What If You

you alright? Miss Everly?” I could hear Damien call to me.
“I’ll be right back. It’ll just take a moment.”
I climbed out of the car, ran inside the hotel and took the elevator up to Asher’s suite. Knocking on the door, I took in a deep breath.
“I thought I made myself very clear that I never wanted to see you again?” Asher spoke with irritation when he opened the door.
“Your father was murdered,” I blurted out.
“Jesus Christ. My father died of a massive heart attack.”
“That was induced by your uncle. The vile is in the left-hand drawer of his desk. The one he keeps locked.”
“Let me guess, my father told you that?”
“I saw it when I climbed into your Rolls Royce. That’s where your father died, right?”
“Yes.” He looked down.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I walked to the elevator.
“Thank God you’re home. How did it go? I’ve been sitting here on pins and needles,” Diana said.
“You know. A lot of the word ‘crazy’ was thrown around. Not to mention all the shouting. Just the typical reaction when I have to tell someone what their deceased loved one wants them to know.”
“Shit. Really? Did he believe you at all?”
“I honestly don’t know. He did say he never wanted to see me again.”
“Ouch. Aw, come here.” She held out her arms. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” I sighed. “I just hope he gives some thought to what I said.”
The front door opened, and Daniel walked in.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” he asked as he threw is keys down on the table.
“Mr. Remington didn’t take the news very well,” Diana spoke.
“Ah. I see.”
“He told her he never wanted to see her again.”
“I’m sorry, cuz. But you kind of expected that, right?”
“Yeah. It comes with the territory. But there’s something you should know.”
“What?” He cocked his head.
“Mr. Remington Sr. was murdered.”
“Are you sure?”
“He died of a heart attack in the back of his Rolls Royce. The moment I climbed in the car, I saw what happened. He was at the office and he had just told his attorney and his brother that he was canceling the merger. They had words and Roland went over to the mini bar in his office and poured Mr. Remington a drink. Before he gave it to him, he pulled a vile out of his pocket and poured it into his scotch.”
“I’ll take a look at the coroner’s report tomorrow at the station. Did you tell, Remington, about this?”
“I did. I don’t think he believed me.”
“Well, unless he comes down to the station and insists there’s more to his father’s death than a heart attack, there’s nothing we can do.”
“I know. Anyway, I’m heading to bed. It’s been a long night.”
“Get some rest.” Daniel kissed my forehead. “You look tired.”

7
Asher
I stepped inside my father’s Park Avenue penthouse. The last time I was here was when I had to go through his things before I had them moved out. The walls where expensive artwork once hung, were now bare. The only thing left was the furniture. I needed to put the place up for sale, but I’d been putting it off for one reason or another. Reasons I wasn’t even sure of.
I went to his bedroom and opened the closet doors. Stepping inside and walking over to the vent, I knelt down, pulled the screwdriver out of my pocket I borrowed from the hotel, and unscrewed the screws. Pulling off the vent cover, I saw a small safe sitting inside.
“I’ll be damned,” I said as I stared at it. “You couldn’t have told me the combination.” I sighed.
I tried a bunch of different combinations I thought my father would have used, including the combination only the two of us knew for the safe at the office. But there was one I had yet to try: the date of my mother’s death. Punching in the numbers, the door opened. I stared at the brown leather journal sitting inside. After I grabbed it from the safe, I placed the vent cover back and climbed into my Rolls Royce.
“Find what you were looking for, Asher?” Damien asked.
“Yes. Actually, I did. Just take me home.”
“So I guess Miss Everly was right.”
“There’s more to her and I’m going to find out what it is. I can guarantee she knew my father. He must have told her about the journal. There’s no other explanation.”
“Why now, Asher? Why three months after your father’s death? I worked for your father for many years and I have never seen that woman before in my life, nor have I ever heard her name.”
“My father was good at keeping secrets. Who knows, maybe she’s his daughter from an affair. I don’t think she’s much younger than I am. I don’t know, Damien.”
“You’re grasping, Asher.”
“No. I’m being fucking realistic. And for her to tell me that my father was murdered and that my uncle had something to do with it. If that was the case, the coroner would have discovered it.”
After Damien dropped me off at my penthouse, I changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, poured myself a double bourbon and sat down on the couch to read the journal.
My eyes flew open to the ringing sound of my phone. I was sprawled out on the couch with the journal laying on my chest. I had no recollection of falling asleep. Grabbing my phone from the coffee table, I saw my Uncle Roland was calling.
“Hello.”
“Asher? Are you sleeping? It’s nine o’clock. Where are you?”
“I’m home. I’m not feeling well today. Tell Isabelle I won’t be coming into the office. I can do work from here.”
“What about our final meeting for the merger? It starts in an hour.” His voice was agitated.
“Reschedule it, Roland. I have to go.”
I ended the call before he could say another word. The truth was, I drank too much last night as I read my father’s journal. Picking up my phone, I called the main number to the