She smiled.
Summer continued.
The pool stayed clean.
That took adjustment.
For weeks after Brenda's resignation, Simone still checked the water every morning expecting something wrong.
Nothing.
Leaves appeared occasionally.
Real leaves.
Wind.
A beetle once floated near the steps.
Normal.
Simone had forgotten how comforting normal could be.
Officer Ruiz stopped by one Saturday afternoon.
Not officially.
He was off duty, wearing jeans and carrying a paper bag.
Simone opened the door.
“What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you here?”
He held up the bag.
“My wife baked too much banana bread.”
Simone stared.
“That's the most suspicious sentence you've ever said.”
He laughed.
“I was in the neighborhood.”
“Sure.”
She took the bag.
“How's the pool?”
“Unregulated.”
“Dangerous.”
“Extremely.”
Ruiz glanced toward the backyard.
“Can I see?”
Simone smiled.
“You need a court order.”
He laughed louder.
She let him in.
They sat on the patio for twenty minutes.
He told her the department used her case in a community-relations training discussion.
Simone groaned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it was a good example.”
“Of what?”
“How civil disputes can cross into criminal complaints without everybody understanding where the line is.”
“Did you use my name?”
“No.”
“Brenda's?”
“No.”
“Red bucket?”
“Yes.”
Simone sighed.
“Of course.”
Ruiz looked toward the pool.
“You know what everyone remembers?”
“The swimsuit?”
He laughed.
“The officer was not prepared for how much neighborhood gossip included swimsuit details.”
Simone smiled.
Then Ruiz became serious.
“You handled it well.”
She looked at him.
“No.”
“You did.”
“I wanted to throw that bucket over the fence.”
“But you didn't.”
“I considered pushing her into the spa.”
Ruiz laughed.
“Please do not add that to the official historical record.”
Simone leaned back.
“I was furious.”
“You can be furious and still make good decisions.”
She looked toward the gate.
“I spent months thinking maybe I was the difficult one.”
Ruiz nodded.
“That happens.”
“Why?”
“Because people who push boundaries rarely announce themselves as people pushing boundaries.”
He shrugged.
“They say they're enforcing rules.”
“Helping.”
“Protecting standards.”
“Doing what has always been done.”
Simone looked at him.
“That sounds almost philosophical.”
“I watch detective shows.”
“Terrible source.”
“Probably.”
He left before dinner.
Simone stood by the gate afterward.
She touched the new lock.
The old scratched one sat in a labeled bag in her office.
She had considered throwing it away.
Never did.
Evidence had become memory.
A month later, Rachel Owens from Birch Lane invited Simone to a neighborhood pool party.
Simone declined.
Rachel called.
“You own a pool.”
“Yes.”