Page 5 of Asher

ChapterThree

Asher:

We are having an amazing time at the shower, looking at how happy the soon-to-be parents are, as well as all the other parents and I begin to reflect on decisions I’ve made. I thought about having a child and decided against it. but Savvy and T’Aundrea have me rethinking that very conscious decision. T and Angie are opening the plethora of gifts and I wonder if we built their home big enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if Joyce tells Joseph that they need the house remodeled. If little Malachi, needs anything before he turns twelve, I’d be shocked.

“Uncka Assner!” little Sarai says as she walks over to me holding up her little arms for me to pick her up. I scoop her up and kiss her little sticky face, she’s obviously been at the dessert table. Saint and Mell have her dressed like a little ball of dove grey ruffles; the puffball ponytails make her look like a chocolate doll baby. I wonder how she got away from her favorite Uncle Atlas. As soon as she is anywhere near him it’s like the rest of us don’t exist. She completely butchers my name and immediately puts mini chocolate handprints on my shirt, and I couldn’t care less. I look in the direction of her parents and locked eyes with Atlas who was obviously looking for “his baby” and I let him know I have her and she’s safe. However, as she’s redecorating my shirt, I hear a commotion at one of the entrances to the ballroom and look up to see the battalion of cops entering the room, and in the lead is that simple ass, Detective Marshall. I turn to find Atlas or Saint to come to get Sarai since I already know the cops are here for me, and are ruining T and Angie’s shower. Well, that didn’t take him long, I thought. I can’t find Saint or Mell, but I signal for Atlas. When he reaches me, I hand him, Sarai, my cell, and wallet.

“They’re here for me,” I hand him Carla’s card and tell him, “Call her and tell her I’ve been arrested.”

“What the fuc…uh what do you mean they are here for you!” He says not wanting to curse in front of the little mockingbird.

“I don’t have time to explain. Call her and tell her what happened and to meet me at the station.” By that time Marshall has reached me. When my other brothers see the cops have stopped in front of us, they all moved together to reach us. “What’s going on Asher? Atlas?

Asher Gideon, you are under arrest for the murder of Antonia Lattimore. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. Detective Marshall declares as he puts the handcuffs on my wrist.

“Call the number Atlas,” I say as I am being led away in handcuffs.

This is a cluster fuck of a situation. I didn’t get the chance to even talk to my brothers about what’s going on. There is a lot that they don’t know, a lot that I didn’t want them to know and now I don’t have a choice but to tell all my secrets. As I ride in the back of the squad car, I do what Strong advised just a few hours ago and shut the fuck up. Marshall is in the car and is doing the best job he can, taunting me, and I have to tune him out so that I won’t snap on him. I also know that this has ruined the shower and I know not only Carla will be coming to the station, but ALL of my brothers and my sisters will be coming too. Fuck! I think for the millionth time, not just because this is forcing my hand but also because as long as they are looking at me, they are not looking for the actual person who killed Antonia.

The ride to the station was over faster than I wanted it to be, and I am being led in the station in cuffs and surprise, surprise there are reporters here. Now how could they know anything about this? I look over to Marshall who parades me into the station, with his chest stuck out and a cat that swallowed the canary smile on his smug face. I stop short of scowling and rolling my eyes since I have cameras stuck in my face and I force myself to put on a blank mask. There seem to be hundreds of voices yelling out questions to me that I ignore. What I do hear clearly is “Mr. Asher Gideon, prominent business owner, has been arrested for the murder of Antonia Lattimore; the police have stated he is their main suspect with overwhelming evidence against Mr. Gideon.” Fucking Marshall, I think as the door closes between me and the crowd that has congregated outside.

I am led into the police station, fingerprinted, and mug shots taken. I am asked if I would be willing to provide a sample of my DNA, forcing me to break my silence to decline and I don’t care how that makes me look. Once they are done with all the bullshit, I am taken to an interrogation room and handcuffed to the table. As soon as the door opens, Marshall walks in and has a seat. Before he could say anything, I made one statement, “I want my lawyer.”

