Spencer crisped up his accent and concocted something as random as possible to break up the guy’s train of thought and take advantage of the fact he had better things to do.

“Sorry, Officer, but I had to get your attention. I’m getting the tour of your city with my cousin and his boyfriend,” Spencer jerked his head back at Eddie, “but he’s got a weak bladder and we’re lost. Trying to get to the Ford Model T plant but I think we’re going to have an emergency soon if—”

The sheriff’s deputy stared at the three of them, open-mouthed. “You’re from . . . England?” he managed.

“Yes, but I have relatives here in Detroit. Never visited before. Amazing place.”

Shaking his head, the deputy pointed at the off-ramp two hundred yards ahead. He was walking backward toward his cruiser as he replied. “Take that, head east, there’ll be a restroom in a gas station.”

They took off.

English privilege . . .

“Jesus,” said Eddie. “He’s been sending for seven minutes.” Suddenly he had a thought. “Yo-Yo, why’d you cancel Denny?”

The Yo-Yo kept his eyes on Spencer as he answered. “Denny was on cleanup. Supposed to wipe the whole place. Would you wanna rely on him not to miss anything, Eddie? Plus, the two neighbor fucks upstairs saw me there. Now get this: turns out cooking ain’t the only thing Spencer’s friend’s good at. Told me about taking risks for nothin’. That shit got me in Carson City pen first time around. So, you know what, Spencer? I didn’t whack your buddy.”

Spencer looked at the Yo-Yo.

“Yeah, that’s right. Left him tied up. Hardly what you’d call a crime scene. You know why?”

Spencer’s stomach tightened. He waited.

“He’s dyin’ anyway.” He glanced around at Eddie. “Can you believe that shit? Guy’s got cancer. In his pancreas. He’s gonna be dead within two weeks. Now that ain’t gonna be too credible a witness, right, Spence?”

The Yo-Yo cracked up.

“Cancer,” he gasped, like it was the funniest turn of events anyone could imagine.

It was the first time Spencer had ever heard him laugh.

Meanwhile Southern Avenue was about to become John Kronk Street for Johnny Boy and Max. Johnny Boy was frantically working his phone as he drove.

“How fucking difficult can it be?”

He’d managed to get his AirDrop to search for devices, nearly sideswiping a pickup in the process.