“You report for work. Mitch gets all up in your face. Calls you a sex offender. We know that much from talking to other people. Let’s hear your side of it.” He leaned his face closer to mine. I could smell his minty breath.
I had nothing to add. “You know as much as I do. More, probably.”
“Must have made you mad,” Montgomery suggested.
“No, sir,” I replied.
“Aw, come on. Sex offender? Would have made anybody mad.”
“I can’t speak to that.” I leaned back in the chair. Might take a long time.
Montgomery leaned back, too. “You get to work. Guy with an attitude disses you. You get put to work on a plater. He’s the forklift driver; probably makes some remarks when he comes by. You get your break. What do you do? What would anybody do?”
He obviously wasn’t aware of the noise level in the plating room. Or how careful Hank had been to make sure Mitch didn’t get a chance to talk to me. I just sat there.
“What did you do on your break?” Montgomery repeated, examining the back of his hand. His fingers were long and elegant; his nails were neat and well trimmed.
“Took a leak and got a drink of water,” I said.