“And you pay him?”

“Sure. Drugs aren’t his thing, but he keeps his eyes open, and he’s real good, you know? He never sticks it to you. Reasonable rates.”

“A one-stop shopping outlet for stolen property,” Willy suggested.

Corey laughed. “Yeah. That’s good.”

“And he does this a lot?”

“Busy enough, yeah.”

“He has a lot of product.”

Corey had to think about that. “Sure. I guess. Not so much pills—those were just if he happened to find ’em around. Why d’you care?”

“It means more customers than just you. Other fences. Does he have a storage spot? A barn or someone’s garage?”

“How would I know?”

“You might. He has a girlfriend, doesn’t he?”

“Robin? Yeah. Nice kid, but clueless. His mom knew what’s what. She’s an old-school broad. Probably taught him what he knows.”

Willy made a note of that. So much for poor, innocent Cheri.

“Speaking of that,” he continued, “how does he operate? Does he plan ahead? Do research?”

Browne was by now enjoying himself, either forgetful of what lay ahead for him or a fatalist at heart, which is what Willy suspected. “Why’re you askin’ all this shit? Who cares about Kalfus?”

Willy sidestepped. “All you guys make waves. It’s up to us to sort through them. Tell me who he might’ve pissed off. Any deals you know about that went south?”

“He’s a thief,” Browne protested. “He doesn’t leave people feeling happy. I don’t know. I mean, I sorta called him a doofus before, but he’s good at what he does. He’s a busy man. Always workin’.”

Willy allowed for a reflective pause, which Browne filled seconds later. “But people get their nose outta joint. And they talk too fuckin’ much. That’s probably how you got me. Yap, yap, yap. And the phones don’t help. Everybody’s on those damned things. So, sure, he probably gets jammed up now and then.”

“By?”

“Darren Bader’s one I can think of. He had a hard-on for Don for a while. You wanna hear bad things about Don, Bader’s your man, ’cept for his being full of crap.”

“But there was bad blood between them?”

“Not from Don. Darren’s the one who got worked up, claiming Don was the reason for his last vacation at government expense, if you get my meaning.”

“He thought Don squealed on him?”

“Don sold him a car, and he got nailed by a state trooper, driving it around. Couldn’t’ve been his own damn fault, right? So he blamed Don. Typical. But it was his fault. Everybody knew it.”

“And Darren was one of Don’s fences?”

“Yep. They went back to it after he got out, too. That’s the way it is. Bygones become bygones. Money talks.”

“You think Darren might’ve borne a grudge?”

“Against Don? Probably, knowing him. He’s never blamed himself for anything in his life.”

“Bad enough to want to harm Don?”

Browne gave that a moment’s thought. “Darren? Could be. Nobody else, but I could see Darren doin’ that. The man’s an asshole. I’m surprised you don’t know him.”