Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake (15 page)

Then another woman intervened, positioning herself between Minnie and the big cat-like woman. She said to Minnie, ‘Shoutin’ won’t get ya outta this place honey, d’ya hear what I’m sayin’?’

Minnie nodded violently. She got the message. But she also got someone’s attention.

A prison guard sauntered over and looked at Minnie. He screwed up his face as though he’d discovered a large fungus growing on the floor of his jail.

‘Sir, I would like to go home now,’ she asked as politely as possible, keeping her voice low and level so as not to incur the wrath of her caged companions. ‘Please.’

This time there was an eruption of laughter. Even the angry cat woman seemed to find Minnie amusing. The guard smiled and walked off shaking his head.

Well, that’s one way to break the ice, Angie would have said.

The laughter gave Minnie new-found confidence. ‘Please, listen to me!’ 

The guard turned back and he wasn’t smiling any more.

He said, ‘No, lady, YOU need to listen to ME. You have been accused of a crime. You’re not a minor. We don’t need permission to detain you.’

‘It was a misunderstanding. Please… I…’

He flicked his eyes upwards in exasperation. ‘You didn’t do it. It wasn’t your fault. It won’t happen again. Yawn.’

‘Mr Greene knows I wasn’t going to hurt him.’

‘We’ll soon find out, won’t we? In a couple of days you’ll be able to leave on bond or dismissal of charges. Or your case will end in conviction.’

Minnie looked horrified. ‘What am I supposed to do until then?’

‘Well, you could think about why you are here and what you did wrong. There’s nothing else to do but think. Think until your brain makes smoke. Why are flamingoes pink? What’s the cure for world hunger? How can I be a better person? Think until you run out of question marks.’

Time to think? Minnie would prefer not to. She sank to the floor, too tired and traumatised to stand for another minute. She had never considered what she would look like in an orange boiler suit. She pictured the horrible scenario in her head if she should be imprisoned in the States, left to rot under a Californian sun when it became apparent that Britain didn’t want her back. James George obviously didn’t. No one did.

Minnie, always the quick learner, filed away a new fact: it was not wise to get arrested on a Friday because nothing happens over the weekend. Lawyers and judges have other places to be.

So here she was, incarcerated with lots of women, many of them repeat offenders, who were now united in crime and trapped in the same cage as Minnie. Everyone seemed to know how the system worked except her. She had to give Greene credit – he had found an effective way to keep her away from him while he worked out his next move.

Minnie found it a challenge to keep track of time because one minute behind bars passed like an hour. It didn’t help that there was no natural light from outside, just harsh strip lighting that illuminated every lost hope and broken dream etched on the women’s faces. It was a dumping ground of missed opportunities and major mistakes. Second chances had come and gone.

There was a strong smell of old clothes and alcohol. Some women remained slumped in a drunken stupor. Minnie found it impossible to get comfortable. Her shoulder and arm still hurt. She was also parched. She had tried to rectify this but the guard simply barked that he wasn’t a barman when Minnie asked for a cup of water. 

Every so often, conversation would bubble up among the women. Minnie looked over the talking heads and all she could see were grey brick-exposed walls.

Then there was some action. Some of the women including Minnie were moved into a bigger room with windows. There were a few tables with decks of cards strewn on the top. It was a step up from the cage.

The doors had long narrow windows without glass. No room to escape though.

Minnie started walking round the room to stretch her legs and get the blood flowing. The cold had set into her bones. She hadn’t got very far when the guard shouted at her. ‘You need to stay OFF the grey area.’ His face was pressed up to one of the spaces in the door. He rattled a baton against the metal. Minnie skidded to a halt. 

‘BACK UP!’ he shouted again.

‘You need to move off the grey line,’ explained one of the women, pulling Minnie into the middle of the room.

Minnie looked down at her feet. The brown-flecked flooring had thick grey tiling around the perimeter of the room; a marked path. Walking too close to the walls or doors, apparently, was not allowed. 

‘You wanna end up back in a lock-down cell?’ shouted the guard. 

Minnie shook her head, eyes cast down. She seemed to be in a perpetual state of apology since the night of The Savoy.

