“You’re out no matter what happens with your case.” “We’ll see. Regi, are you still tweeting?” “Yes.” “I want a record. Tweet this.” “I am.”
Rixey says “Birdbrains of a feather tweet together” and walks away. I say “Where to now Arkaby?” “We go solve Farley Granger’s murder.”
“I’ll take over phone duties.” “Good. I don’t want to tweet while driving.” “So let me have the phone.” “One minute. Just finishing up.”
Time to pass the torch. Better than carrying one. “Regi.” “A moment.” So much left unsaid, or to put it another way left untweeted. “Regi?”
“You don’t have to do that.” “Almost done.” Twitter has been a distraction but at the same time I’m tempted to start my own account. Not!
It’s only been a day, but I feel like I’ve tweeted on this damn thing for weeks! How does Arkaby do it? He says “Regi?” Why does he do it?
Why does he document everything that happens to him? Is tweeting addicting? Has time in jail changed him? Has it increased his street cred?
“Regi!” Arkaby’s clearly impatient to get his phone back. Or maybe it’s that I’m driving while I tweet? “REGI!” “OK!” The rest is silence.
To be free again, first you have to be imprisoned. Not that I recommend jail as the path to liberation, but it is better to be out than in.
I buckle into shotgun as Regi peels her hatchback away from the Detention Center parking lot. I say “Slow down. I just got out of jail.”
Regi says “I knew that. Was it bad?” “Yep.” How do I explain? Like many cops, I’ve spent my time putting people who offend me behind bars.
Regi glances at my tweet. “Offend you?” “I mean social offenders. It was strange to be on the wrong side of the lollipop.” “You mean law?”
“The law just got on the wrong side of me.” “Arkaby, you’re no longer a cop. How will you find Farley’s killer now?” “I’ll figure it out.”
“Let’s get me some clothes and food and then we’ll decide the next step.” “OK. What happened to you in jail? What happened to your clothes?”
“I got into a fight.” “There were others in your cell?” “Not where you found me. Originally I was put in a cell with twenty other perps.”
“I’ve never heard of twenty prisoners in a single cell.” “It was an overnight holding cell because we were too late to see the judge.”
“Were there twenty beds?” “Just benches.” “You spent the night stretched out on a bench?” “I wish. Some detainees grabbed them first thing.”
“They took all the benches?” “They stretched out along each bench and then some others crawled underneath and stretched out on the floor.”
“There’s a place you go in your mind at times like these. You don’t know why they hog all the benches. You don’t know what to expect.”
“Anticipating possibilities, I turned sideways to shrink my target area, shifted my heels and bent my knees to lower my center of gravity.”
“You didn’t shed clothing, did you?” “Well, they had confiscated my tie and belt, so I just removed my jacket and wrapped it around my arm.”
(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)