I replayed my conversation with Michael Lauro in my head. His description of Nick Trejo as a gold-digger didn’t jive with my own impressions of Trejo or what Mrs. Donohue had told me about him and his relationship with Bill Ryan. Moreover, Michael Lauro struck me as a mean-mouthed gossip who dined on the misfortunes of others. That being said, bitter old queens could be surprisingly perceptive and if what he said about Nick Trejo rang false, his insights into Bill Ryan seemed accurate enough: A deeply injured man trying through his relationship with Nick to heal the wounds inflicted on him by the family that rejected him when he was a boy. The Castro was filled with such men—wasn’t I one of them? —embedded with the shrapnel of hatred who tried to ease the pain with whatever analgesic was at hand, sometimes drugs and booze, sometimes compulsive sex and misguided relationships. That line of thinking brought me dangerously close to my situation with Adam, so I set it aside and called Isabel Trejo.

To my surprise, the call was answered with, “Law offices.”

“Yes, hello, I’m returning Isabel Trejo’s call from this morning. My name is Henry Rios.”

“Hold, please.” I listened to canned music and wondered why Nick and his mother had failed to mention that Nick’s sister was a lawyer. My thoughts were interrupted with a brisk, “This is Isabel Trejo.”

“Miss Trejo, I’m Henry Rios. I’m returning your call.”

“You’re the claims investigator for Bill Ryan’s life insurance policy?”

“Yes. I’m also a lawyer but I do some work for Western States.”

“Oh,” she replied. “A lawyer. Why does Western States need a lawyer to look at a death claim? Is there something else going on?”

“No, it’s a standard investigation. You’re Nick’s sister?”

“Nick called me after you came and talked to him and my mother about Bill’s policy.”

“Why would they think they need a lawyer?”

This conversation was beginning to sound like a negotiation between adversaries, a cat-and-mouse game where each side was trying to ferret out information without giving any up.

“I’m not calling you as their lawyer. I’m calling as a concerned family member.”

“Concerned about what?” I prodded. “It’s all pretty straightforward. Bill Ryan took out a life insurance policy with your brother as the beneficiary. Once I confirm the basic facts surrounding his death, the company will pay the claim.”

“Nick’s still very upset about Bill’s death. All he wants is to put it behind him, go back to school and get on with his life.”

“I can understand that. Sounds like they had a complicated relationship.”

She bristled. “I don’t know who told you that. They were fine. Bill was family.”

“So your mother said.”

“Look,” she snapped, “let me shortcut this for you. Nick doesn’t want the money.”

“He what?” I said, astonished.