He gently steered her to the back of the coffee shop. It wasn’t the tackiest place he’d ever eaten in. The smell of grease wasn’t too thick, and the flooring was clean. Someone had decorated it in earth tones rather than blaring pinks and oranges. The booths were whole—no stuffing leaking from the backs and seats—and clean, the bubble gum having been removed from under the tables. Even a few healthy ivy plants hung from the exposed ceiling beams.

“After you.” Decker pointed to a corner booth. Annette seemed nervous. Jumpy walk, and flushed even though the place was air-conditioned. Decker also noticed she’d curled her hair and put on some makeup. She wore a dark crepe dress that complemented her fair complexion, pearl studs in each earlobe, a thin gold chain around her neck. Big day on the town, or was she telling him something? Decker handed her a menu and waited a minute while she studied it.

“What can I get you?” he said.

“Uh, hamburger’s fine,” she answered.

Her voice was timid. Decker said, “Anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, then I’ll just signal the waitress—”

“Uh, french fries if it’s okay.”

“Sure.” Decker paused. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Well, coffee, if it’s no bother.”

Decker smiled. “How about coffee and a big piece of apple pie?”

Annette giggled and said, “Well, if you insist.”

“I insist.”

“Then all right.”

Decker got the waitress’s attention and ordered Annette her lunch and a refill of coffee for himself.

“You’re not eating?” Annette asked.

“Wife’s making a big dinner tonight. I don’t want to spoil my appetite.”

Decker examined her reaction. Her cheeks went a shade darker, and she lowered her head.

Life must be lonely in Sagebrush.

The waitress returned with Annette’s coffee and refilled Decker’s cup. After she left, he said, “Thanks for coming down to meet me, Annette.”

“S’ okay,” she mumbled. She drowned the coffee in cream.

“How’s Darlene doing?”

“All right, I suppose.”

“Does she talk about what happened?”

“Sure. Everyone’s talking about it.”

“What about Byron?” Decker asked.

“Byron?” Annette answered. “No, Byron doesn’t talk too much about anything, not even Linda’s death. Darlene’s got her ears open, and Byron knows it.”

Decker pulled out his notepad and said, “Yeah, Byron’s pretty quiet. Ever see him explode?”

Annette squirmed. “Maybe once or twice.”

“What’d he do?” Decker asked.

“He didn’t rant, if that’s what you mean,” Annette said. “Byron doesn’t rant. He just sort of got all bug-eyed, turned red, and went for his shotgun. He didn’t do nothing with it, but he got his point across.”

I’ll say, Decker thought. “What set him off?”

“Once it was Darlene’s naggin’. Darl can be a terrible nag, and Byron don’t like to be nagged.”