Lost Souls by J. Bishop (essential books to read .txt) 📕

speak of. I was at a bachelor party, and somehow ended up in the wrong city.” Trick sipped his coffee. “Had to find my way back.”

She jabbed a hand on her hip, her expression just as fierce as when she’d entered the room.

“How long have you been a P.I., Valerie Vain?” he asked. He perked up an eyebrow. “Assuming you are one, and you didn’t lie to my partner.” He took another bite of pie and sighed. Watching her, he half expected to see smoke trail from her ears. “C’mon. You know about me. Tell me about you, aside from that brother of yours. I should know something about the woman trying to throw me in prison.”

Indecision flickered across her features. She seemed determined not to give in to his magnetism, and he admired her will. Trick pushed out the chair beside him with his foot. “Have a seat. Get comfortable.”

She didn’t move for a few seconds, but then finally walked up, pulled the chair out and sat, but leaned back and crossed her arms.

“Thank you,” he said. “Well?” he asked when she didn’t speak. “Don’t leave me hanging.” He sipped his coffee and took another bite of pie. “Tell me all your secrets.”

“You want to know about me?”

“Sure. Why not? Is there something else you’d rather do, because I could think of a few things.” He grinned and she smirked.

“Fine.” A cleft between her eyebrows deepened. “Freddie and I were raised by our grandmother in Texas. We were taken from our mother after she beat the shit out of Freddie numerous times. Said he reminded her of Dad. My brother grew up in constant counseling, battled with addiction, and has worked very hard to get his life together.”

Trick swallowed a bite of pie. “It seems he backtracked.”

She glowered. “When I got old enough, I enlisted in the army. I was gone for four years, and when I came back, Alfred was running with the wrong crowd. Causing problems for our grandmother. I got my P.I. license because an army buddy of mine encouraged me to do it. We planned to open up a business together, and to be honest, I saw how cops treated my brother. In their eyes, he was guilty before proven innocent.”

“If the shoe fits.”

She leaned in and banged on the table. “He was trying to figure it out. The day you shot him is the day our grandmother died. And if you’d bothered to talk him down, you might have learned that.” She shoved on his coffee and liquid sloshed over the edge. “And you sit there all smug as shit, trying to evade your own demons, while he sits in a wheelchair, trying to learn how to walk again.”

Trick calmly put his fork down. “Forgive me, Valerie, but I’ve dealt with death and grief myself, and I don’t recall robbing any establishments afterward. Maybe Alfred should have bought a bottle of bourbon and joined the rest of us in the bottom of it.”

“He’s a recovering addict.”

“And that justifies him pulling a weapon on an officer?” Trick used his napkin to wipe up the spilled coffee. “Alfred could have killed me or anyone else in that lot. And then what happens to those families? To my family? Should they go rob a bank in their grief?”

“You don’t have a family.”

Her words struck him. “Careful, Valerie.”

They held a sharp gaze until the kitchen door opened again.

“Here you go,” said Charlotte, “and some fresh coffee.” She held a cup, along with the piece of pie, and a full pot of coffee as only a waitress could. Charlotte placed the pie and cup in front of Valerie and pulled a fork from her pocket and set it on the table, then filled the cup with coffee. “How is it?” she asked Trick, as she added more coffee to his cup.

Trick shook off his annoyance. “You have to ask? My compliments to the chef. It’s almost as good as you are sweet, Miss Charlotte.” He picked up his fork and stabbed another piece of pie.

Charlotte giggled. “You are a bad boy, Mr. Trick.”

He eyed Valerie. “I am at that.”

“You two enjoy. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” said Trick. “Thank you.”

Charlotte disappeared behind the door, holding the coffee pot.

Valerie stared at the pie.

“Don’t let your anger with me prevent you from eating,” said Trick. “You’ve been sitting in that car all night. I know how stakeouts go. You must be starving.” He ate another bite of pie from his fork. “Eat up.”

Valerie set her jaw, but looked at the pie. Trick kept eating, and waited to see what she would do. Several seconds passed, and she finally relented, picking up the fork. “I’ve never been a fan of Key Lime.”

“You will now.”

She hesitated, but then took a bite, and then sipped her coffee. He smiled when she took another bite. “How long you been a P.I., Valerie Vain?”

“Three years.”

“You like it?”

“It has its moments.”

“This one included?”

She chewed. “Don’t think just because I’m eating this food and talking to you that you have somehow swayed me to believe you’re innocent. My determination to reveal your stripes and prove you guilty of Chad Howard’s murder has not waned.”

“I would hope not. That would be a lot for one piece of pie to accomplish, even if it is Charlotte’s recipe.”

She added some sugar to her coffee and stirred. “How long have you known Charlotte? You plan on calling her as a character witness in your defense?”

He almost chuckled. “I’ve known her…” he checked his watch, “almost two hours.”

Valerie coughed and grabbed a napkin. “Two hours?”

“Told you charming is in my blood.”

Her eyes wide, she put her napkin down.

Trick grinned. “If you really plan on taking me down with a murder wrap, Miss Vain, then you’re going to have work a lot harder.” He picked up a piece of fallen crust from his plate and ate it. “Especially when I’m innocent.”

“Sure you are,” she said with a snort. “And so’s Cissy Howard.”