ChapterOne
Asher:
“Mr. Gideon, we need you to come down to the station, we have some questions for you to answer.” Detective Marshall says to me with his hand on his gun. I look at him and smirk because he doesn’t want to pull that gun on me.
“Questions? About what?”
“We can discuss that when you get to the station,” he says with more attitude than he should have.
“Cole, can you stay here and make sure the club gets closed and locked up while I go to the station to answer whatever questions Detective Marshall has? Also, please find out about Antonia’s family so we can send flowers and offer them our help.”
“Sure Ash, do you need me to call anyone?” Cole asks as he glances in Detective Marshall’s direction.
I look full-on at Detective Marshall when I respond, “No this won’t take long. Let’s go detective, it’s past my bedtime.”
I head towards my car when I hear Detective Marshall’s voice again.
“I would feel better if you rode in a squad car to the station, Mr. Gideon.”
“You feeling better is not my concern Marshall, I’ll follow you to the station,” I tell him as I hit the button on the fob to unlock my dark violet Bugatti Veyron. I settle behind the wheel, put my seatbelt on, and press the start. The car roars to life, and the Bose sound system plays Raheem DeVaughn so clearly it sounds like he is sitting next to me singing Customer. I put the car in drive and pull out of the parking lot. I activate the call feature and place a call to the family lawyer.
“Asher, what can I do for you?”
“Hey Strong! Some shit went down at the club and I’ve been asked to go to the station to answer a few questions. Do you think you could meet me down there just in case? This detective is acting like he has it out for me.”
“I am not in the country Ash, but I can call a colleague to meet you at the station. Listen, do not say a word until your lawyer is present. Not one word Asher, anything you say will be used against you.”
“I am not an idiot, Strong, I know not to say anything.”
“Ash, I want you to act like you can’t talk. No responding, trying to explain, or correcting. Do not say one word. I will send someone ASAP.”
“Understood,” I say and end the call. I park the car and before I can get out Marshall is at my car opening the door.
“Can you back the hell up so I can get out? I don’t need an escort inside; I drove here by myself, and I can walk in by myself.” I snap at him getting more and more frustrated with every word coming out of my mouth. He finally backs up and I get out remembering Strong’s advice. I wrangled my emotions together. I don’t want him painting a picture, to anyone, that I am easily angered. I follow him into the station and take a seat at his desk. My ass hasn’t even settled in the chair before he is asking me a question.
“So, you want to tell me how a woman ended up dead at your club tonight?”
I don’t even attempt to answer this question. I just sit there looking at him.
“Question too hard for you? Well then let’s try this, did you kill Mrs. Lattimore?”
This time I cock my head to the right and smirk at him. He must think I am extra stupid if he expected me to respond to or answer that question.
“Nothing to say, Mr. Gideon? Well, let me tell you what we have. We have a dead woman found in the club you manage, and you were the last person seen with her, making you my number one suspect. What happened, she didn’t want to play any more of your kinky games and you got angry? Or better yet, maybe one of those depraved games you play went too far and got out of hand? Was it an accident Gideon?”
I raise my eyebrow at him calling me Gideon. This seems personal to him, but still, I say nothing.
“I see how you want to play this. Maybe some time in the holding pen will jog your memory or loosen your tongue. Hey Mike, can you put Mr. Gideon in the holding cell for me?” A young guy who’s barely five feet ten and about one hundred forty pounds walks over to me. When I stand to my full height he backs up before he realizes it and stops, then he walks me to the cell. He unlocks it and I walk in taking a look around the cell before I decide to have a seat along the back wall. I should have just left but I didn’t want it to appear I was not cooperating or was being difficult. Besides, I kinda want to see how this all plays out. I lean my head on the wall after getting comfortable on the bench at the back of the cell. It’s late at night or early in the morning depending on how you look at it, either way I am ready to go home and get in bed. It’s been a long ass day and it’s turning into an even longer night. I wonder how long Marshall plans on keeping me in here. If he thinks sitting in a cell is going to make me uncomfortable, he clearly has never been in the armed forces. I have sat in the middle of hell, still as a statue for hours despite the heat, bugs, or gunfire all around me, so if he thinks this is going to scare me, he’s dumber than he looks. I close my eyes and try to catch a quick nap.
I wake up to commotion in the bullpen and was on my feet and at the bars before I even realized I have moved off the bench. I can hear a woman's voice cussing someone out, actually it sounds like she is cussing everyone out.
“Where is my client?”
A few seconds later the same guy who took me to the holding cell turns the corner and opens the cell door.
“Right this way Mr. Gideon.”
I step out of the cell, and soon as I get to the bullpen, I see a short, brown-skinned hell cat in a suit handing Marshall his ass.