“A distant relative at best, these days. A blip on our financial success.”
“Okay, Tristan, you’ve made your point. Now, if I can continue,” Welly said.
Tristan lifted his hands in mock defeat, leaning back in his chair. Jimmy stared at him and wondered how someone like him became someone like him. Spoiled, petulant, a bully in preppy clothes. He’d like to take Tristan to a leather bar, have the muscle bears give him a good beating. He might be straight, but someone had yet to make a true man of him. Jimmy then shifted his focus back to Welly, sympathy in his eyes. He had forgotten about Hannah Calloway’s death, and he wondered if Welly’s grief was overcompensating in her absence.
“Jimmy, before I begin, let me ask you if you’ve made any progress.”
“As a matter of fact, yes, new informa
