The president smiled.
“We were expecting you next week.”
“No.”
The investigator looked at her.
“You were notified that my inspection window began Monday.”
The president’s smile tightened.
“Perhaps there was confusion.”
“No confusion.”
The president glanced at the officer.
“Is law enforcement necessary?”
The officer answered:
“I was requested for standby during a property-investigation visit.”
The president looked at the car again.
Then at her son.
“What happened?”
Her son said nothing.
She turned to me.
“What did you accuse him of?”
I pointed toward the Lamborghini.
She stared at the feathers as though noticing for the first time.
“Oh.”
The reaction was almost offensive in its smallness.
Oh.
As if he had spilled a drink.
The investigator asked:
“Did you tell your son the homeowner’s vehicle was an HOA nuisance?”
The president straightened.
“We have discussed a number of ongoing compliance issues.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
The president looked at her.
“I’m not sure what you’re implying.”
“Neither am I.”
“Which is why I’m asking.”
“Did you discuss this vehicle with your son?”
The president hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him the homeowner needed to be embarrassed?”
Her eyes flicked toward her son.
He looked down.
She understood.
Whatever protection she had planned for herself had just become harder.
“No.”
The son looked up.
“Mom.”
She ignored him.
“No.”
“You didn’t say that?”
“I may have used the word in general frustration.”
The son stared.
“You literally told me—”
“Stop talking.”
The officer looked at her.
“Ma’am.”
The investigator’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But the president noticed.
She took a breath.
Then forced calm.
“My son is upset.”
“He should not be making statements without counsel.”
The son looked at her as if she had suddenly moved ten feet away.
He was not stupid.
Spoiled, yes.
Protected, definitely.
But not stupid.
He understood that his mother was no longer speaking like a parent.
She was speaking like a person separating herself from liability.
The son looked at the car.
Then at me.
Then back at her.
“You told me to do it.”
Her face went hard.
“I told you to leave the homeowner alone.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Enough.”
“You said if he wants attention, give him attention.”
“Stop.”
“You said make the car look like the joke it is.”
The HOA president went pale.
The investigator wrote.
The son’s voice became louder.
“You sent me the feathers.”
Silence.
Even I had not expected that.
The president stared at him.
“What?”
“You put them in the garage.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You said use something harmless.”
The son pointed at my Lamborghini.