Chapter 6

I walked out with my phone already recording, my folder under my arm, and my coffee still in my other hand, because there was no reason to look rushed.Vanessa arrived four minutes later in a white sedan along with a property manager named Deb from the management company and a man in a polo who never introduced himself. Vanessa was dressed for a luncheon—cream slacks and dark sunglasses—and she stood at the edge of the pad the way people stand at a groundbreaking.I asked the crew leader, a solid man in his 40s named Reuben, for the work order and the permit. He handed me the work order without hesitation, which told me he was honest. And when I asked again for the permit, he told me the office said the association had it covered.I read the order out loud so the recording would catch it. It authorized removal and transport of one unapproved metal structure and associated equipment from the northeast boundary area, and it contained a signed representation that the association held authority to permit the removal, with Vanessa Whitlock's name on the line.I told Reuben, plainly and without heat, three things:

The pad and everything on it stood 90 feet inside privately owned land that was not subject to the association's declaration.
The equipment was a permitted component of a reclaimed water conveyance system operating under a district permit, and there was a placard on the housing that said so.
The owner of the equipment, who was me, standing in front of him, did not consent.

Reuben stopped moving. He looked at the placard, then at the pad, then at his own trailer, and I watched a working man do arithmetic about liability in real time. He said he would need to call his office.That is when Vanessa stepped between us and announced that association counsel had confirmed their authority, that the removal had been properly authorized, and that any dispute was a matter for the association and Mr. Price to resolve later. She used the word "later" like a door closing.

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