Everything okay?
He looked toward police.
Not really. But we’re safe.
He put phone away.
When he turned back, the younger officer was speaking quietly to the HOA president.
“We need your identification.”
“My ID is in my cover-up in my car.”
“Where?”
“Front pocket.”
“Where is the vehicle?”
“Around the corner.”
The retired teacher smiled.
The president glared.
“Don’t.”
The older officer sent the second arriving officer to retrieve it with her consent.
The homeowner noticed something else.
“You came here in a swimsuit.”
The HOA president looked at him.
“So?”
He pointed toward the bags.
“You parked around the corner.”
“You entered through the side gate.”
“You wore a swimsuit.”
Her expression tightened.
The younger officer understood before he finished.
“You wanted it to look like you belonged at the pool.”
The HOA president scoffed.
“That is ridiculous.”
The homeowner stared.
“Is it?”
The retired teacher said:
“She carried a towel too.”
Everyone turned.
The president’s head snapped toward her.
“What towel?”
The retired teacher pointed toward the corner near the fence.
A folded blue towel lay on a patio chair the homeowner knew he had not placed there.
He looked at it.
The HOA president said:
“That’s his.”
“No.”
“It is not.”
The younger officer put on gloves.
“Don’t touch.”
She examined visually.
Inside the folded towel was a pair of goggles.
A half-empty bottle of sunscreen.
A magazine.
Props.
The homeowner’s expression changed.
“You planned to photograph yourself here.”
The president said nothing.
The retired teacher whispered:
“My God.”
The younger officer looked toward the older officer.
This was premeditation.
A strange kind, but clear.
The homeowner began understanding.
She had not merely intended to dump trash and run.
She intended to create an appearance.
Maybe pictures showing she had been invited.
Maybe photographs making contamination appear preexisting.
Maybe an excuse to claim she had discovered a problem while using the pool.
But why?
The second officer returned with the identification.
And something else.
A beige tote bag.
He held it carefully.
“She said ID was in the vehicle.”
“The driver door was unlocked with her remote.”
“I opened only enough to retrieve cover-up from passenger seat.”
“This tote was on top.”
“I didn’t search.”
“But when I lifted the cover-up, this fell open.”
He looked at the older officer.
“There are printed photographs visible.”
The HOA president’s face changed instantly.
“You had no right to take that.”
The second officer replied:
“You told us to get your identification from the cover-up.”
“The bag was on it.”
“Give it back.”
The older officer looked toward the tote.
“What photographs?”
The second officer did not reach inside.
He angled opening just enough.
The top paper was visible without manipulation.
A color photograph of the homeowner’s swimming pool.
Filled with garbage.
The homeowner took one step closer involuntarily.
Then stopped.
“That photo wasn’t taken today.”
Everyone looked at him.
“How do you know?”