Milk and Honey (36 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“You left a little kid alone in a motel?” Hollander said.

“She was sleeping,” Pappy Darcy answered. “I told Granny to go back to Katie after she was done with dinner. And she did. Then, the next morning, she told me she fixed Katie up. That we didn’t have to worry ’bout her no more. I asked Granny what she did, and she told me she left Katie with her father—her
real
father. I asked her what she meant, but she didn’t say no further. Then, later on, after the police found Katie, I asked Granny what did she do with her. But my wife, she was completely gone by then.”

Completely gone by
then
? The woman had been a certifiable lunatic for years. Pimping her daughter-in-law, murdering her, then killing her own daughter—accidentally or otherwise. Decker tried to reconstruct Granny Darcy’s twisted logic. The old woman must have driven back to L.A., dropped Katie off in the Manfred development in the middle of the night. She probably left her in front of the Binghams’ house—she knew who Katie’s father was because she’d
chosen
him. Maybe the kid had been sleeping
when she had left her alone. One thing Decker knew for certain was that sometime during the night, Katie had wandered away.

“Whose idea was it for Earl to confess?” Decker asked.

“Mine,” Pappy Darcy admitted. “I didn’t think the law would do no harm to the boy since he’s not a full-thinkin’ person…. I didn’t see no other way. Sue Beth started askin’ me if Granny and Earl was with me when I came up. I said, of course they was, but I knowed she didn’t believe me. Then she told me the police were askin’ her the same question. I got scared.”

“So you had a long talk with Earl,” Hollander said.

“Convinced him he was the murderer of his family,” Decker said.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Pappy Darcy pleaded. “At first, I just told him what to say. Told him to make pretend. But…but as I talked, I could see the boy thinkin’ that he’d done
all
the shootin’. I…I just let him go on thinkin’ it. I told him to tell Sue Beth what he told me…what he thought he told me. Then, natcherly, Sue Beth told me what Earl told her.” Pappy Darcy bit his lip and held back tears. “I said, better take him to the police afore they find out and come git him…Sue Beth, she don’t know nothing ’bout this.”

Decker nodded.

“Then they put Earl in jail.” Pappy Darcy’s lower lip began to tremble. “I didn’t think they’d do that. I just couldn’t take none of this no more. I told Sue Beth to go to Manfred, sell the damn land. I wasn’t gonna run, no sir. But if’n we ever get out of this mess, I didn’t want this farm anymore. Once it was the Promised Land for me, God’s land of milk and honey. Not no more, misters. Not no more.”

Pappy Darcy wept openly. Hollander stood, placed his hand on the old man’s shoulder, then looked at Decker. Granny Darcy came out again, stared at her sobbing husband. Decker assured her he was fine, but the old woman
couldn’t take her eyes off of her mate. A minute passed before anyone spoke. Eventually, Pappy Darcy noticed his wife, beckoned her to him, and hugged her. She buried her face in his shirt.

“She ain’t evil,” Pappy Darcy said. “She’s just not right in the head anymore.”

“My trust is in my husband and the Lord Jesus,” she said, looking up. “You can’t do nothin’ to us.”

“Be polite, woman,” Pappy Darcy scolded her quietly. Granny Darcy lowered her head and stared at her feet. The old man looked at Hollander and asked, “You gonna arrest her?”

Hollander nodded. Pappy Darcy turned his attention to Decker.

“You gonna arrest me, too?”

“Yes,” Decker answered.

“And Earl?”

“It’s best if you all come down to the station,” Decker said. “Try and clear up the situation.”

“What’s gonna happen to us, Mister Policeman?” Pappy Darcy asked.

Decker didn’t rightly know, and he told Pappy Darcy just that.

Byron Howard was tending his supers, pouring raw honey into a big ceramic vat. The sunlight bounced off the streams of molten gold, scattered onto the fields. A steady hum of apiarian activity punctuated the summer air. Byron worked slowly, taking his time. Dressed in veil and gloves, the beekeeper didn’t pay attention to the approaching steps, didn’t bother turning around until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He pivoted, looked up, and locked eyes with Decker, waiting for the policeman to speak.

“It’s all over for the Darcys,” Decker said. “Want to know what happened?”

“None of my business,” Byron said.

“You’re sure about that?” Decker said.

Byron didn’t answer.

