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A young-sounding voice answered after five rings. “Hello. This is the Simpson residence. Who’s calling, please?”

“Hello, my name is Dickce Ducote. I am looking for Coriander Simpson. I need to talk to her about someone she knew many years ago.”

“Hang on a minute,” the young voice said. “I got to ask my great-granny.”

Dickce waited for what seemed like five minutes but was probably less than one.

“As long as you ain’t no bill collector, my great-granny says you can come talk to her. She don’t like talking on the phone. She don’t hear so good, even with her hearing aid turned all the way up.”

Dickce smiled at the child’s words. She—or he?—was probably no more than five or six, she reckoned.

“Please thank your great-granny,” Dickce said. “You can tell her I’m not a bill collector. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“All right. I’ll tell her.” The phone clicked in Dickce’s ear.

Benjy returned a couple of minutes later with Peanut. Dickce informed him of her successful phone call, and they headed to the Simpson house.

The neighborhood appeared to be an older one. Dickce judged that the houses were at least fifty or sixty years old. Most were in good repair, with neat yards, though a few could use some fresh paint. When Benjy pulled into the driveway of the Simpson residence, Dickce noted that the house appeared better kept than some of its neighbors on the street.

Dickce spotted a little girl on the porch. She was tiny, and Dickce revised her age downward to four. She had several short braids, each fastened with a colorful bow, and she wore sneakers and a bright yellow overalls and a red T-shirt under them. She waved at Dickce as she got out of the car.

“Good afternoon,” Dickce said as she approached the porch. “I called a few minutes ago. Was it you I talked to?”

“Yes’m,” the child said. “I’m Monique. I’ll be five in three months. How old are you?”

Dickce was slightly taken aback. “I’m much older than four or five,” she said.

Monique’s attention was already diverted, Dickce realized.

“Is that your dog?” the little girl asked.

“Yes, that’s Peanut,” Dickce said. “Would you like to meet him?”

Monique nodded. “He can come in if he wants to. Great-granny likes dogs, too.”

“Does she like cats?” Dickce asked. “I have a cat, too, and she’s in the car with Peanut.”

Monique frowned. “I don’t think so. Great-granny don’t like cats.”

“All right,” Dickce said. “The cat can stay in the car.” Endora wouldn’t be happy about that, but Dickce couldn’t risk offending Great-granny.

“Excuse me a moment while I get Peanut,” Dickce said.

“Yes’m.” Monique nodded.

Dickce went back to the car and explained the situation to Benjy. He looked a bit disappointed but said, “That’s okay. I’ll stay here and keep Endora company.”

“I’m sorry, but thank you.” Dickce opened the back door. She took firm hold of the dog’s leash and guided him out.

Monique appeared slightly fearful when Peanut approached. After a moment she extended a hand, and the Labradoodle sniffed it and then licked it. Monique giggled. “That tickles.”

“Perhaps we should go in and say hello to Great-granny,” Dickce said. Monique seemed so entranced by the dog she had forgotten the reason for Dickce’s visit.

“Yes’m,” Monique said. “Y’all come right on in. Great-granny’s in here watching television.”

Dickce and Peanut followed the little girl inside the house. The interior was as neatly kept as the outside, and there was a pleasant smell of furniture wax and vanilla. Monique led them through the first doorway to the right, and said, “Here they are” in a loud voice.

An elderly, white-haired woman, encased in a shawl and covered by a crocheted blanket, turned her head in the direction of the child’s voice. Dark eyes gazed with curiosity through thick-lensed glasses. Dickce reckoned her to be in her late nineties.

“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Simpson,” Dickce said. She moved forward and extended her hand. “My name is Dickce Ducote.”

Mrs. Simpson shook Dickce’s hand briefly. Like her great-granddaughter, however, she appeared more interested in the dog. “That’s a beautiful dog you got there, Miss Ducote.” She reached out to stroke Peanut’s head. He woofed gently at her in response.

“Thank you,” Dickce said. “He’s sweet and friendly.”

Mrs. Simpson continued to stroke the dog’s head. “I miss having a dog. Can’t rightly take care of one myself these days, and Monique is too little right now to help, though the Lord knows she’s a blessing to me in every way.”

Monique had disappeared, Dickce realized. Where had the child gone?”

“Please sit down, Miss Ducote,” Mrs. Simpson said. “I’m forgetting my manners. Now, Monique said you want to find my daughter, Coriander.”

Dickce seated herself on a nearby chair before she replied. “Yes, ma’am. Many years ago she worked for a friend of mine, Calpurnia Partridge, down in Athena.”