Her expression was triumphant.
"See? Nobody died."
The other women laughed.
The homeowner stood perfectly still.
For a moment, he watched them.
Then he reached down, picked up his phone, and checked its screen.
The protective case had prevented serious damage.
He opened an application.
One tap.
Then another.
The outdoor security display mounted beneath the patio roof came to life.
The blonde woman noticed.
"What are you doing now?"
He did not answer immediately.
Instead, he activated a small inspection light he had used earlier that morning.
A violet glow passed across the wet stone near the pool.
Then over a damp towel.
The woman in turquoise began climbing out.
She placed one foot on the patio.
Then froze.
Across the lower part of her swimsuit and along her wet calf, several faint streaks suddenly shone bright pink beneath the inspection light.
She stared.
"What is that?"
The brunette looked down.
Her wet hands carried the same fluorescent tint.
"Oh my God."
The blonde president glanced toward her own legs.
Then toward the homeowner.
"What did you put in this water?"
The homeowner remained calm.
"A temporary pool-safe tracing solution used for a documented circulation check. You were warned the pool was closed."
The blonde woman's face flushed.
"You're insane!"
He shook his head.
"No."
Then pointed toward the outdoor security display.
"I'm also tired of people entering my property when they think I'm not home."
The screen showed footage from three nights earlier.
A dark backyard.
A timestamp.
Three women entering through the black metal gate.
The same women.
The same blonde bob.
The same white tote bag.
The same turquoise swimsuit.
The HOA president stared.
Her face lost its color.
The footage changed.
Another night.
The women carried towels and drinks.
Then another.
This time, the brunette opened the gate with a metal key attached to an HOA identification tag.