Twice Buried

26

“I didn’t do nothin’,” Richard Staples said immediately…the expected litany of the teenager who’s guilty as hell.

“Stand up, son,” I said. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

He did so, unwinding with some care so that none of the desk mountains were dislodged. “I didn’t do nothin’,” he repeated, and I knew that we weren’t dealing with a rocket scientist. I left my flashlight on, even though there was plenty of light now that Staples wasn’t hiding under the furniture.

He was taller than I was by half a foot and husky to boot. If he decided to make a bulldozer run for the door behind me, I’d be hard-pressed to stop him. “Put your hands on top of your head,” I snapped. “Right now.”

He looked over toward Estelle and Kessel as if to see if they were allies or obstacles. In his best, most reasonable coach’s voice, Elwood Kessel said, “Don’t make it hard on yourself, son. Do what the officer says.”

As Staples’s hands drifted up toward his head, I pushed my advantage. “Now turn around.” Estelle maneuvered through the desks and took my handcuffs out of the belt keeper. In one deft motion she snapped them first on his right wrist, yanked his arm down and around, and then followed with his left.

Different people react in different ways to custody. I’d had grown men piss their pants and grovel when the cuffs clicked, and I’d had elderly women turn into kicking banshees…and every combination in between. Richard Staples turned and glowered first at Estelle and then me.

“I didn’t do nothin’,” he said. His round, acne-pocked face was defiant. He hunched his shoulders, trying the strength of the handcuffs.

“What were you doing down here?”

“None of your business.” He turned to look at Kessel and sneered, the twisted lip making his unattractive face none the better. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ here.”

“Is that a fact,” I said. “Trespass is still a crime in New Mexico, as far as I know.”

“I wasn’t trespassin’. This is a school.”

The logic of that escaped me. I took hold of his right arm just above the elbow and exerted some pressure toward the door. “We can talk down at the office.”

“You ain’t got no right to do this,” Staples said and I heard a faint, plaintive quality for the first time.

“You have the right to shut your mouth, son. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it won’t take long to find out. Estelle, would you go on ahead and call in? Tell whoever is on dispatch that I want Deputy Torrez to meet us at the side door of the gym, ASAP.” She nodded and vanished through the desks toward the boiler room.

I crouched down and swept the flashlight beam around the room, bouncing it off half a million chrome legs. Wherever the kid kept his stash, it wasn’t there.

Richard Staples didn’t say anything else until we were halfway through the first locker room upstairs. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” he said to whoever would listen. I paid no attention.

“Coach, will you do me a favor? Call Glenn Archer and have him meet us down at the sheriff’s office?”

“You want me to do that right now?”

“Right now,” I said. We reached the coaches’ office and Kessel made for the phone. The door to the parking lot opened and Estelle looked inside.

“Torrez will be here in about two minutes, sir.”

“Fine. Son, have a seat.” I pointed at one of the straightbacked chairs. Staples did so, with a expression that said he’d tear me limb from limb if I’d oblige by taking off the handcuffs. He sat on the edge of the chair as if he were painfully constipated.

“Mrs. Archer?” Kessel said into the telephone. “This is Elwood Kessel down at the school. Is Mr. Archer there?” He waited and I could hear the shrill chatter of Dorothy Archer’s voice across the room. “Well, we’ve got a little problem down at the school, and I need to reach him.” Again the chatter, and I waved a hand, gesturing for the receiver.

“Mrs. Archer? This is Undersheriff Bill Gastner. Where can we reach your husband?”

“Well, as I was telling Coach Kessel, Glenn said he was going downtown to buy a new pair of shoes. My goodness, what’s going on?”

“Nothing earthshaking. We just need to see him. The sooner the better. Could you do us a favor, ma’am?”

“What’s that?”

“Would you track him down for us? Tell him I need to speak with him at the sheriff’s office?”

“Well, I…I’ll certainly do my best.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I handed the telephone back to Kessel.

“How’d he get in here?” Kessel asked. Staples ignored him.

“That’s one reason he’s in cuffs,” I said. “I would imagine we’ll find some interesting things in his pockets.”

“You ain’t going to search nothin’,” Staples said with venom.

“That’s the other reason you’re in cuffs, son.”

“Yeah, well-”

Estelle stepped outside and I saw her wave an arm.

“Let’s go,” I said and Staples gave me that wonderful sneer that said “You old fat fart, if you’d take these off…”

I didn’t bother to argue. I waited about ten seconds, long enough for a car door to slam and footsteps to reach the entrance to the coaches’ office. Deputy Bob Torrez appeared in the doorway. He filled most of it.

“What’s this?” he said, looking down from his six feet four at the seated youth.

“This is Richard Staples. He’s taking a ride with you downtown.” Posadas didn’t have a downtown, but it sounded good. “Read him his rights and book him on criminal trespass and unlawful entry.”

“All right. Let’s go.” He crooked an index finger in Staples’s direction. The kid hesitated just long enough and then pushed to his feet.

“I didn’t do nothin’,” he said. I knew his attitude wasn’t going to change as long as he had an audience and until we were able to tie some pieces together. For the moment, I was content just to have him under lock and key.

“We’ll be down in a minute, Robert,” I said. “Glenn Archer is going to meet us there. Make sure that kid isn’t out of cuffs for even a second. If he has to go to the bathroom, tell him to piss his pants.”

Staples looked pained at that, but he quickly recovered. Torrez deposited him in the back seat of the county car, behind the heavy screen. When a kid landed there for the first time, he usually mellowed a bit when he saw there were no door handles, no window cranks, no door locks. It’s the first small taste of jail. But Staples didn’t bat an eye.

“What do you think, sir?” Estelle said as we watched the county car drive out of the lot.

“I think he’s glad we’ve got him,” I said.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Estelle Reyes-Guzman said. “He wasn’t hiding in the basement of the school just to avoid us.”

“Even if he saw us and was tipped off when we first pulled into the apartment parking lot, he wouldn’t have done that,” I said. “He could have just ignored my knock on the door.”

“He didn’t look very overjoyed to me,” Elwood Kessel said.

“It’s easy to be brave when you know how you’re going to be treated,” I said. “He may be in cuffs, but he’s safe with us…he can practice being a hardass without worrying about getting the shit kicked out of him.” I stuck out my hand. “You were a great help,” I said.

Kessel looked puzzled as he shook my hand. I was puzzled too, but I tried not to look it.