Salas held the deed at chest height.
Not theatrically.
Simply so nearby people could see what he was referencing.
"This is Mr. Hale's recorded deed for 14 Larks Lane."
Then the receipt.
"This documents removal of an unauthorized vehicle from private property at the property owner's request."
He looked at Patricia.
"Nothing before me indicates a theft."
She opened her mouth.
He continued.
"If you believe you have a valid civil agreement granting you parking rights, you may pursue that through appropriate civil channels."
"But you cannot report a lawfully towed vehicle as stolen simply because you dispute the tow."
Patricia stared.
Salas added:
"I recommend nobody remove anything from Mr. Hale's property unless they can identify it as theirs and he permits collection."
Bev walked toward the pool lounger.
She lifted the monogrammed towel.
Folded it once carefully.
Carried it to the fence.
Held it out toward Patricia.
Patricia did not take it.
Bev placed it across the top rail.
The embroidered initials faced the street.
P.V.
It stayed there all afternoon.
By three o'clock, most legitimate community property was gone.
Neighbors took what they could identify.
What belonged to Patricia remained in a small cluster beside my garage.
Lounger.
Tile.
Mower.
Patio heater.
Cement mixer.
It looked less like evidence than a monument nobody wanted.
Deputy Salas stayed after most people left.
He leaned against the cruiser.
Hat in his hands.
"Twenty-seven."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"Calls to this address in roughly three years."
I said nothing.
"I pulled the dispatch history this morning."
"Why?"
"Because I recognized the address before I turned into the street."
He looked toward Patricia's house.
"Nineteen calls appear to be from her phone."
"Several others from the HOA office line."
"Different complaints."
"Suspicious occupants."
"Improper parking."
"Noise."
"Possible trespass."
"Property disputes."
"Most ended without citation or arrest."
I thought of Linda.
The Kowalskis.
The Bakers.
"Four owners?"
"At least four occupant groups."
Salas nodded slowly.
"That's what got my attention."
He put his hat back on.
"I'll forward the call history and today's report for review."
"To whom?"
"Supervisor first."
"Depending on what the records show, county attorney or district attorney."
I nodded.
I did not ask him to pursue Patricia.
Did not ask him not to.
He was a deputy performing his job.
I was a homeowner standing on a driveway.
That was the proper arrangement.
The next issue was the parking agreement.
Linda agreed to provide handwriting exemplars and a sworn statement that the signature was not hers.
I hired a private attorney named Rebecca Sloan.
Not somebody from my courthouse.
Not someone who regularly appeared before me.
She practiced property and association law two counties over.
When I called, I began by saying:
"I need you to treat me as Thomas Hale, homeowner."
She laughed.
"That's generally how clients work."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
I gave her the deed.
Title policy.
HOA declaration.
Plat.