Someone else wanted to know whether the pool program was insured.
The president looked overwhelmed.
Then she turned toward me.
And, astonishingly, tried one final threat.
“If you open the gate now, we can resolve this privately.”
I stared at her.
“Absolutely not.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You're making a mistake.”
I raised my phone.
“No.”
My voice became quiet.
“You already made yours.”
The sound of approaching sirens interrupted us.
Two police vehicles turned onto the street.
The crowd stepped aside.
The HOA president immediately straightened her blazer.
Smoothed her hair.
And prepared the expression of wounded innocence I'd seen her use so many times before.
I watched.
Then looked toward the older man holding the alleged agreement.
He folded it carefully.
His hands were trembling.
I pointed toward the document.
“Please don't throw that away.”
He nodded.
“I won't.”
The police vehicles stopped.
Two officers stepped out.
And the woman who had just thrown a stone through my guesthouse window walked toward them smiling as though she were the victim of an elaborate crime.
The first police officer was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a calm, professional manner.
He looked at the woman in white.
Then at the locked gate.
Then at me standing barefoot with a beige towel around my waist.
His expression showed surprise, but he didn't immediately assume anything about who was right.
“Who called?”
The HOA president raised her hand.
“I did, Officer.”
He nodded.
“Tell me what happened.”
She took a deep breath.
Then launched into a story so different from reality that I wondered whether she actually believed she could make it true by saying it confidently enough.
She described herself as an association representative attempting to conduct an authorized inspection.
She claimed I became hostile.
She said I threatened her and damaged a window on property subject to association control.
Then she added that I was withholding an access code needed for a community amenity.
The officer listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he looked toward me.
“Sir, can you tell me your side?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
I explained that I owned the property.
That the pool was private.
That the association did not possess an access agreement.
And that the president had thrown a stone through the guesthouse window after I refused to unlock the gate.
The woman immediately interrupted.
“That's a lie!”
The officer turned.
“Ma'am, let him finish.”
She looked offended.
I continued.
Then I pointed toward the security camera.
“The incident was recorded.”
The officer looked up.