A Study In Murder

?“I won’t,” I replied, wanting to kick the bastard in the crotch. I looked at Mark. “I’ll call Uncle Louie.”

?DeStadler gave an explosive laugh. “Even he won’t get your accomplice out of a cell before morning. Okay, officer, take him out.”

?I ran up to Mark and grabbed him in a ferocious bear hug. “You take care, Mark.” I pressed my lips to his.

?“Enough of that,” DeStadler said, and the officer pulled us apart.

?As we parted, I saw a look of amazement on Mark’s face. It was as if the intensity of our kiss surprised him. I had to admit, I was breathing heavily myself, overwhelmed by the heat of it.

?Mark was led out of the room, a smile on his face. I had been unexpectedly thrown into a heady trance, but I still managed to swipe his house keys from his jacket pocket and palm them so the police didn’t see.

21. Narrative

Mark Watkins

??DeStadler might not have been right about my guilt, but he was right about one thing: I spent the night in jail.

?Of course, DeStadler questioned me in an interrogation room, and I took that opportunity to suggest he check the blood spatter on the wall to gauge the height of the killer.

?“How did you know there was blood spatter?” he demanded.

?“You said Ms. Poole was shot point blank,” I chided. “It’s a small room and it’s a logical deduction, especially if she was shot with a nine millimeter, which you also suggested.”

?“You and Ms. Homes are full of theories,” he chided. “Let me make it clear to you. You are not a detective. You are a suspect.”

?“I’m just trying to clear my name,” I related.

?“Or hide evidence and send us in the wrong direction. Well soon, I’m gonna have ballistics to prove Poole was murdered with your gun.”

?I decided it would be wise to not speak any further without my attorney present.

?DeStadler grumbled and had me escorted to one of the holding cells.

?I sat and made myself as comfortable as one can in a cell. I didn’t know what time it was, as my watch, wallet, and phone, as well as my gift pipe had been confiscated. I decided I was lucky they didn’t take my shoelaces and belt as well.

?I may have dozed for a few minutes when I felt myself being shaken.

?“Wha—” I opened my eyes to see a police officer there.

?“Your lawyer is here.” I rose and he escorted me to another interrogation room.

?At the table sat Louie DeSoto. He nodded to the officer, who took the cuffs off me and left the room.

?“Hey, Mark, how ya doin’?”

?“As fine as can be expected,” I conceded. “I guess you heard?”

?“Yeah, Sherrie called me, brought me up to speed.”

?“What happens now?” I inquired.

?“They’re moving you to Central Booking and you’ll spend the night at Rikers Island.”

?“Great,” I groaned. “What time is it?”

?“About 6:30. Sherrie told me about the email. That doesn’t prove a thing. However, if ballistics can prove that your gun is the one that killed Ms. Poole, it is not going to help.”

?“I’m sure of that.” I shook my head. “Whoever set this up did it very well.”