Milk and Honey (13 page)

“Of course,” Decker said. But he made a mental note in his head.

Annette said. “Darl just can’t let go. It’s not good for the kids to see her in such a state whenever Linda’s name is mentioned.” Annette took the net off her hair. “You know what really gets to me?”

“What?”

“Now I’m not condemning Linda—no, not condemning. What’s the right word?”

“Condoning,” Decker tried.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Annette said. “I’m not condoning her. But Byron was at that motel same as Linda. Everyone talks
about how bad Linda was. Pappy Howard rants against her, Pappy and Granny Darcy rant against her. Everything’s her fault. But let’s face it, Mister Detective, it takes two to tango. And no one says a word against Byron.”

“Even Darlene?”

“Especially Darlene,” Annette said. “She acts like it weren’t his doing at all. That Linda bewitched him. But you know like I know that Linda didn’t kidnap Byron and carry him off to the motel all by her lonesome.”

Decker sipped his tea. “Which motel was that?”

“A place in town called the Sleepy-Bi,” Annette said. “Darlene found a matchbook in Byron’s pocket and asked him about it. He hemmed and hawed, then broke down. My Lord, what a mess!”

“Linda and Byron still see each other?” Decker asked.

“No, sir,” Annette said. She shook out her hair. The amber strands fell to her shoulders and framed her face. With her hair down, she looked younger, prettier. “They just did it the one time, four years ago.”

“Just
one
time?”

“Well, that’s what Byron told Darlene. And I believe him. I like to believe the best in people.”

“Neither one of them divorced, huh?” Decker asked.

“Nope.”

Figures, Decker thought. A woman like Darlene would never let her husband go. Just hang on to her resentment and make his life miserable. He said, “Yeah, Darlene doesn’t seem like the divorcing type.”

“You got it right about that, mister,” Annette said.

Decker asked about Luke, did he seem like the divorcing type? Annette appeared to be wrestling with judgment. Just how
much
should she say, how much could this stranger be trusted? He stared at her for a few seconds, then gave her a disarming smile.

Again, Annette bit her thumbnail. “Well, Luke’s mom, Granny D, she was ready to throw Linda out on her bottom.
You know, there’s always a lot of problems between daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law. But this was more than your normal competition.”

“I should say so,” Decker said. “Any loyal parent would be furious.”

“Well, they are very loyal to Luke, and they were pretty darn furious. I’ll tell you that,” Annette said. “Pappy and Granny D talked till they was blue in the face, but Luke wouldn’t hear of divorce. He’s a nice guy. Still talks kindly to Byron, treats Linda nice, too. Everybody would like to forget about the whole thing. That is, everybody ’cept Darlene.”

“How old is Linda?”

“Oh, she won’t say, but I reckon she’s about forty.”

“Quite a bit younger than Byron.”

“Byron’s fifty-two,” Annette said. “I think that was part of the whole thing. A middle-aged fling, like they say.”

“How old’s Luke?”

“’Bout the same age as Linda. He looks young, though. Younger than Linda, that’s for sure. I don’t know, maybe he is. Lord knows what Linda saw in Byron. You met Byron?”

Decker said he did.

“Byron’s a fine man, but no Magnum P.I. And Luke’s a nice-looking man. No one could understand it.” Annette shrugged. “Linda’s a free spirit. Oh, she’s settled down some since the baby was born, but before then she done some pretty wild things.”

“Like what?”

“Like the affair.” Annette collected her thoughts. “Linda just wasn’t a homebody. She didn’t like to sew or cook or bake, though she can whip up some fine food. I think that burns up Darlene, too. Linda’s darn good in the kitchen. If she wants to be.”

“A good baker, too?” Decker asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Decker wondered about the extent of the competition. He
asked Annette if Linda ever tried to market her baked goods. The young woman burst into laughter and answered no, explaining that Linda wasn’t the industrious kind.

“Then what’d Linda do with all her free time?” Decker asked.

“She spent hours over the mountain doing Lord knows what. And she liked to hang around the Heaven. Go out there in the afternoons with her sister-in-law, Carla, and drink with the boys. Innocent, I’m sure, but it didn’t look nice.”

Decker recalled the biker bar. His eyebrows raised a notch.

