“Why’re you asking me these silly questions? As long as Marie lived with me, she didn’t have a baby. Just abortions. Must have had three before she left for Berkeley. I don’t know what was so hard that she couldn’t get the pill right. I suppose Jesus did what the pill couldn’t do. Gave her self-respect. Other gods couldn’t do that. She went through lots of gods—blue gods, hermaphrodite gods, gods with eight arms, fat gods. She finally settled on Jesus. Probably ’cause he was wiry and cute.”

Decker forced himself to remain impassive.

Lita shrugged. “I mean that. Look at all the cute boys in the sixties. All of them thin, wearing raggedy clothes and beards. All of them wanted to be Jesus—from Jim Morrison down to Charlie Manson. That’s kids for you.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head the other way. “You got some Milk Duds or anything like that?”

“Sorry, no.”

“I’m tired. Come back tomorrow, and we’ll talk some more.” A small bony hand touched Decker’s arm. “Do me a favor, handsome. When you come back, bring me a four-pack of butterscotch pudding?”

“You bet, Lita.”

“You’re a peach.” Lita turned her head and dozed off to another lifetime.

Decker waited a few moments before leaving. Though Lita’s memory wasn’t on the firmest ground, she sounded convincing when she talked about her daughter’s past. Decker believed that if Marie, while living with her mother, had had a baby, Lita would have known about it. Unless either she or Tandy were lying about their ages, Marie couldn’t be Tandy’s biological mother.

So just why was Marie so strongly attached to Tandy? So much so that Darlene Jamison said Marie treated Tandy like her own kid. Lita’s words ran in his ears.

Fanatically loyal.

Maybe Marie had made up her mind to mother Tandy. Then Tandy rejected her, and she cracked.

Grasping at straws.

Decker checked his watch and stood: McKay should be back by now. But when he went to the front desk, the receptionist informed him that Leek had just left a moment ago. He wasn’t feeling well.

The nurse was still explaining McKay’s symptoms, but Decker didn’t wait to hear the full medical report. He dashed out the front door and spied a navy Cressida pulling out of its parking space. Sprinting, Decker jumped on the hood just as the car slipped from Reverse to Drive. Immediately, the driver slammed on the brakes, almost throwing Decker to the ground. But he managed to hold on. The motor fell dead; the driver’s door opened and slammed shut. The man who emerged was medium height but as solid as a concrete divider. He had thin chestnut hair and coarse-looking skin, which at this moment was beet red.