I set it on the table and pulled out the magazines, sliding them across to him.

“What the hell is this?” his attorney cried. “Jesus, you know how much trouble I could get into for bringing you contraband?”

“Relax,” Pines told him, greedily flipping through the pages. “You didn’t bring it, they did.”

Which didn’t seem to make the man feel a whole lot better, as he began pacing the room.

“I held up my end, so now it’s your turn, Pines,” I said, taking a seat at the table across from him. “Start talking.”

Pines took a moment, licking his lips as he eyed the cover of Naughty Bits. Apparently Cal was right. It seemed to be a winner.

Finally he looked up. “What do you want to know?”

Everything. Why he was threatening me. Why my neighbor was dead in my living room. And how to steal a front-page story from Allie McTiny Top.

“Let’s start with the kid.”

“I told you I never touched him.”

“Did you ever take compromising pictures of him?”

“Don’t answer that,” his attorney said, swooping in.

Pines looked from him to me, then finally shrugged. “Sorry, can’t answer that one. Try again.”

“Jake Mullins. You said he deserved what he got. What did you mean by that?”

“Just what I said. He was a slimy sonofabitch, and I hope he’s rotting in hell.”

“What did he do?” Allie piped up beside me, gel pen hovering over her little floral notebook, a little frown of concern between her perfectly plucked brows.

Pines shifted his gaze, letting it rest somewhere in her double D region.

“Tried to blackmail me.”

Pines attorney jumped up. “I have to strongly suggest that you not talk to these women.”

But Pines waved him off. “Relax, Paul. I didn’t go for it. The guy comes at me saying he found some kiddie mag in my trailer. What the hell he was doing in my trailer, I don’t know. But he says he wants a hundred K or he’s going to the media. I told him, good luck. He could try, but he’d never work again in this town, I’d see to it.”

“And what did he do?”

“Nothing. What could he do? I steered clear of the little prick after that.”

“How long before his death was this?”

“A couple weeks.”

I mulled that over. If Mullins had been so strapped for cash that he’d jeopardize his big break, he may have tried the same tactic on someone else. And maybe they weren’t as confident as Pines that he’d go away on his own.

“Where were you last night?” I asked, switching gears.

He gave me a blank stare. “Are you fucking kidding me? Same place I’ve been every night since that judge denied my bail. A cell.”

Right. Stupid question. I cleared my throat. “Did you have any visitors?”

“No.”

“Call anyone?”