The cinnamon rolls for Mel’s birthday breakfast were staying warm in the oven, their yeasty aroma filling the house, and Tish had finished decorating the dining room. Guessing that the birthday girl wasn’t into pastels, she’d festooned the chandelier with balloons and crepe paper streamers in red, turquoise, purple, and lime green. She’d draped a colorful “Happy 21st” banner across the doorway. She’d put yellow napkins on the table, filled a small crystal vase with cherry-red camellias, and tucked the gift into a nest of apricot-colored tissue paper in a small gift bag of vivid orange.
The gift, like the color combination, was over the top, but she wanted Mel to know her birthday was worth celebrating in spite of her bratty behavior. And, if nothing else, giving away treasured possessions was good for the soul. Once Tish had given them away, she wouldn’t have to worry that someone would steal them.
“You can’t take it with you,” Tish told herself in a whisper. With a lump in her throat, she placed the heavy gift bag at Mel’s place.
The downstairs shower finally went off with a heavy thudding in the pipes. Tish placed the cinnamon rolls and fruit salad on the table, then poured milk for Mel and coffee for herself.
Waiting at the table, Tish checked the clock. She hoped she’d be free in time to walk down the street to a church she wanted to try. The service started at eleven. If she didn’t pick up friendly vibes … well, that was one thing about the South. There was a church on every corner.
The bathroom door creaked open. Mel’s bare feet padded down the hall with the scent of shampoo preceding her.
“Something smells yummy,” she called. “Where are you?”
“Dining room.”
Mel stopped in the doorway, her hair wet and her eyes wide. “Whoa! Wow!”
“Happy birthday,” Tish said.
“You shouldn’t have bought all this stuff. Balloons and flowers and everything.”
“It’s nothing. The decorations didn’t cost much, and the camellias are from the backyard.”
Mel noticed the gift bag. Her eyes filled. “You bought me a present?”
“Actually, it’s something I’ve had for a long time. I hope you don’t mind that it’s not store-bought and new.”
Mel shook her head vigorously. “No, I know what it’s like when you can’t afford to buy somebody a present.” She sniffled. “When am I supposed to open it?”
“Right now, if you’d like.”
Mel sat and reached into the bag, her eyes bright with tears and anticipation. Pulling out one of the silver rings, she sucked in her breath. “It’s beautiful! What is it?”
“It’s a napkin ring. There are four of them. I’ve had them for years.”
“It’s so shiny.” Mel turned it over, admiring it from all angles. “Is it real silver?”
“It’s only silver plate.”
“Tish, it’s too much. Especially after yesterday—”
“No. Yesterday’s forgiven. When you have your own place someday, you can invite me over and use them on your own table. I don’t have to own them to enjoy them.”
Mel’s tears flowed freely as she returned the napkin ring to the bag with the others. “How can you be so nice to me? Nobody else treats me like this. Not even my own parents. My ex-parents, I mean.” She used her napkin to dab her eyes, then reached for a cinnamon roll. “Thanks for making these. They look so good.”
Quietly amused by the power that food had on Mel’s outlook, Tish took a roll too. She passed the fruit salad across the table. “Eat up. If we finish in time, I’d like to walk down the street to church. You want to come?”
“Hmm.” She licked her sticky fingers and wiped them on her jeans, as if she were afraid to dirty her napkin. “I’m kinda scared of church and all that. God, you know? God’s scary.” She frowned, craning her neck to see past Tish to the window. “There’s a cop car out front.”
Tish turned to see. A squad car parked squarely in front of her house was an unsettling sight even for an upright citizen. “Maybe they’re stopping to talk to one of the neighbors.” She resumed eating her breakfast while Mel kept an eye on the police car.
“Somebody’s getting out,” Mel said. “Ooh, it’s Darren. Remember him? The cute guy who stopped to talk when I was at the gazebo that night?” She flashed a smile that was bright but not warm.
“I remember him.” Tish watched Mel’s face carefully, trying to believe she’d have no reason to fear an officer of the law.
We all do terrible things, she’d said, and she’d been mysterious about how she’d spent her evening alone on Friday.
“Ugh,” Mel said. “Robot Face is getting out too.”
“Robot Face?”
