Harvey Porter Does Dallas (19 page)

“So what happened?” asked Carmelita?

“Purty soon, the two of them was together all the time. Clyde spent a lot of days and nights in Alice's hut. He left when Miss Bonnie got out of jail, but it wasn't long before Alice had the baby. Like I said before, she didn't really want no baby.”

“So what happened to Soft Feet?” Carmelita wanted to know.

“Well her mother didn't pay her no attention, so the rest of us just kind of raised her up together. Leastwise, till she was five or six. That was when the social worker come to get her.”

Harvey had rapid breathing and rapid pulse again. “Are you sure about this?”

Charlie laughed again, the toothless, wheezing guffaw. “Son, I ain't sure about much in this world. Will I have a tomorrow at my age? Who knows? But I was young then and havin' Clyde Barrow hangin' out with us was a big deal. I ain't never gonna forget
that
.”

Harvey was quiet. He was trying to absorb all of this.
Jesus Christ, first I find out that Oswald is my father, now it looks like Clyde Barrow was my grandfather
. Harvey was so overwhelmed, turning this over in his mind, that he couldn't speak at all.
But I'm not related to Bonnie Parker …

Carmelita could speak, however. She wanted to buy one of Charlie's flutes.

“Is that so?” asked Charlie.

“Yes. I'd like to have one. How much would it cost?”

“Y'know, Clyde Barrow was a purty handsome fellow.”

“But how much would one of the small flutes cost? One of the hickory ones?”

“The hickory ones are best.”

Carmelita wondered if the old Cherokee was trying to gouge her for money. “So how much?” she asked again.

“Honey, I ain't got no idea. You put whatever cash you want in the box, then pick out the one you want.”

Carmelita got out a five dollar bill from her purse and showed it to Charlie Whistlestick. “Would this be enough?”

But Charlie's eyesight was so poor he couldn't make out what she was holding. He waved his hand. “I'm sure it must be just about perfect.”

She put the five in the box and picked out a six-inch hickory flute with varnish on it, so it was shiny. She blew it a couple of times, moving her fingers on and off the stopping holes. She was thrilled. She knew it had to be worth a lot more than five bucks.

21. JAILBIRDS

The drive back to Livingston was slow and quiet. Harvey was still pondering the crazy results of his search. Lee Harvey Oswald for a father and Clyde Barrow of the Barrow gang for a grandfather. Over and over the thoughts turned in his mind.

Carmelita was playing notes on her new flute. Finally, Harvey interrupted to ask, “You think it's just like my destiny to be bad, then?”

“Because of your father and grandfather?”

“Yeah.”

“No, Harvey, it doesn't mean that at all. You don't know anything at all about what kind of people your mother and grandmother were. You don't just inherit from your father's side. You inherit from your mother's side as well.”

“Well, it sounds like Grandma was fast and loose; you might even call her a whore.”

“But we don't
know
that. We
can't
know that. Just think about Carlos and me. We've got the same parents, but he's a piece of street scum and look at me.”

“I like looking at you,” Harvey smiled. “I like it a lot.”

“That's nice. But looking is as far as it goes.”

“We've been through this before,” Harvey said wearily. Then he began singing while she played notes on the flute.

bad to the bone
,

b-b-b-b-b-b-bad
,

Yes I'm ba-ad

bad to the bone

b-b-b-b-b-b- bad
,

bad to the bone
,

“What's that song?” she asked him.

“It's an oldie from the '70s.”

“Okay, so who recorded it?”

“George Thoroughgood and the Destroyers
. Marquis from
Los Rebeldes
had a CD of it in his car.”

“I never heard of it. And besides, it's not what I'm playing.”

“How do you know what you're playin'?” Harvey asked her. “You just got that thing.”

“Okay, okay, just drop it.”

When they got to the town jail in Livingston, they found out just how true Harvey's prediction turned out to be. The jail was a small adobe building with bars on the windows. It looked like something from an old-time cowboy movie.