“I figured you would say that Mr. Gideon, but luckily for you, you don’t have to talk, just listen. Your DNA has been found all over not only Mrs. Lattimore’s body but the room she was found in. We have your fingerprints on her that coincide with the bruises on her body. According to witnesses, you were the last person seen with the victim. That covers all the bases to get you convicted of murder, don’t you agree?” Everything but motive.I think. “The assistant manager gave us access to your security cameras and sure enough we have you on camera going in the room with the victim but only you walking out and no one else entering until the room attendant goes in and discovers the body. We’re prepared to offer you a deal but once your lawyer gets involved that deal comes off the table. We’re willing to drop the charges from first-degree murder which carries a life sentence, to manslaughter. Twenty years and you can go back to your life.” That’s the deal? I am thoroughly offended that he would offer that bullshit deal and would think I am stupid enough to fall for it. I continue to sit quietly, not showing any outward reaction to his words. Even I have to admit that’s some rather damning evidence, but it is all circumstantial. A good lawyer can poke holes in their case, I know for a fact my DNA is not the only DNA they found on her. That night was peek and play night, an extremely friendly night for the members of the club, we also allowed non-membered guests to attend as well. Antonia is extremely popular; she is a perfect playmate and more open than some of the others. By the time I had a session with her, she had made the rounds to several other men.

“You’re only hurting yourself with your insistence on refusing to talk, and I’m trying to help you out.” Marshall lies to me. Help me out by locking my ass up and not even looking any further than me? I may be mistaken but isn’t it the police's responsibility to investigate every possibility and not just fixate on one person? But from the time Detective Marshall stepped into the club, he’s had his sights set on me and I don’t know why. Marshall goes to open his mouth again but a knock on the door halts whatever was about to spew out of his mouth.

“Detective Marshall, you must be a glutton for punishment. You have arrested my client and brought him into an interrogation cell to speak with him without his lawyer present? When you were fully aware he in fact does have a lawyer. I am going to first get Mr. Gideon cleared of all charges and then I am coming for you.” Carla tells him as she strides into the room, places her briefcase on the table, and takes a seat next to me.

“We didn’t ask him any questions, we simply spoke to him, Carla.” Marshall says and I have to work hard not to show my reaction to him calling her by her first name. Carla on the other hand has no issues showing her surprise at him using her first name, her perfectly shaped eyebrows are literally touching her hairline.

“My name is Ms. St. Claire and if that is too much for you to say. Ms. is just fine, but it’s never Carla for you Detective Marshall,” she says drawing out his name.

“My apologies Ms. St. Claire.”

“Keep your apologies. What is he being charged with?”

“Murder.”

“Murder? First, second or third-degree?”

“First Degree Murder.”

“Hmm, I need to speak to my client in private,” she says, and Marshall and his companion, who never spoke, get up to leave. As they are walking out of the door, her words make them pause. “And make sure to turn off the cameras too—Attorney, client privilege,” she says and Marshall gives a tight nod as they leave us alone.

She turns to me “We will not discuss anything here; I don’t trust them at all. Continue your silent treatment, that’s the best defense we have right now. Since it’s Sunday you’ll have to spend the night here. I will be here in the morning with a suit for your arraignment hearing, that is where we will hear your formal charges and ask for bail. All of your brothers are in the waiting room here, is there anything you want me to tell them?” she asks.

“No, I’ll explain it to them myself.” I am sure they have already heard an ear full from the police talk and reporters that are posted outside.

“Which one should I ask for a suit for you.?

“Any one of them can get you a suit for me but ask Anson to do it.”

“Got it. Once we get out of here, we will talk about everything, okay?”

I nodded my head in understanding, as she gets up to go to the door, knocks on it to get the attention of the guard, and they let us out. As they escort me back to the holding cell, I look across the bullpen to see all my brothers and the rest of our family. They look either pissed, frustrated, confused or all of the above. I want to talk to them, but I know I can’t, and before I know it, I am out of their sight. The cell doors clang closed behind me as I take a seat on the bench and will the night to go fast so I can get to the hearing tomorrow morning.

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