"Want to close that door?" Carella said.
Andros shrugged again, went to the bedroom door, and closed it. From behind the door, the radio kept playing Spanish music.
"Have a seat," Carella said.
There were three chairs around the kitchen table, one on each end, one facing the wall. They pulled out the chairs and sat. Andros scratched his balls. This was his house, they guessed he was entitled. He had the bored air of a man who'd been hassled by cops more times than he could count.
He'd come through it before, and he'd come through it this time, too. Whatever this was, he'd come through it. So he scratched his balls, and he yawned, and he waited.
"Denker," Carella said.
The brown eyes flickered.
Just a flicker. Like a snake's tongue coming out, now you see it, now you don't. Sudden interest -and then boredom again.
"Andrew Denker," Meyer said.
"Ees thotta name?”
Coming through loud and clear now: Is that a name?
"It's a name, yes," Carella said.
"Do you know him?" Meyer asked.
"No.”
"We think you do.”
"I don't know him.”
"Then who's living in your apartment on Lewiston?”
" South Lewiston.”
"Apartment 4C.”
"Is that your apartment?”
He sat watching them through all this, not saying a word.
Then he said, "I don't know nobody named Albert Denker.”
"Andrew Denker," Carella said.
"Him either.”
"Then who's that in your apartment?”
"I don't know what apartment you're talking about.”
"An apartment you're renting from Bridge Realty," Carella said.
"On a one-year lease," Meyer said.
"Starting last July, right after you got out of the slammer.”
He kept watching them.
"You feel like coming downtown with us?" Meyer asked.
"Why would I feel like coming downtown?”
"So we can sort this out," Carella said.
"What's there to sort out?”
"You seem not to know about an apartment leased in your name.”
"Who says?”
"A woman named Charlotte Carmichael of Bridge Realty. Down near the Calm's Point Bridge, Ramón.”
"I don't know this person.”
"Okay, let's get out of our little peejays and into our street clothes," Meyer said.
"Hold on a minute, okay?”
"We're holding," Carella said.
"What's this about, anyway?”
He sounded like Desi Arnaz asking "Wha's thees abou', Lucy?" But they now understood him clearly, which showed the benefits of a second language, darling.
"This is about a man named Andrew Denker,”
Carella said patiently.
"Who's renting your apartment on Lewiston,”
Meyer said patiently.
"Okay," Andros said, and nodded.
"Okay, what?”
"Let's say that's true, okay?”
"Let's say so," Carella said.
"So what?" Andros said. "It's against the law to rent an apartment?”
Ees agains' dee law to renn an apar'menn?
"No, but it's against the law to arrange somebody's murder.”
"Peopleffffhhhhh," Andros said, and rolled his eyes. "Where did you get that from?”
"Do you know anybody named Martin Bowles?”
"Never heard of him.”
"You never heard of him, you never heard of Denker, how about Roger Tilly?”
"No, who's that?”
"Do you have a hat, Ramón?”
"I have a hat, yes.”
"Put it on. A coat, too. We're taking a ride downtown.”
"Now, listen, hold on a minute.”
"No, shithead, no more holding on. Get dressed, let's go.”
"Okay, okay," Andros said.
"Okay, okay, what?”
"Suppose I know who Tilly is?”
"Okay, suppose you do," Meyer said.
"So what?”
"So he's dead, that's what.”
Andros went "Peopleffffhhhhh" again.
"This is news to you, huh?”
"Absolutely.”
"How well did you know him?”
"He was in Castleview while I was - up there.”
"When's the last time you saw him?”
"Up there. He beat up one of our people, that's why he was there.”
"Uh-huh.”
"His ass wasn't worth a nickel up there.”
"What were you doing up there?”
"They framed me.”
"Sure, everybody up there got framed.”
"Sure, but this is true. They said I was running girls. Come on, loco.”
"They were wrong, right?”
"Hey, of course.”
"How so?”
"I done my time, okay? Why we bringing up all this shit?”
"Because we're still trying to find out how well you knew Tilly.”
"I wouldn't even talk to that son of a bitch.”
"You didn't like him, huh?”
"None of the Latinos liked him.”
"So now he's dead.”
"So go talk to the other ten thousand people could've juked him.”
A glance passed between them. They knew in that moment that Andros knew nothing at all about the Tilly murder. Because whatever else had happened to him, he certainly hadn't been "juked," no one had stabbed him. Juking was what you did on the prison yard. The association was a natural one for Andros to make, but it told them that he knew nothing about the mechanics of Tilly's murder.
Unless he was a hell of a lot smarter than either of them suspected he was.
"Ever hear of a woman named Emma Bowles?”
"Bowles?" he said.
It sounded like "bowels.”
The detectives almost burst out laughing.
"Bowles," Meyer said, trying to keep a straight face. "Bowles.”
"No, who's that?”
"Mrs. Martin Bowles," Carella said.
"I don't know this person.”
"Okay, now let's hear about Denker.”
"Denker," Andros said.
"Denker.”
"I never met him.”
"But you know him, right?”
"No, I don't know him.”
“Ramón, let's cut the shit, okay? We know it's your apartment, and we know Denker's in it. Now how about it?”
"Okay, okay," Andros said.
"You said that before.”
"Let's say I did rent the apartment to this Denker guy.”
"Never mind let's say. Did you or didn't you?”
"More or less.”
"What does that mean?”
"Not directly.”
"Then how?”
"Let's say a friend of mine said he needed a place for somebody to stay.”
"And the somebody was Denker, is that right?”
"The somebody was Denker.”
"And who was the friend?”
"Why you need to know that?”
"Who's paying the rent? Your friend or Denker?”
"Denker. But through my friend.”
"How much is the rent?”
"Twelve hundred a week. Cash.”
"That's a lot of bread, Ramón.”
"Well, nice apartments are hard to find these days.”
"He could stay in a luxury hotel for that kind of money.”
"But then he wouldn't have no privacy, verdad?”
"Okay, so who's your friend?”
"I don't want to get nobody in trouble.”
"Fine, get dressed.”
"What's the matter with you guys?”
Sounding like Desi talking to Lucy again.
They said nothing. In the other room, the radio station broke for a news broadcast. There was a lot of dial twirling in there until the girl finally found another station playing music. They waited. They had all the time in the world.
"Whatever this Denker did," Andros said at last, "I don't know, and my friend don't know, either.”
"Who said he did anything?”
"You said somebody was arranging a murder.”
Smarter than they thought.
"You know anything about that?”
"Nothing.”
"You ever hear of Denker before he took the apartment?”
“Never.”
"How'd your friend hear about him?”