“Stupid girl. I told her to be careful. Then it happened and she never forgave me for doing the right thing.” Hetty stared at the bacon. “She called me an underhanded bitch and a liar. I told her to save her epithets for her father. He was the one who deserved them.”

“How’d you get her to do it?” Decker asked. “Did you drug her?”

“She thought she was going in for a routine examination. She never had an exam before, so she didn’t ask questions when the doctor put her to sleep. I meant the best.” Hetty took out an iron skillet, placed it on the stove, and threw the diced bacon inside the pan. Seconds passed and the fat began to sizzle. “When’s this Social Service Department supposed to get here?”

Decker looked at Marge, who was still on the phone.

“Soon, I hope.” The bundle in Decker’s arms suddenly felt leaden. He realized the baby was sleeping and placed her gently over his shoulder. “How far along was Tandy in her pregnancy when she had her abortion?”

“Tandy told everyone it was six months.” Hetty stared at the skillet. “But it was much earlier than that. Tandy and her overactive imagination. It wouldn’t have worked.”

“Who was the father?”

“Some crazy flouncy photographer. He was just as relieved by Tandy’s abortion as I was. He wanted nothing to do with the kid.” She paused. “Even if he wanted the kid, it wouldn’t have worked. With that kind of father, no matter what you do, it won’t work.”

“By ‘that kind of father,’ do you mean a bisexual?”

“Yes. And don’t start looking at me as if I’m from the Dark Ages. They can’t be helped. They may start out with good intentions, but in the end they’re not father material, no matter how hard they try. I know from experience.”

“Your husband has AIDS, Mrs. Roberts?” Decker asked.

“Yes, Detective, my husband has AIDS.”

34

“How many times do we have to go over this?” Tandy flipped black satin off her shoulders. “I don’t know anything about this baby!”

Marge felt hot and sticky underneath her cotton blazer. The interview room had air-conditioning, so the heat had to be a result of internal fuel. She felt sweat pouring into the pads underneath her armpits. It wasn’t the first time she had conducted interviews that had made her perspire, but over the years she’d gotten smart. If she was going to sweat, she might as well prevent her jacket from requiring an expensive dry cleaning.

“Out of ten million people in the greater Los Angeles area, Marie Bellson just happened to choose your parents?”

“What can I tell you?” Tandy responded.

Silence.

That was cool. Pure control.