Finn and I left Sophia to clean up the remaining mess and headed over to Jo-Jo’s to pick up Violet Fox. Finn had called ahead to say we were on our way, and the two of them waited on the front porch for us. Both sat in rocking chairs that creaked and cracked with every pass back and forth. Jo-Jo had dragged Rosco’s basket outside, and the fat, lazy basset hound sat at the dwarf ’s feet, snoozing in a patch of sunlight that sliced across the porch slats.

Sophia must have lent Violet some of her clothes, because the girl was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a matching T-shirt with an enormous set of red lips on it. Despite Violet’s full figure, the clothes sagged off her frame. Sophia Deveraux had quite a bit more muscle on her than Violet did.

Jo-Jo wore one of her many pink flowered dresses and a string of pearls that were each as big as a giant’s tooth.

Her bleached white-blond hair was arranged into its typical helmet of curls, and perfect makeup covered her face.

As usual, the dwarf ’s feet were bare, despite the November chill in the air. Jo-Jo hated wearing socks. Said they made her feet hurt.

Finn and I stepped up onto the porch. Violet stood up, but Jo-Jo kept rocking in her chair.

“Sleep well?” I asked.

“As well as could be expected, I suppose. But Jo-Jo re- ally made me feel at home.” Violet gave her hostess a shy smile.

“Jo-Jo’s good at that. We should get going.”

“Say hello to Warren for me,” Jo-Jo told Violet. “Tell him I’ll be up that way for some more honey real soon.”

Violet nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”

Jo-Jo smiled at her. “No problem. Come on back sometime, and we’ll work on your hair, darling.”

Violet frowned, and her hand crept up to her frizzy blond locks. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

Jo-Jo speared her with a hard look. “Nothing a hot-oil treatment and some deep conditioning can’t take care of.”

Violet’s confused frown deepened, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her off the porch before she could think too hard about her split ends. Finn followed us, and we walked out to his car. Since we were going to be tooling up into the mountains today, Finn had decided to drive his oh-so-rugged Cadillac Escalade instead of his Aston Martin.

Violet stopped in front of the SUV and looked at us.

“What about my car? Did you guys drive it somewhere last night?”

Finn and I exchanged a look. Driving Violet Fox’s car to a safer location had been the last thing on my mind.

“We had to leave it in the parking lot,” I said. “We were more concerned with getting you patched up than what to do with your car.”