“Don’t say things like that–”
“True or false?”
Hunt stared at his clenched fists.
“So maybe you had a thing for Beryl, huh?”
Marino continued relentlessly. “Maybe you was thinking about this white-hot lady all the time, fantasizing, wondering what it would be like to get with her, date her, have sex with her. Maybe
you just didn’t have the guts to talk to her directly because you figured she’d consider you a low-life, beneath her–”
“Stop it! You’re picking on me! Stop it! Stop it!” Hunt cried shrilly. “Leave me alone!”
Marino stared unemotionally across the table at him.
“Sound just like your old man, don’t I, Al?”
Marino lit up a cigarette and waved it as he talked. “Old Man Hunt who thinks his only kid’s a fuckin’ fairy because you’re not a mean-ass-son-of-a-bitch slumlord who don’t give a shit about anybody’s welfare or feelings.”
He exhaled a stream of smoke, then spoke gently. “I know about the Almighty Old Man Hunt. Also know he told all his buddies you was a pansy, was ashamed to have his blood in your veins when you went to work as a male nurse. Fact is, you came over to his damn car wash because he said if you didn’t, you’d be disinherited.”
“You know that? How did you know that?” Hunt stammered.
“I know a lot of things. Also know, as a matter of fact, the people at Metropolitan said you was topflight, had a real gentle way with patients. They was sorry as hell to see you leave. Think the word they used to describe you was ‘sensitive,’ maybe too sensitive for your own good, huh, Al?
Explaining why you don’t date, don’t have no ladies. You’re scared. Beryl scared the shit out of you, didn’t she?”
Hunt took a deep breath.
“That why you didn’t want to know her name? Then you wouldn’t be tempted to call her, try anything?”
“I just noticed her,” Hunt responded nervously.
“Really, there wasn’t anything more to it than that. I didn’t think about her in the manner you’ve suggested. I was just, uh, just very aware of her. But I didn’t cultivate it. I never even talked to her until the last time she came in–”
Marino hit the Stop button again. He said, “This is the important part…”
He paused and looked closely at me. “Hey, you all right?”
“Was it really necessary to be so brutal?” I answered emotionally.
“You ain’t been around me much if you think that was brutal,” Marino said.
“Sorry. I forgot I was sitting in my living room with Attila the Hun.”
“It’s all acting,” he said, hurt.
“Remind me to nominate you for an Academy Award.”
“Come off it, Doc.”
“You absolutely demoralized him,” I said.
“It’s a tool, okay? You know, a way to shake things loose, make people say things maybe they wouldn’t have thought of otherwise.”
He turned back toward the set and added, as he hit the Play button, “The entire interview was worth what he tells me next.”
“When was this?” Marino asked Hunt. “The last time she came in was when?”
“I’m not sure of the exact date,” Hunt answered. “A couple months ago, but I do remember it was a Friday, uh, late morning. The reason I remember is I was supposed to have lunch with my father that day. I always have lunch with him on Friday so we can discuss the business.”
He reached for his 7-Up. “I always dress a little better on Friday. I was wearing a tie that day.”
“So Beryl comes in late morning on this Friday to have her car washed,” Marino prompted him.
“And on this occasion you talked to her?”
“She actually talked to me first,” Hunt replied as if this was important. “Her car was coming out of the bay when she walked up to me, told me she spilled something on the carpet inside the trunk and wanted to know if we could get it out. She took me to her car, opened the trunk, and I saw the carpet was soaked. Apparently, she had groceries in the trunk and a half-gallon bottle of orange juice broke. I guess that’s why she decided to drive her car in to be washed right away.”