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?“I have nothing further to say until my attorney arrives,” I avowed, with the overwhelming feeling that I was a deceased waterfowl.
?They put me back into holding, and about two in the afternoon, Jeff arrived with Hank in tow.
?Hank Choi was of Asian descent—first generation American—and I had worked with him on contracts with publishers. He arrived in a plain gray suit, and his hair was stuck down with several types of hair product—which may have included glue. He was shorter than me and spoke in a monotone. We were brought into an interview room.
?“Can you get me out of here?” I pleaded.
?“Mr. Watkins, according to the detectives, they believe your weapon was involved in a crime,” Hank said. “They have the right to hold you for seventy-two hours.”
?“Great!” I whined. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”
?“I can petition the court to release you on bail, pending charges.”
?“So you can get me out?”
?“Not before Monday,” Hank said and adjusted his tie. “But I would suggest you seek a criminal attorney. I’m just a business attorney—”
?“I know, but can’t you—” I said.
?He gave a shrug. “I do contracts.”
?“He’s right, babe,” Jeff said. “He’s the attorney we use for book deals.”
?“Oh boy,” I said, and put my head in my hands. “I am sooo screwed.”
16. Rough Draft
Sheryl Homes
?I knocked at the door, and then entered the interrogation room where Mark sat with two other men. I went in with Uncle Louie. Louie is a short, wiry man who chews gum vigorously and wears a two thousand dollar suit and has a bad comb-over, but he’s a dear.
?We were followed by Detectives DeStadler and Elvis.
?“Good,” Louie exclaimed, “now we’re all together.” He shot a finger at the Asian gentleman who was seated across from Mark. “Either of you guys his attorney?”
?Mark stood and indicated one of the seated men who had the look of a smoker. “This is my agent, Jeff Moss, and—”
?“Hank Choi,” Louie interrupted and took the Asian man’s hand. “Sorry I didn't recognize you when I walked in. Boy, are you out of your league.”
?“Why, Mr. DeSoto!” Choi seemed flustered. “I’ve long been an admirer—”
?“Yeah, yeah,” Louie demurred and turned to Jeff Moss. “You his agent? You got power of attorney?”
?“Uh, yes, I do,” Jeff assured.
?“Great! You got a dollar?”
?Mark’s agent nodded and pulled out his wallet. He handed Louie a bill and Louie held it aloft for all to see.
?“There you go; you are witnesses. His agent gave me a retainer. Mr. Watkins is now my client.”
?I stood next to Mark, who returned to his seat at the table. He looked up at me and whispered, “What is going on?”
?“Just watch,” I said and gave him my wicked smile.
?“Okay,” Louie said, his jaw moving in a rhythm of its own with the gum. “My clients have been cooperative, but they were brought here under duress and now choose to leave—”
?“We found a possible murder weapon in your client’s condo,” DeStadler challenged.
