CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“HELL, NO I HAVEN’T seen that dude.” Trevon Epps rolled from underneath the Lincoln Continental on a red creeper the next day. “I didn’t even know his name was Boyce. If you hadn’t shown me his photo, I wouldn’t have known who the hell you were talking about.” Sweat rolled across his deep-chocolate forehead. “Is that all because I got to get this car finished for a customer by tomorrow?” He slid back under the car.
“No, that’s not all.” Dee walked across the metallic, garage floor of Epps’ auto repair shop. “You had issues with Boyce we hear.”
“From who?” He tinkered with something under the car. “Always got to be the brotha?”
“We got a tip you had run-ins with Boyce at the Tipsy Unicorn.” Connie peeked into the red toolbox. “That drag queen club.”
“He started it.” H
