Patricia crossed her arms.
"Then clean it."
I stepped onto the deck.
Water ran down my chest and legs.
I looked toward the blue granules sinking beneath the surface.
The pool had been a source of pride for me since the day I bought the house.
I had paid for a new filtration system.
Repaired cracked tiles.
Replaced aging plumbing.
And spent countless Saturday mornings maintaining the water because I loved having a private place to relax.
Now a woman who had never received permission to enter my property stood laughing beside the pool she had deliberately contaminated.
I looked at her.
"Get off my property."
She took a step closer.
"You're going to pay a fine for this."
I stared.
"For what you just did?"
She smiled cruelly.
"Improper chemical maintenance."
I couldn't believe the words.
She had contaminated the water herself.
Now she was threatening to fine me for the contamination.
Then she pointed toward the house.
"And if you refuse to pay, the association will place another charge against your account."
I glanced toward the small outdoor camera mounted beneath the patio roof.
Its indicator was on.
Recording.
Patricia followed my gaze.
Then she laughed.
"Go ahead. Show your little video to whoever you want."
She kicked the empty fertilizer bag toward the pool.
It slid across the wet stone and fell into the water.
"Try proving I did anything."
I looked at the bag.
Then at her.
My anger suddenly gave way to something colder.
Because I knew something she didn't.
For the past six weeks, investigators had been reviewing six separate incidents of deliberate pool contamination inside Cedar Ridge Estates.
Six different homeowners.
Six mysterious chemical disturbances.
Six emergency cleanup assessments.
And in every case, Patricia Holloway had been the person who insisted that the association take immediate action before the homeowners could conduct independent testing.
I had spent the previous three days cooperating with investigators.
And two sheriff's deputies were already on the street outside my property.
I looked directly into Patricia's eyes.
"You should've thought more carefully before climbing that fence."
She sneered.
"Don't threaten me."
"I'm not threatening you."
Behind her, a metal latch clicked.
The side gate slowly opened.
Patricia turned.
Two uniformed sheriff's deputies stepped onto my patio.
One carried a phone displaying the live view of my backyard security camera.
The other stopped just inside the gate and looked toward the fertilizer floating in my swimming pool.
Patricia froze.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then the older deputy looked toward her.
"Ma'am, put your hands where we can see them."
Her mouth opened.
She glanced toward me.
Then toward the deputies.
"What is this?"
I walked slowly away from the pool steps.
Water dripped from my gray swimming trunks.
I stopped several feet from her.