Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 03 Page 13
“What kind of wholesale outlets?” Decker pressed.
Annette washed her hands, dried them on her apron, and took a seat. “Oh, Karrol’s restaurant decided they liked our muffins. And we just got lucky on an account with Tucker’s Pancake House. I’m real proud of that one.”
Marge looked at Decker, raised her brow. He knew what she was saying. Between the two chains, that was about twenty-five restaurants in the L.A. area alone. But neither one voiced the comment out loud. Annette kept talking.
“We’re marketed under Howard’s Honey Farms and Bakeries.”
“You have any competition from the other honey farms?” Decker asked.
Annette said, “Well, there are the bigger honey farms down near Lancaster…and up in Ventura. But here in Sagebrush, it’s just us and the Darcys now. They live ’bout two miles down the—”
“More cake, Mister Detective?” Darlene broke in. “You’re almost done.”
“Thank you, Darlene,” Decker said. “And some tea, if you don’t mind.”
“’Course,” Darlene said.
“The Darcys are good friends of yours?” Marge asked.
“No,” Darlene answered. “At least some of them aren’t.”
“Now, Darl—” Annette said.
“Let’s put it this way,” Darlene said. “Pappy Darcy is a fine man. But he’s had a lot of trouble from his children.”
Annette looked down. Darlene squeezed her lips together until they disappeared into white lines. A moment later, she blurted out, “Pappy D.’s son has a wife that is pure devil, and I don’t mean that lightly, I can tell you that.”
“In what way?” Marge asked.
Darlene went deep red. Decker saw it and asked, “How ’bout that tea, Darlene?”
Darlene nodded, her hands were shaking. “Right away.” She served them two frosted tumblers of tea. Decker drank his in six gulps.
“It sure is good tea, isn’t it, Detective Dunn?” Decker said. “What’s in here that makes it so special?”
“Honey,” Annette said.
“Well, I know there’s honey in it,” Decker said. “But there’s something else…ginger, maybe?”
“You’ve got a good palate, Mister Detective,” Darlene said. “We sell our tea, also.”
I bet you do, Decker thought. He said, “So you and Pappy Darcy are the only honey farms left, huh?”
“Only ’cause that greedy witch hasn’t had her way,” Darlene said. “She’s been trying to get Pappy D to sell out those builders.”
“Manfred?” Marge asked.
“Yeah,” Annette said. “Those are the ones.”
“They’ve been creating a lot of mischief around town,” Marge added.
“They’re building all over the place,” Decker said. “Making lots of people mad.”
“Well, I can tell you that Pappy H was fit to be tied when Pappy Willard sold out to them,” Annette said. “Pappy H and Pappy D tried to talk him out of it, even offered to buy up his land, but they couldn’t compete with the price that Manfred was offering them.”
“What are they planning to build on the land?” Decker asked.
“I don’t know,” Darlene said. “No one does. Land’s just sitting out there, doin’ nothing. No cows, no sheep. The clover hasn’t been turned over in a year. It’s a mess.” Darlene wiped her mouth. “Boy, when the witch found out the price Manfred paid Pappy Willard, she started working on poor Luke to get Pappy D to sell and hasn’t let up since. Day in, day out—”
“Now how do you know that?” Annette said.
“Things get around,” Darlene said. “Things get around.”
“Darl, for being such a Christian, you sure don’t turn the other cheek,” Annette said.
“I’m a fine Christian,” Darlene said. “I just know the Devil when I see him…or her.”
Annette said, “You could at least call her Linda instead of the witch all the time. You know, it’s gotten so that the kids call her the witch to her face.”
“Well, that’s what she is,” Darlene said. “A refill, Mister Detective?”
Decker nodded.
“How ’bout you, miss?” she asked Marge.
Miss? “Thank you,” Marge said.
“A witch is a witch,” Darlene said. “And if it was you, you’d think she was a witch also.”
“I’m not calling Linda an angel,” Annette said. “She was wrong to do what she did.”
“Darn right she was wrong.” Darlene angrily poured tea from a ribbed glass pitcher until the brown liquid sloshed over the rims of the tumblers. “She did what she did ’cause she’s a witch. Can’t get away from what you are.”
“I just don’t think it’s a good Christian example for the kids to hear you carry on,” Annette said, mopping up the spill with her napkin.
“And I mebbe don’t care about what you think,” Darlene said.
“Well, you might care, if only for the sake of the kids.”
“The kids are just fine, thank you.”
Darlene sat down stiffly and clasped her hands tightly. Annette bit her thumbnail. A moment later, Annette reached out for Darlene’s hand.
“We bicker a lot,” Annette said. “But that don’t mean we don’t love each other.”
Decker smiled.
“More cake?” Darlene offered. Her voice was shaky.
Decker said, “No thank you.”
Marge said, “It sure was delicious. Would you part with the recipe?”
It was Decker’s turn to cough. Marge’s idea of baking was microwaving a frozen coffee cake.
Marge added, “If it’s not a family secret. My granny has a recipe for Christmas fruitcake that she wouldn’t part with even if Jesus came down from heaven and asked her for it in person.”
Darlene smiled tightly. “Well, you don’t have to be Jesus to get the recipe here.”
“Matter of fact,” Decker said, “might be a good idea to give Detective Dunn some of your other favorite recipes. Her cooking could use it.”
“This is true,” Marge said.
“One of the reasons she can’t find a man.”
Marge covered her mouth with her hand. Pete was spreading it thick. But, as always, they were thinking along the same lines. Both of them wanted to split the women up. She’d work over Darlene, while Decker pumped the young one. After the last interchange, the gals would remain muzzled as long as they were together.
Marge said, “Well, my cooking could stand a little help.”
Darlene said, “I’d be delighted to share my cooking secrets with you.”
“Why don’t we go in another room where it’s quiet and you can explain to me exactly how you make your dishes?” Marge said.
“What about the police business?” Darlene said.
“If it means an improvement in Detective Dunn’s cooking, it can wait.”
Marge threw him a mock dirty look.
Darlene said, “Then come on. I’ll get us some pieces of paper.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Annette whispered, “Please don’t judge Darl too harshly.”
“I take it that Byron and Linda had a little something going,” Decker said.
“It was awful,” Annette said. “Just plain awful. The way Darl talks about it, you’d think it happened yesterday instead of four years ago. She still talks about going over there and pistol-whippin’ Linda—” Annette stopped talking for a moment. “’Course, she don’t mean it.”
“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 a
t that mo-tel 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 mo-tel 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.
&nbs
p; “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.”