We needed professionals to examine the substance.
And we needed to preserve the original recording.
Leah called emergency services.
She explained that a woman had entered our fenced backyard and deliberately sprinkled an unidentified powder over prepared food.
She also told the dispatcher that the incident was recorded and that nobody had eaten anything.
The dispatcher asked whether anyone was experiencing symptoms.
Leah answered no.
Then she asked whether the woman was still nearby.
I looked toward the side gate.
"She left," I said.
But just as Leah repeated the answer, our front doorbell rang.
Once.
Then again.
Then three times in rapid succession.
We looked at each other.
I approached the front window.
Vivian stood on the porch.
Her handbag was tucked beneath one arm.
She looked directly toward the doorbell camera.
And she was smiling.
I didn't open the door immediately.
Instead, I spoke through the camera's intercom.
"Mrs. Harlow, what do you want?"
She looked toward the small lens.
"Caleb, don't be rude. We need to discuss your event."
I stared at the screen.
For a moment, I felt almost dizzy.
She had just tampered with our food.
Now she was acting as though nothing unusual had happened.
"This isn't a good time."
Vivian sighed theatrically.
"I'm here in my official capacity as HOA president."
I looked toward Leah.
She was still speaking with the dispatcher.
I turned back.
"You don't have permission to enter our property."
Vivian's smile disappeared.
"Excuse me?"
"I saw you in the backyard."
For a moment, her expression changed.
Then she laughed.
"Oh, that."
My stomach tightened.
"What did you put in our food?"
She looked toward the camera.
"Don't be ridiculous."
I said nothing.
Vivian adjusted her handbag.
"I was helping with the table."
"You weren't invited."
She smiled coldly.
"Caleb, this neighborhood has standards. And if you're going to host an event that affects the surrounding properties, I have every right to check compliance."
I looked toward the screen.
Then answered.
"That doesn't give you permission to enter my fenced backyard or touch food."
Her jaw tightened.
"Open the door."
"No."
She stepped closer to the camera.
"Open it now."
I took a breath.
"The police have been called."
For one brief moment, Vivian stopped moving.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Then her expression became strangely calm.
"Good."
The word surprised me.
She smiled again.
"Maybe they'll finally explain who really controls this property."
Then she turned and walked off the porch.