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Oh shit.“No. I had to borrow a uniform to walk back after chasing the brats who committed the real crime.”
“So you’re the one who streaked through the wedding?”
“Streaked? No. I had no idea they were even there. I didn’t do it intentionally. I tried to stay in the water, but—”
The other cop interrupted. “Ma’am, the wedding you just ran by naked? The father of the bride is themayor of this island. He wants to press charges.” He lifted his chin. “I’d keep my mouth shut, unless you also want to be charged with stealing that uniform.”
“Stealing the uniform? I borrowed it because three teenagers stole our clothes. Why aren’t you chasing them?”
The first cop shrugged. “If you had kept your clothes on, like the law says you need to do here in the Bahamas, everyone would be happy right now.”
Louise pursed her lips. “I’m sureyour wifewould be happy if you kept your clothes on.”
Uh-oh.He’d pissed off Louise now.
The cop raised his brows. “Excuse me?”
“Clearly if you got laid once in a while, you’d be more relaxed about seeing a little skin.”
I closed my eyes. The chances of talking our way out of this were already slim, but that sealed the deal. A half hour later, we were being booked at the police station.
“What happens after you’re done filling out your report?” I asked one of the cops who’d brought us in. “Do we pay a fine or something?”
“You’ll see the Bahamas court magistrate. They’ll set your bail. Then we’ll bring you back here, and you can make a phone call to get someone to post whatever amount they assign. If no one comes…” He thumbed to a door without looking up from his computer. “You’ll spend the night down the hall in the holding tank.”
“But we can post it ourselves, right? Like with a credit card or something?”
“You can use your own money to post bail. But it gets posted down the road at the clerk’s office, so you can’t post it yourself. Someone will have to go in and do it for you.”
“We’re here by ourselves.”
The officer shrugged. “You can try your country’s embassy. But they’re not that fast, especially on a weekend.”
Over the next two hours, Louise and I were shuttled to appear before a night court judge and then brought back to the station. Bail was set at five-hundred dollars each. I called the US Embassy to see if they could help with posting bail, but the person who answered the phone said they’d reach out to someone and get back to me. They couldn’t tell me when. Then the policeman was kind enough to let us make a second call—one I didnotwant to make.
Louise phoned her grandson. I cringed to think about how he’d take the news. But she said he had business in the Bahamas and could probably find someone to help us.
In the meantime, they escorted me back to a packed holding cell. Women sat on the floor around most of the perimeter, while one older lady laid across the only bench in the cell. The group looked me up and down as the officer unlocked the door and guided me inside. None of them seemed very happy to see me. There was an open spot in one corner, but when I went to sit, the two women on either side shifted over, silently suggesting I find someplace else to park my ass. That happened twice before I figured out that the woman currently snoring couldn’t object, so I sat near her.
Twenty minutes went by before the guard came back with Louise.
“Hey.” I climbed to my feet from the floor. “You doing okay?”
She nodded. “Not my first time in the clinker. You?”
“Actually, it is.”
“Back in the sixties, I got arrested for dancing in a vulgar manner. I think today you young people would call it twerking.”
“Louise, are you telling me you can throw that ass back?”
“My best friend was from Egypt. She’s gone now. God rest her soul. But her mother taught her how to belly dance, and she taught me. Except I liked to shake my ass more than my belly.”
The woman hogging the entire bench all by herself suddenly sat up. She lifted her chin. “Let’s see.”
“That’s probably not a good idea,” I said.
“Sure it is.” Louise walked to the center of the cell. Most of the ladies sitting around were in various stages of passed out or asleep, but all open eyes shifted to the seventy-eight-year-old jailbird. Louise held her arms out and shook her hips back and forth. The police-issued orange jumpsuit she had on was baggy, but you could see she knew how to move.
