“Because they’re mules, Marge. They get ideas into their heads and nothing will budge them. My dad’s that way. So is yours, from what you’ve told me. Ever say anything that changed his mind once it was set?”

Marge shook her head.

“Stubborn is their middle name,” Decker said.

“Think Howard’s hiding something?” Marge asked.

“He could be.” Decker paused. “Or he’s just a wary guy. Obviously, he hasn’t had friendly exchanges with some developer—”

“Manfred?”

“Probably.”

Marge said, “I wish he’d talk to us.”

“That’s the way these people work,” Decker said. “They’re stubborn and secretive. Howard’s determined to keep his mouth shut, but he wants us to find Sally. So he sends us over to the women. And a little birdie’s tweeting in my ear that we’re going to discover important info over iced tea and honey cake.”

10

Like a tackle, the woman blocked the front entrance of the farmhouse. Her body said, Just try to get past the door, mister. Thick arms were folded across a bosomy chest, feet stretched apart and planted solidly on the floor. Her face was round and flushed and held muddy blue eyes and an incongruously small button nose. Her hair was black streaked with silver and tied back into a braided knot. She wore a short-sleeved gingham dress, most of the green checkered print concealed by a white baker’s apron. Cloyingly sweet air was pouring out through the threshold.

“Yes?” she said.

“I’m looking for Darlene Howard,” Decker said.

“Yes,” she repeated.

Decker said, “The mister told us we were welcome to some iced tea and honey cake.”

“Who are you?”

“Police, ma’am,” Decker said, showing his badge.

The woman studied the gold shield and ID card. “You’re from the other side of the mountain.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Decker drawled.

“What are you doing here?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” Decker said.

“And Byron sent you here?” the woman said.

“If Byron is Mr. Howard, he did, ma’am,” Decker said.

The woman’s eyes landed on Marge. “Who’s she?”

Marge opened her purse to find her badge, but Decker gently placed his hand upon hers. “This is Detective Dunn.”

“She like your partner?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Decker said.

The stout woman stared at Marge.

“You married?” she asked.

“What?” Marge said.

“You married?” the woman repeated.

“To him?” Marge said, looking at Decker.

“To him, to anyone,” the woman pressed.

Marge hesitated, then said, “No, ma’am.”

The woman said. “An unmarried woman shouldn’t be workin’ with no man. Tempts the devil in him.”

Decker said, “The city has lots of room for temptation, no doubt about that.”

Marge turned around and rolled her eyes. What was the point of all this bullshit? Show the bitch the damn picture. But Pete acted as if he had all the time in the world.