Chapter 17

"All right," the officer said."But the point is," she pressed on, "we did rent this property legitimately. Everything was above board.""Like I said," he said, "we'll sort it out when the caretaker gets here."So we waited. Karen lingered near the officers, speaking steadily without pause, covering every angle: the rental arrangement, the party, who she was in the neighborhood, the HOA, her long experience dealing with difficult people and how today was simply the latest example. She recounted the harassment from the man with the two children, the assault from the nine-year-old with the birthday cake, and the deflated bouncy castle she had insured personally. Somebody was going to be held responsible, and she made sure everyone knew it.Eleven straight minutes. I counted.My younger boy ate a granola bar. My older boy sat on the tailgate. I leaned against the truck and watched the driveway.At 3:47, dust rising behind him, the caretaker's truck pulled in.He got out, took in the field, the forty guests smeared in cake, the deflated bouncy castle, the three police units, Karen in her ruined white dress, and finally me with my boys.He froze, staring at me. Two full seconds. Not at the police, not at Karen, but at me. The way someone looks at what they hoped would not be there.Karen turned when she heard the truck, saw him, and came across the grass toward him at speed.She said, "Finally! Tell them! Tell these officers that we had a valid rental agreement! Tell them right now!"He did not say anything. He was still looking at me.Karen said, "Are you listening to me? Tell them we rented this property today for the party! Tell them!"He said, "I can't do that."Karen stopped moving. She said, "What?"He said, "I can't tell them that."

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