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L C Felt emotionally traumatized. If there were a self-help group for people who had post traumatic stress disorder after suffering trust abandonment issues, she would have signed up for it immediately. She suddenly realized she did not trust anyone. Never in her life had she ever not trusted people.
Now she trusted no one.
He had been adamant in their first official conversation as client and lawyer that she was to discuss the case with no one. She was not even to tell a fellow inmate that she was innocent nor to speculate what the charges were against her.
L C had been just as adamant that Nathaniel could sort things out. He would explain the whole mix up. It was his cabin. He was her fiance.
The lawyer jotted down the name and cell phone number. He would have someone out looking for Nathaniel Norman first thing tomorrow morning.
However no one named Nathaniel Norman existed. Not in the city, the county, or even the state.
And the owner of the cabin was the man found dead in it.
Tulkhorn was heavy jowled and seemed to push his words out from between them with some effort. This required him to speak ponderously and slowly. He spoke in short sentences, even when the sentence was long, using pauses in the middle. “You will be placed ― With experienced criminals. One way to get their sentence reduced ― Is testify against you. They will go any lengths ― To cause you to say something ― They can use. Pretend to be your friend. They may tell you something ― Something about themselves. Hoping you will do tit for tat.”
“Like truth or dare?”
“You will have more to lose ― than dignity. We don’t know ― what is at stake. Chief Collars had a revolver. This is a capital punishment state.”
“Oh, My God!”
“If anyone ― tells you something incriminating ―in an effort to entrap you. Tell me who they are ―and what they told you ― immediately.”
L C Was aghast. “You want me to play that game?”
Tulkhorn stared at her from under his heavy lids for a full minute. She started to wonder if she had really overstepped. Still she did not want to blurt out an apology out of fear.
“Young lady. If you were not ― the most naive client ― I have ever met ― I would consider ― that question ― an insult. I would never ― suggest ― in any way ― you do anything ― improper. I would only warn you ― and tell you how ― to take all proper precautions.”
It was then she realized behind that slow ponderous form of a man was a mind that never stopped moving.
So she did not trust the people in the cell with her. Three women. One of whom was large and black and didn’t seem to care what she said to anyone about anything. Nor did she deem in necessary to keep her voice quite or calm when she said it. As the policewoman pushed L C into the room and closed the door behind her the woman was standing in the middle of the cell saying, “Yeah, I killed the bastard. He deserved it. There comes a time when you gotta stand up for yourself and face the shit. That or you go the rest of your life being Uncle Tom and kissing ass. I ain’t kissing nobody’s nothing.” She turned to face L C who stood with her eyes and mouth both wide open.
“What the hell are you staring at?”
L C Could not answer. She had never seen anyone like her before. She had never heard anyone like her before.
An extremely skinny tattooed woman who was the oldest stepped up beside L C “C’mon, she’s the newest fish I’ve ever seen in a tank. She is about to mess her diapers. She doesn’t mean any harm.”
The black woman ignored her.
“Ain’t you never seen a black woman before?” She came down heavy on the word black and talked with a southern accent. She did not take her eyes off L C.
In truth L C Had been raised in a predominantly white middle-class neighborhood. There had been only a handful of black students at her school and she had never really thought about or paid any attention to them. The only black woman L C Had ever spoken to was the quiet, soft-spoken, young woman who worked at one of the chairs in the Just Bain Me Beauty Salon where her aunt worked. She did not speak with an accent. She remembered hearing someone say Obama did not sound black, that he sounded just like any white guy, but she really did not know what that meant. She had never met a person who was proud of being black and was not afraid to stand up and say so.
She managed to stutter out, “Daisy.”
“Daisy? What the hell is ‘Daisy’.”
“She works in Just Bane Me where my aunt works.”
“And her name’s Daisy? There ain’t no black woman in the world today going to name her child ‘Daisy’. What do you think this is, Gone With The Wind?”
“Her name is Daisy. She told me.”
“And are you and this Little Miss Daisy friends.”
“I, I don’t know. I like her. She is real quiet. Um. She never talks much. We ate lunch together once. I guess she likes me.”
“Are you a racist bitch?”
L C Paled. “I don’t think so.” It was the first time in her life anyone had accused her of racism. She knew hate groups existed but she never met anyone who espoused racial superiority. It was the first time in her life she ever gave a thought to the fact she was white and other people were not.
“I’ll tell you what to think. See that bunk up there? That is yours. You sleep in it and you keep your mouth shut. You so much as snore or piss me off I’m going to shove you outta this cell right through those bars whether you fit or not. Understand?”
L C Looked at the top bunk wondering how she was going to climb up there without a ladder.
The muscular woman told her, “I’m Violet. The tattooed lady here is Janet. On the bunk is Diamond. You met her.”
L C burst out laughing.
“What a hell you laughing at?” Diamond’s black eyes snapped at her.
“You ought to be my aunt.” L C felt nervous and like she was starting to babble, but she could not help herself.
“How you think that might happen?”
“My grand parents were so hippy. They named all four of my aunts ‘Daddies little gems.’ Amethyst, Sapphire, Emerald, and Topaz. If they had another girl they were going to name her Pearl. Number six might’ve been you.”
“And what would you do if I was your aunt?”
“Give you a big hug and kiss. Like I do all my other aunts.”
Diamond shook her head. “Get that girl out of here,” she rolled over on her side and looked the other way.
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The Homewrecker Series (tm) 
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