"He's interfering with our project!"
The deputy glanced toward me.
Then toward the survey.
"Ma'am, this is a property dispute being reviewed by the proper offices."
She pointed at me.
"And he put hot sauce on fruit he knew I might pick!"
I looked at her.
"Fruit I repeatedly told you not to pick."
The deputy consulted his notes.
Then asked, "You received written warnings from the homeowner?"
She hesitated.
"I received correspondence."
"Did it tell you to stop taking fruit?"
She looked away.
"That's not the point."
He nodded.
"It's part of what I need to document."
She became furious.
"This is absurd!"
Then she made the mistake that changed everything.
She reached into her handbag.
Pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
And waved it in the inspector's face.
"I have authorization!"
The inspector held out his hand.
"May I see it?"
She hesitated.
Then gave him the document.
He read.
His expression changed.
"Where did you obtain this?"
"From our association records."
He looked at the page again.
"Who prepared it?"
"The planning consultant."
"Who signed it?"
"The board."
He studied the bottom.
Then turned the paper toward me.
I recognized the document immediately.
It was a purported consent form.
The heading read:
ADJACENT PROPERTY LANDSCAPE ACCESS AGREEMENT.
It described permission to enter my land, remove vegetation, and perform boundary improvements.
At the bottom was a signature.
My signature.
Except I had never signed it.
The inspector looked at me.
"Sir, is this your signature?"
I stared.
Then shook my head.
"No."
The HOA president laughed sharply.
"Of course he'd deny it."
I looked at her.
"I've never seen that document."
She raised her chin.
"Your own signature is right there."
I studied it again.
The shape was similar.
But several details were wrong.
The first letter was too narrow.
The middle initials were missing.