Miguel looked like he was about to shit his pants. “Dave said it was Gerry Knox.”
It wasn’t a surprise, but it still sent a chill down my back.
James gave a slight nod. “Why does Gerry Knox want me dead?”
Miguel vigorously shook his head. “I dunno.”
“And what is good old Gerry up to these days?”
“I don’t know shit,” he said, panicking. “I only know what I heard about the hit, and now you know too.”
“You expect me to believe you or your dad never worked for Knox or his daddy when he was runnin’ things back in the day?”
“You never said nothing about Gerry’s daddy,” Miguel grumbled.
“Read between the lines, Mig,” James said. “You’re very familiar with the Knox family.”
“Rutherford Knox, sure,” he said, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face. “But that was before I went legit. His son had moved onto Birch by the time I got out of prison.”
James gave another nod. “Who told Dave and Stewie about the hit?”
“I don’t know,” Miguel said in a rush, “but you could talk to Dave. He’ll tell you.”
James gave him a dubious look. “So I’m gonna roll up to Birch Autobody, and Dave’s gonna tell me more about Knox?”
Miguel looked like he was about to be sick. “I guess.”
“And when I leave here, you’re just gonna go back to work and pretend this never happened?”
“Yeah,” Miguel said, shaking his head vigorously. “I swear.”
James made a face. “Why wouldn’t you call your buddies, Dave and Stewie, and let them know I’m on my way to pay ’em a visit?”
“We’re not that close,” Miguel said, a panicky look filling his eyes.
“But close enough for them to fill you in on the hot gossip. At your weekly poker game.”
Miguel swallowed again.
“Maybe you could give him a call now,” James said in a deceptively calm tone, motioning to the phone on his desk. “And put it on speaker.”
Miguel started shaking again.
“What’s got you worried, Miguel?” James asked.
“I don’t wanna get Dave or Stewie in trouble either.”
“No one has to know we got anything from ’em,” James said. “That’s the beauty of you makin’ this call. Your friend will be none the wiser, and Knox’ll never know where I got the information.”
Miguel’s gaze landed on the phone. “What am I supposed to say? It’s gonna be weird as fuck if I call one of ’em up and ask about the hit on you.”
James shrugged. “Then I guess you better think of something creative, so you don’t look weird as fuck.”
Miguel seemed to consider it for a moment, then patted his jeans pocket. “I need my cell phone. That’s where I have the shop’s number.”
James slipped his gun out of his holster and trained it on him. “Go ahead.”
Miguel kept his eyes on the gun as he stood slightly and tugged out his cell phone. He sat back down and tapped on his phone to wake it up and open his contacts.
