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It was one thing to talk about it, plan it, but seeing her there like that, was still hard for me to take.
Winston pulled me up by my shoulders and dragged me out of the room. We walked downstairs to the kitchen, and he literally put me in a chair. My mind was racing while he picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
"I’d like to report a murder and a robbery," I heard Winston say, but it still didn’t seem real to me. Qianna had really done it.
She killed Taye.
I got up and went outside, trying to push the image of her lying on the bed with her throat cut, out of my mind.
I made it as far as the driveway before I threw up what seemed like, every ounce of liquor that I had drank the night before.
I was still sitting outside when the police got there. Since I couldn’t go back inside the house, Winston took the police inside and showed them where the body was. I sat there dumbfounded, wondering why I felt so bad about it now. Wasn’t this what I wanted?
It was.
But I still couldn’t move.
Maybe I was just worried about getting caught, and that’s what had me feeling this way. I couldn’t hide from the fact that no matter what I had done, there was still a part of me that recognized that I once loved Taye very much. And now I had killed her. So maybe what I was feeling was guilt and disgust with myself.
After a while, I don’t know how long it had been, one of the detectives started coming toward me. Along the way he stopped to talk to another cop.
"You think he did it?" the cop asked.
"Not unless he could be in two places at the same time. I verified that he was in jail at the TOD," I heard the detective say. Then he approached me.
"Mr. James. My name is Detective Clinton. I am truly sorry for your loss. I know this isn’t the best time, but I need to ask you some questions. Is that okay?"
I looked up at him and nodded my head.
"Your friend said that before you found the body, that you noticed that some things were missing?"
I nodded my head again.
"Can you tell me what is missing?"
"TV, computer, stereo, I don’t know what else. I really didn’t—I just went upstairs and I found her like that," I said, and buried my head in my hands.
"Okay, Mr. James. We can do this another time." He handed me his card. "Why don’t you give me a call in a day or two."
I nodded my head and he walked away. When I looked up again, Winston was standing in front of me. "Come on, buddy, no need for you to hang around here."
"Right."
Winston held out his hand to help me up. "Can I take you somewhere? You’re welcome to stay with me if you want."
"No, Winston. Thanks. Just take me to a hotel. I’ll be all right." As we were walking toward his car, I stopped and looked back at the house, and thought one more time about what I had done. I got in the car and a sense of relief washed over me.
All I had to do now was get away with it.
I waited a couple of days before I called Detective Clinton back. He asked me to meet him at the house, so I could tell him what was taken. I agreed, and two hours later, we standing outside of the house, and he was going over the list of things Qianna had stolen. When we were done, he asked if I would come to the station and answer some questions for him.
When we got there, he sat me down in an office instead of the interrogation room, which to me meant that I still wasn’t a suspect. But I didn’t relax. I understood fully that how I answered his questions would impact my status.
One suspicious answer and that all could change quickly.
Detective Clinton came back in the room with another man who he introduced as Detective Minter. After he apologized again for my loss, he got to his work.
"I know that you were arrested for disorderly conduct that night," Minter began. "So let’s start there. Why don’t you tell me what happened that night?"
