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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.
