“So do I,” Decker answered.

Howard said, “And whachu mean by that, boy?”

“Just what I said,” Decker said. “I mean to locate this kid’s parents. Recognize her?”

Howard looked at his feet and kicked the ground absently. He said, “Go into the big house. The women are in the kitchen, jarring honey. Ask ’em ’bout the kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Howard,” Decker said.

“Whenchu find her?” Howard asked.

“’Bout a day ago.”

“Where?”

“Over the hill.”

“In L.A.?”

“Yep.”

“She okay?”

“Yep,” said Decker.

Howard placed his hat back on his egg head. He said, “Tell Darlene to give you a piece of honey cake. Darlene’s my wife. And tell her to get you a pitcher of ice-tea, too, boy. You’re sweating like a chained bull.”

Decker said, “It’s hot out here.”

“Specially in that suit,” Howard said.

“You ain’t kiddin’,” Decker said.

“You ken take off your jacket,” Howard said. “It don’t impress me none.”

“Then I think I will,” Decker said. He removed his jacket.

Howard waved them away and headed in the direction of the pine boxes. A scented breeze perfumed the air. On top of the farmhouse, a Chinaman whirled furiously. A V-shaped formation of sparrows soared through the liquid sky.

“Let’s go,” Decker said.

“You shut me up,” Marge said angrily.

“Yes, I did.”

“He knows who she is,” Marge said.

“Of course he knows who she is,” Decker said. “And if he wanted to tell us, he would have. Apparently, he finds it more acceptable for us to be informed by the womenfolk.”

“I don’t like to have my feet stepped on.”

Decker slung his jacket over his shoulder and threw his free arm around Marge. “I’m sorry I shut you up, but I know these guys. They haven’t heard of the women’s movement.”

“Where’d you learn how to drawl, Pete?”

“Gainesville has its share of southerners. I grew up with hundreds like our pal Mr. Howard. He’s nothing more than a transplanted good ole boy. Lots of them in this area. Don’t believe me, just step into the tack and grain shop off Foothill Boulevard and listen a while. You’d swear you were in rural America. We just don’t come into contact with the farmers because they’re usually good law-abidin’ citizens. But just step on their toes, try pushing them around. You’ll wind up with a butt full of buckshot.”

Marge said, “Well, I’d certainly like to give Mr. Howard an enema with my thirty-eight.”

Decker smiled, drew his arm away. “Don’t let him get to you, Detective Dunn. These guys are a species unto themselves.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us who the kid was?” Marge said.