“You know I had coffee with Annette last week,” Decker said. “She told me you owned a twenty-gauge shotgun. A Browning, I think she said.”

Decker could see the beekeeper tense. But he remained silent.

“Mind if I take a look at it?” Decker asked.

Byron didn’t speak for a long time. Eventually, he said, “Go ahead. Darlene knows where I keep it.”

“Thanks,” Decker said. “Just one more thing. Annette told me you don’t like handguns, that handguns were for shooting people and not animals.”

Byron didn’t answer.

“That true?” Decker asked.

“Yes.”

“Yet your wife used to talk about pistol-whipping Linda—”

“Darlene had nothing to do with them murders!” Byron blurted out. Then he turned red-faced.

“Oh, I don’t think for a moment she did,” Decker said. “But it just got me thinking. That’s a strange expression for a lady to use if she doesn’t have a pistol. Now, nothing is registered to any Howards, but maybe, just maybe, you have an unregistered handgun around your place….”

“Get off my property!”
Byron screamed out.

“No, Byron, I don’t want to,” Decker said. “Now why don’t you and I go into your house and take a look around?”

Byron didn’t budge, but his hands dropped to his sides, his gaze sweeping over his feet.

“Byron?” Decker said.

“I kin give you my Browning,” Byron hesitated, then said, “But I ain’t got no pistol.”

“Where is it?” Decker asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Would Darlene know where it was?” Decker asked.

“Darlene?” Byron jerked his head up. “I told you she don’t know nothing about it.”

“About what?”

Byron shook his head.

“What did you do with the gun, Byron?”

Suddenly, the old, leathery face crumpled. His lower lip began to tremble, his eyes dammed back pools of water.

“What’d you do with it?” Decker repeated.

“I gave it to Linda,” Byron choked out. “She came to me about two weeks ago. Said…said that she was breaking it off with Luke.” He heaved a deep sigh. “I was happy…Lord forgive me, but I was happy. Then…” Tears streamed down his face. “Then she asked if she could borrow Darlene’s gun. I asked what she needed a gun for, and she told me she was afraid of Luke. I offered to come down with her when she told him it was over, but she said no…. Mule-headed woman, she said no.”

“So you gave her the gun,” Decker said.

“I didn’t think nothing would happen.”

“She asked you for the
gun
,” Decker said. “You didn’t think she might
shoot
Luke with it?”

“I didn’t think she meant nothin’ bad.” His voice sounded like the bleat of a lamb.

“You didn’t
care
!” Decker yelled. “All you wanted was Luke out of the way so you could have Linda.”

“I
loved
her,” Byron wailed out. Then he buried his head in his hands and sobbed.

“Right,” Decker whispered to himself. What was the point of telling him that Linda had wanted only his sperm? That Linda probably went to him for the gun because she knew that if the gun were ever traced back to the Howards, old lovesick Byron would have gone to jail before condemning his former lover. People using other people. Decker tried to
muster up some indignation, but his self-righteousness felt hollow and flat.

And in the background all Decker heard was the pathetic cry of
Linda, Linda, Linda
.

Horses from Griffith
Park had got loose, were galloping in and out of traffic. The Golden State Freeway was closed off until they could be rounded up and trailered. All lanes were being detoured to surface streets. Horns blared as cars, trucks, and semis ground to a halt. After a half hour, the unmarked’s air-conditioning keeled over and died. Marge sneaked a sidelong glance at Decker. He seemed placid, but she still felt bad about dragging him out on his day off.

“Sorry about this,” she said.

“Not your fault,” Decker answered.

“Not a great way to spend your free time.”

“You’re right about that,” Decker said. But his voice was light.

He was in a fine mood despite traffic. His last phone conversation with Rina had been wonderful. Once again, she assured him that Abel hadn’t come between them, that she’d even forgiven Abel for what he’d done. Anybody that desperate doesn’t deserve hatred, she’d remarked sadly. She’d also felt good about her judgment. Something deep inside had told her he hadn’t any intention of hurting her. She’d been glad she’d listened to her intuition. Decker felt her resolution with Abel was gratifying, but what had been
most rewarding about the conversation was the love she’d expressed for him. They were destined for each other. It was
basheert
—fate. She’d known that the minute she had laid eyes on him. It had just taken her time to admit it to herself.

