“You too.”
“Hadley says you’ve got the Mustang.”
“I do.”
“Beautiful car.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve got a boy who would absolutely treasure it.”
“I believe you.”
Whit smiled.
“So let’s talk numbers.”
“There aren’t numbers.”
“There are always numbers.”
“No.”
He chuckled as though he admired my negotiating technique.
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“Not for sale.”
“Thirty.”
“Not for sale.”
“Thirty-five, cash-equivalent cashier’s check today.”
“Whit.”
He stopped.
“I am not negotiating.”
The smile changed.
Only slightly.
“All right.”
He nodded.
“We respect that.”
Hadley stood beside him smiling.
“We sure do.”
Whit looked over my shoulder toward the car.
“We just wanted to put a fair number on the table while we could.”
While we could.
I noticed the wording.
Then they left.
Three days later, the first HOA violation appeared in my online portal.
VEHICLE COVERED IN EXCESSIVE DUST VISIBLE FROM STREET.
COMMUNITY APPEARANCE STANDARDS VIOLATION.
FINE: $200.
I stared at the photograph.
The Mustang was inside my garage.
The garage door had been partly open while I swept the floor.
There was a light film of dust across one quarter panel.
You would have needed a zoom lens and a powerful interest in other people’s business to notice it.
I considered challenging the fine.
Then I paid it.
That decision would later confuse Hadley more than anything else I did.
She interpreted payment as surrender.
It was not.
I spent decades in investigations.
One of the first lessons a good detective learns is that when someone believes a method works, you do not always want to interrupt them.
If the method is illegal, abusive, or revealing, sometimes the smartest thing you can do is let them repeat it.
I washed the Mustang.
Saved the violation notice.
Downloaded the photograph.
Recorded the payment receipt.
Then I made a folder.
Three weeks later came another violation.
VEHICLE STARTING NOISE AFTER 9:00 P.M.
QUIET-HOURS VIOLATION.
FINE: $250.
The Mustang had not been started in forty-three days.
The battery was disconnected because Tate and I were waiting on replacement chrome pieces and I had no reason to keep cycling it.
My F-150 had started at 6:15 that morning.
My Ring camera recorded the entire event.
6:13, I walked outside.
6:14, opened truck.
6:15, diesel start.
I saved the video.
Paid the fine.
Added both items to the folder.
Then came the oil.
One morning I walked outside and found a dark puddle near the bottom of the driveway.
By noon, the HOA portal contained another violation.
DRIVEWAY OIL STAINING VISIBLE FROM COMMUNITY ROAD.
The Mustang had not left the garage for nine days.
The F-150 did not leak.
I walked around the side of my house.
Behind the air-conditioning condenser, partly concealed beneath a shrub, was a red plastic gallon jug.
The cap was missing.
There was motor oil residue inside.
I did not touch the opening.
I retrieved nitrile gloves from the garage.
Put the jug in a clean evidence bag.