I had marked the treated area with warning tags and intended to wash the produce before eating it.
When I checked the peach tree near the wall, I noticed several fruit-bearing branches had been damaged again.
I placed a clear warning tag where anyone approaching could see it.
HOT PEPPER GARDEN TREATMENT β DO NOT PICK OR EAT UNTIL WASHED.
Then I added another sign near the wall.
PRIVATE ORCHARD β NO FRUIT PICKING.
I photographed both.
Not because I expected the HOA president to obey.
Because I wanted the warnings documented.
I also decided not to confront her alone again.
My attorney had arranged a meeting with a county property inspector to review the disputed boundary and proposed construction corridor.
I asked the deputy handling the theft complaint whether he could be present to document any further interaction.
He agreed to attend briefly if his schedule permitted.
The meeting was set for Thursday morning.
Seven thirty.
I checked my camera recordings from the previous week.
The HOA president had visited at almost the same time each morning.
Six twelve.
Six seventeen.
Six nine.
Six fourteen.
I wondered whether she'd appear again.
At six five on Thursday, I was standing near the rear of the orchard when my security alert vibrated.
Motion detected.
Southern boundary.
I opened the camera feed.
There she was.
Pink blouse.
White trousers.
Short blonde bob.
Sunglasses.
Small white handbag.
She approached the stone wall with the confidence of someone who had convinced herself there would never be consequences.
She glanced around.
Then reached toward the peaches.
I watched.
She twisted one free.
Dropped it into her handbag.
Reached for another.
And smiled.
I walked toward the tree.
"Enjoying my peaches?"
She turned sharply.
Then sighed.
"Oh, for heaven's sake."
I stopped on my side of the wall.
"Good morning."
She looked me up and down.