“What happened?”
The sheriff looked up.
“Before I answer, I need you to know I am aware it sounds made up.”
His wife put down her work bag.
“That is not encouraging.”
“The HOA president climbed into the yard.”
She stared.
“What HOA president?”
“Next door’s.”
“The woman who sends those ridiculous letters?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She thought it was his pool.”
His wife looked toward the dividing fence.
Then toward their pool.
Then back at him.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was she drunk?”
“No.”
“High?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“Why did she climb?”
“Inspection.”
The wife stared longer.
Then:
“Was she wearing normal clothes?”
The sheriff paused.
She narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
“A swimsuit.”
His wife sat down.
The sheriff waited.
She began laughing.
Harder than the homeowner’s daughter had.
The sheriff tried to remain dignified.
Failed.
“I am still the sheriff.”
His wife wiped tears.
“And yet.”
He looked toward the gate.
“She kicked the latch.”
That stopped her.
“She damaged it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said it was improperly secured.”
His wife stared.
“She kicked our gate open and then said it wasn’t secure?”
“That is accurate.”
The wife stood.
“I want the video.”
“It’s evidence.”
“I live here.”
“Still evidence.”
“You are unbearable.”
“Occupational requirement.”
She walked toward the house.
Then stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Cameras.”
“Yes.”
“They cover the fence.”
“Yes.”
“How long do they retain?”
“Ninety days.”
The sheriff looked at her.
She looked at him.
Something changed.
He understood immediately.
The neighboring homeowner had received repeated backyard violations.
Many supposedly documented by photographs taken from angles difficult to achieve from common property.
The sheriff stood.
“We should not search randomly.”
His wife folded her arms.
“You’re saying that because you want to.”
“Yes.”
“You’re also saying it because you’re right.”
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“Call the investigator.”
He did.
The county investigator arrived at 7:08.
By 8:30, they had not just one earlier clip.
They had seven.
The first showed the HOA president walking the greenbelt before sunrise carrying a folding step stool.
She positioned it against the homeowner’s fence.
Climbed.
Disappeared.
Fourteen minutes later she returned.
The next day, the homeowner received a violation for the lounge chair.
The second clip showed her carrying an orange chemical jug.
She crossed the fence.
Returned without it.
The homeowner had been cited for unsafe chemical storage.
The third showed her carrying a coiled garden hose.
The fourth a lightweight ladder.
The fifth a cardboard box.
The sixth showed another person with her—the owner of the private compliance company hired by the HOA.