Darlene asked, “What’s this all about, Nettie?”

“Well, I don’t rightly know,” Annette answered.

Decker said, “Katie Darcy was found two days ago wandering around a residential area just over the mountain. We’ve been trying to locate her parents. Now that we’ve found them, Detective Dunn and I are going to pay them a little visit. The both of you have been very helpful. Thank you.”

Darlene glanced at Annette, then at Decker. “The witch is a witch. But she never leaves that kid out of her sight for a second.”

“That’s what your sister-in-law told me,” Decker said.

“Then what’s going on?” Darlene probed.

“That’s what we’re hoping to find out, Mrs. Howard,” Marge said.

Darlene frowned.

The kitchen became silent. A minute passed. This time, Annette started to pick her nails. Darlene massaged her hands.

Decker said, “It might be better if we waited by another extension in the house. That way we won’t disturb your work.”

“I won’t hear of it,” Darlene insisted. “Sit down. I’ll get you some more ice-tea.”

Marge said, “Thank you, Mrs. Howard—”

“Darlene,” she said. “Everyone calls me Darlene.”

More silence. Annette fidgeted, then got up and turned on the radio. Don Williams was singing about Tulsa Time. Decker hummed along.

Annette smiled at him. “And here I thought you were faking the drawl and everything just to get us to talk.”

Decker laughed.

Annette retied her hair. “I like Don Williams. Has such a pretty voice.”

Decker nodded.

“Darlene met George Jones once,” Annette said.

“Oh, Nettie!”

“Go ahead and tell them,” Annette prodded.

“It was nothing,” Darlene said. “It was twenty years ago.”

“Tell them anyway,” Annette said.

“Well,” Darlene said, breathily, “Byron was playing backup guitar for an old act called the Pineridge Boys at the Palomino. You know ’bout the Palomino?”

“On Lankershim,” Marge said.

“Yeah,” Darlene said. “He used to play bluegrass. My Lord, this was a long time ago. Anyway, who should be in the audience but George Jones. Without Tammy, I might add. I thought I’d die when he came up to Byron and me afterward. He said Byron was a real fine picker.” Darlene sighed. “But Byron’s duty was to his pappy and the farm. Never even thought one minute about being anything else.”

Darlene picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the cauldron. “It was a long time ago.”

The quiet became noticeable again.

Darlene said, “This batch is done, Nettie. Give me a hand with it.”

“Can I help?” Decker offered.

Darlene said, “You can pick up the other side and help me take it off the stove and onto that metal cooling pad.”

Decker grabbed two pot holders and lifted the cauldron himself. “Where?”

“Right behind you,” Annette said.

“Thank you, Mister Detective,” Darlene said.

“What are you cooking?” Marge asked.

“Apple-honey syrup,” Darlene said. “I gave you the recipe for it.”