Nadia didn't interrupt unnecessarily.
When Talia finished, the investigator asked about the original dispatch complaint.
Talia explained that the listed complainant was her deceased mother.
Nadia looked toward the document.
"Did your mother ever submit a complaint about the roses?"
Talia shook her head.
"No."
"Did she have a history of disputes with code enforcement?"
Talia considered the question.
Then remembered a conversation from the previous year.
Her mother had mentioned receiving a confusing municipal notice concerning landscaping.
At the time, Talia was busy preparing a major state report and hadn't examined it closely.
Lorraine told her she'd contacted the city and expected the matter to be resolved.
Talia frowned.
"I'd forgotten about that."
Nadia leaned forward.
"What did she say?"
Talia tried to remember.
Her mother complained that somebody wanted the roses cut back even though they didn't block the sidewalk.
She also said a contractor had offered to remove several plants for an unreasonable amount of money.
Nadia made a note.
"Do you still have the letter?"
Talia looked toward the hallway.
Her mother had kept meticulous records.
Every tax receipt.
Every insurance statement.
And every utility bill was filed in labeled folders inside the old study.
She stood slowly.
"I might."
They found the documents in a green filing box beneath Lorraine's desk.
The box contained property records, garden receipts, letters from the city, and photographs of the house dating back decades.
Talia opened a folder labeled Yard and Property.
Inside was a notice issued thirteen months earlier.
It alleged that the rose garden extended into a municipal visibility area.
The document listed Greenway Civic Maintenance as an approved service provider.
It also contained a warning that continued noncompliance could lead to municipal intervention.
Talia stared.
The notice was almost identical to Margaret's.
Nadia photographed the document and asked about the dates.
Talia explained that her mother had died two months after receiving it.
Then she discovered a second letter.
It was a response Lorraine had written to the city code office.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Her mother had always formed capital letters with unusually long vertical strokes and ended handwritten notes with a tiny flourish beneath her name.
Talia unfolded the page.
The letter was firm but polite.
Lorraine explained that the rose garden stood within her property boundary, that the sidewalk remained clear, and that she wanted the city to identify the actual violation before demanding removal.
Near the bottom, she'd written a sentence that made Talia's eyes fill.
These flowers were planted with my late husband, and I would appreciate it if your office treated them with the care they deserve.
Talia stopped reading.
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.