Mrs. Porter shook her head.
“His wife was recovering from surgery, and he hadn’t been back all winter.”
We did not assume the signature was forged.
We asked for verification.
Nora sent a letter requesting the original minutes, attendance records, and bank statements.
Karen replied that the documents were confidential.
The association’s bylaws said otherwise.
I spent that evening in my garage, cleaning the Mustang’s chrome trim while rain tapped against the door.
The work helped me think.
My father used to say that a restoration was mostly an exercise in refusing shortcuts.
You could hide rust beneath paint, but the rust would continue eating the metal.
I had begun to suspect that Karen’s notices were paint covering a much larger problem.
My phone buzzed on the workbench.
The message came from an unfamiliar number.
“Ask why the association paid Fairmont for a gate that doesn’t exist.”
There was no signature.
I showed the message to Nora the next morning.
She told me to preserve it without replying.
Then she made a call to the county clerk’s office to obtain the recorded association filings.
An hour later, she called me back.
“Thomas, the association never filed an amendment giving it authority to tow vehicles from private driveways.”
I told her that was what I expected.
“There’s something else,” she said.
“The company that sent the tow order was dissolved last year.”
Chapter 7: The Company That Shouldn’t Exist
Fairmont Residential Services had once been a legitimate property-management business in the next county.
It had managed apartment complexes and several small homeowners associations.
According to public corporate filings, the company had ceased operations after its owner retired.
Its registration was inactive.
Yet Karen’s notices displayed its logo and claimed it had an active enforcement contract with Ashford Ridge.
Nora obtained the company’s last registered address.
The building was now occupied by a tax-preparation office.
She contacted the retired owner through his attorney.
He confirmed that Fairmont had never contracted with Ashford Ridge.
He also said the company had not authorized anyone to use its letterhead after closing.
That answer raised the stakes.
A fake management company could be used to make ordinary homeowners believe they were dealing with professionals rather than one aggressive neighbor.
It could also provide a convenient destination for money that nobody knew how to trace.
Nora advised me to notify the association’s remaining board members in writing.
We did so without accusing anyone of a crime.
