steps are steadier than when she entered.
They had won the first battle.
But the war was still ahead - and Erica Sinclair was already preparing for it.


~~~


The marble floor glows with the early afternoon’s rays of the sun slicing through tall courthouse windows.
The silence is heavy.
Erica stands near the main entrance, a still figure in the streaming light, leather briefcase in one hand, her tailored coat draped over the other.
Her spine is straight, polished, controlled - but her eyes flick to the elevator with practiced impatience, every few seconds, like a reflex she can’t suppress.

The elevator dings.
The doors part with a hiss.
Lucy Arden steps out.
She moves slowly, her gait tentative – a little lopsided from the GPS monitor clamped around her ankle like a shackle made of shame.

The air hums with the weight of choices made in dim rooms.
But Lucy’s lips carry a fragile, stunned smile - the kind that emerges when you surface from something you didn’t think you’d survive.

Erica steps forward, her heels echoing on the marble.
“How does it feel?”

Lucy exhales.
Her eyes drop briefly to the monitor, then lift again.
“Weird,” she murmurs. “But good. It’s not a cell. The air tastes a lot better all of a sudden.”

“Funny, isn’t it,” Erica says, her tone a shade softer.

They move together through the doors.
Outside, a sharp wind cuts across the plaza, tugging at coats and hair.
Lucy doesn’t flinch.
Erica notices that.
She guides her down the courthouse steps to her black Volvo.

“Can I offer you a ride home?” The doors beep open.
In reality, Erica has made the decision for Lucy already.

Lucy hesitates - a flicker of discomfort, uncertainty.

“Yes… thanks. I still feel a little…”

“I get it,” Erica says. Her voice is calm, but something protective simmers just beneath it.
She knows too well how hard it is to show vulnerability. “Everyone does after a hearing like that.”


~~~

As you rightly say.

Jenny_S wrote: 2 days ago They had won the first battle.
But the war was still ahead - and Erica Sinclair was already preparing for it.

I guess that the REAL fight starts now. But what has just happened here IS significant, it's sent a signal that this will not be the 'pushover' that certain parties had assumed, and demanded, it would be. I expect fireworks, and SOON!

Dear @LunaDog, wow, now I really hope that I will not disappoint you.
This story runs almost in real time, but I can tell you that there's much more to come.

The car hums beneath them as Erica steers one-handed through traffic.
The city outside is a blur of steel and grime, honking horns and scaffolding shadows.

Inside the Volvo, it’s quiet.
Too quiet.
At a red light, Erica breaks the silence.
“So. Tell me about Giovanna.”

Lucy shifts in her seat.
“We were friends. Met her a few years ago. She helped me get the job at Kimball’s when I was behind on rent.”

“You were close?”

“We were,” Lucy says, voice thinning. “Not anymore, I guess.”

Erica waits.
She let the silence answer louder than words.

“She’s funny. Tough. Had my back. But… things changed when Gary started texting her. I told her what he did. Showed her the photos. She didn’t believe me. She avoided me. Said I was jealous, maybe confused. Maybe I regretted it after.”
Her voice sharpens.
“She told me I needed help. That I was making it up. She blocked me.”

Erica’s jaw tightens, but she says nothing.
The silence is deliberate, strategic.

“We fought. Screamed at each other in the back hallway at Kimball’s. Two weeks later… I ended up at Gary’s apartment. I just… knew… he’d do to her…”

“Do you think she’d lie?” Erica asks, her voice like steel wrapped in silk.

Lucy hesitates.
“I don’t want to think she would. But if she still thinks I lied… maybe she thinks she’s protecting herself. Or him.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Erica says.
Simple.
Final.
She wants to believe this girl.
Needs to.
But truth is never simple, and innocence doesn't shine so clean in a courtroom.

Lucy says nothing.
Her fingers toy with the edge of her ankle monitor, tracing it like it might vanish if she finds the right spot.
“I’m scared,” she whispers. “Ms. Sinclair… I’m scared.”
Her jaw trembles, but she clamps her mouth shut before more words spill out.