It was worse inside. Hot and stuffy, and it smelled rank and stale. There were two small cells. Victor was in one, and an old Indian was sleeping one off in the other. Harvey knew that lots of old guys got drunk in public so they'd get arrested and had a place to sleep.

The deputy, or sheriff, or whoever he was, was asleep, leaning back on a swivel chair with his feet up on a big wooden desk. He was fat and sloppy. His mouth was open so he went in and out of fits of snoring and snuffing. He hadn't shaved in several days. Brown tobacco juice ran from the corner of his mouth and traveled like a little river through his gray stubble.

Harvey and Carmelita went to Victor's cell. He grasped the bars as they talked. “What happened?” asked Carmelita.

“Guess.”

“I already told her,” said Harvey. “I knew right away how this would go down. What's your bail?”

“Five thousand bucks.”

“Jeez! For takin' a friggin' bus?”

Harvey searched his pockets and Carmelita her purse. She had 12 dollars, he had six. “Eighteen bucks ain't gonna do us much good,” Harvey said, stating the obvious. “What about your old man?”

“He's gonna wire my bail money, but not till tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

Victor screwed up his face. “He thinks a night in a small town jail would be good for me.”

“Oh great,” said Carmelita. “We could be in big trouble. We told Professor Meel we'd be back by ten tonight.”

“I know,” said Victor. “I'm real sorry.”

“Never mind, never mind,” said Harvey. “The question is where are Carmelita and I going to stay overnight? You can't even get a room in a fleabag motel for 18 bucks.”

“I know. I really am sorry.”

“Quit tellin' us how sorry you are and help us figure this thing out.”

“Did you find your man out there at the reservation?”

“We found him okay. He told us some stuff that was real far out. I'll tell you about it later. Go back to the question.”

“Well, I know the other cell won't be empty. Maybe Virgil would let you guys sleep in this one with me.”

“Who's Virgil? That fatass chewin' tobacco slob over there?”

“Yeah, that's Virgil. He's a deputy sheriff.”

They decided their chances would be best if Carmelita was the one to wake him up and ask him the favor. She tugged on his shirtsleeve until he came gagging and coughing out of the deep sleep. When he sat up in his chair, he slobbered tobacco juice on the front of his shirt. He grabbed a dirty towel while he was still sputtering and tried to clean it off; it didn't work.

“What the hell do you people want?”

“We're traveling with Victor, but we don't have a place to stay or any money.”

“So, what” ya expect me to do about it?” Virgil spit the used-up wad of tobacco into the waste basket, which only left more brown slobber on his face.

Carmelita put her hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward. She was wearing an aqua-blue halter top and a matching pair of shorts. There was lots of bare midriff for Virgil to stare at, not to mention plenty of cleavage. She smiled. “Well, what we were hoping was you might find it in your heart to let us spend the night with Victor in his cell.”

“We've never done nothin' like that before,” Virgil answered, with his stare still locked on to Carmelita.

“Maybe just this one time? We really do need the favor.”

Virgil fussed and fretted before saying, “Well, maybe we could find a way. There's an old mattress in the back room. I could put it on the floor of the cell for you.”

“That'd be great,” said Harvey.

“But I ain't got no blankets or sheets.”

“Don't matter,” said Harvey. “As hot as it is in here, who needs it?”

“We turn a big fan on at night when the prisoners are tryin' to sleep.”

“It still don't matter.”

“But I'd have to search you first, even though you aren't arrested.”

“Fine,” said Harvey. He emptied his pockets and placed them on Virgil's desk. A pocketknife, six crumpled dollar bills, a quarter, and three pennies.

“Seein' that knife, I'm gonna have to pat you down. And maybe your girlfriend too.”

“He only
wishes
I was his girlfriend,” said Carmelita, glaring at both of them.

“That's for sure,” said Harvey. “She's tellin' the truth.” Then he assumed the pat-down position, something he was very familiar with. He locked his fingers behind his neck and stood up straight while Virgil patted him down, his pockets, even the seams in the legs of his blue jeans. “Where's your wallet?”

