The technician arrived the next morning.
He crouched near the water.
“Somebody put something in here.”
The homeowner stared.
“What?”
“Looks like surfactant.”
“Meaning?”
“Soap. Cleaner. Personal-care product. Something that foams.”
“How would that get in?”
The technician looked around.
“You have people swimming?”
“Just me.”
“New sunscreen?”
“No.”
“Cleaned the deck?”
“Not recently.”
“Anybody dump anything?”
The homeowner looked toward the fence.
The technician followed his eyes.
“That wasn't a serious question.”
“It might be.”
The technician drained and treated enough water to solve the problem.
The homeowner paid.
Saved the invoice.
Took photographs.
Added them to the folder.
Three days later, the HOA notice arrived.
UNSANITARY POOL CONDITION—VISIBLE FOAMING.
Attached photograph.
Taken the previous evening.
The homeowner stared at the timestamp.
The HOA had photographed the foam before he had reported it to anyone.
He called the president.
She answered.
“What can I do for you?”
“Who photographed my pool Monday at 6:14 p.m.?”
A pause.
“The compliance photograph was submitted to management.”
“By whom?”
“The board.”
“That isn't a person.”
“I don't appreciate your tone.”
“I don't appreciate people looking over my fence.”
“You had a visible sanitation problem.”
“How did you know to look that day?”
Silence.
He continued.
“The pool had never foamed before.”
“Then perhaps you should review your maintenance.”
“How did you know?”
The president's voice hardened.
“If you're suggesting misconduct, you should be very careful.”
The homeowner looked at the invoice on his desk.
“I am asking a question.”
“You are making implications.”
“No.”
He said quietly:
“I'm documenting a pattern.”
The president hung up.
That evening he ordered cameras.
Four.
One facing the driveway and front porch.
One covering the side gate.
One positioned under the patio roof facing the pool deck.
One aimed toward the rear fence.
He installed them himself.
Every camera covered his own property.
No neighbor windows.
No common areas beyond what was necessary at the entry points.
Motion alerts went to his phone.
For almost two weeks, nothing happened.
Then at 2:13 on a Wednesday afternoon, while he was at a job site across town, his phone buzzed.
BACK GATE MOTION.
He opened the live feed.
Nothing.
The gate stood closed.
He rewound.
At the very edge of the frame, a hand appeared above the fence.
Then disappeared.
He checked the rear camera.
A shadow.
Someone standing on the raised HOA landscaping strip.
A phone lifted above the fence.
Photograph.
Then gone.
He saved the video.
The next morning:
POOL-DECK DEBRIS NOTICE.
The “debris” was three leaves.
He laughed when he read it.
Not because it was funny.
Because at some point harassment becomes too obvious to disguise itself as administration.
He forwarded the video and notice to the management company.
The company replied:
We will review with the board.