“I’m not arguing with you. I’m sure you did see the body hanging from the rafters at about one-fifty in the afternoon. But that’s not what I’m asking. Listen carefully.” Decker leaned over. “When was the first time you saw Adrianna Blanc?”

“At around one-fifty that Monday afternoon.” Tinsley’s leg was going a mile a minute. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Why do you think I’m getting at something?”

“’Cause you keep repeating yourself.”

“That’s because you’re not answering my question. When was the first time you saw Adrianna Blanc?”

“I am answering your question. Around one-fifty in the afternoon.”

“And that’s your story?”

“Whaddaya mean that’s my story?” His hands were shaking. “That’s the truth. I thought you wanted my help.”

“I do want your help. That’s why I asked you to come in here.”

“So I came in. Now why are you giving me a hard time?”

“I don’t mean to give you a hard time, but we have a little problem.”

Tinsley looked stricken. “What kind of problem?”

“Let me start with another question. Where were you the previous evening?” Decker gave him the date to refresh his memory. “It was Sunday night. Do you remember where you were between seven and ten P.M.?”

Without hesitation, Tinsley said, “I wanna lawyer.”

“We can get you representation.” Decker stood up. “Or you can get your own. In the meantime, you’ll be booked and printed—”

“What do you mean booked and printed?”

“You can have your lawyer meet you here. The arraignment will probably be sometime tonight—”

“Arraignment for what?”

Tinsley bolted up. Decker was bigger than the foreman, but a physical confrontation was that last thing he wanted. “Could you please sit down, sir?”

The foreman looked around as if he hadn’t realized he was on his feet. “What the fuck is going on? What’re you charging me with?”

“I have a number of choices: obstruction of justice, lying to the police, maybe murder—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tinsley shot back in his chair, a horrified look on his face. “Wait just a fucking minute! I didn’t murder anyone!”

“I’m not saying you did. You just asked what I was going to book you for—”

“You’re not going to frame me for this bullshit!” He was panting and sweating. “I didn’t have nothin’ to do with her death.”

“You can’t speak to me, Mr. Tinsley. You asked for your lawyer.”

“Just let me say something—”

“You asked for a lawyer,” Decker repeated.

“What if I say I don’t want a lawyer now? Can I ask for a lawyer later?”

Decker said, “Mr. Tinsley…” He sighed. “Chuck, can I call you Chuck?”

“Call me whatever the hell you want to call me. Just let me say something.”