Lee Barnett pulled his car into a parking space near his apartment and realized that he was parked crooked. He didn’t care. He could straighten it out in the morning. Right now, he needed to get to bed and sleep off the booze he’d put away before he was arrested.
He had been too drunk to find his way home, and he’d spent the past hour just driving around town trying to figure out which way to go. Once, he’d run his car off the road into a small ditch. It had taken him twenty minutes to get it out, with the help of a couple of teenagers who’d pushed it while he’d steered it back onto the road.
Now he was here, and he slapped at his pockets for his keys, then remembered they were still in the ignition. He laughed at himself, then got out and staggered toward the steps. He made his way up and went in, turned on the light, and saw the muddy prints across his living room carpet. In his drunken state, he thought he had made them.
He went into the bedroom and failed to notice the wet clothes on the floor. Instead, he stepped out of his shoes, cursed at the wet carpet, and fell onto the bed. He closed his eyes, thankful that he’d finally made it here.
The doorbell rang, followed by a loud knock, and he heard someone shout, “Police, open up!”
He frowned and sat up. What did they want with him now?
He cursed again, got up, and stumbled for the front door. He threw it open. “What?”
“We have a warrant to search your apartment,” the cop said.
He stepped back from the door as they came in. “Wet carpet,” someone said, and Lee found a chair and dropped into it.
“The clothes are here!” someone shouted from the bedroom. “This is exactly what he was wearing.”
He looked up as one of the cops began to handcuff him. “Mr. Barnett, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent—”
“You already did this tonight. I got bailed out, remember? I can’t get arrested twice for the same fight, can I?”
But the man just kept reading him his rights as they led him out to the police car.