Hadley started toward them immediately. She held out the paper and spoke loudly enough for the whole street to hear. "Thank goodness. The vehicle is supposed to be in my son's name. I've brought proof, and the man living here has been refusing to cooperate."
Brennan held up a hand and asked her to give him a moment. He looked at the Mustang, at the open garage, and at me standing beside the front bumper. His face was neutral, though I knew he must have been wondering why somebody would report a polished, running classic car as abandoned or stolen. He walked toward me with Murchison a few steps behind.
"Sir, Cederville Police Department," Brennan said. "We've received a complaint about the ownership of this Mustang. Could you identify yourself and explain whether you're in possession of the vehicle?"
I put the polishing cloth down, stood up, and took off my UGA cap. Brennan stopped with one foot on the driveway and stared for half a heartbeat. Recognition moved across his face so quickly I almost missed it. He straightened and saluted, and Murchison, catching up a fraction of a second later, did the same.
"Chief Halloran, sir."
I returned the salute and lowered my hand. "At ease, Sergeant. Officer Murchison, good afternoon."
Neither looked comfortable. Brennan had the expression of a man who had just discovered the homeowner he needed to question was the person who signed his annual evaluation. Murchison was trying hard to keep his eyes on my face instead of the Mustang. I could practically hear the instructions from his academy class colliding in his head.
"I'm off duty and personally involved in this complaint," I said. "You are not to treat me differently from any other vehicle owner. I have the title, current registration, and insurance here, and I will answer your questions. Please follow your usual procedures."
Brennan nodded. He asked for identification and vehicle documents, and I handed them over. The name on the title matched mine, the registration was current, and the vehicle identification number on the car matched the paperwork. He took the time to check the numbers himself instead of accepting my word.
I respected that. It is easy to be conscientious when nobody important is watching. It is harder when the person you are checking is your own chief. Brennan examined the car's identification plate, asked when I had purchased it, and listened while I told him about the auction in 2017 and the restoration.
Across the street, Hadley grew impatient. "Sergeant, I have the transfer paperwork," she called. "That car belongs to my son, and the HOA has been dealing with this man for months. Tow it. The registration is in my son's name now."
Brennan did not raise his voice. "Ma'am, we will examine what you've provided. Please give us a moment."