Annette caught the gesture. Quickly, she said, “I know it doesn’t seem right for Linda to be goin’ there to drink. But you gotta realize, sir, that it’s the only show in town. Heck, the Heaven’s not really a
bad
place, as long as you’re not a nigger. They’re not evil boys—a little rowdy, sure—but they leave us alone, and nobody messes with them or us because of it. For us, the place ain’t more than a beer and pizza joint. Jeff’s addicted to their pizzas. Buys the big ones, eats half of it, and throws the rest away. I keep telling him to buy the medium ones, but men don’t listen to their wives much.”

“Jeff is your husband?” Decker asked.

“Yeah. Darl and I are sisters-in-law.”

Decker smoothed the corners of his mustache. He said, “You’re much younger than Darlene.”

“Twenty years younger. Darl’s been like a mother to me. A good mother.” Annette flicked hair off her face. “Byron’s from Pappy H’s first marriage. His mom died when he was fifteen. Jeffrey, my husband, is from Pappy H’s second marriage. Jeff has a sister, also. She lives in Pomona, married to a real nice guy. They breed Dobies.”

“Where’s Jeff now?” Decker asked.

“With Pappy and Granny H, and Byron’s oldest sons, at a
meeting—Western Beekeepers Association. They’re gathering down in Fall Springs this year. Byron offered to watch the farm so they could all leave. I couldn’t go with Jeff ’cause I couldn’t leave Darl with all the jarring and baking and cooking. Not to mention the kids. There’s eight between us. Three of mine, five of hers.”

“Lots of kids.”

“Well, it ain’t that bad ’cause Darl’s first two boys are big—twenty-one and nineteen. They eat like hogs. Golly, it seems that somebody’s mouth is always chewing something.”

“How old are your kids?” Decker asked.

“Nine, eight, and six. Two boys and a girl. Darl’s kids help me a lot with them.”

“Do Linda and Luke have lots of kids?”

“Just the one little girl. Guess she’s ’bout two.”

“Linda was thirty-eight when she gave birth,” Decker remarked. “A little on the old side.”

Annette’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I think they had some problems. That might be one of the reasons that Linda was so wild before the kid. But a big belly slowed her down some.”

Decker calmly took out the photo of Baby Sally and laid it on the table. He asked, “Is this Linda Darcy’s little girl?”

Annette’s eyes focused on the picture, then inched back to Decker. They had darkened with worry. “That’s Katie, all right. Is she okay?”

“Katie’s fine. When was the last time you spoke to Linda?”

“’Bout a week ago. What’s this—”

“Does Linda have a phone?” Decker interrupted.

“Of course she has a phone. They put the lines underground so the winds don’t knock ’em out. Winds can get pretty fierce down here.”

“Can you call up Linda Darcy for me?”

“What’s this all about?” Annette asked.

“Call her up for me, please.”

Annette stood, hesitated a moment, then walked over to the phone. After the thirteenth ring, she hung up.

“No one’s home,” she said. Her voice cracked.

Decker said, “Do you know if she and Luke went to that bee meeting in Fall Springs?”

Annette brightened. “Of course. They probably all went down together.”

“Would Linda go without Katie? Maybe leave the girl with a baby-sitter?”

“Linda? Never. Katie is her third arm. Linda even takes her into the Heaven when she wants a quick brew. All the bikers know Katie by name.”

Decker thought a moment.

“Who’s your lawman around here, Mrs. Howard?” he asked.

“Lawman?”

“Yes, lawman. Is there a sheriff that lives in the neighborhood?”

“No,” Annette said, shaking her head. “We’re too small for that.”

“Okay.” Decker thought for a moment. It was premature to call the sheriff’s station, because he had nothing to report except the identity of a lost child. But if he didn’t, there was always the chance that some jerk would accuse him of grandstanding outside his jurisdiction. He decided to place a quick phone call to County to cover his butt. He said to Annette, “If you don’t mind now, I’d like to use your phone for a moment.”

“Sure,” Annette whispered. “Is everything all right?”

Decker pretended not to hear and picked up the phone. “Why don’t you go see what the other Mrs. Howard and Detective Dunn are doing?”

“You don’t want me to overhear, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” he answered. “Go on. I’ll fill you in later.”

Annette didn’t argue. A minute later, all three women were back in the kitchen. Decker whispered something into the receiver, then hung up.

To Marge, he said, “The toddler’s name is Katie Darcy. I just placed a call to County Sheriff, told them what we were up to in a few sentences. I’m waiting for them to call back. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

“What’s going on?” Darlene asked suspiciously.

