She got out wearing the same orange tailored suit she had worn at the emergency HOA meeting three days earlier.
Pearl earrings.
White blouse.
Sunglasses on top of her head.
Her expression said she had arrived to correct people.
Then she saw the car.
The feathers.
Her son.
The investigator.
And the officer.
Her expression changed so slightly most people would have missed it.
I did not.
She was scared.
Not because her son had damaged my Lamborghini.
She had probably already known that.
She was scared because the investigator had seen it.
“What is going on?”
The officer answered:
“Ma’am, please stay there for the moment.”
She looked at him as though he had forgotten who she was.
“I’m the HOA president.”
The officer nodded.
“All right.”
That answer offended her more than an argument would have.
She pointed toward her son.
“He called me frightened.”
The son stared at her.
“Frightened?”
She ignored him.
Then she looked at me.
“What did you do?”
I almost laughed.
Instead:
“I walked out of my garage.”
“He says you threatened him.”
“No.”
The officer said:
“We have video.”
Her eyes went toward the phone.
Then the cameras.
Then the investigator.
The president forced a smile.
“Obviously tensions are high.”
The investigator spoke.
“Did you instruct your son to come here?”
“No.”
The son looked at her.
“Mom.”
She turned.
“Do not interrupt me.”
He stared.
The investigator asked:
“Did you discuss this homeowner’s vehicle with your son today?”
“We discuss many community issues.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
The president exhaled.
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“That the vehicle had become a point of contention.”
“It has?”
“Yes.”
“With whom?”
“Residents.”
“Which residents?”
The president’s mouth tightened.
“I don’t keep a list in my head.”
The investigator nodded.
“We’ll review complaints.”
The president’s eyes flicked.
Tiny.
Enough.
The investigator continued.
“Did you tell your son to embarrass the homeowner?”
“No.”
The son said:
“You did.”
“Stop.”
“You told me—”
“I said stop.”
The president’s voice had changed.
This was no longer a mother scolding her son.
This was an organizational defendant trying to control a witness.
He heard it.
His face reddened.
“You’re seriously doing this?”
She looked at him.
“I’m trying to keep you from making things worse.”
“For who?”
No one moved.
The investigator did not interrupt.