Decker tossed Marge a tired smile, then looked at the baby. In her tiny face, he saw his own daughter—helpless and dependent. Thank God this part was over!

“Great work, Detective Dunn. Really top-notch!”

Marge dialed the phone. “Yeah, sometimes you get the breaks. How’s the kid?”

“Seems to be well cared for.” Decker smiled at the infant. “Little girl, you’ve just made a lot of people very, very happy.” He returned his attention to Marge. “Don’t get too complacent. Marie Bellson’s still missing, and we’ve still got a homicide on our hands.”

“At least it belongs to us and not the feds.” Marge spoke into the receiver. “This is Detective Dunn from Foothill Division. I need to talk to someone in Juvey right away. It’s an emergency.” She looked at Decker. “What do you think about Mama?”

“She looks exactly like Marie,” Decker said. “I mean exactly.”

“Think they’re related?”

“Could be. Or maybe old Geoff went for the same type of woman.” Decker shook his head. “Can you imagine the interaction that went on in both Tandy’s and Marie’s minds when they met up? Marie must have known Tandy was her ex-lover’s daughter by her name. Maybe Marie felt guilty. She remembered Tandy as this cute little girl, and she turned into an unbalanced adult who was grossly obese and pathetically shy. And then there was Tandy. She must have taken one look at Marie and seen the benevolent young mother she never had. Maybe in the recesses of her warped mind, she thought Marie was her mother.”

“She got fed up with one mom, tried Marie, then got fed up with her as well.” Marge returned her attention to the phone, explaining the situation to the detective on the other end of the line.

The bedroom door opened. Emerging from the hallway was a shriveled man in a wheelchair pushed by Hetty. He was bald and painfully thin, his bony wrist and fingers clinging tightly to the blanket on his lap. His dark eyes were sunken; his skin was bilious and translucent.

Hetty said, “Say hello, Geoff.”

“Geraldo,” he whispered.

“Geraldo is what your parents called you, sweetheart,” Hetty said. “It was your barrio name, Geoffrey. Why you’d want to go back to it is beyond me. But your behavior has always confused me. Look where it got you.” She looked at Decker and Marge. “Can you imagine this man was once dubbed the stud of Berkeley’s English department?”

“Hetty—”

“Sweetheart, I don’t see any of your paramours running to minister to you. Or am I missing something?”

Roberts lowered his chin to his breast.

Hetty said, “When Geoff got sick, who came to help him? Did Beth or Jeanie or Pat or Marie come?”

Roberts’s mouth began to quiver.

“Who came, sweetheart?” Hetty asked.

“You,” Roberts whispered.