“Left me flat when I was three months pregnant,” Betty said. “Asshole tells me to keep it ’cause he’s gonna marry me, right? Then he just disappears. Come home one day and all his things’re gone from my place. That was it! Hunnerd and fifty bucks out of my pocket to fix up my problem!” Betty folded the towel and began wiping the counter. “No more bikers for me, I can tell you that! Ever!”

“Any reason for his sudden departure?” Marge asked.

“’Nother woman, probably.”

“Linda Darcy?”

Betty’s eyes narrowed, her lips turned ghostly white. She let out a string of obscenities directed at Linda. What Marge finally learned was that Rolland was screwing many women, but Linda seemed to be a unique problem.

“He akchilly told me he loved her!” Betty cried out. “He wanted to marry her, can you believe that! Walks out on me after knocking me up to marry some fancy broad with fancy jeans and a fancy chest.” She paused to catch her breath. “Fucking around is one thing. Guys just do that. Like I knowed Rolland was screwing Carla, but that was different. I mean, Carla was just a friendly girl. But Linda was above it all. Miss Perfect Princess. Tell Rolland he can drop dead if he wants bail money. Tell him to go ask Princess Linda for the money.”

Then Marge broke the bad news.

Betty clutched her chest, leaned against the countertop for support. It took her around a minute before the tears came. She cried for her Rolland, wailed how she loved him. Marge hugged her, waited until her sobs turned to sniffs, then slowly exited the shop. Over her shoulder, Marge took a final look at Betty. She was still sniffing, her eyes moist and red. But grief hadn’t interfered with her job. She did her chores swiftly, hopping from table to table, refilling salt shakers, muttering to herself as she worked.

Decker had an hour to kill before his three o’clock court appearance. He called home, but Rina didn’t answer. He debated running out to the ranch to make sure everything was okay, but decided that was foolish. She’d probably gone over to the yeshiva to visit old friends. Or maybe she was shopping. Decker had left her the keys to the Porsche.

The hell with it, he thought. She could take care of herself. He’d have to trust her.