But she made a note of the conversation.
Over the following weeks, she found similar reversals in several other accounts.
Not every reversal was improper.
Some concerned returned payments or legitimate corrections.
But a small group involved residents who'd been especially vocal about the rising assessments.
Those were the accounts that worried her.
One belonged to the elderly widow.
Another belonged to a retired firefighter who had questioned the gate expenses.
A third belonged to the sheriff.
The coordinator began wondering whether the accounting system was being used to punish residents who demanded transparency.
Her concern deepened when she discovered the proposed common-area vote.
The president instructed her to assemble a packet showing that homeowners had approved a transaction involving the southern retention basin and access rights.
The coordinator searched the association's records.
She found no completed ballot process matching the president's description.
There were preliminary notices.
A proposed meeting agenda.
And a list of homeowners who supposedly supported the transaction.
But the documentation was incomplete.
She asked for the signed ballots and proxy authorizations.
The president handed her a folder.
"Here."
Inside were photocopied voting forms.
Several contained signatures.
Others appeared to have been prepared using older owner information.
The coordinator began entering them into the association's system.
Then she noticed a name.
It belonged to a woman who had died three years earlier.
The sheriff's grandmother.
The coordinator knew the family.
She remembered attending the woman's funeral.
Yet the voting form was dated only four months earlier.
It appeared to authorize support for the proposed transfer.
For several seconds, the coordinator stared at the signature.
Then she looked toward the date.
She checked the homeowner records.
The property ownership had already changed.
The sheriff was the current owner.
His grandmother couldn't have signed the form.
And even if an old signature had been copied from another document, it wouldn't establish a valid vote after her death.
The coordinator brought the form to the president.
"There must be a mistake."
The president looked up.
"What?"
"This homeowner passed away years ago."
For a moment, the president's expression changed.
Then she took the paper.
"That was an old authorization."
The coordinator frowned.
"It's dated this year."
The president looked at her.
For several seconds, the room was silent.
Then she said coldly.
"Do you enjoy your job?"
The coordinator felt her stomach tighten.
"Of course."
The president placed the paper facedown.
"Then stop creating problems that don't belong to you."