Small Steps (12 page)

22

A letter came the next day. Armpit checked the mail when he got home from school. It was addressed to Theodore A. Johnson, and its return address was the Hotel del Coronado in San Diego. His middle name was Thomas.

The letter was written with a purple pen on hotel stationery in remarkably neat handwriting.

Dear T (or should I say Dear A?),

I hope you don’t mind a long and dopey letter. I know it’s going to be long and dopey, because every letter I’ve written to you has been long and dopey. They just keep getting longer and dopier! Of course, I don’t actually mail them, so I guess it doesn’t matter whether you mind or not.

I always say all kinds of stupid things about how much I miss you, and wish you were here, and lame junk like that. Once I even used the L word! How dumb is that??? Nobody falls in L after a bowl of ice cream and a ten-minute walk! Now you know why I didn’t mail the letters. I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid!!!

It’s just that you and Ginny are really my only friends. Is that pathetic or what? I don’t mean you and Ginny are pathetic. I’m the one who’s pathetic!

It feels good to write to you, even if I know you’ll never read it. It sure beats talking to my shrink. I can see your face in my mind. Your eyes. Your smile makes me feel safe.

I’m so mad Dr. Doofus showed up when he did. That’s my new name for him. He’s a doctor of doofology.

I think you were going to kiss me. I know I wanted you to kiss me. I still do. Oh, so much!

God, this is even worse than yesterday’s letter! You know, I almost sent it to you. I put a stamp on it and everything. There was a mail slot by the elevator. I held the letter over the slot. I’d lift one finger, then another. It was kind of like standing on the edge of a cliff, wondering what it would be like to jump.

Do you think I’m insane? Of course not, because you’re not reading this.

When I sing love songs, it helps for me to picture someone in my mind. I used to just make up some imaginary boy of my dreams and sing about him. He looked nothing like you. He was much more handsome. Just kidding. Anyway, now, when I sing those songs, I picture you.

Don’t get all freaked out. I’m not saying I love you. It just helps me sing the songs.

I wonder what you’d think if you actually read this.

Okay, Kaira, this is getting scary. You’re not going to mail this letter. You’re not! You’re not! No way!!!!

Okay, I’m going to have to write something really embarrassing now. Then I can be sure I’ll never mail it.

Okay, here goes.

I liked it when I touched your armpit. It made me feel all goosey inside.

Aaaah!

Oh, I miss you so much!!!!

XOXOXOX
Kaira

23

“Wow,” Armpit said, then read the letter again. He imagined her holding the envelope above a mail slot, closing her eyes, and letting it go. Maybe she screamed.

He wished he knew how to get in touch with her. He looked at the back of the T-shirt. She probably was in Los Angeles now, but he had no idea what hotel she was staying at, or what TV character’s name she was using.

It was too bad she didn’t include her cell phone number, but why would she? She never planned to mail the letter.

The phone rang.

He grabbed it before the second ring. “Hello?”

“Theodore, good, I’m glad you’re home.”

It was Detective Newberg.

“We’ve got a suspect down at the station. I’d like you to be here while I question him.”

He didn’t know what to say. “I have to go to work. I only just got home from school.”

“What time do you need to be there?”

“One o’clock. I don’t even know the address of where I’m supposed to be.”

“I can have an officer take you wherever you need to go.”

“And I got to eat lunch first.”

“What kind of pizza do you like?”

“
Pizza?
Uh, pepperoni.”

“I’ll send a patrolman to get you.”

He hung up with Detective Newberg and called Raincreek. He got the address and left a message that he might be a little late, and that he wouldn’t need Hernandez to give him a ride.

Less than ten minutes later a patrol car pulled into the driveway.

“Can I sit in the front seat?” Armpit asked. “I don’t want my neighbors to think I’m being arrested again.”

He regretted those words as soon as they escaped his mouth, but the police officer just said, “Sure, hop in.” Maybe the officer hadn’t heard him exactly. Or else the cops already knew about his criminal record.

The police station was a three-story stucco building. Armpit recognized the place. It was where he had been taken after the fight in the movie theater.

A sign warned that all visitors were subject to search, but he just walked through the metal detector and went with the officer up to the second floor.

Detective Newberg stepped out of a room, saw Armpit, and gave him a little wave. “Come have a look,” she said, then put her finger to her lips, indicating for him to be quiet.

He went with her back into the room, which was dark and smelled like pizza. One slice had already been eaten from the box on the table.

“It’s good pizza,” said Debbie Newberg. Her cheeks reddened.

A window looked out into another room. The room was almost identical to his but brightly lit. X-Ray was sitting at a table, his fingers drumming nervously. Armpit could hear the tapping through the speakers on the wall.

“Is that Habib?” Detective Newberg asked quietly.

He almost laughed but then just shook his head.

“You’re sure?”

“Definitely not him.”

“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 waited in line for like twelve hours.”

“How much did you pay for the tickets?”

“Seven hundred and twenty dollars. Talk about a rip-off. They’re supposed to sell for fifty-five a piece, but they charge a five-dollar service charge for each ticket.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Detective Newberg agreed. “But here’s something I don’t get. I heard there was a limit of six tickets per customer. How did you manage to buy twelve?”

“I just did.”

“I heard they were pretty strict about that.”

“You’re right. Okay. Here’s what happened.”

