Page 42 of The Scent of Happiness

“Everything’s fine.” Mrs. Nesbitt’s voice was high and overly-bright. “We’re very good. How are you?”

Mr. Nesbitt took a step forward. “Officer, we’d like you to leave.”

“Yes,” Sharon said. “We think that would be best.”

Theo gave Uche a tilt of his head and lifted eyebrows that said better luck next time. “If you’d like to come back with some paperwork, maybe we’d find those keys after all. In the meantime, you’ve got my card. You know where to reach me.”

Uche wore the expression of someone who’d been sprayed by a skunk—slitted eyes, wrinkled nose, and a mouth pinched in disgust. He took stock of the neighbors, glared at the locked door one more time, then went over to the trash bin that sat next to the garage and lifted the lid.

“Can he do that?” Brooke’s dad asked.

“He can,” Theo said. Outdoor trash bins were fair game. “Anything interesting?” he asked Uche.

“There’s nothing in there but junk mail and leftovers,” Mrs. Nesbitt said.

“We’ll be in touch.” Uche got into his car, slamming the door harder than necessary. He backed out of the driveway an inch at a time, making sure all the neighbors got a good look at him. When he hit the street, he revved his engine and peeled around the corner, ignoring the stop sign at the cross street.

One of the neighbors, a thin woman with a long brown ponytail, raced up the driveway. She pulled Mrs. Nesbitt into a hug. “Are you all right? What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine, Marci,” Mrs. Nesbitt said. “Do you want to come in for a second?”

“I left my mom home alone,” Marci said. “I should get back. Do you need anything?”

“I’ll call you later,” Mrs. Nesbitt said.

Brooke shot an anxious look into the street. “Could you, maybe, get everyone else to go home, too?”

“Sure thing, hon. There’s nothing more to see.” Marci backed off to talk to the other neighbors.

Mrs. Nesbitt put her hands on her hips. “Well, that was mortifying.”

“Theo?” Mr. Nesbitt asked.

“Uche knew what was in your garage, otherwise he wouldn’t be here. Since the only thing you store in there besides soap is lye, that’s probably what he was checking for.”

“I was afraid of that.” Mrs. Nesbitt brushed her palms down the sides of her pants. “Drugs, right? But he couldn’t honestly think…I mean, look at us.”

Brooke swatted Theo on the arm. “You idiot. I source my lye legally. I present an ID and sign a waiver every time.”

“Why not show him and explain what it’s used for?” Mr. Nesbitt asked. “One look at Brooke’s soaps would be his answer.”

“Ow! Quit it.” Theo ducked away from Brooke’s flailing arm. “You never want to give up your rights like that. It makes my job so much harder.”

Brooke pointed a finger at him. “You’ve made everything worse. If the cops weren’t suspicious before, they are now.”

“That guy?” Theo scoffed. “Uche doesn’t have the brains to be suspicious. He was checking this off his to-do list, nothing more. He knows this is a nuisance complaint. And who do you suppose tipped off the police in the first place?”

“Dixie,” Brooke and her parents chorused.

“She’s a soapmaker too,” Brooke said. “She knows about lye. She’s signed the same waivers I have.”

Mrs. Nesbitt nodded thoughtfully while Mr. Nesbitt’s face darkened. At least Brooke had stopped swatting him, and their anger was directed where it should have gone all along.

“You can be certain I’ll be checking into that,” Theo said.

Mrs. Nesbitt linked her arm in her husband’s. “Can we discuss this over dinner? You too, Theo. I made lovely stuffed cabbage. It’s your mom’s recipe, actually. I asked her for it at the church potluck.”

Brooke wouldn’t meet his eye. She stared at a spot on the ground a foot from where he stood. Did she want him to stay?