The screaming started at 11:43 on a Saturday morning.
Twenty-three-year-old Anthony Lewis was standing in his kitchen, barefoot and wearing navy-blue swimming trunks, when he heard a woman shriek from the backyard. At first, he thought someone had slipped on the pool deck. Then came another scream, followed by the unmistakable sounds of splashing water, overturned furniture, and people shouting over one another.
He hurried toward the sliding glass doors.
What he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Victoria Whitmore, the forty-eight-year-old president of the Maplewood Heights Homeowners Association, was standing waist-deep in his swimming pool, clawing desperately at her arms.
She was an attractive blonde woman with a slim, fit figure and carefully maintained appearance. Her bright hot-pink one-piece swimsuit stood out against the brilliant turquoise water. Normally, Victoria carried herself with the rigid confidence of someone who expected every person in the neighborhood to obey her instructions.
Now her wet blonde hair hung across her face, her eyes were wide with panic, and angry reddish patches covered parts of her arms, shoulders, and upper chest.
"It burns!" she screamed. "What is happening to my skin?"
Three women were scrambling toward the shallow-end steps. Another guest stood on the patio, rubbing her neck and complaining that she felt as though she'd fallen into a nest of stinging insects. Two men hurried away from the water while someone knocked over a plastic chair.
Anthony stared.
There were seven people in his backyard.
He hadn't invited any of them.
Near the edge of the pool stood a white folding table covered with party supplies, colorful disposable cups, towels, and an open pink-and-white tote bag. Several inflatable decorations drifted across the water.
A portable speaker played dance music.
Someone had hung a banner across his privacy fence.
And Victoria Whitmore was standing in the middle of his private pool, screaming that someone had poisoned her.
Anthony opened the sliding door.
"Everybody, please get out of the water."
Victoria turned toward him.
Her expression transformed instantly from fear to fury.
"You!"
Anthony stopped beside the patio.
"Victoria, what are you doing in my backyard?"
She pointed at him with a trembling hand.
"You did something to this pool!"
He frowned.
"What?"
"My skin is burning! Look at me!"
Anthony looked toward the irritated patches on her arms.
He understood that she was frightened.
And he wasn't going to ignore someone who might need medical attention, even if that person had entered his property without permission.