| General Fiction posted December 14, 2024 | Chapters: |
...4 5 -6- 
|
A visit to the calaboose
A chapter in the book Ben Paul Persons
Ben Paul Persons, Ch. 6
by Wayne Fowler
In the last part Ben Paul and Sylvia enjoy northern New Mexico until their Las Vegas (NM) café waitress, with a cut arm, pleads for them to take her away. They find her in their car the next morning, hiding from the police. She is accused of killing the man who cut her, a man Sylvia saw very much alive. (Apologies for this long chapter.)
Chapter 6
“Ben Paul, what do we do? We know the girl didn’t do it. That man was fine. Not fine… he was evil, but very much alive.”
“We need to go talk to her. See if any of her people can help her. See if she’s getting a lawyer… public defender, or whatever.”
Sylvia agreed, though she had no confidence that they would be allowed into the jail to see her.
+++
“Yes, you’ve said three times now that visiting hours are on Wednesday afternoons from three to three-thirty.” Ben Paul pulled out his wallet and extracted a card. “I’m her minister. And so is she,” he said, pointing to Sylvia.
The sergeant took Ben Paul’s license card and studied it. “Don’t say what denomination. She’s Catholic.”
“Not every Latino person is Catholic,” Ben Paul insisted. “Now which way is she?”
After a moment, the sergeant flicked Ben Paul’s card to the countertop and then picked the card back up, tearing it to shreds. Grinning, he turned away. “In there,” he said after a moment, waving toward a hallway door as he went through another door.
Eventually, Ben Paul and Sylvia made it to a room with a barred cut-out in the wall. Within moments, Tia appeared with a deputy stationed nearby. She sported a blackening eye.
“Can we have privacy?” Ben Paul asked.
The deputy shook his head. “Only for lawyers.” His face was expressionless.
“Tia, what happened to your face?” Sylvia asked concern in her voice.
Tia shrugged. “Some in here liked Pedro.”
Talking softly, Ben Paul asked her the relevant questions, learning that she had no one to call, and that she expected her friend’s brother would no longer want to marry her. She’d not seen a public defender and was not told that she would before her court date.
“Hang on Tia,” Ben Paul said. “Now tell me exactly what happened in the kitchen. Don’t leave anything out.”
Tia took a breath, glancing over her shoulder at the overweight guard. “I was prepping vegetables… with a leetle knife.” She held out spread fingers indicating a paring knife.
Pedro reached from behind me and pinched my… she looked from Ben Paul to Sylvia. “My nipple. It hurt bad. I can show you.”
“I turn to get away and the knife… I stab him here.” Tia indicated her side, several inches above the kidneys, and on the wrong side for the heart.
“How deeply, do you think, Tia?” Sylvia asked.
Tia held out her thumb and her forefinger spread about half an inch. Even if it was twice as deep, Sylvia thought, it couldn’t have been more than a sting to the heavy man that she’d seen, a man showing no sign of distress.
“What then?” Ben Paul asked.
“Then he take my knife and the next thing I know, I am cut and bleeding and I yell. Then I run out and see you.” Tia looked to Ben Paul as if he was her savior, tears welling in her eyes.
Knowing that their time was up, hearing the door behind them begin to open, Ben Paul asked Tia if she would pray with them. The sergeant waited until Ben Paul was finished with his prayer for Tia’s freedom, her safety, and her peace of mind.
+++
“What can we do?” Sylvia asked once safely in their car.
“We need to find NLUV’s owner, the couple in the café. Their car was a green Chevy with vanity plates NLUV.”
“They sure didn’t seem to be in love,” Sylvia said to Ben Paul’s agreeing nod.
After a moment, Ben Paul responded. “We need a Spanish deputy. But we can’t draw attention to ourselves in searching for one.”
“What if there isn’t one?”
“I can’t believe there isn’t. There’s a million reasons to have a fluent, Spanish-speaking deputy, even if only for a jailor. Let’s go to the girlfriend’s house and start there. I think it’s safe to assume she speaks English.
“She’d better because if it isn’t a menu item, si and no is just about my Spanish vocabulary.
Ben Paul knew that she was exaggerating, but did not argue the point.
Fortunately, Tia’s girlfriend was home. “I’ll call Edwardo,” she offered. “I will have him meet you in your motel?”
