"Must be a lovely neighborhood," she muttered under her breath. Realizing he had a legitimate complaint, she said, "Look, I'm really sorry. I only needed to run upstairs for a minute-"

"Since I've been waiting for fifteen minutes, that's not really true, is it?"

Melanie's anger flared to the surface. Well, excuuuuuse me, Mr. Mercedes. She had already apologized. Did this bozo want a blood oath?

"Like I said, I'm sorry. I'll just get in my car and toddle on home." Suddenly wondering if Mr. Mercedes was angry enough to turn violent, she opened the car door, shoved the box of food across the seat, and slid in, quickly slamming and locking the door. She looked over and was relieved to see him get back into his car.

Melanie stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. A weak grrrrr sounded and nothing else. She tried it again. An even weaker grrrrr came out. On the third try, nothing. She thunked her forehead on the steering wheel.

"This day has to end… this day has to end… this day has to end!" She turned the key again, but only silence met her ears.

A tap sounded on the driver's window and Melanie yelped in fright. She looked up and saw a face peering at her from beneath a black umbrella. Touching her palm to her beating heart, she took a deep breath. Mr. Mercedes. She rolled down the window an inch.

"I don't mean to harp on this," he said in a distinctly sarcastic tone through the crack, "but when you said you were leaving, I sort of assumed you meant sometime tonight."

Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. Mr. Mercedes was a veritable Jerry Seinfeld. Smothering a groan of annoyance, Melanie turned the knob to lower the window farther.

The knob came off in her palm.

She squeezed her eyes shut and mentally cursed the Dodge in six languages. Pulling herself together, she looked up at Mr. Mercedes. She couldn't see much through the crack in the window, but what she could see didn't scream serial killer. At least he didn't have CRAZED MURDERER tattooed on his forehead.