Walking in the front door of my childhood home was strange. Nothing in the house had changed. It was like a museum of Southern history filled with paintings, furniture and figurines dating back to Georgia’s Colonial Heritage, the Revolutionary and the Civil wars. The only thing that was different was me. I could hear the sound of silver spoons clanking against fine china teacups and gossipy ladies conversing. It was a familiar sound to me - the regular meeting of the Downtown Neighborhood Association. They were a group of wealthy white women who devoted themselves to keeping the riff raff out of Savannah’s wealthy downtown neighborhoods. When I walked into the parlor in my cheap crumpled suit the gossip and tea drinking came to an abrupt halt. All eyes were on me and they looked thoroughly disgusted.

I could feel the anger and emotion that had been welling up inside me for the last three years churning. I balled my fists and prepared to unload a diatribe against their hypocrisy, racism and greed. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t about me. Dalia was missing and I didn’t have another minute to waste.

“I’m looking for Dalia Blue. Did you and your hateful friends do something to get rid of that girl?,” I growled.

My mother leapt from her seat and pushed me out the heavy wooden doors.

I expected her to give me her stump speech- a long list of all the ways I had disappointed her and disgraced the family, followed by a long sigh and questions about why someone as smart and I, wouldn’t take advantage of the the contacts I had made through the riff raff and align myself with the New York elite or at the very least cater my detective agency to the needs of the Hollywood types.

But my mother surprised me. She pulled me into the kitchen and looked me in the eye.

“I’m sorry son,” she said. “I’m proud of they way you’ve pulled yourself together and built a life and a business without the help of social status and family money or influence. I’m glad that you are loyal to your friends and they are loyal to you.”

Then she looked down at her feet. And wiped tears from her eyes.

“I don’t know where you learned loyalty. But I’m glad that you did,” she said. “I’m weak. The worst kind of weak - too weak to put my son before my social standing. Stay loyal to the people who have shown you loyalty son. My friends are only loyal to money and influence. If I lose it, I lose them too. They’re a hateful bunch, son and I’m ashamed to say that at times I am the most hateful of them all. But we’re not killers.”

My mother explained that the night of Dalia’s first performance they were preparing a protest. They had planned to storm the police department and demand that the chief arrest Dalia for disturbing the peace in their neighborhood. But as they sipped tea and ate Chef’s famous ham finger sandwiches during their final planning meeting, they all became violently ill. None of them would have been able to pull off the crime because they had such terrible food poisoning.

Mother and I laughed out loud. It was the first time I can ever recall us laughing together. Then she stopped suddenly wiped the tears from her eyes with a fancy lace handkerchief, kissed my cheek and somberly walked back into the parlor with her neighborhood friends.

I returned to my friends at the Lady Gladys’s estate. They were all there - Essie, Dupree, Chef, Loucious and Antwan. I told them about my strange encounter with my mother and her praise for my intellect and loyalty. Then we went down our list of suspects and their alibis. We were back to square one - a missing girl with absolutely no clues as to where she went.

“Humph!,” Essie snorted. “You’re not as smart as your mama thinks you are because you haven’t done squat to solve this case.”

I snapped back.

“This is the thanks I get for running to your rescue every time you get wrapped up in some shady criminal activity,” I said.

Ruby shot me a dirty look.

“Who you calling shady?,” she asked.

“You think it never dawned on me that you might have used me to frame Lady Gladys' kids so you could get the mansion and the money,” I shouted.

“You ungrateful cracker,” she hissed. “You’re just like your old racist mother. Why don’t you take your butt back up there and see if she lets you back in or sends you back here with the riff raff?”

I pointed a finger in Essie’s face.

“You’re just jealous because I can clean myself up and return to a respectable life at any time,” I snorted. “But you will always be the queen of a jook joint.

Essie shook her head disapprovingly.

“You can’t hide what’s inside,” she said. “You’re no better than the racist family that disowned you. You’re not loyal. One trip to your mama’s house and you forgot about all the sacrifice and support I gave you when you were a drunk loser with no place to go. I got your business started. I gave you a place to live. I helped you get your credibility back and now you’re ready to turn on me.”