Ben Paul nodded assent. “Tell him the Blue Diamond. Room 221.”
“Room 221,” Elena repeated.
Ben Paul assumed she would remember the Blue Diamond.
As soon as they parked Tank, the name they’d given their Ford Galaxy, two deputies approached.
“Get out of the car. Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” one of them commanded Ben Paul.
“May I ask what this is about?”
Handcuffed, Ben Paul stumbled forward, catching himself on Tank’s side mirror by his elbow, saving himself from being slammed to the ground.
“Stop that!” Sylvia’s charge was restrained by a second officer.
“Now, Ma’am, we could ruin your day, too, if that’s what you want. You folks made it pretty easy to see which side you’re on. Most outsiders know to take their stroll, buy a shirt, eat their meal, and move along.”
The handcuffing officer decided it was his turn to speak. “You like visiting our jail so much, we’ll give to the full tour. You’re under arrest for suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder.”
“Ben Paul! What do I do?” Sylvia shouted to no avail as 82-year-old Ben Paul was manhandled into the back of a squad car.
“Be careful with him!” Sylvia shouted, her ire rising by the moment.
Sylvia was nearly beside herself. Ben Paul was arrested and she knew no one in Las Vegas. She feared for his safety. If someone, or someones, would beat up Tia, what would they do to Ben Paul? Would the simplest thing give him a heart attack?
As she approached the room door, she realized Ben Paul had the key. No matter, though, the door was open. Inside sat the detective. The room had been ransacked.
“I gave you my statement,” Sylvia said between gritted teeth. “The man was alive when we left. I never saw any knife, large, or small.”
The detective sighed. “They’re out there searching your car now. We’ll find it. We can charge you with the same charges as your husband, add accomplice to murder, aiding and abetting, and interfering with an investigation. And your husband isn’t getting a lawyer either, not until he’s officially charged. You ready to cooperate?”
Sylvia’s heart leaped to her throat. Her brain pounded. Who would help Ben Paul if they were both in jail? “I’m not saying one more word without a lawyer.”
The detective smirked, taking handcuffs from a leather pouch. “Have it your way.” After taking a step toward her, ginning at her obvious terror-stricken expression, he sidestepped and left the room. Over his shoulder, he said, “You’d better hope we don’t find any fingerprints on the knife. Accomplices are as guilty as the murderer.”
Sylvia looked out to see that Tank was still there, apparently undisturbed. She began to straighten up the room while she waited for a Latino deputy who may or may not show up if he’d witnessed the last several minutes.
+++
“See, there’s two problems.” Edwardo arrived, apparently unaware Ben Paul had been arrested. “One is that Pedro Navarro was a major dealer. He fed the young sellers. The other is that I can’t help. Not me, no ma’am. If one side didn’t kill me, the other would. And if I get involved, even a search of the tag, NLUV, I’ll lose my job. No. I understand. It’s too bad for Juanita. And for your man. Juanita will probably not live to see a trial, but there’s nothing I can do.
“If you have a lot of money, maybe you can get a Santa Fe lawyer and help your man, but… And I don’t have jail duty for a couple more weeks. I can’t help him in there.”
“Well at least tell me the story. How did Navarro die when she only pricked him?”
“Throat cut. And not with no little knife, either. But they didn’t find either knife. Not the little one Juanita said she used, and not a big one, either.”
“Well, thank you?” Sylvia said without a great deal of confidence.
“Oh, her arraignment is Friday, probably about midmorning, but you never know.”
“Appreciate it, Deputy. Thank you.”
+++
“Deputy Sheriff Sam Tobin,” Sylvia said to herself, thinking of the deputy who came to Slim’s hospital room. A New Mexico policeman. He can search the plate number… letters: NLUV. She willed herself not to cry.
It was over an hour before Deputy Tobin could call her, and another half an hour before he completely understood Tia’s predicament. “I’ll get back to you,” he said, leaving Sylvia feeling helpless.
“I shouldn’t feel this badly,” Sylvia said to Mary, having called her for support, someone to talk things over with. “I should have confidence, have faith, believe that all works to the good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose.”
Mary offered to drive out and help where they could, but bolstered by Mary’s confidence and generous offer, Sylvia declined her offer.
Within minutes the phone rang – an address. Accompanying the information was a plea for caution and safety, but she had NLUV’s address.
