About an hour later Jan walked slowly up the steps of the Richards Boulevard police station, and into the cavernous lobby. A middle-aged woman wearing glasses, a uniform and a tight bun of jet-black hair stood behind a half-closed window. Jan looked around cautiously as she approached.

“Can I help you,” asked the woman.

Jan smiled. “I need some quarters to feed the parking meter. I had to park right near the police station.”

The woman laughed, and then she stopped. “Oh…you’re serious.”

Jan shook her head. “No, not really. I called earlier today, about the man arrested on the street this morning…the musician?”

She checked her list. “Mister Louis Carter. He’s charged with assault and robbery.”

“How much is the bail?”

The woman paused and took a closer look at Jan. “You a relative?”

“No.”

“One moment.” The woman walked away and started talking to a uniformed officer at one of the desks. After a few moments she returned. “The bail is twenty thousand dollars.”

Jan thought it over for a moment, then she took her wallet out of her purse. “You take credit cards?”

The woman started to laugh again, but this time she stopped herself. “You have a twenty thousand dollar limit on a credit card?”

Jan ignored the question and handed the woman her credit card. She ran the card through the machine and Jan signed for the twenty thousand.

“Have a seat,” the woman said, gesturing to a wooden bench in the lobby.

Half an hour went by before Carter appeared, carrying his clarinet case, accompanied by the ‘other’ uniformed police officer that made the arrest. His name was Dan Forester. He was an older officer, graying at the temples, half-bald, a little hunched over. She stood up as the men approached.

“His arraignment is in ten days,” said Forester. “Until then he’s all yours.”

“Where’s the other arresting officer?” she asked.

“Bobby? He’s around somewhere.”

Just then Bobby Callous appeared, drinking a diet Coke, walking casually down the hallway and into the lobby. He was in uniform, and when he saw Jan he slowed but didn’t stop. The other officer saw him and motioned for him to come over. “Hey Bobby, the lady wants to talk to you. She paid the bail for Carter.”

Callous approached them. Jan stared at him, her eyes red with anger. The cop looked at her, pretending not to recognize her. Carter stood still, shifting his dark eyes back and forth between them.

“What’s going on,” Callous said casually.

Jan took a step toward him. “You better drop the charges before the arraignment,” Jan said.

“On what grounds?” replied Callous. “He attacked me. His prints are all over the fire extinguisher he used to club me.”

“He attacked you after you attacked me. Either you drop the charges against him or I’ll bring charges against you.”

Callous turned to the other officer. “I don’t know what she’s talking about Dan. I met her in a club the other night. We danced a little, and then she left. When I walked to my car he jumped me and took my money.”

“He’s a liar!” shouted Jan. “He attacked me in the alley and this man pulled him off of me and made sure he stayed off of me.”

Dan Forester sounded skeptical. “Bobby’s one of our best, most respected officers ma’am. You better be careful when you make an accusation like that.”

Jan looked at Carter. “Didn’t you tell him the truth?”

Carter shrugged. “What good would it do?”

“He has a record, ma’am,” said Forester. “You should be aware of that. He spent four years in prison.”

She glanced at Carter, then at the cops. “We’ll be in touch,” she said, and walked out of the police station. Carter picked up his clarinet case, took a last menacing look at the officers, and left.

Outside on the steps Jan turned around and stood toe-to-toe with Carter. “What did you go to prison for?”

“For nothing.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I was framed. But why are you here? Why bail me out?”

“I saw them arrest you this morning. I recognized that cop. He’s the one who should be punished, not you.”

“They won’t ever believe it.”

“He might drop the charges. If he doesn’t I can bring charges against him.”

“You a lawyer?”

“I’m a book editor. I’m on vacation, can’t you tell?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Well I’m sorry to spoil your vacation, but why go through this? You don’t owe me.”

Jan reflected for a moment. “You helped me…now I’m trying to help you. Do you want to go back to jail?”

“No.”

“Good. Where are you staying?”

“I have a room in a hotel, about two blocks from here. I’ve only been in town for a week.”

An hour later Jan sat on an old sofa in one of the flea bag hotels downtown. She was reading the latest Time magazine. The lobby was cramped and claustrophobic. A tired looking older man was half asleep behind the registration desk.

Carter came down the steps, dressed in clean clothes and a good pair of leather shoes. He was carrying his clarinet case. He looked refreshed; well-scrubbed. Jan looked up from the magazine. “Better…much better. But you won’t need your instrument. We’re going around the corner for a bite to eat.”

“I won’t go anywhere without my music,” replied Carter. “It’s all I have.” He walked past her and through the door to the street. Jan followed, reflecting on what he said.

Five minutes later they were seated in a small diner decorated in art deco, eating hamburgers and fries.

“All right…tell me the truth,” she said, “What did you do that put you in prison for four years?”

Carter wiped some ketchup off his black beard and smiled. “They didn’t like my looks.”

Jan tossed her hamburger on the plate and leaned forward. She lowered her voice and smiled like a fox. “Don’t mess with me Carter…I’m an angry white woman.”

This babe means business, he thought. Better be cool. “All right…I won’t mess with you. I did time for rape.”

Jan didn’t reply at first. She searched his face, his eyes, to be certain he was telling the truth. “Let me get this straight – you go to prison for rape, and after you’re released you prevent a woman from being raped?”

