“Guns, drugs, girls, what?”

“Yep. Those two float in and out of the action because they spend most of their time in the can. You got to be smart to work the streets. These two I know because I used to, allegedly, run cars through their cousin’s shop.” Dobie grinned mischievously. “Why don’t they work for the cousin on the regular, you’re probably asking yourself. Well, I’ll tell you, because even though they’re familia, these two Einsteins aren’t smart enough to pour piss out of a boot. Hiring on morons leaves you open for all kinds of bad shit.”

“How would they come in contact with a rich white guy?”

Dobie’s eyes slanted. “Is he a public defender?”

“Insurance.”

“Then I got no clue. I don’t think those two know what that is.” I leaned back in the seat, out of ideas. If there was a connection between the morons and Spada, I couldn’t see it, but a lot had gone on in a relatively short amount of time. I’d been thwarted, manhandled, thrown out, and had doors slammed in my face. I’d had a dead body delivered to my doorstep and even had my own client running from me as though he were trying to give the Devil the slip. There was a connection, but I just couldn’t see it. Why else would the goons grab me, rifle through my bag, leave my gun and wallet, and take only the copies I’d made of Spada’s files? Spada had to have sent them. Our encounter wasn’t some random shakedown. And how dumb did you have to be to be banished from a chop shop? A shiver ran up the back of my neck.

“The cousin’s shop. Where is it?”

“Aw, c’mon now, you know I can’t tell you that.”

“Dobie, this is important. Where?”

He shook his head. “The thugs you get, the shop you don’t get. You mess in these people’s business and you guarantee you don’t breathe so good, and your fifty don’t come close to paying for a decent funeral.”

I leaned forward, gripping the back of the driver’s seat, my heart racing. “Fleet Transports. On Armitage. Is that the shop?”

Sweat began to bead on Dobie’s forehead. He glanced out of the window, not wanting to look at me. I was right; he didn’t have to say it. Fleet Transports where Vince Darby got the SUV he drove to the marina, the place Whip and I talked our way into under false pretenses. The goons were related to Leon, who was connected to Darby, and Darby to Spada.