An added bonus, if you asked me.
Violet Fox stared at the four of us, surprised and further startled by our presence. The girl’s eyes fell on a knife on the kitchen table. She darted forward, picked it up, turned, and brandished it at us. “Who are you people?”
11
I slid my silverstone knife back up my sleeve and ran water in the dirty bowl before I turned to face the college girl.
“Sweetheart,” I said in a cool voice. “That’s a butter knife. You couldn’t even file your nails with it. Put it down before I take it away from you.”
“Who are you people?” Violet Fox asked in a shaky voice, still clutching the pitiful weapon. She stepped back until her body pressed against the refrigerator. If the door had been open, she probably would have stuffed herself inside, like a box turtle retreating into its shell. “Where am I? What do you want with me?”
I sighed and looked at Finn. He was much better at making nice than I was. He stepped forward, his hands held wide. A charming smile showed off his white teeth to their dazzling perfection.
“You’re somewhere safe,” Finn said in a calm tone that could have soothed an angry grizzly. “We’re not going to hurt you. We saved you from that dwarf in the parking lot at the community college, remember?”
Shadows turned Violet’s eyes an even darker brown, and she twitched her nose, trying to see if it was still intact.
She remembered, all right. The knowledge bruised her features just like the dwarf ’s fists had. Jo-Jo might have healed all the physical damage from the attack, but Violet Fox wasn’t going to forget the emotional trauma anytime soon. If ever. Something else I was all too familiar with.
Violet Fox didn’t look anything like me, of course, but for a moment, staring at her was like seeing myself at thirteen again, just after the Fire elemental had murdered my family. I’d had the same haunted, wounded look that the other girl did right now. I pushed the memory away.
Finn crept a little closer and turned up the wattage on his smile. “We don’t mean you any harm. We just want to ask you some questions about your grandfather. His name is Warren, right? Warren T. Fox?”
Doubt flickered in her dark, haunted eyes. “Why do you want to know about my grandfather?”
“Because your grandfather used to be an old friend of my dad’s,” Finn kept up his calming tone. “His name was Fletcher Lane. You came into the Pork Pit today asking about him, asking about the Tin Man, remember?”
Some of Violet’s panic slackened, and she studied Finn with a lot more interest.
“C’mon,” Finn said. “If we wanted to hurt you, we would have done it already. We just want to talk. Promise.”
It was the same smooth voice he’d used to talk so many women out of their panties. Including me in my younger, more foolish years. You’ll be so much more comfortable if you get out of those wet clothes. Let me help you zip up your dress. Whoops, did I just spill coffee all over your jeans? Guess you’ll have to take them off.
And it worked. Violet Fox never stood a chance against the sheer, overpowering, slightly smarmy charm of Finnegan Lane. She lowered the knife and studied us all again, carefully this time, without fear clouding her gaze. She stared at Finn the longest.
“You look exactly like your dad,” she said. “Or at least an old photo my grandfather has of him. Same eyes, same hair, same nice smile.”
Finn grinned a little wider. Nothing he loved better than being told how handsome he was.
Violet nodded at Jo-Jo. “And I’ve seen you once or twice up at the store, haven’t I?”
“You sure have, darling. Your grandfather has the best homemade honey in the city. I always stop and get some when I’m up that way,” Jo-Jo said. “Now, why don’t you put that knife to good use and help yourself to some dessert while we talk?”
After a moment, Violet nodded, stepped forward, and put the knife back down on the table. Finn gently took her arm, gave her another smile, and sat her down on one of the stools. I made her a bowl of apricot bars and ice cream and passed her a spoon. Violet stared at me.
“And you,” she murmured. “I talked to you at the restaurant today. And in the parking lot, after, after—”
“After I killed the man who attacked you,” I said.
Violet gulped down a mouthful of air. Jo-Jo reached over, patted the girl on the hand, and shot me a pointed look. I sighed. I was a former assassin, not a babysitter.
Wasn’t my job to sugarcoat what had happened tonight — or skirt around the trouble the girl was in. But I was patient enough to let Violet Fox get through with her psuedocobbler before I started asking her questions.
Besides, there were plenty of apricot bars left. Be a shame, really, to let them go to waste.
“Why did you come into the Pork Pit today looking for the Tin Man?” I asked. “Who told you that name?”
Violet fiddled with her spoon, then pushed it and her empty bowl aside. She drew in a breath. She knew it was time to get down to business. “You’re going to think it’s stupid. Childish.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” I drawled.
Violet’s brows drew together in confusion at my sarcastic tone. Jo-Jo patted her hand again, encouraging her to go on with her story. Violet shook her head and continued.
“When I was a kid, my grandfather used to tell me stories about the Tin Man. He told me the Tin Man helped people who couldn’t help themselves. That he ran a barbecue restaurant called the Pork Pit and that all you had to do was go in and ask for him, and he’d make all your problems disappear. I thought it was the most wonderful story, a sort of Southern fairy tale.”
Warren Fox might have been estranged from Fletcher, but he’d still thought about his childhood friend, enough to tell his granddaughter about the old man and what he did, in a roundabout way. Although I wouldn’t call assassinating folks a real help—
“Oh, yes. Fletcher helped lots of people over the years,” Jo-Jo said, cutting into my musings. “He was a wonderful man that way.”
I stared at the dwarf, then at Sophia, who grunted her agreement. Even Finn nodded his head in a knowing way. Over the years, I’d done a few pro bono jobs. So had Fletcher. But helping people on the sly? As a regular gig? When had the old man done that? And more importantly, why?
“So he’s real then?” Violet asked. “The Tin Man?”
“Sure, he’s real, darling,” Jo-Jo said. “His name was Fletcher Lane. He was Finn’s father.”
Violet’s face fell. “Was?”
Finn nodded. “He died a few months ago. But don’t worry about that right now. Tell us the rest of your story.”
Violet drew in another breath. “Anyway, I hadn’t really thought about the Tin Man in years — until this morning.”
“What happened this morning?” Finn gave Violet another encouraging smile.
Violet ducked her head and smiled back, as though she wasn’t used to so much male attention. Probably not.
Girls with glasses, and all that. “I’m a business major at Ashland Community College. Eva Grayson’s my best friend. She was at the Pork Pit last night. All she could talk about today was the robbery and how the woman behind the cash register stopped it.”
Sophia snorted.
“Well, I did have some help,” I said to appease the Goth dwarf. “So you talked to Eva, and you remembered this story your grandfather had told you about the Tin Man. Okay, I’ll buy that. But why do you even need the Tin Man’s help in the first place?”
Violet chewed on one of her fingernails. “It’s a long story.”
“Good thing we’ve got nothing but time then.”
I didn’t mention to the girl that she wasn’t going anywhere until I’d determined she wasn’t a threat to me, Finn, the Deveraux sisters, or the restaurant. Jake McAllister was going to make enough problems for me. I didn’t need any more.