Just thinking of her words gave him a lump in his throat. He peered out the side window at the multicolored metal ribbon in front of him. “Screw this, Margie. Ride on the shoulder and let’s get out of here.”

She did just that until she was stopped by a Highway Patrol car. They flashed the CHP officer their gold badges and told him they’d just been patched to an emergency call. The chippy was a young buck, anxious to do a good job. With a very serious look on his face, he escorted them to the next available off-ramp.

After they’d exited, they both laughed.

“One of the few perks of this job, eh?” Marge said. “You know where we are? I always get lost around this area.”

“We’re not too far from the academy,” Decker said. “Just go straight here, the road parallels the park. Do me a favor, Marge. As long as we had to exit, hang a right onto Los Feliz—I have some business in Hollywood I should take care of. You mind a half-hour delay?”

“Firing range ain’t going nowhere,” Marge said.

“Thanks,” Decker said. But Marge’s face looked tense. Decker told himself that she’d get over it, she was just a little anxious about getting back on the job. Had to prove herself. He hadn’t realized how insecure she was until she had suggested a trip to the range. She’d tried to sound casual, but her voice had been saturated with uncertainty. Decker agreed to tag along.

Marge rode through the park’s mountainous turns, past shaded picnic grounds and the old-fashioned pony ride—through acres of greenery until the winding lane merged into Los Feliz Boulevard. She drove westward, past rows of well-kept residential buildings. Behind, the hillside was
stacked with split-level homes. As she crossed Vermont, the apartments yielded to stately mansions occupying acre lots on grassy knolls. On her left were gated communities where old Hollywood wealth used to reside. But now the area, resting in a smog-soaked basin of L.A., had lost some of its luster, fighting the aging process like an old-time movie queen.

“Where to, Jiggs?” Marge asked.

“Follow Los Feliz until it becomes Western,” Decker said.

“What time’s the Darcy arraignment?” Marge asked.

“Lou Nixon said some time in the late afternoon.”

“We won’t make it back on time,” Marge said.

“Hollander will be there,” Decker said.

“What’s Lou shooting for?” Marge asked.

“Ultimately, probation for Pappy and Earl,” Decker said. “And Earl and Katie to be placed with Sue Beth. As for ole Granny Darcy?” He shrugged. “Some sort of psych. eval. and treatment. Family’s totally fucked up. The only one who gains anything at all is Manfred. Sue Beth told me the Howards sold out right after the Darcys. Manfred’s already moving in the rigs. Seems they applied for drilling rights a long time ago, even before they owned the property. All the paperwork’s in. Just waiting for the final stamp of approval.”

“They could be protested.”

“By whom?” Decker said. “There’s no one left out there. Even Chip sold out to Manfred. And who could blame him? Not exactly a hoot slinging beers to hopped-up bikers. They’ve all taken the money and run.”

Western Avenue was a succession of cheap motels, take-out joints, and liquor stores. The seediest part of Hollywood. A perfect place to live if you wanted to dwell in chronic depression. The unmarked weaved in and out of traffic.

Marge said, “Manfred moving in like that. It stinks.”

“It’s what they call in business an opportunistic situation,” Decker said. “Turn right on Hollywood.”

The unmarked whizzed by boarded buildings papered with movie posters, passed an empty arcade welcoming minors, boasting fun for all. Decker told Marge to slow down when they hit the Sunset overpass.

“Turn left at the next light, park in the lot, I’ll pay.”

Marge pulled the unmarked into an empty space, received a ticket from an Iranian attendant. She faced Decker and said, “Make it quick, huh? Your old buddy isn’t a good influence on you.”

Decker said, “You just don’t want to burn your ass sitting in a hot car.”

“That, too.”

“Want to come up?”

Marge said, “And what would you do if I said yes?”

Decker smiled. “I’d be stuck.”

They both got out of the car. Marge said, “Think I’ll take a walk, buy a Coke. Can I get you anything?”

Decker shook his head. “Be careful out there.”

Marge smiled, but it was a perturbed look. Decker said, “Just a phrase, Margie. You’re quite capable of kicking ass if you want to.”

“I don’t know, Pete,” Marge said.

Decker stopped her in her tracks. He placed his hands on her shoulder, looked her in the eye. She was a fine-looking woman, smart and sexy in all the right places. Often, he wondered why he had never made a move on her, and decided it was because he needed a friend more than a lover. Well, he certainly had a friend in Marge, and no way he was going to let some scumbag take her away from him.