“Looks like no one’s home,” Sylvia said to herself as she slowly drove by. After returning, she pulled into the hundred-yard-long driveway. Just as she did, the garage door opened and a green Chevy with plates NLUV began to emerge, slowly backing out.
“What if they’re leaving, leaving the state? How long would Ben Paul be locked up? What might happen to him? To her?”
Sylvia checked that her seat belt was fastened.” It was. She gunned the V-8 engine reaching over twenty miles per hour in the couple dozen yards that separated the two vehicles. The heavier, momentum-spurred Galaxy won out, bringing the Chevy to a crumpled halt. Sylvia scrambled her 69-year-old bones from the car and raced toward NLUV’s driver door where a confused man sat fumbling with the door handle. “HOLD!” she commanded.
“Honey,” Sylvia shouted to the woman who’d stepped out through the front door, “would you call the police for an accident report?”
Sylvia stepped back to the rear of the Chevy. Its trunk had popped open. Laying inside was a white hand towel as might be found in a café kitchen. Peeling an end of the cloth back exposed two knives, one small, one large. Both were bloody.
The police would not have a right to search the car, but had every right to see what was evident.
Sylvia did not immediately reply to the responding patrol deputy’s greeting or questions, but merely gazed into the Chevy’s trunk, causing the deputy to follow the gaze. He returned to his squad car to call for backup and the Navarro case detective.
Sylvia couldn’t believe what she had done, ramming the car, commanding the man to stop, ordering the woman to call the police. Her steeled will to stare at the knives amazed her.
+++
“Meester Person,” Tia said, first hugging him to say her goodbyes. Then she hugged Sylvia, an additional, heartfelt thank you. “Thank you again! I’m going to marry Pablo and leeb in the ranch. I think I will luf him. And I will name all my babies Ben and Sylbia.”
All three laughed as Ben Paul and Sylvia bade their farewell.
In the car and on their way to their Amarillo engagement, Sylvia patted the dashboard saying,” Good ol’ Tank is unscathed.”
In the last part Ben Paul and Sylvia enjoy northern New Mexico until their Las Vegas (NM) café waitress, with a cut arm, pleads for them to take her away. They find her in their car the next morning, hiding from the police. She is accused of killing the man who cut her, a man Sylvia saw very much alive. (Apologies for this long chapter.)
Chapter 6
“Ben Paul, what do we do? We know the girl didn’t do it. That man was fine. Not fine… he was evil, but very much alive.”
“We need to go talk to her. See if any of her people can help her. See if she’s getting a lawyer… public defender, or whatever.”
Sylvia agreed, though she had no confidence that they would be allowed into the jail to see her.
+++
“Yes, you’ve said three times now that visiting hours are on Wednesday afternoons from three to three-thirty.” Ben Paul pulled out his wallet and extracted a card. “I’m her minister. And so is she,” he said, pointing to Sylvia.
The sergeant took Ben Paul’s license card and studied it. “Don’t say what denomination. She’s Catholic.”
“Not every Latino person is Catholic,” Ben Paul insisted. “Now which way is she?”
After a moment, the sergeant flicked Ben Paul’s card to the countertop and then picked the card back up, tearing it to shreds. Grinning, he turned away. “In there,” he said after a moment, waving toward a hallway door as he went through another door.
Eventually, Ben Paul and Sylvia made it to a room with a barred cut-out in the wall. Within moments, Tia appeared with a deputy stationed nearby. She sported a blackening eye.
“Can we have privacy?” Ben Paul asked.
The deputy shook his head. “Only for lawyers.” His face was expressionless.
“Tia, what happened to your face?” Sylvia asked concern in her voice.
Tia shrugged. “Some in here liked Pedro.”
Talking softly, Ben Paul asked her the relevant questions, learning that she had no one to call, and that she expected her friend’s brother would no longer want to marry her. She’d not seen a public defender and was not told that she would before her court date.
“Hang on Tia,” Ben Paul said. “Now tell me exactly what happened in the kitchen. Don’t leave anything out.”
Tia took a breath, glancing over her shoulder at the overweight guard. “I was prepping vegetables… with a leetle knife.” She held out spread fingers indicating a paring knife.
Pedro reached from behind me and pinched my… she looked from Ben Paul to Sylvia. “My nipple. It hurt bad. I can show you.”
