Death by Association Read online

  “Worse than that. She sent us a notice by certified mail informing us that we had two weeks to remove the swimming pool and playhouse or the HOA would impose fines.”

  “Can they do that?”

  “We found out the hard way that they can. Tommy stormed over to the HOA’s office to complain. Patty wasn’t around, but Victor was there, and he wouldn’t back down. Tommy threatened to sue, and Victor told him to go right ahead, but, in the meantime, the fines would be accumulating. Tommy’s furious with Victor, but he’s furious with me, too. He says I should have gotten the HOA’s approval in writing.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I’m sorry to vent, Laurel, but I’ve just about reached the end of my rope. The situation keeps getting worse. Yesterday, Tommy went over to the golf course to play eighteen rounds with his buddies, and he overheard Victor in the locker room bragging about forcing Tommy to rip out his brand new swimming pool. Tommy threatened to punch his lights out, and his golf partners had to drag him out of there. Then Tommy came home in a rage and said that if it weren’t for my stupidity, we wouldn’t be in this mess. He hasn’t said a word to me since.”

  “Sonya, I’m sorry,” I mumbled a bit awkwardly. I wanted to comfort Sonya, but I was at a loss to know what to say. I couldn’t tell her to hang on, that the situation might improve, because, from what she’d told me, her predicament seemed very likely to get worse.

  Somewhat to my relief, we were interrupted by the staccato clicking of high heels on the tile floor of the hallway that led to our classroom. Someone was in a big hurry, I thought. Suddenly Patty appeared in the doorway. After hearing the clatter Patty’s shoes had made, I couldn’t help glancing at her feet. She was wearing six-inch black stiletto platforms, and she looked gigantic as she stood there. “Laurel, class should have been over half an hour ago. What are you still doing here?” she demanded.

  Based on Patty’s accusatory tone, anyone would have thought I’d committed a major crime. I wasn’t too concerned that she was annoyed. In fact, I knew there were no other classes scheduled to use my classroom for the rest of the day, so my leaving a few minutes late certainly wasn’t going to cause any problems. Weary of her nonsense, I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her.

  “We were just getting ready to leave,” I told Patty.

  “See that you do,” she hissed. “And you too, Miss Ponytail,” she added as she turned and strode away, her spike heels hitting the tile floor forcefully. It was a wonder that she didn’t slip on the highly polished floor as she click-clicked her way back to her office.

  Sonya didn’t turn around or respond when Patty called her “Miss Ponytail,” but I could tell from the look on her face that Sonya was furious. I was somewhat surprised that Patty would talk to a student so disrespectfully. Why had the Board of Directors of Hawkeye Haven ever hired Patty as our HOA’s property manager? During the past six months since Patty’s company had obtained the contract to manage the HOA, I’d observed Patty’s rudeness to residents, employees, vendors, and even a couple of board members. If there was another side to Patty, I’d certainly never seen it.

  “We better get going now, Sonya. Patty seems to be on the warpath, as usual.”

  “Patty and Victor both,” Sonya said angrily. “Victor acts as though he’s just backing Patty up, but all the problems in Hawkeye Haven started when he was elected president of our HOA. Honestly, I could just kill both of them.”

  Chapter 3

  After hearing Sonya’s harrowing tale, I felt thankful to head for the comfort of home, where Bear greeted me enthusiastically at the door. My big Lab was happy to see me, but, of course, he had an ulterior motive, too. He loved the special peanut butter treats that I had made for him, and he was angling for one now. Popping the lid off the Dutch lady cookie jar that my grandmother had given me, I picked out a couple of treats and tossed them, one at a time, to Bear.

  “Yummy,” I pronounced, and Bear wagged his tail in agreement.

