“What?”
“It’s a simple question.”
“Uh… Carla,” Richard said.
“You sure?”
Scowling, Richard said, “Yes I’m sure. I think I’d know my own girlfriend’s name.”
“You said her name was something else the other day.”
“No I didn’t.”
Royce glanced at me. “Do you remember the other name, Max?”
“Yes.” I glanced at Richard. “You said your girlfriend’s name was Tiffany.”
“I… I don’t think I did say that.”
“You did.” Royce pursed his lips. “So which is it? Tiffany or Carla?”
“Carla.”
“Do you have Carla’s number?”
Richard stiffened. “I thought the phones weren’t working.”
“They will be eventually.”
He swallowed. “I don’t remember her number.”
Squinting, Royce said, “Seriously?”
He waved agitatedly. “It was programed in my phone. I don’t have a good memory for numbers.”
I wrinkled my brow. “Wait, aren’t you a banker?”
Richard curled his lip. “I’m good atmaking money, not memorizing phone numbers.”
“Seems like you should know your girlfriend’s number,” I muttered.
“What’s Carla’s last name?” Royce asked calmly.
“Jesus, you’re just like a fucking pit bull, aren’t you?” growled Richard.
Leaning forward, Royce’s pleasant expression slipped. “Someone has beenmurdered. Yeah, I’m going to hunt that person down, however I have to.”
Licking his lips, Richard said, “Fine. Uh… her last name is Smith.”
Of course it is.
“Carla Smith.” I wrote that down, even though I doubted it was legit.
“I assume she lives in Nevada too?” Royce asked.
“Sure.”
I squinted at him. Was this clown making this stuff up as he went along? Did he think Royce wouldn’t be able to verify all of this? Royce was losing patience—I could see it in the harshness of his mouth and eyes. I wanted to help him somehow, but I had no experience questioning murder suspects. I’d probably make things way worse if I tried to help.