Erica exhales slowly, then reaches across the console and places a firm, grounding hand on Lucy’s arm.
“I know,” she says. “It’s okay to be scared.”


~~~


The Volvo rolls to a quiet stop in front of a narrow brownstone.
Its faded red bricks sag with the weight of time.
The railing is rusted.
Paint peels from the trim like old scabs.
This isn’t luxury - it’s endurance.

Lucy mumbles, “I live on the third floor.”
She doesn’t want to be alone.
That much is clear.

Erica follows without question, heels tapping against the chipped linoleum stairs.
In the stairwell, the air is stale, touched with mildew and something sweet - cereal maybe, or stale incense.
The walls wear graffiti like bruises - layered, fading, permanent.

Inside, the apartment is small, worn, and lived-in.
A cracked window patched with duct tape.
A couch with a pile of laundry.
No pretenses.

Lucy slips off her shoes - the pair Claire bought her.
“Sorry. Wasn’t expecting company. Or… to come home.”

“It’s alright,” Erica replies, scanning the room. “You don’t have to impress me.”

Lucy manages a weak laugh. “You’ve done so much. More than I expected. I thought… never mind. Water under the bridge?”

“We’re only getting started,” Erica says, offering a half-smile that carries more weight than warmth.
A photo on the fridge catches her eye. Two women - young, joyful, arms around each other, half-drunk and happy. A magnet above them reads: Stay Wild.
Erica taps the photo.
“Giovanna?”

Lucy glances at the photo on the fridge, her eyes lingering too long on the ghost of a friendship, then she nods.
“Yeah. We had good times.”

“They’ll come again,” Erica says. A pause. “Trust me.”

Lucy doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes are tired.
“I hope so.”

“Get some rest. Talk to your boss. If he pushes back, call me. I’ll handle him.”

Lucy nods again, walking Erica to the door like someone not sure they want to let go of the one thing keeping them upright.
Just as Erica steps out, she turns.
“Think about her statement. If Giovanna’s lying, we need to prove it. If she’s confused… I’ll help her see clearly.”

Lucy’s voice is fragile.
“She’s not evil. Just blind.”

“That’s good,” Erica replies, calm but coiled. Her eyes say what her voice doesn’t: I don’t let the wrong people go to prison.
And then she’s gone, descending the stairs with the same purposeful stride that carried her into the courthouse. She has a case to win.


~~~

I take that the 'star witness' on prosecution side of this equation is this Giovanna, this previous friend? But, before we condemn her TOO much, Ladies and Gentlemen, let's just consider her position. For it was totally clear that the attention that such a stud as Gary Loudon was showing her had totally blindsided her. She'd totally fallen for all of his B/S promises, and unfortunately was in NO mood to listen to her friend, Lucy, who had been exposed to just what this creature was really capable of. She ( Giovanna that is ) may of been of the opinion, "well you've had your chance, and you BLEW it, i'm not going to let your jealousy get in the way of MY shot with this man." Because, on the face of it, he is a real catch to somebody such as Lucy or her friend, rich, seemingly charming and polite, yes a REAL catch.

And if she truly believed that he was fine and dandy, that Lucy was consumed by envy here, it would have been child's play for his family to persuade her to do the 'right thing' here and lie through her teeth, in order to implicate his 'murderer' whom she, although she didn't, as she claims to have done, witness it directly, may well have believed had, in fact, performed this act. And no doubt, she'll have told that she would earn the eternal 'gratitude' of the Loudon family, if she helped to put Gary's killer behind bars. Of course, she no doubt would have been dropped 'like a stone' once Lucy had been convicted.

But maybe, just maybe, she isn't evil, just extremely naive here?

I would say Giovanna is the Key to free Lucy. Something about her Behaviour smells rather fishy! Wonderful story telling. All Pieces fall effortlessly in Place. There is a natural flow. Nothing seems forced or too constructed at all dear @Jenny_S Chapeau!

Dear @Caesar73, thank you sooo much for your kind comment. I'm glad you like this story.
Of course, I can't reveal anything in ahead, but I can assure you that the title "All or Nothing" was chosen for a reason.

And, knowing your brilliant storytelling, a bloody good one! This IS a GREAT tale.