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.