Next came an $8,500 payment for a new irrigation system at the main entrance. I knew that entrance. I drove through it twice a day. The old irrigation control box was still there, faded and cracked, behind a clump of ornamental shrubs. The supposed installation date fell on a week when Bernard's photographs showed roadwork nearby, but no irrigation excavation or new equipment. We agreed to get an independent contractor's assessment rather than simply declare the project imaginary.
Another invoice described parking-area resurfacing worth twelve thousand dollars. The neighborhood had no separate parking lot of the size suggested by the contract, only a small paved area beside the community center. The surface still carried the cracks and painted lines visible in photographs from years earlier. A third charge listed $3,400 for upgraded cluster mailboxes, although Willowbrook used individual curbside boxes. Phil put the invoice down and rubbed his forehead.
"I'm beginning to dislike this accounting system," he said.
"You dislike every accounting system," Dolores replied.
"Only the ones that don't account for things."
Finally, there were miscellaneous reimbursements totaling approximately $4,700 with descriptions too vague to match to specific association functions. Added to the other disputed categories, the amount approached seventy-three thousand dollars over the period we reviewed. That did not yet mean every dollar had been criminally stolen. It meant a large sum required documentation, explanation, and potentially recovery.
Janet looked at the notes. "We have enough to ask for an independent audit and to notify the appropriate authorities if the supporting documents don't reconcile. We should not present an allegation as an adjudicated fact."
I looked at the total. Seventy-three thousand dollars. For a neighborhood of seventy-eight houses, that was nearly a full year's routine dues. Every family contributed money believing it would support shared property and services. If the transactions were improper, the damage reached into the budgets of people who had never argued with Vivian over a single rule.
"The fines matter, too," Bernard said. He opened another tab. "There are penalties collected from residents that don't line up cleanly with the income categories. Sometimes they're deposited late. Sometimes they're listed as service reimbursements. I can't match all the notices to receipts."
Phil leaned over the screen. "We'll need to reconcile those separately. And we should ask who controlled the accounts, who could approve payments, and whether anyone besides Vivian reviewed the monthly statements."
I thought about the letters to my home. Each demanded a small amount of money. Each assumed I would pay to avoid trouble. Now, looking at the financial records, I wondered how many homeowners had paid simply because they were frightened of being called noncompliant. A hundred dollars felt insignificant beside seventy-three thousand, but that was exactly why it was easy to collect.
Dolores unfolded a yellowed page from her bag. It was a handwritten note she'd kept after speaking to Beth Collins before the family moved. Beth had recorded the sequence of fines, appeal letters, and threats concerning the sprinklers. Her handwriting grew cramped near the bottom as she described losing sleep and being unable to afford another attorney consultation while caring for a baby. Dolores stared at the page for a moment before passing it to me.