We stood there for a moment - me with my finger in Essie’s face and her with her fist poised at my chin. We were angry, hurt and breathing hard.

Essie’s words cut like a knife. But she was right. I had forgotten what loyalty was. I lowered my finger and my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s this case and my mother and all the emotion. I lashed out at you in frustration and I’m sorry. You and the guys are my only real family.”

Dupree put his pale hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Living a lie and trying to be someone you’re not isn’t worth it. Take care of one another,” he said. “But we’re wasting time with all this arguing. We need to find Dalia.”

Chef tilted back in his chair.

“What for?” Chef asked. “Why bother looking for Dalia? Did anyone stop to think that maybe the girl just wanted what we have - freedom. Maybe she wanted someone who appreciates who she really is?”

Antwan hissed.

“Shut up Chef,” he said. “People don’t just go missing for no reason. There is always a reason. We just got to find a trail and follow it.”

Essie rubbed her fat hand across her forehead.

“Well, we’ve been all through her dressing room and all across the city,” Essie said. “And so far the only trail we found is crusts of bread from Chef’s nasty sandwiches.”

Essie was right. There were scraps of Chef’s sandwiches in Dalia’s dressing room. Chef showed up out of the blue with suitcases and a shady story about picking up sandwich trays and their best suspects - the Downtown Neighborhood Association - got ham sandwich poisoning the night Dalia disappeared.

Everyone looked suspiciously at Chef. who started sweating.

Dupree asked why there were trays of sandwiches in Dalia’s dressing room.

“I didn’t order that mess,” he said. “In fact, I forbade her from eating that nasty garbage. I didn’t want her to get sick and miss a gig. She loved those nasty things. All she talked about on the road was the crush she had on a boy when she was a student at Woodville. He would break into the cafeteria and make her starving family plates of ham sandwiches so they could survive the winter.

Essie, Antwan, Loucious and I looked suspiciously at Chef. Before he started his scam as a Moroccan Prince and international chef to the stars, he got his first job as a cafeteria cook at Woodville High School. He used to brag that he had no real experience as a cook, but he knew his way around the kitchen because he used to break in after school and make food for the poor kids from Frogtown.

“Explain to use exactly why you brought suitcases to Dalia’s dressing room this morning,” I asked Chef.

He wiped at his sweaty brow.

“She had all those expensive gifts piled up in there,” he said. “I thought no one would notice if I borrowed a few.”

Essie hissed.

“Just how did you know Dalia would be gone? Only Dupree and I knew that she had gone missing from the club. There were still fans lined up outside waiting for her to leave,” Essie said.

Chef shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and Lucious threatened to cut him if he didn't fess up.

Then suddenly, the kitchen pantry doors swung open and out stepped Miss. Dalia Blue.

She was dressed in a chef’s uniform.

“Don’t be angry with Carl,” she said. “He stopped by my dressing room with a tray of sandwiches because he remembered how much I loved them. We got to talking about our lives and I told him how horrible my work schedule was and how tired I was of having so many people wanting something from me all of the time.I saw all of those contracts for upcoming concert tours and I just wanted to get away. I wanted to be back in school in Frogtown like old times. So he dressed me up like one of his caterers and took me back to visit the old neighborhood and so I could be normal for a while, without all the fans and fame. I just want to be able to go to school and have what all of you have- friendship and loyalty.” Essie grabbed Dalia and gave her a bear hug.

“I’m sorry baby. I should have left you in that choir and let you be a kid.”

Then Dupree joined in.

“Those contracts were fakes,” he said. “I worked you so hard the last year because I saved up enough to set you up for life. I’ve enrolled you in a private school where you can be away from the limelight and just be Luvonia Johnson again.”

I interrupted.

“Uh, excuse me,” I said. “I’m glad we solved the Dalia Blue mystery. But who is this Luvonia Johnson?”

Everyone laughed.

“That’s me, the real me,” Dalia said. “And I’m glad to be back home with real family and friends.”