Read Online Butterflies in Heat by Darwin Porter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Darwin Porter
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business to attend to," Leonora answered. "I can't involve myself in any more of these absurd conversations" She slammed down the receiver.
"But she does know me," Numie said, holding the dead phone in his hand.
"Of course, you've met her," Dave said. "I'm sure of it. But if De la Mer says she doesn't know you, man, she means what she says."
Bent and defeated, Hadley L. Crabtree was walking down the corridor of the jail. You could smell his breath, flavored with cheap wine. His clothesâthe same outfit he wore the night he'd picked Numie up, were as stale as his breath.
"Thank God you're here, Numie said. They've busted me."
The lawyer looked at him strangelyâas if he didn't recognize him at first. "Busted! I'm so tired of hearing that I could die."
"It's true," Numie said. "I need you to help me."
"You didn't listen to my free advice," Crabtree said. "Which was to get out of town. I think I told you not to come here in the first place."
"The sheriff's got it in for me."
"He's got it in for everybody," Crabtree said. "I lost three cases today. Got any money, boy?"
"Not a cent," Numie said. "But if you get me out, I can work it out and pay you back."
"That makes one thousand guysâand girls, tooâwho have used that line on me. I'm an old man. I have to get money for my work."
"Please."
Dave walked up beside Numie. "He's got to get back to his cell," he said to Crabtree. "You going to represent him?"
"No," the lawyer said flatly.
Numie sighed. "The only liberal in town. I'm entitled to some kind of defense."
"We'll take care of everything," Dave said to Numie. He motioned to his desk. "Crabtree, you old grandpa, I've got a bottle in the bottom drawer. Take the rest of it home with you. You've got some more court cases coming up tomorrow, and the sheriff wants you to be in real good shape."
Numie stared at Crabtreeâalmost defying him to go to that desk, to take that bottle.
Eyes down, Crabtree made his way to the desk.
Dave's hands were on Numie's back, shoving him down the long dark corridor.
It was two o'clock in the morning. From his bunk bed in a lone cell, a stirring of life came to Numie. Someone was shining a flashlight in his eyes.
"What in hell?" he asked, adjusting to the harsh light. From the corridor, the lights were switched on. The other prisoners started to wake up.
There, under the cruel glow of an exposed electric bulb, stood Lola La Mour. She was floating in printed silk organdy in vibrant lemon and chartreuse. Beside her was Yellow wood, aroused from sleep.
"So, there you are!" Lola screeched.
"How did you find me?" Numie asked.
"I called the sheriff," she said. "After all, you made off with my two dollars to get that tube of Vaseline. Remember?"
When you didn't show up all night, I sent out a call for help. You fitted the description."
Yellowwood was unlocking the cell. "Why didn't you tell me you were Lola La Mour's boy? This whole thing wouldn't have happened."
"How did I know?" Numie asked.
Lola rushed into the cell, pulling the sheet back and exposing his nude body. She gave him a quick professional appraisal. Approving, she reached for his jeans. "Into these, stud," she said, "and then we're getting out of this rathole. Nothing in here but perverts." She glared menacingly at the sheriff.
"Lola," Yellowwood said apologetically, "I'm really sorry about this."
"Sorry!" she shouted. "You're sorry? When the commodore gets back from the mainland and hears about this-that's the time to be sorry!"
The sheriff motioned to his deputy. "He had this," he said, taking the marijuana cigarette from the man and handing it to Lola.
She examined it carefully. "Yes," she said defiantly. "He had this because I gave it to him. It was presented to me by De la Mer, and I passed it on to Numie. Thank God we've got it back. I could use it right now." She held the cigarette to her mouth. Yellowwood reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. Its flame outlined the glow
"But she does know me," Numie said, holding the dead phone in his hand.
"Of course, you've met her," Dave said. "I'm sure of it. But if De la Mer says she doesn't know you, man, she means what she says."
Bent and defeated, Hadley L. Crabtree was walking down the corridor of the jail. You could smell his breath, flavored with cheap wine. His clothesâthe same outfit he wore the night he'd picked Numie up, were as stale as his breath.
"Thank God you're here, Numie said. They've busted me."
The lawyer looked at him strangelyâas if he didn't recognize him at first. "Busted! I'm so tired of hearing that I could die."
"It's true," Numie said. "I need you to help me."
"You didn't listen to my free advice," Crabtree said. "Which was to get out of town. I think I told you not to come here in the first place."
"The sheriff's got it in for me."
"He's got it in for everybody," Crabtree said. "I lost three cases today. Got any money, boy?"
"Not a cent," Numie said. "But if you get me out, I can work it out and pay you back."
"That makes one thousand guysâand girls, tooâwho have used that line on me. I'm an old man. I have to get money for my work."
"Please."
Dave walked up beside Numie. "He's got to get back to his cell," he said to Crabtree. "You going to represent him?"
"No," the lawyer said flatly.
Numie sighed. "The only liberal in town. I'm entitled to some kind of defense."
"We'll take care of everything," Dave said to Numie. He motioned to his desk. "Crabtree, you old grandpa, I've got a bottle in the bottom drawer. Take the rest of it home with you. You've got some more court cases coming up tomorrow, and the sheriff wants you to be in real good shape."
Numie stared at Crabtreeâalmost defying him to go to that desk, to take that bottle.
Eyes down, Crabtree made his way to the desk.
Dave's hands were on Numie's back, shoving him down the long dark corridor.
It was two o'clock in the morning. From his bunk bed in a lone cell, a stirring of life came to Numie. Someone was shining a flashlight in his eyes.
"What in hell?" he asked, adjusting to the harsh light. From the corridor, the lights were switched on. The other prisoners started to wake up.
There, under the cruel glow of an exposed electric bulb, stood Lola La Mour. She was floating in printed silk organdy in vibrant lemon and chartreuse. Beside her was Yellow wood, aroused from sleep.
"So, there you are!" Lola screeched.
"How did you find me?" Numie asked.
"I called the sheriff," she said. "After all, you made off with my two dollars to get that tube of Vaseline. Remember?"
When you didn't show up all night, I sent out a call for help. You fitted the description."
Yellowwood was unlocking the cell. "Why didn't you tell me you were Lola La Mour's boy? This whole thing wouldn't have happened."
"How did I know?" Numie asked.
Lola rushed into the cell, pulling the sheet back and exposing his nude body. She gave him a quick professional appraisal. Approving, she reached for his jeans. "Into these, stud," she said, "and then we're getting out of this rathole. Nothing in here but perverts." She glared menacingly at the sheriff.
"Lola," Yellowwood said apologetically, "I'm really sorry about this."
"Sorry!" she shouted. "You're sorry? When the commodore gets back from the mainland and hears about this-that's the time to be sorry!"
The sheriff motioned to his deputy. "He had this," he said, taking the marijuana cigarette from the man and handing it to Lola.
She examined it carefully. "Yes," she said defiantly. "He had this because I gave it to him. It was presented to me by De la Mer, and I passed it on to Numie. Thank God we've got it back. I could use it right now." She held the cigarette to her mouth. Yellowwood reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. Its flame outlined the glow
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