‘Whatcha do wrong, Sugar?’ asked the woman who had pulled her to safety.

‘I made a mistake.’ Minnie’s chin fell onto her chest. 

‘Who hasn’t?’

‘This was a
terrible
mistake.’

The woman shrugged. ‘They’re the ones you learn from best, babe.’

Minnie turned and said to this stranger in despair, ‘I need to get out of here. Really, I do.’

‘Be patient. God has a plan for you.’

Now Minnie was really worried. Her fate was in the hands of someone who was even more elusive than Greene.

The woman reached out and gently put a hand on Minnie’s arm. ‘Did someone hurt you?’

Minnie immediately thought about James George but volunteered a more recent incident instead.

‘I was Tasered,’ she explained, touching her shoulder.

The woman’s eyes widened. ‘No medical episode as a result?’

Minnie shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine. I’m still here.’

‘Then your heart must be in great shape,’ said the woman smiling. ‘Ain’t that a good thing?’

Minnie smile back faintly, completely unconvinced.

11

Road trip

Time, for Minnie, was a sequence of numbers, to be organised and manipulated. Other people gave time an emotional resonance:
I had a good time
or
it was an awful time
or
we had the best time of our lives
. 

On this occasion, the numbers amounted to this: a little over 27 hours under the roof of a Californian jail. Minnie avoided the emotional context and instead focused on the mathematical perspective. 

She mentally manipulated the numbers. According to her calculations, this time had different faces such as 97,242 seconds;
27(e+7)
or 1.3943e-7 of a decade. 

Then she realised that it didn’t matter how she worked it out, it was time she would never get back. 

She had been locked up and couldn’t sit still. Most of the others sunk into a morbid stupor or fell asleep, an incredible accomplishment considering the harsh lighting and noise, Minnie paced and counted. She followed the grey line without violating rules and continued her perimeter walk. She walked and thought; counting steps and guessing measurements from liquid volumes to rooms filled with feathers. Her mind couldn’t sit still, which meant she had to keep her body moving, too.

Then a guard called out her name. She ventured near the door mindful not to cross the line. Without any fanfare or enthusiasm, he told her that it was time to go. The charges against her had been dropped. 

Minnie was free to go. 

She didn’t lunge at the door, which surprised her. She had become institutionalised. She suffered a moment of leaver’s regret. She said goodbye to the women and almost wanted to exchange phone numbers because she was so grateful that no one had killed her or permanently tattooed her against her wishes.

The security guard wrenched open the cell door, an orchestral jangle of keys and chains. His circumference matched his height. He had a strong stuffed-crust pizza aroma about him and a slight sweat caused from walking all the way from his office to her cell. Damp around the edges, he stood puffing to get his breath back.

‘Miranda Chase?’ He checked his paperwork.

Minnie nodded obediently.

‘Follow me.’

Minnie smoothed down her skirt. 

She followed him at a snail’s pace. He had a curious gait. Like a ship keeling in a storm. He rolled back and forth as he walked, a careful balancing act that was curiously graceful and slow.

Minnie was exhausted and unsure what to do next.  ‘Do I need to call a lawyer?’ she asked. She was worried that there would be trouble with her Visa and immigration would keep her at the airport forever. 

The guard rolled his eyes; a look that seemed to sum up an unfavourable opinion of women in general. ‘No, you don’t need a lawyer,’ he said dryly. ‘You need a ride. Or a bus fare. Unless you wanna walk through the desert.’

‘I can go?’ Minnie wanted to be absolutely sure.

‘People don’t tend to hang around once charges have been dropped.’ 

Minnie peered out of the window. The streets had disappeared. There was no classic architecture or iconic bridges painted red. 

It didn’t take a great stretch of the imagination to think this place was part of a forgotten moonscape; a spectacular dumping ground for lost souls. There was a panoramic view of sun-scorched nothingness. 

She whispered, bewildered. ‘Where
is
this place?’ 

‘Ain’t got time for no geography lesson. Pay phone’s over there,’ came the answer.

Minnie’s phone was out of charge and she had no change. She reversed the charges. One phone call later, she was outside, in the shade of some parched trees, on the outdoor seating reserved for visitors. No one was around.  

