She gave him a quick look, one that was a bit less hostile than the others. “Guess not. You’re sure it was him, then? The cat you found?”
“Not sure, no. But I’ll check the claws. Thanks.” He decided to take advantage of her relative tractability and dug one of his cards out, then handed it to her. “You can reach me at those numbers, if you think of anything or hear anything. I’m not trying to cause trouble for anyone but the person who killed her.”
“Yeah, that’s real nice. But you don’t need totryto cause trouble, do you? Eli Crewe’s boy? Trouble’s in your blood.” She tilted her head, her expression caught halfway between crafty and demented. “You want my help with this? You have to do something for me.”
He’d likely already gotten all the help she had to give, but he played along anyway. “What do you need?”
“You have to stay the fuck away from my boy. He’s doing real well for himself, and he doesn’t need you screwing things up.”
Jericho wasn’t sure what part of that to focus on: the idea that Wade’s rapidly expanding criminal empire meant he was “doing well for himself”; the idea thatJerichowas screwing things up forWade; or the idea of expecting Jericho to stay away, when it was Wade who initiated almost all of their interactions. He settled on a noncommittal, “I’ll keep that in mind. But I hope you’ll get in touch regardless. I’m trying to find out who murdered your friend, so I assume we’re on the same side for this.”
“The same side?” She sneered at his uniform and snorted. “No, I don’t think so.”
It was such a complete reversal of Wade’s perspective that it caught Jericho off guard. He’d argued with Wade, now he was disagreeing with Wade’s mother, even though they were saying the opposite things. Damn, the Grangers were messing him up.
“I appreciate your time,” he said. “Sorry for barging in. Please give me a call if you think of anything.” And then he got the hell out of there before she made his confusion even worse.