  I’d been thinking about writing a DIY dog lovers’ book, but I wasn’t sure how my agent would respond to the idea. My previous five books had focused on either fashion or home decorating projects, and I thought it might be a good idea to branch out. I was sure that I could come up with plenty of cute doggie accessory projects, but I also wanted to include some recipes for dog treats, and that was my only concern about writing the book because baking certainly had never been my forté. Despite the fact that my mom was a terrific cook and baker who had tried her best to teach me the ropes, I’d never had much aptitude for either cooking or baking. I’d surprised even myself when I’d come up with a recipe for the peanut butter treats that Bear likes so much, but that one recipe was probably the limit of my kitchen creativity. However, I could probably ask some of my friends to contribute their recipes. Since her dog-bone-shaped treats were such a hit with Bear, Bessie was one of the people I’d been planning to ask. As I was making a list of possible contributors for DIY for Dog Lovers, my phone rang. Noticing that the call was coming from the community center, I hesitated for a few seconds. I certainly didn’t want to talk to Patty again today, so I decided to monitor the call.

  “Laurel, this is Luke.”

  Relieved that it was Luke calling, rather than Patty, I picked up the phone.

  “Hi, Luke.”

  “Hi, Laurel, I have some good news.”

  “About Bessie?”

  “Yes, her son just called me, and she’s regained consciousness. She recognized him, and there doesn’t seem to be any long-term memory loss. She’s going to be staying in the hospital for at least a couple of days for tests, just to be on the safe side, but it sounds as though she’s going to recover.”

  “Thank goodness! That is good news.”

  “Unfortunately, she can’t remember anything that happened this morning, so we may never know exactly who attacked her.”

  “Nothing on the video camera?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting our conversation. Since I was expecting a delivery of some crucial project supplies, I thanked Luke for calling me and rushed to the door to sign for the package. I spent the rest of the day, which luckily was uneventful, writing project instructions. I considered going to the hospital to visit Bessie, but I decided that it would be better to wait a day or two so that she would have some time to rest and recuperate.

  ***

  The next morning, Bear woke earlier than usual, so early that not even a hint of light filtered through the slats of my bedroom shutters. Bear stirred, shook his massive head, and padded over the thick beige carpet to nuzzle me as he panted in anticipation of his early morning walk. I leaned over and ran my hands through his dense, silky fur as he wagged his tail in anticipation.

  “Who’s a good boy?” I asked him. He panted more rapidly and danced around in a circle, whipping his head back and forth and sneezing twice, an odd routine in his morning ritual because he seldom sneezed any other time. Full of energy, my furry canine companion bounced around the bedroom with so much enthusiasm that I didn’t have the heart to delay our walk.

  “Okay, Mommy’s getting up. Mommy’s getting up.” I used to think it was ridiculous when I heard people refer to themselves as their pets’ parents, but I had fallen into the same habit with Bear. My silliness over my dog extended to my talking baby talk to him, which he seemed to enjoy, and signing greeting cards to family members and friends with “Laurel and Bear,” accompanied by a drawing of Bear’s paw print.

  I slipped out of bed, and Bear led the way to the bathroom and then the closet beyond, where I quickly dressed in jeans, an aqua blue t-shirt, and sneakers. Grabbing my smartphone and some plastic bags, I dutifully tied one of the bags around Bear’s leash. (HOA Regulation 92a states that “all pet owners will carry in plain sight a bag or other device to pick up after their pets and must do so immediately.”) I quickly snapped the leash onto his collar, and we were off.

  The sky showed only the faintest hint of the approac
hing dawn, so it was still quite dark outside, but the streetlights were on, and it wasn’t too difficult to see. Knowing that Bear would have to forego his customary treat because Bessie wouldn’t be at her post, we turned left at the corner where we usually would have gone right to avoid the back gate. After we trotted briskly for a couple of blocks, we slowed to a more sedate pace. We hadn’t seen or heard any signs of activity since we’d left the house—no cars, walkers, or barking dogs.

  “Not so early tomorrow, Bear,” I cautioned, resolving to resist the urge to jump up as soon as Bear did.

  Suddenly, Bear came to a dead stop and started barking furiously.

  “Come on, Bear,” I urged him, afraid that he’d wake the neighbors, but his barking became frenzied, and he refused to budge.

