No drugs or nothin’. We were trying to get Annie outa this damn place—outa this neighborhood. He worked odd jobs everywhere he could find ‘em. Sometimes he painted houses. Sometimes he mowed grass or somethin’. I dunno where this last one was. His friend got him a few hours a week—you know, just here and there.” Angel asked, “Was that Iggi?” “Yeah.” Sarah retrieved Annie. “He in trouble, too?” “No, no trouble. I think Iggi can help me figure this all out. And if I can, maybe that’ll help find Ray’s killer, too. Where can I find Iggi?” Sarah looked at her and sat quiet. If there was something I’d learned about life, it was that a hard one made you distrust ev- eryone. Sarah had a hard life. “Don’t know,” she said. “What’s the difference how Ray got jobs? What’s Iggi got to do with this? Does he know somethin’ about the murders, too?” Too? I said to Angel, “That’s what Bobby was doing here, Angel. Finding out what she and Iggi know.”
