A white utility van was slowly turning around at the intersection.
He watched it.
Then glanced toward the lieutenant.
For a moment, I saw something pass between them.
Concern.
Recognition.
Perhaps nothing more than professional attention.
But the lieutenant asked him to note the vehicle's description.
And I realized I wasn't the only person who thought its presence was worth remembering.
Vivian approached from across the street before the officers finished speaking.
She was carrying her black handbag.
Her bright-pink blouse was immaculate.
Her hair had been brushed back into place.
And her expression had returned to the confident smile she used during HOA meetings.
"Officers!"
She waved.
"I'm so glad you're here."
The lieutenant turned.
Vivian approached quickly.
"I'm Vivian Harlow, president of the Cedar Grove Estates homeowners' association."
She extended her hand.
The lieutenant introduced herself.
Vivian gestured toward our house.
"I'm afraid we have a very unstable resident."
I stared.
The younger officer glanced toward me.
Vivian continued.
"He invited people to an unauthorized gathering, became aggressive when I checked the property, and started threatening me with his phone."
My jaw tightened.
I wanted to interrupt.
But the lieutenant raised one hand calmly.
"Ma'am, we'll take statements separately."
Vivian looked offended.
"Do you know who I am?"
The lieutenant nodded.
"You told me your name."
For a moment, Vivian seemed surprised.
Then she smiled stiffly.
"I've worked with the police department on several neighborhood safety initiatives."
The lieutenant remained neutral.
"That doesn't change how we document an incident."
Vivian's eyes narrowed.
For several seconds, she seemed unable to decide whether to argue.
Then she pointed toward me.
"He's accusing me of poisoning his guests."
The lieutenant looked toward her.
"Did you put anything on the food?"
Vivian hesitated.
For one brief moment, her carefully prepared expression slipped.
Then she laughed.
"Of course. I added some seasoning."
The lieutenant glanced toward the backyard.
"Without permission?"
Vivian folded her arms.
"It was a friendly gesture."
I looked at her in disbelief.
She had entered through a side gate.
Shaken an unidentified powder over the food.
Returned to one particular plate.
Placed a reserved card beneath it.
Then tried to disturb the table when I confronted her.
And now she was calling it a friendly gesture.
The lieutenant asked what kind of seasoning she'd used.
Vivian reached into her handbag.
For a moment, my heart began racing.
Then she produced a small transparent container.
It contained a white powder.
She held it up.
"Ordinary table seasoning. Nothing dangerous."
The lieutenant examined the container without taking it directly into her hands.