‘A Mighty Serious Charge’

Gloria imagines the butler actually did it. Pearly and the rest of the staff turned them in to the police. Of course she cannot prove it. And who would be interested? The police are home-invaders, no better than the unfaithful servants who contaminate her house.

There’s darkness in front of and behind the scenes.

Chief Rally calls Hilda Swan personally, to thank her for her benevolence. Her contribution to the pension fund is more than he expected. The Chief and Gloria’s step-aunt exchange opinions concerning the problem of the rise in the crime rate in the major cities and how it relates to the general decline of order in the modern world.

“The problem starts in the courts,” says Hilda, “turning hooligans back out onto the street who ought to rot in jail.”

Chief Rally agrees, “The police can only do so much to clean up crime. It’s the lawyers’ fault there’s no order in society. They all read the same law books but see things different ways, and how can there be justice with lenient judges on the bench. After all, what is a judge but just another sneaky lawyer? Even those drug fiends that were abusing your niece—oh don’t you worry, we got them clean and can make a conviction—but if they can make bail, and afford a lawyer, or get a smart-assed public defender, they might come away with only a slap on the wrist, and not even spend one night in jail.”

Hilda’s got the picture. “I see what you’re saying. What’s a record for these criminal types but a feather in the cap? It’s doing some time that teaches them.”

No one says anything about the police losing paper work or delaying due process, but the day goes by, with Gloria ready to put up all her treasures for bail, yet there is no word of where or when the arraignments will be. She calls the station several times inquiring when the three prisoners are to be brought before a judge. The desk sergeant has no idea whom she means. “If they were arrested on the Eve of All Hollers, Miss, they’re in a backlog. It’s almost as bad as New Year’s Eve for nut cases. You should see all we got to process. Call back tomorrow. We should be caught up by then.”

Tomorrow is such a long time, especially alone in the house with only the staff. With Laudette gone there is no one to enforce their termination.

Oh Lawdy, I never knew how good you were until now that you’re gone. Please come back and save me from Pearly Gates and his company of creeps.

The next day Gloria calls back, and is told that there is still no record of the arrest.

“Sergeant, I saw my friends taken into custody with my own two eyes the day before yesterday. Do you mean to tell me that they have not yet been booked, brought before a judge and formally charged with a crime? If not, I want to report some missing people.”

“Let me look into it for you and I’ll call you later.”

Gloria waits by the telephone and it never rings. Mona and Pearly keep making calls and tying up the line. When Gloria calls back the first sergeant’s shift is over and she has to start her story all over again with the new man.

“There can’t be people detained without being arraigned because that’s illegal,” says the sergeant. “The police don’t do things that are illegal, Miss. We’re here to uphold the law not to break it.”

She goes to the telephone directory, and looks for an attorney. After thirty calls, with Mona or Pearly continually cutting in, she comes up dry. Either the lawyers are not in or are in a meeting with a client. The few she does speak to, when she explains she’s a fourteen-year-old girl, calling on behalf of her baby-sitter and a couple of friends, say they’re not taking on new clients.

She calls the public defenders’ office and pleads with a man named Mister Martinez. At first he is testy; he doesn’t want to help her because she has no case number to refer him to.

“That’s just the problem, man! There is no case number!”

Martinez assumes he is speaking to one of the city’s many victims of child neglect, calling city agencies, hit or miss, for help. A compassionate man, he listens as she tells her story.

“If what you say is true, Miss, we’ve got a real problem. It isn’t going to be easy to get a warrant to search the jail! But let’s not worry about your baby-sitter for a moment. What about you? Do you want to come in, get a hot meal. I’m sure we can help you find a shelter.”

“I don’t need a shelter, Mister Martinez, I’m H Thornton Swan Junior’s step-daughter, and I’m living in the Swan Mansion over on East End.”

Easy Street? When he hears this, Martinez excuses himself. He doesn’t think he should be wasting his time and the taxpayer’s money talking to rich girls.

Gloria calls the Cootie Club and talks to “Cootie” Grayham, the owner. “It’s not the first offense for Earl and Bones, Miss Black. They once had a tailor shop that sold more than buttons and threads. The last time they used a lawyer named Horace Grabble. He let them pay what they could. But don’t expect miracles, the guy’s a legal dove.”

Gloria gives Grabble a call and tells him the story: she explains exactly who she is, how she will be rich someday, but has no real money now. “I don’t expect you to work for free, Mister Grabble. I give you my word and my IOU that you’ll be paid.”

“Don’t worry about the money, Miss Black. If Cootie referred you that’s enough for me. Tell me your story.”

Grabble is very sorry to hear that Earl and Bones are in trouble again. It’s not the first time he’s heard about prisoners that seem to “disappear.” “It’s illegal, Miss Black, but they do it sometimes. They chalk it up to human clerical error if it ever comes out. There’s not much we can do.”

“We’ve got to do something. Go in there, scream and yell! Fight for what’s right.”

Grabble says he thinks it’s better not to be too insistent with the police. “It just seems to make them mad and they can make things worse for the prisoners.”

Gloria sees what Cootie meant: you get what you pay for. Grabble seems much too mild-mannered to be effective as a lawyer.

“Mister Grabble, I’ve already asked them politely, many times. It got me nowhere.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Two hours later he calls, “They say they don’t have them.”

It’s no surprise. Gloria is shy about standing up to authority, but if she has to, she will. She takes a taxicab downtown and stands in front of Sergeant Vogel at his high desk, telling him the whole story: how Lieutenant Butler and a whole squad of police in uniforms took her friends and now they are missing persons, no record of their arrest. “Could it be that they were kidnapped by men impersonating officers of the law?”

“Lieutenant Butler, is it? He’s a great cop and a good family man. I hope you’re not telling me he’s taken prisoners without filing paperwork.”

“I don’t know what to think, Officer.”

“No, I’m sure that’s not the case, Miss. Let’s not jump to conclusions here. Listen—”

“No. You listen, Sergeant. You’re breaking the law and you’re going to hear about it. You’re keeping unbooked detainees!”

“Unbooked detainees?” the sergeant says, taken aback. “How dare you even think such a thing! That’s a mighty serious charge you’re making there, Miss. If I were you, I wouldn’t make it unless I had something behind it to back it up.”

The logic runs around while Bones and Earl live in the fumiest of tombs, a place that reeks of rotten piss, the bowels of the city jail, a special holding pen for special cases.

“Guard,” says Earl, “This is a violation of our civil liberties. We haven’t been charged, haven’t seen a judge or a lawyer, or been allowed to make a phone call and I’ll bet the lady we were arrested with has been treated the same. It’s not the Freewayfarers’ way to bury prisoners alive like this!”

“Boy,” say the guards, “if you ever try telling us what’s the Freewayfarers’ way or what ain’t, we’re going to break your hard head.”

“Lord,” Laudette groans somewhere off in her own sub-basement can in the women’s house of detention, sandwiched in between a hooker and a he-woman. She prays her heart out, goes through every suffering step of Emanual’s passion. “If this cup would pass, I promise never to drink gin or smoke gaga weed again. And what about my poor Baby? I should have fired those snakes while I had the chance.”