"Get everyone out of the water," he repeated. "If anyone is having trouble breathing or feels seriously unwell, we need medical help immediately."
Victoria splashed toward the edge.
"Don't you dare pretend you don't know what happened!"
Anthony reached for his phone.
"I'm calling for medical assistance."
She grabbed the pool ladder.
"No! I'm calling the police!"
He looked toward her.
"You're welcome to call them."
Victoria climbed onto the deck and snatched a towel from one of the chairs. She wrapped it around her shoulders, rubbing angrily at the irritated skin.
"You poisoned us because you didn't want us using the pool!"
Anthony stared at her.
For several seconds, he couldn't believe what he'd heard.
Then he looked toward the party supplies.
The open tote bag.
And the floating decorations.
His gaze stopped on a small container sitting beside the table.
He recognized it from something he'd seen on his security footage earlier that morning.
Victoria was still shouting.
"You're going to jail for this!"
Anthony unlocked his phone.
Then answered quietly.
"Victoria, I didn't put anything in that water to hurt anybody."
She laughed bitterly.
"Then explain why everyone is itching!"
Anthony glanced toward the patio security camera mounted above the sliding door.
He had installed it six weeks earlier, after repeated incidents involving unauthorized use of his pool.
Then he looked back at Victoria.
"I think the recording might help explain that."
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
But he noticed.
For the first time since she'd climbed out of the water, Victoria stopped shouting.
Anthony tapped the security application.
A video opened.
The timestamp read 10:56 a.m.
Victoria appeared beside the pool, wearing the same bright-pink swimsuit.
She looked toward the house.
Then reached into her tote bag.
And removed something she'd never mentioned bringing.
Anthony watched the recording for several seconds.
Then slowly raised his eyes.
"Victoria, what exactly did you put in my pool?"
Her mouth opened.
No words came.
Then police sirens sounded from the street.
And Anthony realized the morning was about to become far more complicated than another argument with an arrogant HOA president.
Three years earlier, Anthony Lewis hadn't owned a swimming pool.
He hadn't owned a house either.
He was twenty, working as a junior facilities technician for a regional property-maintenance company and studying mechanical systems through a technical certification program.
Most of his friends were renting apartments, attending college, or struggling to save enough money to move away from their parents.
Anthony was doing something different.
He was helping his grandfather maintain a small property on the outskirts of Maplewood Heights, a growing suburban community surrounded by old farmland.