“I’ll get you some honey cake,” Darlene said. Her fingers brushed against Decker’s shoulder.

“Sure smells fine in here,” Decker said.

“Bet you say that to all the people you visit,” Darlene said.

Decker thought of his routine calls: women who’d been raped, often beaten as well, kids who’d been physically and sexually abused, underaged punks who, while flying high on Jim Jones or dust, had pumped Grandma full of lead.

“No, I don’t say that to all the people I visit,” he said, smoothing his mustache. “And that’s no lie.”

Darlene placed two slices of honey cake in front of them. Decker tasted a forkful of the mocha-colored wedge. He chewed slowly. Marge wondered how he could masticate for so long.

“Well?” Darlene asked.

“One problem with it, ma’am,” Decker said.

“And what’s that?” Darlene asked.

“The piece is too small.”

“Oh, you,” Darlene said, slapping his shoulder lightly. “I’ll give you another piece. Just finish what you got first.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Decker said.

“And how do you like it?” Darlene asked Marge.

“Delicious,” Marge said. It was the truth. The cake was almost too rich and moist to eat. Like drinking cream.

“Well, sit down and join us, ladies,” Decker said. “Me and my partner don’t like to eat alone.”

“I suppose we could use a break,” Darlene said. She wiped her forehead with a white cotton towel. “Though Lord knows, I’m tired of honey cake.”

“We sell it,” Annette said.

“I’m not surprised,” Marge said. “It’s terrific.”

Darlene said, “We sell cakes, cupcakes, cookies, syrups, jellies…just about anything that you can make with honey.”

“Who do you sell your products to?” Decker asked.

“Nobody too special,” Darlene said. “Just a few people here and there.” She paused and shrugged. “A few wholesale outlets.”

Decker recognized the feigned nonchalant tone in Darlene’s voice, knew instantly she was trying to downplay the business. Same breezy timber his father had adapted if you asked him about the state of his finances. Ask Lyle Decker about money, and his stock answer was “Can’t complain.” The hardware store had been good to him, netted him a few bucks in the bank. What Lyle wouldn’t tell you was that the store had netted him enough money to buy up Florida land that was later sold to Disney Corporation. His few bucks in the bank were more like a few million bucks.

“What kind of wholesale outlets?” Decker pressed.

Annette washed her hands, dried them on her apron, and took a seat. “Oh, Karrol’s restaurant decided they liked our muffins. And we just got lucky on an account with Tucker’s Pancake House. I’m real proud of that one.”