She waited for Jackson to come and get her.

Jackson’s enormous truck kicked up a tornado of dust as it bounced at speed down the road to where Minnie was waiting. She had been sitting rigidly upright in the same place for over three hours, too frightened to go back inside the building even though the midday heat was reaching its thick, suffocating peak.

Jackson took a wide circle around the seating area and skidded to a stop so the vehicle was facing the road he had just driven down. This made perfect sense to Minnie: quick getaway.

She stood up and hurried over to where he had parked. He leaned out of his window, eyebrows up, never taking his eyes off her as she approached. ‘Interesting accommodation,’ he said.

‘It’s complicated,’ said Minnie, never so glad to see someone in her entire life.

Jackson jumped out and made his way around the front of the truck so he could open the passenger door for Minnie. ‘I could have recommended a motel,’ he said, a big smile on his friendly face.

Minnie didn’t answer. She climbed into the truck, almost shaking with relief, struggling to keep her composure. She could feel dizziness setting in, suspecting it was through dehydration as much as trauma. She fell back into the seat and closed her eyes. Don’t cry!

Jackson looked momentarily concerned but stuck to trademark cheerful to see if he could lift her spirits. He said, ‘Look at it this way, we get to spend some quality time together on the ride back to San Francisco.’

 
Quality tim
e, thought Minnie.
Or three hours and 48 minutes for me
. 

Arriving by helicopter, leaving by Dodge Ram, Minnie knew how to get around. She slumped in the seat next to Jackson, her eyes fixed on the image in the wing mirror, watching the correctional facility get smaller and smaller. 

They drove in silence for a while. Jackson kept glancing over at her. Minnie could tell he was desperate to know what had happened and with good reason. It wasn’t every day that he was called upon to collect someone from jail.

‘Arrested, huh?’

‘I can’t talk about it.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m so thirsty,’ Minnie whispered, spotting a sign for a Chevron Gas Station up ahead. 

Jackson nodded. He didn’t ask any more questions until the truck came to a stop outside the convenience store.

The water helped. Minnie felt less nauseous and more level-headed. It also helped to put distance between her and the appalling lock-up situation she had just endured.

Back on the road, radio on, Jackson said above the music, ‘I’m guessing you found the businessman and he wasn’t too pleased to be found.’

Minnie sighed and nodded.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?’

Minnie nodded again and changed the subject. ‘How’s the girlfriend?’ She was almost afraid to ask. She didn’t want to be implicated in more crimes.

‘You mean the one who was cheating on me with my coach?’

‘Do you have more than one girlfriend?’ asked Minnie, rolling her eyes.

‘I have an
ex-
girlfriend,’ he replied. He didn’t look too broken-hearted.

‘Oh, no. I feel responsible now.’ Minnie was still acutely embarrassed that she had hacked into the girl’s phone.

‘It’s not your fault,’ said Jackson with a shrug. ‘Your illegal secrets are safe with me.’

‘You didn’t confront her about the text messages?’ Minnie’s eyes widened in surprise but she was relieved. 

He shook his head. ‘I have some pride.’

‘What about your coach?’

‘He got left behind, too,’ said Jackson with a small smile of self-satisfaction. ‘When the Mavericks Invitational releases its list of big-wave surfers and your name is on it, more than one coach becomes interested.’ He winked. ‘Karma, baby.’

‘How did you break up with your girlfriend?’ asked Minnie, curiosity getting the better of her.

‘I told her I’d met someone else,’ he said, smiling, unable to resist teasing Minnie. 

Minnie smiled but it brought back the horror moment when she had walked into the bedroom and caught her husband-to-be in bed with Licky Vicki. She imagined the worse-case scenario: he had met someone else. 

‘Do you miss him?’ asked Jackson intuitively picking up on Minnie’s thoughts.

‘James George?’

‘Yes.’

She nodded desperately. ‘I need to get back to him.’

‘You do?’ Jackson looked doubtful.

‘Yes. It’s like he is the only person in the world who can recharge me, get me back into a useable state again.’ She tried to make a joke. ‘Low-battery warning. Beep, beep…’