That was the moment Michael realized the most important evidence might not be the extinguisher.
It might be the invoice that Evelyn expected somebody else to pay.
Grace Holloway had been Cedar Hollow's treasurer for fourteen months.
She hadn't volunteered because she enjoyed conflict.
She'd accepted the position after Richard Bell retired and the previous treasurer moved out of state.
Grace had worked in insurance administration for more than thirty years.
She understood invoices, reserves, claims, and the importance of maintaining clear records.
But she wasn't an accountant by profession.
And she didn't pretend to be one.
When she joined the board, the association's finances appeared ordinary.
Annual dues.
Landscaping contracts.
Lighting maintenance.
Insurance premiums.
A reserve fund for future repairs.
Cedar Hollow was not a large association.
It had no clubhouse.
No swimming pool.
No golf course.
The common property consisted mainly of entrance landscaping, a small walking path, street signs, and several drainage easements.
The budget was modest.
So when Evelyn began proposing additional safety programs, Grace questioned whether the costs were necessary.
At first, the expenses were small.
A few hundred dollars for printed notices.
An inspection of the common-area electrical cabinets.
A consultation regarding emergency access along the neighborhood's private walking path.
The services sounded plausible.
Grace reviewed the invoices and asked for supporting documentation.
Evelyn usually provided it.
Sometimes late.
Sometimes after several reminders.
But enough to keep the records moving.
Then CedarShield appeared.
The first invoice was for a general neighborhood fire-risk assessment.
It totaled eighteen hundred dollars.
Grace asked who approved the expense.
Evelyn claimed it fell within the president's delegated emergency spending authority.
Grace requested the board minutes supporting that authority.
Evelyn sent a copy of a policy summary.
The language was vague.
But it referred to emergency situations requiring immediate action to protect common property.
Grace noted that a broad neighborhood assessment didn't obviously qualify as an emergency.
She asked that future expenses be reviewed by the full board.
Evelyn agreed.
At least verbally.
Then another invoice arrived.
Nine hundred dollars.
A compliance visit involving an allegedly unsafe backyard fire pit.
Grace checked the location.
The address belonged to a retired couple named Peter and Helen Whitcomb.
She knew them.
They'd lived in Cedar Hollow since the neighborhood was built.
Peter rarely hosted gatherings.
Helen spent most afternoons gardening.
Grace called.
Helen sounded confused.
“An inspection?”
Grace nodded.
“Your property was listed in a fire-safety report.”
There was a pause.
Then Helen laughed.
“Goodness. We haven't used the fire pit since last October.”
Grace frowned.
“October?”
“Yes. Peter hurt his shoulder, so we never opened it this spring.”
Grace looked toward the invoice.
It was dated May.
She asked whether anyone had visited.