“I don’t know him. He’s the new cop in town, and he has a weird, square face like a robot. He always looks mean.”
Again, Tish turned to see. An older officer stood by the driver’s door, using his phone. Mel had described him perfectly.
The younger officer, Darren, headed straight toward the front door. His expression was somber but not angry. Worried, maybe.
Tish glanced at her beautiful table. The basket brimming with perfect cinnamon rolls. The healthy, yummy fruit salad. The birthday decorations, the bright napkins and crockery. She might have congratulated herself for achieving something that could have come straight out of Southern Living, except her scenario included the police at her door.
“Do you have any idea what they might want?” she asked.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Mel said in a faint voice. “Honest.”
“Then you have no reason to avoid talking to them. Let’s go.”
“Um, yeah. Right.”
Tish led the way, glad to hear footsteps behind her. Reaching the door, she beckoned to Mel. “Come on.”
Mel followed Tish onto the porch as Darren reached the top step. Blond, blue-eyed, and handsome, he reminded her of Stephen, except this young man seemed to be the serious type.
“Good morning,” Tish said.
“Good morning, ma’am. ’Morning, Mel.”
Mel smiled back. “Hey, Darren. This is my friend, Tish McComb.”
“Glad to meet you, Miss McComb. I’m Darren Chapman, and I’m afraid I’m here on official business.” He studied Mel. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me before the lieutenant gets involved?”
She regarded him with big, innocent eyes. “No, I don’t have anything to tell you. Want to come in for a cinnamon roll? They’re fantastic.”
Darren shook his head. “Thanks, but I can’t.”
The older cop swaggered up the walk and stopped beside Darren to glare at Mel. “Are you Melanie Hamilton?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. Talk to me. Tell me about the Corvette that’s missing from Duncan Hamilton’s garage.”
Tish stifled a gasp and searched Mel’s face. The girl was pale but calm. Too calm, as if she’d rehearsed this moment.
“Of course it’s gone, Officer,” Mel said politely. “He sold it, didn’t he?”
The lieutenant let out a peevish sigh. “The buyer left a deposit. He planned to pick up the car today, but your dad opened the garage this morning to make sure it was ready to go, and …” He held his hands wide and raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Somehow, between Wednesday night and this morning, the car vanished. In spite of a good security system.”
Mel’s eyes were wet. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s a beautiful car.”
The lieutenant sighed, shifted his weight, and addressed Tish. “Ma’am, I understand there’s a garage at the back of your property.”
“Yes, there is.”
“I’d like your permission to take a look inside.”
Her mind roiled with questions—Didn’t they need a search warrant? Would they find a stolen car? Could her prospective employer find out?—but she could only manage a faint, “Why?”
“Because Miss Melanie Hamilton is the prime suspect in the disappearance of her father’s 1956 Corvette.”
“He’s not my father anymore,” Mel snapped. “And it’s not his car.”
“Sure, he sold it, but the buyer hasn’t taken possession yet.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Mel said. “I mean it’s my grandfather’s car.”
Darren stepped forward. “Your granddaddy’s dead, Mel,” he said gently.
Her eyes swam with tears. “You think I don’t know that?”
She turned to go inside, but the lieutenant gripped her shoulder. “Stay put,” he said. “I’ll want to ask more questions.”
“Fine.” Mel drew back, trying to escape him. “And go ahead and snoop in the garage. You won’t find anything.”
Tish gave her a warning look, then turned to the officer. “If you’ll let go of her, I’ll get the key to the garage.”
Reluctantly, he set Mel free. “Don’t go anywhere, young lady.”
She brushed her fingers across her shoulder as if to rid herself of his touch, but she didn’t argue and she didn’t run.
Tish went inside and ran upstairs, her heart pounding. She didn’t want to think of the consequences of having a stolen car in the garage. A car worth sixty grand.
She hurried down the stairs with her keys but took a moment to compose herself before opening the door. In two minutes, she’d know. And then she’d have to figure out what to do next. Of all times for George to be out of town.
When she walked onto the porch, Darren was trying to make peace between Mel and the lieutenant, who were practically nose to nose.
“I’m staying right here on the porch,” Mel said.
