City of Dark Corners

I caught him coming out of classes, flashed my badge, and walked him toward my car.

He protested. “What’s this about? I’ve got practice in half an hour.”

When we reached the Ford, I braced him against the fender and put his arms behind him. Then I slapped on the cuffs tight.

He let out a yelp. “You can’t do that! I’m a student.”

“Shut up.” I shoved him into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

Overlooking the shady campus to the north was Tempe Butte. Whitewashed rocks formed the letter T for the Tempe State Teachers College. Until 1925, it had been an N for the Normal School. Maybe soon they’d get around to an A for the latest name change.

I drove in that direction up Mill Avenue, then pulled off a little south of the flour mill and railroad spur. Tom was so nervous that even my setting the brake made him jump. That was what I was after. His apprehension grew when I shed my suit coat, revealing my shoulder holster.

“Let’s go.” I dragged him out and stood him up, then led him by the cuffs from behind toward the bare rocky prominence. His complaints were drowned out by the mill sounds until we were a hundred yards away and climbing.

“What do you want, Pops?”

I said nothing, pushing him on and up.

We reached a primitive trail that led to the top of the butte. My hope was that no students were up here smoking and drinking, requiring an explanation that I didn’t want to give. A lie that could come back and bite me. So far, we were alone.

“Carrie,” I said. “I want to know everything.”

He briefly turned his head toward me and stumbled. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

His voice was choking back panic. “I don’t understand, Pops.” I repeated my demand and told him if he called me “Pops” one more time, I was going to kick him to death.

That got his attention. “We dated for a few months, okay?” he said. “I met her when she modeled in art class. We went out, became steadies, then she broke up with me. That’s all, I swear.”

“Why did she break up with you?”

“I dunno. Who knows why girls do anything?”

“Did it have anything to do with you selling cocaine?”

“What? No! That was all a mistake.”

I shoved him hard. “You’re no student, Tom. You’re a criminal. Where did you get the cocaine, and who did you sell it to?”

He struggled to keep his footing.

“Chinatown,” he said. “I bought it there and sold it to a few students. I needed the money. It didn’t hurt anybody. I don’t know why that’s a big deal. But after they suspended me, I stopped, and that’s the truth. Carrie never knew. She barely drank.”

We were high enough up to see over the rooftops of the town center and soon the college campus. The smoke of a steam locomotive trailed south, hauling a freight train through Tempe and toward Tucson.

I didn’t say anything more until we reached the summit. The view would have been great in normal circumstances. But the butte fell away from us, an unsettling drop. The whitewashed T was below us on the slope.

“It’s a long way down, kid.” I turned him to see. “I can take off these bracelets and give you a good shove. Maybe you’ll break your leg. Maybe you’ll break your neck. ‘Climbing accident,’ they’ll say. Nobody will ever know. You snap some bones, still alive for now, but you won’t be found for days. With no water, you’ll be as good as dead. So close to civilization you can see the lights of town and so damned far. Nobody can hear your cries for help. And with this warmer weather, maybe some rattlesnakes will think it’s time to wake up. And there you are.”

“Look, Mister, I never even made whoopee with her.” He was sweating. “She was straitlaced. At least I thought so. Way smarter than anybody else I knew. Beautiful. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to become a teacher somewhere. She had the train schedules out of town memorized.”

“But she broke up with you, why?”

“She didn’t say.”

“I heard she’d met an older man.”

“That’s what I heard, too.”