Small Steps - Louis Sachar [45]
“I want you to listen while I interview him, and let me know if anything he says strikes a chord.”
She gave him a pad of paper and a pen out of her briefcase in case he wanted to make notes.
She left him alone in the room, then a moment later sat down across from X-Ray. Armpit listened while she advised X-Ray that even though he was not under arrest, he still had the right to remain silent, and the right to have an attorney present during questioning.
Armpit had never known X-Ray to remain silent.
“Why would I need a lawyer?” X-Ray asked. “I’m cooperating, right? Write that down. I’m being cooperative.”
Detective Newberg flashed her girlish smile, then made a note on her yellow pad.
Don’t be fooled by her smile, Armpit thought, trying to telepathically send the message through the wall.
“You understand that you are not under arrest and are free to leave whenever you wish.”
X-Ray nodded.
“Please answer audibly.”
“Affirmative,” said X-Ray.
“You also understand that this interview is being recorded.”
“Affirmative,” X-Ray said again.
“You also understand that although you are not under arrest, you are still a suspect in this case. Anything you say today may later be used as evidence in court.”
“Affirmative,” said X-Ray. He liked saying that word.
“And that you have the right not to answer any questions, and you’re knowingly and freely giving up that right.”
“Like I said, I want to cooperate. I got nothing to hide, right?”
“Will you state your name for the record?”
“Rex Alvin Washburn.”
“And your age?”
“Seventeen.”
“Do you ever go by a name other than Rex?”
“No.”
“X-Ray, perhaps?” Again she smiled.
“X-Ray?” X-Ray repeated.
“Before you say something stupid, I think you should know I spoke to several people who bought concert tickets from someone who called himself X-Ray. His cell phone number is the same as yours. And we’ve seen the license plate on your car.”
“Right, I was just about to tell you that. You have to give me a chance. You can’t just ask questions without giving me a chance to explain.”
“Sorry.”
“See, when you asked if I had another name, I don’t really think of X-Ray as another name. It’s pig latin for Rex. See, like you’re Debbie, right? So in pig latin that would be Ebbie-Day. It’s the same name, just a different language.”
“I understand,” Detective Newberg reassured him. “So just to be clear, when these people told me they bought tickets from X-Ray, they really bought them from you.”
“Right. My point exactly.”
“How many tickets did you sell?”
X-Ray hesitated. Armpit knew what he was thinking. He was trying to figure what she knew, and if it was worth lying about.
“Twelve.”
“You sure it wasn’t fourteen?”
“No, just twelve.”
“How much did you sell them for?”
“I charged a small service fee. It’s not illegal. It’s called free enterprise, protected by the Constitution.”
“How much?”
“I didn’t twist anybody’s arm. They all came to me. They wanted the tickets, and I charged a fair price. If they didn’t think it was fair, they didn’t have to buy them.”
“I just want to know how much.”
“A hundred and thirty-five dollars.”
“Did you sell any for any more than that?”
“Yeah, I sold two for three hundred.”
“Three hundred each ticket, or three hundred total?”
“Each. But I had expenses, too, you know. It wasn’t all profit. I had to pay for an ad in the newspaper. And gasoline’s not cheap. Plus I stood in line for like six hours. Time is money, right?”
“Did you have a partner?”
“No. I’m independent.”
“Ever heard of someone named Habib?”
“Habib? No.”
“How about Armpit?”
X-ray didn’t even flinch. “Armpit? Is that really like someone’s name?”
“Apparently. So you don’t know him?”
X-Ray shook his head.
“Please answer audibly.”
X-Ray chuckled and said, “No, I never heard of nobody named Armpit.”
“How did you first go about acquiring the tickets?”
“Say what?”
“The tickets you sold. Where did you get them? You mentioned standing in line for six hours.”
“Right. I acquired them the day they went on sale.”
“At the Lonestar Arena?”
“Right. I got there the night before and