“Trust me, Margie?”

“Look, Pete,” she said, “I know you mean well, but I’m not in the mood for a pep talk—”

“Shut up,” Decker said. “Just answer one question, okay? You trust me?”

“Not entirely.”

“Good,” Decker said. “Never trust anyone entirely. But
trust me on this one. You’ll be all right.” He pointed a finger at her. “You’re going to take something out of this and come out better for it.”

“And when do we get to the part where I save the entire city single-handedly?”

“You’re not an easy person to console, Detective Dunn.”

She shrugged. “Never bullshit a bullshitter.”

He removed his hands from her shoulder, held them up in the air. “Go at it at your own pace. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re still on my tag team.”

Marge smiled. “Thanks. Now go make your peace with your ex-rape-o friend.”

“Friend is good enough,” Decker said.

Abel was staring out the window when Decker walked in. Still gazing outside, he asked Decker, “Who’s the broad?”

“My partner.”

“Nice-looking. Big. Even from up here, she looks big.”

“She’s big.”

“A lot to hold on to,” Abel said. “Think she’d be interested in fucking a gimp with a ten-incher?”

“I don’t know,” Decker said. “But she knows about your case. That might bias her against you.”

“It should have gone to trial,” Abel said.

“Myra dropped the charges,” Decker said. “She wasn’t about to accuse her own mother of assault. There was nothing left to try, Abe. The files got messed up after the primary field investigator died. Be grateful for what you have.”

Abel turned to face Decker. “What I should have had was a declaration of innocence. That’s not the same as having the charges dropped.”

“You’re not running for office, Abe. What difference does it make?”

“It makes a difference to your lady friend out there.”

“She’s a cop,” Decker said. “She’s suspicious of anyone who uses hookers.”

Silence.

Decker said, “Want to know the giveaway?”

“What?”

“The old lady’s airline ticket,” Decker said. “Myra kept saying Mama came in after she was attacked, but her mother’s ticket said she actually left for Detroit the night of the rape on a ten
P.M
. flight. She must have paid Myra a surprise visit in the wee hours of that fateful morn and didn’t like what she saw. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Abel shook his head. “Stupid bitch cuts up her own kid because she’s turning tricks. And I’m the one who gets screwed.” He hobbled over to his refrigerator and pulled out two ice-cold bottles of beer.

“At least you’re a free man,” Decker said.

“Yeah,” Abel said. He placed the beer on the corner kitchen table. “Yeah, I am. Thanks, Doc. Thanks a lot.”

“Don’t mention it.” Decker sat down and drank half a bottle. “Look…I keep thinking that one of us should have tried a little harder. That we let too much shit get in the way. What do you think?”

“I think, Doc, that we’re like an old love affair.” Abel sat down at the table. “Some good memories and a lot of bad ones. But with it all, there’s still a little bit of macho male-pair bonding-type love, know what I’m saying?”

“Yep.”

“So let’s leave it at that,” Abel said. “Your wife-to-be wrote me a gracious letter, returned my Nam picture. But she wrote about you and me in past tense—what kind of friends we
were
.” Abel let out a small laugh. “Subtle but effective. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised she wrote to me at all.”

“Rina’s a very special lady.”

“That’s for sure.”

There was more awkward silence.

Decker said, “You call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Always.” Abel took his beer and returned to the window. They drank for several minutes, Decker at the table, Abel staring out the window. Decker wondered how many hours Abel spent looking at life passing him by.

Eventually, Abel said, “Your partner’s back. Swinging some fine hips. What were you conferring about out there?”

“Business.”

“Where’re you guys off to?”

“Shooting range at the academy.” Decker hesitated, then said, “She had some trouble a week ago. Some asshole tried to bash her head in. Her confidence needs a little bolstering. I was giving her a pep talk. I don’t think she bought everything I was saying. But if she bought some of it, that’s good enough.”

Abel didn’t answer right away. Eventually, he said, “That woman out there. Know what she is?”

“What?”

“She’s your new macho love affair, Doc,” Abel said. “Go out and create some memories with her. Leave the past behind.”

“Sage words,” Decker said. He stood from the table. “Maybe you should follow them.”

“I should,” Abel said. “But I won’t.”

They exchanged weak smiles.

Then they embraced.