Then she said, "Those numbers include disposal and administration."
The treasurer nodded.
"Then where are the disposal records?"
The president stared.
The treasurer continued.
"And where are the receipts showing that owners were notified before their property was classified as unclaimed?"
The woman in the cream suit looked toward the vice president.
"This is an ambush."
He shook his head.
"No. These are ordinary questions about a service the association has been paying for."
I leaned back.
For months, I'd been treated as an unreasonable homeowner for asking where my packages went.
Now the same question was being asked by the people responsible for overseeing the association's money.
And the president still didn't have a clear answer.
The accountant's preliminary findings were presented later in the meeting.
They weren't final conclusions.
Several records still needed to be reconciled, and the board had not yet established exactly what happened to every missing parcel. But enough discrepancies had been identified to justify suspending the receiving service while the review continued.
The report identified payments to a private vendor for collection and storage.
Additional payments for disposal.
Administrative fees charged against the association's operating account.
And irregularities involving items designated as unclaimed without adequate evidence that the owners had been notified.
Then came the detail that made the room erupt.
The vendor responsible for disposing of unclaimed luxury merchandise was affiliated with a company controlled by the HOA president's adult niece.
I stared toward the front table.
The president's expression changed.
The treasurer continued.
"The relationship was not disclosed in the records provided to the board."
A man near the aisle stood.
"Are you telling us we're paying her family to sell our packages?"
The vice president raised one hand.
"That's not a final finding. The review is still ongoing."
The man looked furious.
"But that's what the contracts allowed?"
The treasurer nodded carefully.
"The arrangement gave the vendor rights to process certain items once they were classified as abandoned under the program."
The room filled with angry voices.
I looked toward my wife.
She was staring at the front table.
Then she leaned toward me.
"That's why she said the packages were valuable."
I nodded.
It finally made sense.
The president wasn't merely obsessed with packages because she wanted to control the neighborhood.
She had created a system in which collecting parcels could produce money.
Residents paid for protection.
The association paid a vendor for handling.
And some items that didn't reach their rightful owners appeared to enter a resale process connected to her family.
The exact financial benefit to the president herself still needed to be established.
But the conflict of interest was impossible to ignore.