“The parcel your house sits on.”
“Read it to me.”
“I’m not obligated to explain the law to you.”
Walter opened his folder.
He arranged six certified deeds across the porch railing and held the seventh document against the breeze.
“Then explain why your map puts six other houses under the same supposed owner.”
Brenda stared at the seals in the corners.
Her expression changed when she recognized the signatures near the bottom.
“Where did you get those?”
“The recorder’s office,” Walter replied.
“Public documents, Brenda.”
She took a step toward him, and he covered the pages with his forearm.
Her phone was still connected to emergency dispatch.
The dispatcher asked whether anyone needed immediate medical assistance.
Brenda ignored the question and pointed at the papers.
“Those records are private association business.”
“Recorded property transfers are not private,” Walter said.
“The people whose homes are named on them deserve to know what you filed.”
A police cruiser turned onto the street.
Brenda looked from the approaching cruiser to the papers, then toward a dark sedan parked near the corner.
Walter noticed the sedan because its engine started at exactly that moment.
The driver pulled away before the officer reached the curb.
Walter did not yet know who sat behind that windshield.
He knew only that Brenda had stopped talking about the flowers.
The officer stepped out, looked at Walter’s garden tools, and asked a question so ordinary it almost embarrassed everyone present.
“Who called about a property destruction in progress?”
Brenda pointed at Walter.
Walter raised the folder instead of his voice.
“I think someone called because they didn’t expect me to read these.”
Officer Dana Rios had worked neighborhood disputes long enough to recognize when the volume of a complaint exceeded the danger of the situation.
She approached the porch cautiously and asked both neighbors to remain where she could see them.
Brenda introduced herself by her association title before giving her name.
Walter introduced himself as the man who lived in the house.
“The caller alleged destruction of common property,” Rios said.
“The garden is inside my recorded boundary,” Walter replied.
Brenda held out a laminated map with a green strip running through the front yards.
“This is our official landscaping reserve.”
Rios looked at the map, then at the neat row of seedlings.
“I can’t decide disputed land ownership from a patrol car.”
“I understand,” Walter said.
“I’m not asking you to.”