“Why don’t you come with us, Miss Hamilton,” the lieutenant said. It was plainly an order, not a request.
“Come on, Mel,” Tish said. “I don’t know about you, but I have nothing to hide.”
Mel let out a huff. “Oh, all right. Let’s go.”
Tish led the tense, silent trek to the garage. Very much afraid of what they’d find, she scrutinized the sandy ground for tire tracks. The closer she came to the garage, the more slowly she moved, excruciatingly aware of everything in her path. Weeds, stones, pine cones—and tire tracks, but she didn’t see any fresh ones. As far as she could tell, they were all old ones from George’s and Calv’s comings and goings.
Mel had been falsely accused before. If this was another false accusation, it could explain her hostility.
Stopping in front of the garage, Tish glanced over her shoulder. Mel stood with her arms folded across her chest, her eyes burning with defiance. The lieutenant and Darren stood squarely behind her. If she ran, she wouldn’t get far.
Tish opened the padlock, lifted it off the hasp, and said a quick prayer. She shoved the stubborn door to the left—and let out a sigh that seemed to leave her chest as empty as the garage.
“See?” she said. “We have nothing to hide.”
The lieutenant left Darren to guard Mel and walked in. He strolled in a large circle, taking in the huge assortment of tools and what George called the clubhouse furnishings: a fan, camp chairs, and a cooler.
“Somebody’s been working on a car in here,” Robot Face said.
“George Zorbas,” Tish said. “He’s renting the garage from me, but he took his car out of town this weekend.”
“And his car is the only one that’s been in here?”
“Yes,” Tish said. “I walk out here almost every day, and I’ve never seen a car here except George’s Chevelle.”
“Miss Hamilton,” the lieutenant said, “your daddy tells me the last time the Corvette disappeared, about six years ago, you were at the wheel. You come back to town, and your daddy’s car goes missing again. Strange, isn’t it?”
“He’s not my daddy and it’s not his car,” Mel said between clenched teeth. “It never was. It was my Grandpa John’s.”
“There’s another funny thing too,” the cop said. “This morning, your dad ransacked his house looking for his spare key, but he didn’t find it. Last time he remembers seeing it was a couple of years ago. Just about the time you left town.”
Mel kept quiet, her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes narrowed.
He moved closer. “Admit it, Miss Hamilton. You stole the car the first time when you were fifteen—”
“I did not steal it.”
“Okay. You took it for a joyride.”
“A joyride? A joyride? When my grandpa had just died?”
“Come on, Lieutenant,” Darren said. “There’s no car here.”
“But it’s somewhere, and I intend to find it.” The lieutenant glowered at Mel. “Stop wasting my time, young lady. If you won’t tell me where it is, I’ll find it anyway. I’ll turn the whole county upside down if I have to, but I’ll find that car.”
“Go right ahead.” Mel shot a pleading glance at Darren. “I’m not a thief. I’m not.”
“We’ll see about that.” The lieutenant began the long walk back to the house.
Darren studied Mel with worried eyes. “Melanie, I’ll ask you one more time,” he said softly. “Do you have anything you need to tell me?”
“I see what you’re doing, Darren. Y’all are playing good cop, bad cop. No, I don’t have anything to tell you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You think I’m a criminal, don’t you?”
“It’s not looking good,” he said. “The sooner you come clean, the better.”
“The sooner people stop calling me a thief, the better.” Holding her head high, Mel started after the lieutenant.
Hands on his hips, Darren watched her disappear behind the camellias. “Miss McComb, do you have anything you’d like to share with me?”
She hesitated. Although the Corvette wasn’t on her property, that didn’t prove Mel’s innocence. “How can I reach you if I think of anything?”
Darren handed her a card. “Here’s my number. Call anytime. Thanks.” He paused, running his fingers over the neat stubble of hair on his head. “Sometimes I worry about that girl.” He walked away.
“I do too,” Tish whispered. Her fingers shook as she pulled the door closed and padlocked it. She had to call George.
In the distance, church music floated on the air. It was an organ, flying high and happy over the congregation’s singing. As near as she could figure, it was the little white church two blocks away.
Sooner or later, she’d find a church. For now, maybe she needed to find a lawyer.