Sour Grapes

but once in a great while.”
    “Have you cleaned it since you vacuumed that car?”
    “No. I had cleaned it just the day before.”
    She beamed, giving him her deepest dimpled grin. “You, Rory, are a jewel, a credit to the mother that bore you. Will you do me an enormous favor and not clean that drum until later this afternoon when a guy by the name of Dirk will be coming around with his tail tucked between his legs to collect what’s in it for evidence?”
    “I’d be glad to refrain from work, but only because such a comely lass as yourself asked. And also because I’m going to be rubbing out this monstrosity of a vehicle for the next two days anyway.”
    Savannah couldn’t resist; she stood on tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek. He laughed and the sound was deep and throaty, reaching parts of her anatomy that, for far too long, had gone undisturbed.
    “Thank you, Rory. I owe you a pint of Guinness.”
    “And I’d be glad to share it with you, Savannah, me love. Drop by sometime and I’ll buff yer fenders for ye.”
    “Yes,” she murmured as she walked away. “I’ll just bet you would. Ah-h-h... you cheeky lad.”

    Savannah thought there was a plethora of detail shops in the industrial area of San Carmelita, but to her dismay, she discovered there were far more junkyards selling used tires.
    She and Tammy had agreed to start at opposite ends of the Junkyard Jungle and work their way to the middle, giving each other a buzz if either found what they were looking for.
    So far, she had questioned a dozen dealers who were happy to see her, until they realized that she wanted information, not a used radiator or a replacement hood ornament She had risked life and limb, fending off testosterone-ridden mongrels who guarded their yards, their rusted heaps of metal and piles of tires as though these assets constituted the National Treasury.
    But she hadn’t found anything yet, and, so far, her purse hadn’t buzzed, so, neither had Tammy.
    It was as she was crawling back into the Mustang, feeling a bit down as the “detail victory” began to wear off like a previous sugar fix going downhill, that she heard it. Her purse... specifically, the phone in her purse.
    “Hallelujah,” she said, though silently warning herself not to get too excited. Tammy could be calling to suggest that they meet somewhere for some afternoon donuts and coffee.
    But then... it was Miss No-Donut, Health Conscious Tammy, not Dirk, so...
    “Whatcha got?” Savannah asked.
    “Todd’s Tires, Four ninety-eight East Maple.”
    “I’m on my way.”
    Three minutes later, Savannah pulled onto Maple Street, which must have been named by a homesick, displaced native of Vermont, because there wasn’t a maple... or any other kind of tree in sight. She spotted Tammy’s hot pink Volkswagen Bug parked under a hand-painted sign that identified that particular lot as Todd’s Tire Emporium. A lofty name indeed for what was basically a mountain of rubber.
    The canine protector of this fortune was an ancient golden retriever, who looked like the type who would open the gate for an after-hours burglar and show him the cash box. His white muzzle, arthritic limp, and wagging tail hardly inspired fear as Savannah walked up to him and patted his head. “Hey, old man,” she said, stroking the silky ears, “have you seen a dingy blond running around here? Okay, how about Todd? Where’s your master, eh?”
    At that moment, Tammy and a young man in overalls emerged from a ramshackle shed that bore the ambitious sign office on its door. Tammy’s eyes were glistening, her face an ear-to-ear grin. “ This is Todd,” she announced proudly. “He sold a BMW some new tires, I mean, old tires a couple of days ago. And he identified the picture of...you know.” Savannah’s pulse rate shot up along with her spirit and her basic will to live. Yes! Yes!
    But along with the elation that she had been right came the strange, sad feeling she got when she realized that someone she liked had done something terrible. It wasn’t a good feeling. Before this was over, so many lives would be destroyed. Even the serene, beautiful world that was Villa Rosa would be changed forever. But, as always, she reminded herself that she hadn’t caused this situation. Someone else had begun the avalanche of catastrophic events. She was simply putting an end to it.
    “Hello, Todd,” she said. “I’m so happy to meet you.” She shook his grease-stained hand and