It was midnight and raining hard downtown when Bill Watts parked near the alley leading to the Justice Center back gate while I finished a cigarette. We had spent the last two hours of my freedom in a neighborhood bar, where some girl had tried to pick me up. This happened after I had decided to follow my lawyer's advice and turn myself in by midnight on the arrest warrant. I had to laugh at my luck.
"All the time we spend getting shot down by women, and tonight, when I have to go to jail, one hits on me."
"We'll go back there," Bill said. "She's probably a regular."
I cracked the window, flipped the cigarette, and grabbed the door handle. "The weather sucks and my life sucks. What else could go wrong?"
"Are you going to be all right, Simon?"
"Yeah. The lawyer promised I'd get out in the morning."
"Call me and I'll pick you up. Tomorrow will be a better day."
Such an optimist, I thought. I guess it's easy when you're not about to become a convict. "Thanks. You're a real friend."
Resigned to fate, I watched Bill drive away. I should have brought my car, but there's no place to park downtown when you're in jail. I walked into the alley behind the three-story beige brick building with tinted cell windows running like foot high ribbons around the upper floor. I imagined prisoners at the windows wanting freedom. I didn't know if they could see out, having never been inside. The main courthouse out front closed at five, and a cop told me over the phone to turn myself in behind the Justice Center to make the morning court docket.
I came to a high chain link gate flanked by camera monitors and bright lights on the courtyard walls. You don't realize how hard it's raining until you see it at night under lights. And after five days of constant rain, you don't much care. Water ran into my eyes and down my back. While fingering back hair plastered to my forehead, I found a red button and pushed.
"Can I help you?"
I explained about the warrant.
"Be right out," the monotone voice said.
Someone would be aggravated, getting soaked just to let me inside.
After a loud buzz, the gate swung open and I entered the courtyard. On my right, bright light illuminated the rain from a small wire mesh window in a door. The door opened, and a jailer came out dressed in yellow rain coat with a yellow hood. I approached like a wet dog.
"Do you have any weapons?"
"No. Just my wallet, keys, a lighter, and two packs of cigarettes in my socks."
He frisked me quickly, then handcuffed me.
"Standard procedure," he said. He turned to push a button on the intercom next to the door when a green county pickup truck with a flashing yellow light entered through the open gate.
"What do they want?" the jailer mumbled. He glanced at me. "Stay put."
Shrugging, I felt like saying I might jog around the courtyard, but he probably wouldn't appreciate sarcasm. The wind had picked up down the alley, whipping rain sideways under the lights.
Before the jailer could move, the burly truck driver, also wearing yellow rain gear, approached us. His partner stayed in the truck.
"We gotta drop this thing off here."
"What thing?" the jailer said.
"Some corpse they snagged while dragging for the kid that got swept away two days ago. They can't search no more. The river is too high."
"So take it to the county morgue."
"Can't get there. The road is flooded. I got orders from the mayor's office to bring it to the nearest morgue until the road opens. You're it."
)
