The Sheriff will never forget the night he made a routine call on the Purple Roadhouse, which still carried its reputation from the days it was a cathouse. It was unbelievable, like a prayer meeting had been instituted by a little old lady sat at the bar drinking one of Pete's margaritas. She said she had a flat tire and had stopped for help. Would have been better for her to go somewhere else, Anywhere else. The Sheriff wondered if she was one of the loose women, he'd chased out of the county, in disguise. Like the night he caught a gaggle of them selling quickies to the men. Boy were they pissed when he sent them on their way. He knew that Bart Johnson, Archie and one-eyed Willis would never rest until they got him for something.
These are a hint of the wild goings on in the Purple Roadhouse.