A Study In Murder

?“Sheryl said not to worry.”

?“Really, is she planning a prison break?”

?“Actually, she told me to tell you that she thinks she’s on the right track.”

?“I find that hard to believe,” I protested. “This track keeps taking twists that no one could see coming.”

?“Well, if anyone could, I’d put my money on her,” Louie affirmed. “So, when you get to Central Booking, at some point they’ll stick you in front of a judge. Plead ‘Not Guilty’ and say nothing else. Got that?”

?“I got it.”

?“They will schedule a bail hearing for tomorrow morning. Me and Sherrie will both be there, okay?”

?“So, I’m spending the night at Rikers.”

?“Hey, it could be worse.”

?“I cannot imagine how.”

?“I’ll see you in the morning.”

?Louie was up and was buzzed through the door. I was returned to my cell where I spent the next hour or so.

?I was finally pulled out of my nice holding cell, put in a police car, and driven downtown to Central Booking at 100 Centre Street in downtown Manhattan.

?I was seen by an Emergency Medical Technician to make sure I was “medically fit.” He checked my blood pressure and put a stethoscope to my chest. I got a passing grade.

?Then after going from location to location and having paperwork filled out about me, I was taken to a shabby room and interviewed by someone from the prosecutor’s office who seemed overly concerned that I was a flight risk.

?I said as little as possible and signed papers where I was told.

?Then I was fed a cheese sandwich, went to court to see a judge, and entered my plea of “Not Guilty.” The judge set my bail hearing for the next morning, as Louie had predicted.

?After that, I was loaded onto a bus with several other hardened criminals and driven to Rikers Island, where I was sent to the Eric M. Taylor Center. That facility usually houses adolescents, but also seems to house people who are considered “non-violent,” or in my case “easy prey.”

?I was stripped naked to see if I carried contraband. They were very thorough in my inspection. On the humorous side, it was the most physical contact with another person I’d had in two years.

?I was then given a fashionable orange jumpsuit, led to my cell, which fortunately only had two bunks. The halls possessed the overwhelming smell of urine, sweat, bleach, and stale food in a combination that was an impressive and overpowering fragrance.

?In the cell, the toilet was in plain sight, as I knew it would be. Some of the novels I did before the Holmes books had prison scenes, and I made a point of doing my research.

?Still, it was disconcerting to lose all of my privacy.

?My bunkmate was in the cell, a thin little man with glasses, who seemed relieved that I was not a large, burly fellow with multiple tattoos and scars.

?He tried to strike up a conversation and explained he was there for embezzlement, but that it was all a misunderstanding.

? He asked what I was in for.

?“Double homicide,” I told him.

?He ceased trying to make small talk with me after that.

?At dinner we were escorted to the cafeteria, which was reminiscent of high school with the same type of bench tables with the seats being one unit that all folded up when the meal was done.

?Of course, the food was terrible and you had only about five minutes to eat it.

?I kept my head down, and I was mostly ignored at dinner. It probably helped that most of the prisoners were adolescents. My bunkmate and I were escorted back to our cell to sleep, which was difficult with the lights on, the unending noise, and the loud snoring of my skinny embezzler roommate.