“So you wanna pin this on me, too?” he asked, throwing his arms up.

“What I want is to know how well you knew Mullins.”

He paused. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “Well enough to know that he got what he deserved.”

My heart sped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned forward, his face inches from the grimy glass. “Look, kid, I think I’ve told you enough. You want to know about Mullins? I want something in return.”

“I told you I’ll print a positive story about—”

But he cut me off, waving his hands in the air. “No, no, no. I want something tangible. Something now.”

I bit my lip. “What?”

“Porn.”

I did a mental eye roll. “No way. I am not bringing you pictures of naked kids.”

He shook his head. “Boys, girls, men, women—I don’t care. I just need some porn! Look, I’m dying in here, all right? The hottest thing I have to look at are National Geographics with all the tits blacked out. I need something to get me through the day.”

I chewed my lower lip, doing a backward glance at the guard by the door. I was pretty sure that nudie magazines were up there with shoelaces on the prison nono list.

However, I could just imagine the look on Barbie’s face when I waltzed in with an exclusive from Pines…

I leaned in close. “Playboy or Hustler?”

“So, how’d it go?”

I slid into the passenger seat of the Hummer.

“He knows something about Mullins.”

Cal raised an eyebrow my way. “And?”

“And, if I want to know what it is, I have to bring Pines porn.”

“They allow that in jail?”

I shook my head. “He wants me to bring it to the preliminary hearing tomorrow afternoon. He says he can slip me in as some sort of counsel.”

Cal gave me a hard look. “I’m not sure I like that.”

“Relax. It’s a courthouse. His lawyer will be there. It’s perfectly safe.”

“It may be safe, but I still don’t like it.”

I looked down at the dash clock. “Well, Felix isn’t

going to like it if I don’t get this story typed up pronto. So less talking, more driving.”

Cal grunted something that sounded suspiciously like a dirty word but complied, pulling the Hummer back out onto the street.

Unfortunately, it was after five in Southern California, which meant all freeways and major arteries in the city became virtual parking lots, the average speed topping out at ten miles per hour. Not surprising, it was dark by the time we finally reached the Informer’s offices again. Immediately, I hit my computer, pulling up a word processing program to type up my Pines interview. I had just gotten the first sentence down when a breathy voice interrupted.

“Tina?”