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“Not a dime,” Dawson said. “The new guy paid for it.”

“The new king?”

“Yeah, he called me in the middle of the night last night. Told me the story, more or less, and asked me if I could look at the car first thing in the morning. I was awake when he called, so it didn’t make me no nevermind. I got over to Merlotte’s this morning, told Sam he wasted a phone call since I already knew all about it. I followed him while he drove the car out to my place, and we put it up on the rack and had a good look.”

This was a long speech for Dawson. I put my checkbook back in my purse and listened, silently asking him if he wanted more Coke by pointing at his glass. He shook his head, letting me know he was satisfied. “We had to tighten up a few things, replace your windshield fluid reservoir. I knew just where another car like yours was at Rusty’s Salvage, and it didn’t take no time to do the job.”

I could only thank him again. I drove Dawson out to his repair shop. Since the last time I’d driven by, he’d trimmed up the front yard of his home, a modest but tidy frame house that stood next door to the big shop. Dawson had also put all the bits and pieces of motorcycles under cover somewhere, instead of having them strewn around in a handy but unattractive spread. And his pickup was clean.

As Dawson slid out of the car, I said, “I’m so grateful. I know cars aren’t your specialty and I do appreciate your working on mine.” Repairman to the underworld, that was Tray Dawson.

“Well, I did it because I wanted to,” Dawson said, and then he paused. “But if you could see your way to it, I’d sure like it if you’d put in a word for me with your friend Amelia.”

“I don’t have much influence over Amelia,” I said. “But I’ll be glad to tell her what a sterling character you are.”

He smiled very broadly: no suppression there. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Dawson crack such a grin. “She sure looks healthy,” he said, and since I had no idea what Dawson’s criteria for admiration were, that was a big clue.

“You call her up, I’ll give a reference,” I said.

“It’s a deal.”

We parted happy, and he loped across the newly neat yard to his shop. I didn’t know if Dawson would be to Amelia’s taste or not, but I’d do my best to persuade her to give him a chance.

As I drove home, I listened to the car for any strange noise. It purred away.

Amelia and Octavia came in as I was leaving for work.

“How are you feeling?” Amelia said with a knowing air.

“Fine,” I said automatically. Then I understood she thought I hadn’t come home the night before. She thought I’d been having a good time with someone. “Hey, you remember Tray Dawson, right? You met him at Maria-Star’s apartment.”

“Sure.”

“He’s going to call you. Be sweet.”

I left her grinning after me as I got into my car.

For once, work was boring and normal. Terry was substituting since Sam hated to work on Sunday afternoons. Merlotte’s was having a calm day. We opened late on Sunday and we closed early, so I was ready to start home by seven. No one showed up in the parking lot, and I was able to walk directly to my car without being accosted for a long, weird conversation or being attacked.

The next morning I had errands to run in town. I was short on cash, so I drove to the ATM, waving at Tara Thornton du Rone. Tara smiled and waved back. Marriage was suiting her, and I hoped she and JB were having a happier time of it than my brother and his wife. As I drove away from the bank, to my astonishment I spotted Alcide Herveaux coming out of the offices of Sid Matt Lancaster, an ancient and renowned lawyer. I pulled into Sid Matt’s parking lot, and Alcide came over to talk to me.

I should have driven on, hoping he hadn’t noticed me.

The conversation was awkward. Alcide had had a lot to deal with, in all fairness. His girlfriend was dead, brutally murdered. Several other members of his pack were also dead. He’d had a huge cover-up to arrange. But he was now the leader of the pack, and he had gotten to celebrate