“Detective Dunn and I are going to take a ride over to the Darcy ranch,” Decker said. “Is it just straight down the road?”

“I can take you to the Darcys, if that’s what you want,” Annette said.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, ma’am,” Marge said.

Darlene asked, “What’s this all about, Nettie?”

“Well, I don’t rightly know,” Annette answered.

Decker said, “Katie Darcy was found two days ago wandering around a residential area just over the mountain. We’ve been trying to locate her parents. Now that we’ve found them, Detective Dunn and I are going to pay them a little visit. The both of you have been very helpful. Thank you.”

Darlene glanced at Annette, then at Decker. “The witch is a witch. But she never leaves that kid out of her sight for a second.”

“That’s what your sister-in-law told me,” Decker said.

“Then what’s going on?” Darlene probed.

“That’s what we’re hoping to find out, Mrs. Howard,” Marge said.

Darlene frowned.

The kitchen became silent. A minute passed. This time, Annette started to pick her nails. Darlene massaged her hands.

Decker said, “It might be better if we waited by another extension in the house. That way we won’t disturb your work.”

“I won’t hear of it,” Darlene insisted. “Sit down. I’ll get you some more
ice
-tea.”

Marge said, “Thank you, Mrs. Howard—”

“Darlene,” she said. “Everyone calls me Darlene.”

More silence. Annette fidgeted, then got up and turned on the radio. Don Williams was singing about Tulsa Time. Decker hummed along.

Annette smiled at him. “And here I thought you were faking the drawl and everything just to get us to talk.”

Decker laughed.

Annette retied her hair. “I like Don Williams. Has such a pretty voice.”

Decker nodded.

“Darlene met George Jones once,” Annette said.

“Oh, Nettie!”

“Go ahead and tell them,” Annette prodded.

“It was nothing,” Darlene said. “It was twenty years ago.”

“Tell them anyway,” Annette said.

“Well,” Darlene said, breathily, “Byron was playing backup guitar for an old act called the Pineridge Boys at the Palomino. You know ’bout the Palomino?”

“On Lankershim,” Marge said.

“Yeah,” Darlene said. “He used to play bluegrass. My Lord, this was a long time ago. Anyway, who should be in the audience but George Jones. Without Tammy, I might add. I thought I’d die when he came up to Byron and me afterward. He said Byron was a real fine picker.” Darlene sighed. “But Byron’s duty was to his pappy and the farm. Never even thought one minute about being anything else.”

Darlene picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the cauldron. “It was a long time ago.”

The quiet became noticeable again.

Darlene said, “This batch is done, Nettie. Give me a hand with it.”

“Can I help?” Decker offered.

Darlene said, “You can pick up the other side and help me take it off the stove and onto that metal cooling pad.”

Decker grabbed two pot holders and lifted the cauldron himself. “Where?”

“Right behind you,” Annette said.

“Thank you, Mister Detective,” Darlene said.

“What are you cooking?” Marge asked.

“Apple-honey syrup,” Darlene said. “I gave you the recipe for it.”

“Oh yeah,” Marge said, “the one where you strain a half-dozen cooked Granny Smith apples.”

The phone rang. Decker announced it was probably for him and picked up the receiver. He was silent for a moment, then turned his back to the women and whispered into the receiver. A minute later, he hung up and told Marge that Sheriff’s gave them the go ahead.

Byron Howard lumbered into the kitchen, announcing he was thirsty. His bald head was beaded with rows of sweat. He took a callused hand and mowed the water down, wiping his wet palm on his pants leg. He didn’t look any happier to see Decker than he had the first time.

“You still here?” he asked them.

“Looks that way,” Decker said. “We’re leaving right now, Mr. Howard.”

“They’re goin’ to the Darcys, Byron,” Annette said. “Katie Darcy was found on the other side of the mountain, and the detective thinks that don’t look so good, considerin’ how close Linda was to her and all.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Howard,” Decker said. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

Byron faced Decker and blurted out, “I’ll take you to the Darcys.”

Darlene’s face froze in shock.

Annette stammered out, “Now, Byron, I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“I’m going,” Byron insisted.

Darlene’s look of surprise had turned to hatred. “Who’s gonna mind the farm?” she asked.

“I weren’t be more than ten minutes, Darlene,” Byron said. “For God’s sake, woman, I think you can last that long with me out of reach.”