“I turn to get away and the knife… I stab him here.” Tia indicated her side, several inches above the kidneys, and on the wrong side for the heart.
“How deeply, do you think, Tia?” Sylvia asked.
Tia held out her thumb and her forefinger spread about half an inch. Even if it was twice as deep, Sylvia thought, it couldn’t have been more than a sting to the heavy man that she’d seen, a man showing no sign of distress.
“What then?” Ben Paul asked.
“Then he take my knife and the next thing I know, I am cut and bleeding and I yell. Then I run out and see you.” Tia looked to Ben Paul as if he was her savior, tears welling in her eyes.
Knowing that their time was up, hearing the door behind them begin to open, Ben Paul asked Tia if she would pray with them. The sergeant waited until Ben Paul was finished with his prayer for Tia’s freedom, her safety, and her peace of mind.
+++
“What can we do?” Sylvia asked once safely in their car.
“We need to find NLUV’s owner, the couple in the café. Their car was a green Chevy with vanity plates NLUV.”
“They sure didn’t seem to be in love,” Sylvia said to Ben Paul’s agreeing nod.
After a moment, Ben Paul responded. “We need a Spanish deputy. But we can’t draw attention to ourselves in searching for one.”
“What if there isn’t one?”
“I can’t believe there isn’t. There’s a million reasons to have a fluent, Spanish-speaking deputy, even if only for a jailor. Let’s go to the girlfriend’s house and start there. I think it’s safe to assume she speaks English.
“She’d better because if it isn’t a menu item, si and no is just about my Spanish vocabulary.
Ben Paul knew that she was exaggerating, but did not argue the point.
Fortunately, Tia’s girlfriend was home. “I’ll call Edwardo,” she offered. “I will have him meet you in your motel?”
Ben Paul nodded assent. “Tell him the Blue Diamond. Room 221.”
“Room 221,” Elena repeated.
Ben Paul assumed she would remember the Blue Diamond.
As soon as they parked Tank, the name they’d given their Ford Galaxy, two deputies approached.
“Get out of the car. Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” one of them commanded Ben Paul.
“May I ask what this is about?”
Handcuffed, Ben Paul stumbled forward, catching himself on Tank’s side mirror by his elbow, saving himself from being slammed to the ground.
“Stop that!” Sylvia’s charge was restrained by a second officer.
“Now, Ma’am, we could ruin your day, too, if that’s what you want. You folks made it pretty easy to see which side you’re on. Most outsiders know to take their stroll, buy a shirt, eat their meal, and move along.”
The handcuffing officer decided it was his turn to speak. “You like visiting our jail so much, we’ll give to the full tour. You’re under arrest for suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder.”
“Ben Paul! What do I do?” Sylvia shouted to no avail as 82-year-old Ben Paul was manhandled into the back of a squad car.
“Be careful with him!” Sylvia shouted, her ire rising by the moment.
Sylvia was nearly beside herself. Ben Paul was arrested and she knew no one in Las Vegas. She feared for his safety. If someone, or someones, would beat up Tia, what would they do to Ben Paul? Would the simplest thing give him a heart attack?
As she approached the room door, she realized Ben Paul had the key. No matter, though, the door was open. Inside sat the detective. The room had been ransacked.
“I gave you my statement,” Sylvia said between gritted teeth. “The man was alive when we left. I never saw any knife, large, or small.”
The detective sighed. “They’re out there searching your car now. We’ll find it. We can charge you with the same charges as your husband, add accomplice to murder, aiding and abetting, and interfering with an investigation. And your husband isn’t getting a lawyer either, not until he’s officially charged. You ready to cooperate?”
Sylvia’s heart leaped to her throat. Her brain pounded. Who would help Ben Paul if they were both in jail? “I’m not saying one more word without a lawyer.”
The detective smirked, taking handcuffs from a leather pouch. “Have it your way.” After taking a step toward her, ginning at her obvious terror-stricken expression, he sidestepped and left the room. Over his shoulder, he said, “You’d better hope we don’t find any fingerprints on the knife. Accomplices are as guilty as the murderer.”
Sylvia looked out to see that Tank was still there, apparently undisturbed. She began to straighten up the room while she waited for a Latino deputy who may or may not show up if he’d witnessed the last several minutes.
