Page 89 of Rest In Pink

Who are you kidding?A treacherous voice at the back of my brain said, and I sighed and put the car in gear.

Chapter Forty

“I didn’t know you had an early bird special,” I said to Kitty as I came into the Red Box.

“I do when the bus comes by,” she said. “It’s something Jim and I cooked up. Well, I cook, and he drives them here and back.”

Four tables were full of Jim’s hostages, but they seemed happy. I imagined Kitty’s food was better than whatever they got at the home. Jim was with his roommate Alex, who wore a white apron but appeared on break. Hen was with them and they were both nodding respectfully at something she was telling them. Sun was serving. She looked at me and rolled her eyes, not impressed.

She must not have heard about my promotion.

I looked around and saw three other people in the crowd, hunched over a table full of paper, talking.

Ken Porter, Jason Leota, and the very attractive Imani Coleman.

The temptation to go over and say hi was strong, but Jim saw me coming and said something to the others, and Hen Mayhew called out, “Detective Cooper!” and I was caught.

I went up to the table. “It’s Vince, ma’am.”

“Well, then, I’m Hen,” she replied.

I considered not having an audience when talking to Jim, but Hen seemed to keep Jim in line so I decided to play it as it was.

“May I sit?” I asked her and she nodded.

I nodded at the third. “Alex.”

“Sir,” he replied. The fact that he was Senator Amy Wilcox’s son was something else I had to factor into this. Burney was always a complicated tangle of who was related to whom. He looked around for Sun, then back at me.

I grabbed a chair. “I’ve seen your father,” I told Jim.

“Did you catch him?”

“Not yet. Did your Aunt Faye visit your father in prison?” I asked.

Jim hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. She went. She’d call me sometimes and ask if I wanted to go with her. Said he was asking for me.”

“If he was asking for you in prison,” I said, “how come he didn’t come see you when he got out?”

Jim’s eyes flicked up and to the right, which an interrogation expert had told me meant he was getting ready to make up a lie. And he didn’t quite meet my gaze when he answered. “I don’t know. I guess he was done with my mom and me. I think Faye was lying when she said he was asking for me. Faye never thinks ahead.”

I was surprised when Hen cut in. “Don’t lie, Jimmy. I know he’s your father but you don’t owe him anything more than he contributed to your conception. He was never a real father, was he?”

Jim looked at her, then at me. He sighed deeply. “I saw him. Three months ago.”

Adrenaline surged and I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to reach across the table and grab him.

Hen placed a fragile hand on my forearm. “Easy, Vince.”

That brought me back. He’d lied to me at the river a week ago when I’d asked him. I’d fallen for it, believing he was surprised his father was out. I realized now he was shocked I knew. I took several deep breaths. The other three at the table were watching me with some fear. Once more, I’d underestimated Jim Pitts. I reminded myself that he was Mickey Pitts’s son. I needed to keep that in mind.

“Where did you see him?” I forced myself to ask Jim. “At Margot’s?”

He shook his head. “Faye’s. Right after he got out. She called me. Told me I had to come up there one evening. Dad was there.”

“What did he want?”

Jim hesitated.

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