It is then they must pause and change the tempo — not a good idea to walk out of the room and leave Pedro alone, in case he decides to clam up further, or engage a lawyer, but it is time to shift the territory a little, so Carla rises from her chair, leaving Pedro alone with Rick, the big damp white loaf, making the room so very male and somehow even more cramped. And it is here that Rick employs the direct gaze, the lean forward, the half-menace, and asks Pedro if he can explain again where he was at the time of the assault, and why did he move from his dishwashing station, and what was the earlier argument he had with Dandinho, and when he went to the bathroom is it possible that he took the employee exit to the street — can you answer me that, Pedro? — and is it possible perhaps he even ducked back in the same door just seconds later, is any of that viable at all, because it’s understandable, man, it’s his son, it’s your daughter, you know what I mean? We’re here to help, frankly I’d like to put that Elliot asshole behind bars, he’s the one who should take the rap, know what I’m saying?
When Carla returns she has one glass of water and three orange sodas in glass bottles, and she slides the Jarritos across the table, and it is as if they are in a distant cantina together, somewhere safe and warm, somewhere they can trust one another, but Pedro leaves the soda sitting in front of him. Carla leans forward and asks again about Maria, what she was like growing up, if she had any problems, if she ever mentioned any difficulties at work, if she got upset, if she said anything about going to Connecticut. Pedro takes the water, but leaves the soda untouched.
The time slips away from them, the clockhands on the wall turn, the fluorescent light in the office remains constant. The detectives ready themselves for their last-line flurry.
So, Pedro, did she tell you? Tell me what? About her thing with Elliot Mendelssohn? Her what? Her liaison, you know, her monkey business. Don’t know what you’re talking about. How do I say it delicately for you, Pedro? Say what? She was fucking this guy, Pedro, now calm down, Papi, calm down, cálmese. I’m calm, don’t talk about my girl that way. Okay, okay, what do you know about their re-la-tion-ship? I don’t know nothing about that. Because the way I see it, she was living a good life, wasn’t she, Pedro, at one stage, she was happy, right? I got nothing to say. She was a good girl, doing a good job, went to secretarial school, got a good husband, he was a nice guy, second generation, she’s making you proud, you like your son-in-law, you like your grandkids, life is good, she’s happy, she’s got herself a little place in Rockaway, picket fence, you know what I mean, the American dream, are you there, Pedro, we gotta play knock-knock again? I’m listening. Working for an investment firm, wearing nice clothes, making some good money, assistant to the CEO, and here she is, now, she’s working in Midtown, an office on Lexington Avenue, big glass tower, and then one day, poof, it’s all gone, in a flash of smoke, her boss turns out to be the asshole he always threatened to be, and he flat-out fires her. I don’t know nothing about that. And then you hear that he’s in the restaurant? I didn’t hear nothing. Maybe Dandinho tells you? Dandinho didn’t tell me nothing. You’re just talking fútbol? That’s it. Dandinho, he’s your best friend, right? What’s Dandinho got to do with this? And you’ve confided in him maybe, about how your little girl lost this job at the Barner Funds, and he puts two-and-two together, says the old man is out there right now — Pedro, is that what happened? — because it’s perfectly forgivable, man, I can see it plain as day, by the time Dandinho tells you that Elliot Mendelssohn is in the restaurant, he’s gone, and you, you been washing his dishes. We were arguing about fútbol. But it’s not just fútbol, is it, Pedro? Huh? Are you a baseball fan, Pedro? Sí, claro. What’s your team? Don’t really have one. So, how much do you get paid again, Pedro? Eight bucks an hour, ten-fifty for overtime. Not a great job, dishwashing, is it? It’s okay, I do some other things too. Like what, Pedro? Some vending, you know. Is that right? Yeah. You push the peanuts then, do you, Pedro? I don’t know what you mean. Where do you do your vending? At the Cyclones. You mean the Brooklyn Cyclones? Yeah, the Brooklyn Cyclones, what’s the problem? And by any chance do they give you a uniform to wear, Pedro, a hat maybe? Sure, I wear a hat sometimes, everyone wears a hat, in the kitchen anyway, you got to wear a hat. But you wear a Brooklyn Cyclones hat? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mami.