I shook her hand.
"Nice to meet you."
She looked toward the clubhouse doors.
Patricia stood inside speaking with another board member.
Eleanor lowered her voice.
"May I give you some advice?"
"Of course."
"Keep every letter."
I frowned.
"I already do."
"Keep every envelope too. Every email. Every payment receipt."
She looked directly at me.
"And photograph anything unusual around your property."
I studied her face.
There was something more than ordinary annoyance in her expression.
"Has something happened to you?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Last year, the association accused me of having unsafe pool water."
I glanced toward her.
"Was there a problem?"
"Not before somebody came into my yard."
I went still.
Eleanor looked toward the clubhouse again.
Then continued.
"I came home from visiting my daughter and found the pool cloudy. There were little pellets along the shallow end."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind of pellets?"
She shook her head.
"I didn't know."
"Did you have the water tested?"
"Not immediately. I called the management office because I was worried."
She gave a bitter laugh.
"Patricia showed up before the pool service company."
I stared.
"Why?"
"She said the association had received a complaint."
"What complaint?"
"That my pool might be creating a health risk."
Eleanor looked toward her car.
"She told me I needed an emergency cleanup contractor."
I frowned.
"Did the association arrange it?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
"How much?"
Her expression darkened.
"Three thousand eight hundred dollars."
I stared.
"For one pool?"
"Drainage, cleaning, inspection, chemical balancing, emergency mobilization. That's what the invoice said."
"Did you authorize the work?"
She hesitated.
"I signed something."
I waited.
"Patricia told me that if I refused, the association would fine me and might begin whatever collection procedures the documents allowed."
I felt anger rising.
"Did you ever learn what caused the contamination?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Then she added quietly, "But I never believed it happened by itself."
We stood beside the parked cars for several seconds.
I looked toward the clubhouse.
Patricia was leaving through the front doors.
She noticed us.
Her smile vanished.