William: Well, well, well. Boss Crudo. Nice little warehouse you got here.
Jack: Shade! You're supposed to be dead.
William: Your trigger man was all wet. I dropped him for breakfast. It took me awhile, but I finally figured out what that stink was you've been leaving all over town.
Jack: I didn't leave anything behind, Shade. Not a box of matches or a stick of chewing gum. Not even a scarp of cigarette paper. How'd you find me?
William: Oil.
Jack: What are you talking about?
William: Not black gold, or smashed olives. Fish oil, Crudo. Fish oil. With all the pieces finally together, it all made sense. You've been stuffing hip flasks into halibut and shipping them out from this very dock. Selling the hootch at every port down the river. The gin joints would keep jumping and no one