Keep It Simple, Stupid,
thought Armpit.

“Like you said, you can only buy six tickets. Six tickets
at a time.
There’s nothing that prevents someone from buying six tickets, then getting back in line and buying six more tickets.”

“But it was a long line, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was. But you can always pay someone like fifty dollars to cut in line. See, that’s another expense. That’s what I’m talking about. People think ticket scalpers just make tons of money, but the expenses can really add up.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking,” said Detective Newberg. “You want to hear what I was thinking?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you. I was thinking about the fact that all twelve tickets were in the same row, right next to each other. I’m wondering how you could buy six, then go back in line and buy six more, and they’re all right next to each other.”

“I can explain that.”

“I suggest you don’t,” said Detective Newberg.

“But you said—”

“I don’t want to hear your explanation,” Detective Newberg said.

“See, I never said I went back in line. I said you
can
pay someone to cut in line, but I didn’t say I—”

“Shut up and listen!”

X-Ray stopped talking.

“It’s a crime to give false information to a police officer. And for someone like yourself, with a prior offense and still on probation, you could be facing quite a bit of jail time.”

“You know about that?” asked X-Ray.

“You’re not dealing with children here. Let me tell you what else I know. I know you went to a restaurant called Smokestack Lightnin’ with somebody named Armpit. So I know you lied when you said you didn’t know him. Any other lies you want to tell me?”

X-Ray didn’t answer.

“You see that mirror? You’re a smart guy, X-Ray. Do you think that’s a regular mirror? You think it’s in here so I can fix my makeup?”

“No,” X-Ray answered quietly.

“No, it’s a two-way mirror. Behind it is an expert criminal psychologist. He’s watching and listening to everything you say. He knows when you’re lying just by your body language, and by the inflection of your voice.”

X-Ray gave a little wave to the “psychological expert.”

Armpit waved back.

“So what I want you to do is think about everything you told me, and see if there are any corrections you might want to make.”

“See, if you just let me explain—”

“Think before you talk,” said Detective Newberg. “And you better tell me the truth this time, or else the DA will get this recording.”

“I’m tryin’ to tell you the truth, if you’ll just listen. You’re right, I didn’t buy all the tickets myself, but it was my money! Look, let’s say you’re at the store, and all you want to buy is a candy bar, but there’s a real long line. And then you see somebody you know at the front of the line, so you give her your dollar and she buys the candy bar for you. Then later, if someone asks you where you got the candy bar, you’ll say you bought it at the store. It’s not a lie, is it?”

“Who helped you buy the tickets?”

“Armpit.”

“Do you know his real name?”

“Habib, I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t know the dude! I swear! Felix called him Armpit. I never even saw the dude until that day in line. See, I went to buy my tickets, and they told me I could only buy six, like you said. So then Felix and Armpit show up, and Armpit offers to buy the other six for me. Man, that was the biggest mistake I ever made in my life.”

“How do you mean?”

“You know, I thought I would just have to pay Armpit fifty bucks or something, for doing that for me. But no. He insisted I make him my partner. And let me tell you something else. Armpit is not someone you can say no to. I’m talking big, and mean, and tough. That’s why I lied and said I didn’t know him. If I’m going to have to testify against Armpit, then you better put me in the witness protection program.”

“What was your arrangement with him?”

“We split all the profits, fifty-fifty. He was there with me for every sale.”

“Do you know his last name?”

“No.”

“Where does he live?”

“I have no idea.”

“Do you know his phone number?”

“No.”

“I’m getting tired of this, Rex.”

“I swear. I’m not lying!”

“Then how would you get in touch with him?”

“I’d call Felix. Then Felix would call Armpit, and we’d meet at H-E-B.”

“Who kept the tickets?”

“He kept six, I kept six. To be honest, I thought he was going to rip me off, but he never did.”

Detective Newberg set her briefcase on the table and unlatched the clasps.

“Look, I’m sorry for not being totally straight with you earlier,” X-Ray said. “Armpit scares the bejesus out of me. But now I told you the truth, so everything’s cool, right?” He smiled. “No harm, no foul?”

Detective Newberg suddenly turned and seemed to stare right at Armpit, although he knew she couldn’t see him.

She looked away, then removed two photographs from her briefcase. “Is this Felix?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

She showed X-Ray a photo of Moses. “Is this Armpit?”

X-Ray took his time studying the photo. “No, Armpit’s got dark skin. And he didn’t wear a cowboy hat. He wore one of those things, what are they called, a turban? I think he might be part Iranian.”

“Did he have a mustache?”

X-Ray thought a moment.

Armpit couldn’t remember if he told X-Ray he’d said Habib had a mustache.

“He might have. The guy was so hairy it was kind of hard to tell. He’s the kind of guy who has to shave three times a day, if you know what I mean.”

“How old was he?”

“Maybe twenty-five. Hard to say because of the turban.”

Detective Newberg sighed. “Thank you for your cooperation,” she said. She handed him her card and told him if he ever heard from Armpit again to call her.

“I can go?”

She nodded.

A uniformed officer came in and escorted X-Ray out of the room.

Armpit watched Detective Newberg place the photographs back in her briefcase. She shook her head, then walked out of the room.

A moment later the door to his room opened.

“So what does my expert criminal psychologist think?” She smiled, and her cheeks turned pink.