A middle-aged man stepped out from behind an old station wagon, its hood gaping open, and wiped his hands on his coveralls.

“Neely Kate, what in tarnation are you doin’ here?” His eyes grew even wider when he saw me.

“I’m lookin’ for my husband, Vern.”

A look of disgust covered his face. “Your lazy-ass husband hasn’t bothered to show his face here in darn near a week.”

“Well, you can’t blame a girl for tryin’.” She hefted the two paper bags. “But I still have a mess of wings that I can’t eat. Mind if I take them back to the break room?”

“You know we ain’t gonna turn down Big Bill’s wings, but you must be desperate if you’re pullin’ out the big guns.”

“Well . . .” Her voice trailed off as she walked around a newer model pickup truck. “I guess maybe I am.”

I followed her down a short hall to a square-shaped room with a rectangular table and chairs on one side, and a sink, microwave, and fridge on the other. Two windows were centered on the wall to the right, overlooking a gravel parking lot full of cars.

“I didn’t see Witt,” I whispered. I knew Neely Kate’s cousin worked at Ted’s Garage, and I was hoping I’d have at least one other ally there.

“He’s off today since he’s workin’ Saturday.”

Well, crap.

Three men sat at the table, and they all looked up when we entered. While Vern had seemed harmless, two of these three men didn’t.

Neely Kate set the bags on the table with a loud thud. “Tiny. Big Mo. Fancy seeing you here. Seems to me you’d be hiding under the same rock as my husband.”

The two scary-looking men scowled, and I had to wonder which one was Tiny and which was Big Mo. Both were muscular and tall. The bald one had a goatee and a hoop earring in his left ear while the other guy had tattoo sleeves and hair cropped so close I could see his scalp. The one with the tattoos looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t figure out how I knew him.

“What the hell are you doin’ here, Neely Kate?” the bald guy asked.

“What’s it look like?” she asked in a condescending tone. “I brought lunch.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I was hopin’ to find my husband and eat with him. The leftovers were for the rest of you.”

“And what about her?” the other guy asked.

“She came along to keep me company.”

“We ain’t stupid, Neely Kate. That’s Rose Gardner,” the bald guy said. “Hangin’ out with her is likely to be bad for your health.”

Neely Kate’s eyes narrowed, making her look all kinds of scary. “Are you threatening me, Tiny?”

He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Just statin’ the facts.”

“I suppose you’re entitled to your opinion.” She moved over to the cabinets and curled up her nose as she grabbed paper plates from a shelf thick with dust and crumbs. “You boys ever think about cleanin’ up after yourselves?”

“That’s a good one, Neely Kate,” Tiny laughed.

“We ain’t doin’ women’s work,” Big Mo chortled.

The third guy, who was tall and skinny and looked like he’d fall over in a big gust of wind, wisely kept his mouth shut.

Neely Kate handed me a plate, kept one for herself, and then tossed a small stack on the table. “Seeing as how there are no women around, I guess you all like to live in filth.”

“We ain’t livin’ here,” Big Mo said with a gap-toothed grin as he leaned over and grabbed a couple of plates. He handed one to his friend, but the skinny guy was left to fend for himself.

“Vern hires someone to clean up,” the skinny guy said, hesitantly reaching for the stack of plates.

Neely Kate grabbed one and handed it to him. “Why’s he have to shrug that off on someone else, John Paul? What? You’re not responsible enough to clean up after yourself?”

His face reddened. “No, ma’am. I mean, yes, ma’am. I am.”

I expected Neely Kate to go off on him for calling her ma’am, but the boy looked like he was about to pee his pants, so maybe she decided to take mercy on him. Either that or she was too busy going after her real targets.

She grabbed several wings and plopped them on my plate, then added a couple to hers before sliding the bags over to John Paul.

Tiny reached for the bag, but Neely Kate slapped his hand away. “You wait your turn. John Paul’s the only one with manners around here, so he gets first dibs.”

John Paul grabbed a few, then hurriedly pushed the bags toward the other guys.

Neely Kate sat in a chair opposite Tiny and Big Mo, motioning for me to sit next to her.

I hesitated. These two men intimidated the bejiggers out of me. But then I reminded myself that I’d faced far scarier men in my role as the Lady in Black. The only difference was that this time I’d left the hat in my bedroom closet. I suspected I was going to have to force a vision. The fact was I should have probably forced half a dozen by now, but for some reason I couldn’t fathom, I was scared to do it. Maybe I was worried my luck with J.R. had run out.

“I hear things are a mess around here,” Neely Kate said, taking a bite from one of her wings. “And I’m not talkin’ about the kitchen.”

“Things are always a mess,” Tiny said.

“They have to be pretty bad if Ronnie and Al are both missin’.”

Rather than answer, they devoted their full attention to their wings.

“You givin’ your allegiance back to Skeeter Malcolm?” Neely Kate asked.

“I don’t see how it’s any business of yers,” Big Mo grunted while gnawing on a wing like a starving dog with a bone.

“It’s my business if my husband’s caught up in the middle of it.”

Tiny released a short laugh. “You really think we’re gonna tell you anything in front of her?” He pointed a greasy, sauce-covered finger at me while still holding his wing. “She’s just gonna go tell her boyfriend, the D.A.”

“In case you hadn’t heard,” Neely Kate said with an air of nonchalance, “she’s not with the D.A. anymore. They split up.”

The two men studied me with narrowed eyes.

“It’s true,” I said, feeling my Lady persona slipping into place like a well-worn glove. “Difference of opinion. I tend to think the rules aren’t so black and white.”