“I don't ever carry one.”

“Why not?”

“I ain't got nothin' to carry in a wallet that anybody would want to see. No driver's license, no other ID's.”

“Okay,” said Virgil. “You seem clean.” Then he started patting Carmelita down. She held her arms straight out. Anytime Virgil came close to touching her front or her buns, she warned him, “Watch it buster.”

Virgil said, “I'm gonna have to keep your purse in the bottom drawer. It'll be safe; that door locks. I'm gonna have to keep that Indian flute in there too.”

“Why?”

“It could be used as a weapon.”

Harvey assured her it would be okay. His pocketknife and money would be there too. “Don't worry about it,” he told her. “It'll be cool.”

Then Virgil made a big mistake. He told Carmelita, “I might have to do a strip-search on you. We could do it in the back room so you can have your privacy.”

Carmelita turned on him, her black eyes flashing. “You'd be smart to worry about your own privates. What you'll get from me is a kick to the gonads before I ever take any clothes off.”

“Okay, okay,” said Virgil quickly. He seemed a little nervous, like he knew he had crossed the line. “I'll go get the mattress then.” He brought back a standard striped double bed mattress with mildew on one side. Carmelita made sure that side was on the bottom. There was just enough space to lay out the mattress and not disturb Victor's bunk.

Carmelita asked where the bathroom was, so Virgil unlocked the cell door and directed her.

Victor said to Harvey, “Well, you always wanted to sleep with her.”

“I'll try and remember that while I'm servin' detentions. Besides,
sleepin
' is all it would be. Carmelita's not in a romance head these days.”

When Carmelita returned from the bathroom, the sun was setting. Soon, it would be dark. “What took you so long?” Victor asked her.

“I took a French bath in there.”

“Which is?”

“I took my clothes off and scrubbed with warm water and liquid soap, from neck to toes. The only thing I couldn't do was shampoo my hair.”

“It looks okay,” said Harvey.

“No it doesn't.”

“How'd you dry off?”

“With paper towels. In a situation like this, you take whatever you can get.”

“Well, you sure smell good,” said Victor.

“Thank you.”

By 9:30 they were all drowsy enough to go to sleep. Victor was already snoring in his corner cot. There was a faint light through the tiny, barred window. Harvey took his shoes and socks off, and started removing his blue jeans.

“What are you doing?” Carmelita asked. “You can't get undressed.”

She was speaking in a loud whisper.

“But it's hot as hell in here, Carmelita. I've got to get these shoes and jeans off.”

“Okay, but that's where it stops.”

“I really wanted to take my shirt off too.”

“No. I told you where it stops.”

Harvey knew it would be useless to argue. He was smiling broadly in the dark. “Hey Carmelita, we finally get to sleep together,” he whispered.

“And
sleeping
is what it will be. Just remember that.” She was whispering louder than he was.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then why is your hand on my thigh?”

“I thought you might be cold.”

“As hot as it is in here? Are you nuts?”

Harvey took his hand away and put it behind his head, like the other one.

“Make sure,” she told him, “that hand stays where it belongs. Otherwise, it might come back with a broken finger.” Harvey giggled, then they both fell asleep.

They didn't get back to the SAS building until after two because Victor's father took his own sweet time about wiring the bail money. Harvey was a little worried, but Victor and Carmelita were practically unglued. “You know how much trouble we could be in?”

From the lounge, they could see across the street to the plaza. Oboe Meel was basking on his favorite bench.

“Should we ask him what to do?” asked Carmelita. “We promised to be back by ten last night.”

“Forget it,” said Harvey. “You can't ever bother him while he's in his baskin' mode.”

Then Victor saw a sliver of hope. “And don't forget, the paper we signed was just that we'd never bother him anymore. We may be free and clear.”

They weren't. Headmaster D'Artagnan had heard all about the adventure. He summoned the three of them to his office. “Detentions for all three of you. You'll be spending your free time tomorrow in the classroom with the video camera.”