Cat in a hot pink Pursuit

he’ll find out about Mariah. Your little friend is pretty helpful in that quarter.”
    “Temple? How so?”
    “She’s hooked up with him somehow. She fairly reveled in having him pretend to nab a perp in my last case. I admit I was on her about Kinsella but that’s no reason to sell a thirteen-year-old down the river.”
    “Wait a minute. Temple wouldn’t do that. She doesn’t know this guy is Mariah’s father.”
    “You didn’t tell her?”
    “No. The time you mentioned it to me, he didn’t have a name, much less a local mailing address. I’d have never told Temple anything about it. That was... confidential.”
    “Confessionally secret?”
    “Not technically, but as far as I was concerned. I’d virtually forgotten about it. Believe me, Carmen. No one knows but you and me, and I’m not talking. Ever. Not even to you if you want it that way.”
    She took a deep breath, leaned back in her chair, rubbed a hand over her forehead, disarranging her Dutch-cut bangs.
    “Never ever?”
    “Never ever.”
    “Then do you think I have to tell Mariah about her so-called father, or vice versa? Can’t he just go away?”
    “What do you think?”
    She paused to do just that. “There’s unfinished business. He won’t go away, now that he’s found me, because I went away from him all those years ago.”
    “I can’t believe Temple would champion him.”
    “I rode her about Kinsella for over a year. I imagine it’s sweet revenge.”
    ‘Temple isn’t vengeful.”
    “What you know about women I could put in a thimble.”
    “Do you sew? Not very useful then. So what are you asking me?”
    “Do I need to let Mariah know about him before he finds out about her and tells her himself?”
    Matt didn’t hesitate a moment. “If there’s the danger of the latter, yes.”
    “That is not what I wanted to hear.”
    “Yes, it is. You wanted to hear the truth from an uninvolved person. And you did.”
    “You’re uninvolved?”
    “Pretty much.”
    “What does that make you, then?”
    “In worse shape than you are. Oughta be some comfort.”
    She smiled and scratched her neck. “Actually, it is.”

    Matt insisted on helping with the cleanup, which mostly involved soaking the dishes in one side of the sink while Tabitha patted the bubbles.
    “You remember seeing me wear a blue velvet dress at the Blue Dahlia,” Carmen asked out of the... well, blue.
    “No. I remember a ruby-purple one. And black. But not blue.”
    “I’ve got one in my closet and can’t ever remember wearing it, much less buying it.”
    “You don’t wear them that often, do you? Especially lately.”
    “That a hint that I oughta climb back onto that stool and sing?”
    “It must be hard to keep your voice up if you don’t exercise it regularly.”
    “True.”
    The doorbell rang, catching them both with hands in soapy water.
    Carmen tossed Matt a towel after she’d blotted her palms, and headed for the front door with raised eyebrows, obviously not expecting company.
    Matt heard voices from the living room. The other one was male so he ambled out there, just in case, although Molina was a match for most men on the planet.
    A guy about his size in a black jeans jacket was just inside the door, talking faster than a Fuller Brush man.
    Seeing Matt stopped him dead. “You’ve got company, sorry. I thought you wanted these documents right away.”
    “Tomorrow at work would have done,” Carmen was saying coolly, but her manner was edgy.
    The guy was one of those dirty blonds whose face was all angles sharp enough to cut you. You could see him as the scrappy kind of kid who always got into playground fights. Tough in an oddly admirable way. He seemed too lean and hungry to be a beat cop; those guys tended to have sloppy beer bellies and neat mustaches, and the deceptively laid-back attitudes of those who know they’re in authority.
    In the ensuing silence, Carmen did introduction duties, clearly loathing every word.
    “Larry Paddock, Matt Devine.” She emphatically avoided saying what either of them was.
    Paddock nodded, Matt nodded back.
    Matt was the guy with chili powder on his breath, so Paddock had to leave.
    He ducked his head and backed out, looking none too pleased.
    Carmen put the small manila envelope, unopened, on the TV cabinet. “This job never leaves you alone.” Larry Paddock’s drive-by visit had broken the off-hours mood.
    Matt fished for the car keys in his pocket, making leaving noises himself.
    “Don’t