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“Is that necessary?”
“They like it at the police station. It’s a security thing.”
He held his hand out, so I could put the cuff on him. “I guess you never know who’s going to be dangerous,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“I’m not very dangerous. I’m mostly fearful and I have allergies.”
I led him across the street and got him settled into the backseat of my car.
“I’m allergic to cats and bananas and garlic and marigolds and wool and macadamia nuts and wheat gluten and cucumbers,” he said. “There are other things, too. There’s a l
ong list of things I’m allergic to, but I’m not allergic to peanuts. For instance, I could have a peanut butter sandwich as long as it’s on gluten-free bread.” He was silent for a long moment. “Do you think they have gluten-free bread in prison? I get the poops if I eat wheat bread.”
I turned onto Hamilton Avenue and glanced at Potts in the rearview mirror. “Hopefully you won’t have to go to prison,” I said. “You were accused of a nonviolent crime, so maybe you’ll just get community service.”
“That would be awesome,” he said. “I’m all about community service.”
“Do you volunteer anywhere?”
“No, but I think about it sometimes. I wanted to volunteer at the zoo in Philadelphia, but it turned out I was allergic to giraffe dander. And they’re very big when you get up close. I’m not comfortable with animals that are bigger than me.”
“You aren’t having any allergic reactions now, are you?” I asked. “Like gluten?”
“No. I’m okay. I’m a little apprehensive, but that’s normal for me. Did I tell you I have PTSD?”
“Yes.”
“It makes me apprehensive.”
Having Potts in my car was making me apprehensive.
“Do you mind if I hum?” he asked. “Humming helps to settle my stomach.”
I checked him out in the mirror again. “You have a stomach problem?”
“It happens when I get apprehensive. I get a nervous stomach.”
I was less than ten minutes away from the courthouse and police station. If I stopped to get the shower curtain out of the back, I’d add at least three minutes. Best to drive faster and take a chance he wouldn’t spew before I pulled into the parking lot, I thought.
“Go ahead and hum,” I said.
“Sometimes my humming bothers people,” he said.
“Not me,” I told him. “Hum all you want.”
After seven minutes of listening to tuneless humming I thought letting him throw up in the car might have been a better choice. I sped into the lot across from the municipal building, slid into a parking slot, and jumped out of the car. I stood for a moment, enjoying the sound of traffic.
Court was still in session, so I took Potts directly to the judge. If the judge had the time and inclination to see him and Potts could make bail, Potts could avoid spending the night in jail.
* * *
Connie was alone when I walked into the office.
“I have a body receipt for Potts,” I said.
Connie’s eyebrows raised a little. “Didn’t he want to get bailed out again?”
