They looked doubtful. “I’ve spent my career putting lowlifes like you guys in places like this. I know something about guilt and innocence.”
Scowling, Big Guy said “No need to get personal. You don’t know me.” Everyone nodded or said “Me too.” “Yet here you all are.” “You too.”
This discussion wasn’t getting us anywhere. I wasn’t convincing them of my innocence. They weren’t convincing me of their not-guilty-ness.
I considered pressing the issue but I happened to be the only ex-cop in the holding cell. The odds weren’t good that my point would prevail.
It was my turn to call. Depositing a quarter, I dialed my own phone. Regi picked up “Hello?” “Hi Regi.” “Arkaby? How are you calling me?”
“You’re my one phone call. Are you coming to bail me out?” “Uh, sure! On my way!” What a relief! I didn’t relish spending the night in jail.
With Regi on the job my jail time was finite. She was one focused on getting it done! Then she said “Why is the ringtone ‘Brown Eyed Girl’?”
Huh? My ringtone? Behind me a guy muttered “Hurry up.” I replied “I like ‘Brown Eyed Girl.'” Big Guy said “I bet.” Other inmates snickered.
Regi said “You know my eyes are blue don’t you?” A trick question? “Uh sure! I just like that song.” Someone behind me said “Hurry up, man!”
I gave him a look. “What about ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’?” What were we talking about? “What about it?” “‘She’s got eyes of the bluest skies…'”
“That’s good too.” Someone yelled “Get off the phone!” I displayed a finger. “‘I’d hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain.'”
“Still quoting Guns N’ Roses?” “Just saying it would make a good ring tone.” “Got it.” Big Guy says “Are you getting music on that phone?”
I covered phone and said “I’ll finish in a minute.” Regi said “Where do we go, where do we go?” “GOT IT!” “No seriously. Where do we go?”
Big Guy said “Yeah, you got it all right.” Others waiting in line pressed forward. “Regi, I’m calling on a payphone in my communal cell.”
Shoved up against the phone I said “There’s a line waiting behind me that’s, let’s say, impatient.” My cellmates chanted “Hang up! Hang up!”
Bracing against the wall, I continued “Get me out of here to a warm safe place and I’ll figure out where do we go.” “Get off the phone!”
“Are you still tweeting?” “Of course I am.” Clasping the phone handset between my cheek and shoulder, I shrugged my jacket off once again.
There’s a place you go in your mind at times like these. “Is that why you take so long to answer me? “Yes.” I couldn’t shift my balance.
Why did they push me up against the wall? “You have to finish our conversation and then tweet it afterwards.” I didn’t know what to expect.
Regi said “OK. Why do I have to tweet everything?” Anticipating possibilities, I turned sideways and said “I’LL BE DONE IN A MINUTE!” “Huh?”
Uh oh. Had I just yelled that into the phone? Everyone in line took a step back. “I was speaking to the guy behind me.” “Why do we tweet?”
(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)