“That’s right.” Harley’s smile was derisive. “If you wanna call it work.”

“It wasn’t?”

“Man,” he said, leaning on the counter, “let me tell you: It was a gift. From our mom to him. She owns the place. He used to live down the block, at the Happy Night. Mom felt sorry for him, let him clean up for spare change.”

“The Happy Night Motel?” I said.

“Right down the block.”

“So it was a sympathy thing,” I said. “From your mother.”

“She’s got a soft heart,” said Harley. “Ain’t that so, Roger?”

Sweats nodded and smoked and turned up the volume on Travis Tritt. The singer’s voice was plaintive and rich; I’d have been convinced.

“Schwinn have any friends?” I said.

“Nope.”

“What about Marge—the woman who married him.”

“She comes in for feed when she runs out on her bulk order,” said Harley. “Yeah, she married him, but that makes her his wife, not his friend.”

And when are you entering law school, F. Lee Picky?

I said, “Marge met him here.”

“Guess so.” Harley’s brows knitted. “Haven’t seen her either, for a while.”

Roger said, “She’s probably ordering off the Internet, like everyone. We gotta get with that.”

“Yeah,” said Harley, listlessly. “So, c’mon tell me, man, why’re you asking about him? Someone off him or something?”

“No,” I said. “He’s dead, all right. Fell off a horse a few months ago.”

“That so. Well, she never mentioned it. Marge didn’t.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

Harley looked back at Roger. “When’s the last time I saw her?”

Roger shrugged. “Maybe four, five months ago.”

“Mostly everyone orders bulk from suppliers,” said Harley. “And the Internet. We do gotta get hooked up.”

“So Marge has been in since Schwinn died, but she never mentioned his death.”

“Probably—I couldn’t swear to it, man. Listen, don’t pin me down on any a this.”

Roger gave another sweat-suited shrug. “Marge don’t talk much, period.”

Travis Tritt bowed out and Pam Tillis weighed in about “The Queen of Denial.”

Harley said, “Is this about drugs, or something?”

“Why do you say that?”

Harley fidgeted. His brother said, “What Vance means is that the Happy Night—everyone knows about it. People go in and out. You wanna do us a favor? Get it moved outta here. This block used to be a nice place.”