He shot her a big wide grin. “I was voted the one most likely to be rehabilitated.”

Jan frowned, about to lose her temper. “Tell me the truth, wise guy. Did you commit rape?”

“No…I told you I was framed.”

“Framed how? By who? And why?”

Carter relented. It was time to tell her. “I used to have my own band. We played jazz mostly. We had gigs in clubs, hotels, cruise ships. About five years ago we landed a two month gig at a small club in San Francisco. The owner was…”

“Was what?”

“He was kinda crazy…short-tempered. He had a girl; her name was Evelyn…nice respectable name, Evelyn. She was a singer, a damn good singer. She joined our band and sang vocals on some of our numbers. She was a good looking girl.

One night, when the boss was away, we had a little party after the joint closed. After the other guys went home, Evelyn invited me over to her place for a nightcap. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but she put her arms around me and told me it would be all right. I went along with her…we drank a little more wine in her apartment…and then we made love. It was good…real good. But afterward she told me she wanted to go on the road with me and the band. She wanted to break away from Mister Corelli. I told her I didn’t want any trouble. Our gig was about to end, and I told her I thought it better if we left town without her. She got real angry, started shouting, cursing at me. She was afraid of him. I got up to leave and I heard the front door unlock. I started to run toward the back window, to climb down the fire escape. But Mister Corelli come runnin’ after me, caught me from behind, and threw me to the floor. He started callin’ me all kinds o’ names. I threw him off of me, hit him a few times, and ran out of the apartment.

The next morning, I told the guys we were leavin’ town, our gig was over. But while I was packin’ my bag the cops came round to my hotel room and told me I was under arrest. I asked them what the charge was. They told me it was rape. Mister Corelli, he brought the charges against me.

I told them it was a lie, but Evelyn, she testified against me. I hated her for it, but I knew that Corelli might kill her if she told him we were making love that night, that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. So she told him it was rape, and he had me arrested for it. They did tests on her, convicted me, and sentenced me to seven years in prison. I joined the prison band, behaved myself, and they let me out after four and a half years. Now you know the whole rotten truth.”

Silence fell between them. Jan reflected on the injustice, sympathetic to the man’s dilemma. “I know I shouldn’t ask you this, but Evelyn…was she white or black?”

“White.”

Jan shook her head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. But you told me you learned to play clarinet in prison.”

“I told you I learned to play like I play today in prison. I played clarinet for years before that, but four plus years with nothin’ better to do taught me to play a whole lot better.”

“I see…and what about the guys who were in your band? Did you try to contact them after your release?”

“I did, but they all went their own way. After four and a half years I didn’t expect them to be waitin’ for me.”

“When were you released?”

“About three months ago. I wandered around for a while, then I came to Sacramento, hoping to find some musicians and land a gig, but so far no takers.”

“But what were you doing in that alley the other night?”

“I was walking to that night club, to talk to them about a gig, to see if they had live bands and check the place out.”

“Then that was your instrument case I saw that night. You picked it up in the alley after you knocked that cop unconscious.”

“Yeah, that was it.”

“Wow…what a story,” she told him. “It really could be a book.”

“Come again?” he said.

She ignored the question. “Let’s eat,” she replied.

The talking stopped, and when they finished their food they stood on the sidewalk outside the diner.

“Thanks for bailing me out,” he told her. “But I won’t go through another frame-up.”

“We have ten days.” Jan took a business card out of her purse and wrote on the back of it. She handed the card to Carter. “That’s my cell number. You have a cell phone?”

“No.”

“You have a phone in your hotel room?”

“Nope.”

“You won’t be relocating, will you?”

“I’ll stay…for at least ten days.”

Jan gave him a long, intense look. “I’ll be looking for you in your usual place, playing some good music.”

They shook hands and parted. As she walked back to her car Jan saw Wesley Russell leaning against a lamp post near the police station, carrying an attaché case, dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and black tie.

“You spent my fee on bail,” he said. “And I came all the way over here to give you my promotional discount.”

Jan walked over to him and began to smile. “Cute, hot shot, real cute. But don’t B.S. me. I’ve had enough of that for one life time. And how did you know I’d be here?”

“I followed you.”

“Oh? And why did you do that?”

“I like you…and I thought you needed help. You do realize if he jumps bail you’ll forfeit the twenty thousand dollars.”

Jan looked a bit surprised, but replied with confidence. “Sure…I knew that.” He raised a quizzical eyebrow as if to question her sincerity. “What’s your game, hot shot?”

“No game. If I help you exonerate him, you can pay me half the bail…after they return it to you. If he goes to jail you owe me nothing.” He handed her his business card.

“What about the cop?” she asked.

“For your clarinet player to go free, the cop either has to drop the charges or go to jail.”

Jan ran her finger over his business card. “I’ll think it over.”

She turned around and saw a parking ticket on the windshield of her car. She tore it off the car and spun around, facing Russell. “How long have you been standing here?”

Russell checked his watch. “About twenty minutes.”

Jan checked the time marked on the parking ticket. “It says the ticket was issued about ten minutes ago. You knew this was my car.” She glanced at the ‘expired’ meter, then thrust the parking ticket at Russell. “Take care of that, will you.” Jan flashed him a smile, then hopped into her car and drove away.