+++
“See, there’s two problems.” Edwardo arrived, apparently unaware Ben Paul had been arrested. “One is that Pedro Navarro was a major dealer. He fed the young sellers. The other is that I can’t help. Not me, no ma’am. If one side didn’t kill me, the other would. And if I get involved, even a search of the tag, NLUV, I’ll lose my job. No. I understand. It’s too bad for Juanita. And for your man. Juanita will probably not live to see a trial, but there’s nothing I can do.
“If you have a lot of money, maybe you can get a Santa Fe lawyer and help your man, but… And I don’t have jail duty for a couple more weeks. I can’t help him in there.”
“Well at least tell me the story. How did Navarro die when she only pricked him?”
“Throat cut. And not with no little knife, either. But they didn’t find either knife. Not the little one Juanita said she used, and not a big one, either.”
“Well, thank you?” Sylvia said without a great deal of confidence.
“Oh, her arraignment is Friday, probably about midmorning, but you never know.”
“Appreciate it, Deputy. Thank you.”
+++
“Deputy Sheriff Sam Tobin,” Sylvia said to herself, thinking of the deputy who came to Slim’s hospital room. A New Mexico policeman. He can search the plate number… letters: NLUV. She willed herself not to cry.
It was over an hour before Deputy Tobin could call her, and another half an hour before he completely understood Tia’s predicament. “I’ll get back to you,” he said, leaving Sylvia feeling helpless.
“I shouldn’t feel this badly,” Sylvia said to Mary, having called her for support, someone to talk things over with. “I should have confidence, have faith, believe that all works to the good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose.”
Mary offered to drive out and help where they could, but bolstered by Mary’s confidence and generous offer, Sylvia declined her offer.
Within minutes the phone rang – an address. Accompanying the information was a plea for caution and safety, but she had NLUV’s address.
“Looks like no one’s home,” Sylvia said to herself as she slowly drove by. After returning, she pulled into the hundred-yard-long driveway. Just as she did, the garage door opened and a green Chevy with plates NLUV began to emerge, slowly backing out.
“What if they’re leaving, leaving the state? How long would Ben Paul be locked up? What might happen to him? To her?”
Sylvia checked that her seat belt was fastened.” It was. She gunned the V-8 engine reaching over twenty miles per hour in the couple dozen yards that separated the two vehicles. The heavier, momentum-spurred Galaxy won out, bringing the Chevy to a crumpled halt. Sylvia scrambled her 69-year-old bones from the car and raced toward NLUV’s driver door where a confused man sat fumbling with the door handle. “HOLD!” she commanded.
“Honey,” Sylvia shouted to the woman who’d stepped out through the front door, “would you call the police for an accident report?”
Sylvia stepped back to the rear of the Chevy. Its trunk had popped open. Laying inside was a white hand towel as might be found in a café kitchen. Peeling an end of the cloth back exposed two knives, one small, one large. Both were bloody.
The police would not have a right to search the car, but had every right to see what was evident.
Sylvia did not immediately reply to the responding patrol deputy’s greeting or questions, but merely gazed into the Chevy’s trunk, causing the deputy to follow the gaze. He returned to his squad car to call for backup and the Navarro case detective.
Sylvia couldn’t believe what she had done, ramming the car, commanding the man to stop, ordering the woman to call the police. Her steeled will to stare at the knives amazed her.
+++
“Meester Person,” Tia said, first hugging him to say her goodbyes. Then she hugged Sylvia, an additional, heartfelt thank you. “Thank you again! I’m going to marry Pablo and leeb in the ranch. I think I will luf him. And I will name all my babies Ben and Sylbia.”
All three laughed as Ben Paul and Sylvia bade their farewell.
In the car and on their way to their Amarillo engagement, Sylvia patted the dashboard saying,” Good ol’ Tank is unscathed.”
Romans 8:28
Ben Persons: young man called of God (1861-1890)
Ben Paul Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons (1891-)
Sylvia Adams Persons: grand-daughter of Livvy (1904-)
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Goldman/Diddleknopper: wife of Slim
Tony Bertelli: protegeâ of Ben persons (Sr)
Ben Persons: young man called of God (1861-1890)
Ben Paul Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons (1891-)
Sylvia Adams Persons: grand-daughter of Livvy (1904-)
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Goldman/Diddleknopper: wife of Slim
Tony Bertelli: protegeâ of Ben persons (Sr)
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