  Then I saw a shadow in the bushes ahead. A dark shape with a long tail emerged from the bushes and strolled into the street ahead of us. Startled, I realized that the shape was a mountain lion, and my heart began pounding. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing—a mountain lion in Iowa? The tall corn state was hardly the usual habitat of such large felines.

  The big cat turned towards us and snarled, and Bear continued his frantic barking while I started to shake. Should we run? I knew that a mountain lion could run faster than we could. Play dead? Bear hadn’t ever learned that trick. Fight? Bear was a big dog, and I didn’t doubt that he would try to defend me, but I didn’t believe he’d be any match for the cougar.

  Although it had probably been only a few seconds since the mountain lion appeared, it seemed as though the terrifying moment had gone on for a very long time. Any second now, the powerful animal could pounce, and I doubted that we’d survive the encounter. Abruptly, the cougar gathered its legs in a crouch to spring. I screamed.

  A shot rang out, Bear yelped, and the mountain lion ran off across the golf course on the left side of the street and leaped over a high wall on the other side. Tears of relief streamed from my eyes as I turned to see a man jogging toward us, holstering a revolver as he ran.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  “Just a little shaky. Well, more than a little,” I groaned.

  “Sit down over here,” he said, guiding me to the curb. Sensing that the danger had passed, Bear heaved a great sigh, and plopping down beside me, he put his head in my lap.

  “Good boy, Bear,” I cooed, as I petted him. I turned to the man, who looked vaguely familiar. I had probably seen him around the community, I thought. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along just then,” I said, shaking hands with the man, who had joined me in sitting on the curb.

  I approved of his grip, which was firm, but not bone-crushing. Under the street lamp, I could see that he had white hair and a lined face, but he looked fit and trim. He struck me as a man of action.

  “Happy to help. Robert Forrester Gable—colonel, retired, US Army—at your service, ma’am.”

  “I’m Laurel McMillan.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miss McMillan, and who’s this handsome fellow?”

  “This is Bear.” On hearing his name mentioned, Bear sat up and began wagging his tail. He wandered over to the colonel and offered his paw, which the colonel solemnly shook.

  “It’s nice to meet you too, Bear.”

  The retired officer seemed so serious about greeting Bear that I couldn’t help giggling, releasing some of the tension I still felt. I was almost giddy with relief at being safe from the mountain lion.

  “Really, Colonel, I can’t thank you enough for saving us. That was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re a real hero.”

  As the colonel began to protest, a Hawkeye Haven security car pulled alongside us, and a uniformed guard jumped out. He looked so young that I’d have assumed he was a high school student if I’d seen him in any other situation.

  “What’s going on here, folks? We had a report that a shot was fired.”

  “Mountain lion, believe it or not; he must have escaped from the local zoo,” said the colonel, patting his holster. “I fired one shot to scare him, and he took off in that direction.” The colonel motioned toward the golf course.

  “Firing a gun within Hawkeye Haven is a violation of the community’s rules.” (HOA Regulation 101 states that “no firearm shall be discharged within Hawkeye Haven.”)

  “Well, I guess I could have just let that big cat pounce on the lady and her dog.”

  “There’s no need to be sarcastic, sir, but I am going to have to issue you a citation.”

  “Issue away, young man. That makes about as much sense as regulating the height of my flagpole, which the community, in its infinite wisdom, wants to control too, but you do what you have to do,” said the colonel, scowling in irritation, “and, by the way, you just might want to report that mountain lion to animal control. For all we know, it could still be prowling around the neighborhood.”

  “Just doing my job, sir,” said the guard curtly, as he scribbled a citation and handed it to the colonel, “and I will alert animal control.”

  “Thank goodness for small favors,” the colonel grumbled, crumpling the citation and stuffing it in his shirt pocket. He turned to me. “Miss McMillan, please allow me to accompany you on your walk home. I doubt that the mountain lion will be coming back this way, but just in case.”

  I nodded, and as we began walking, we could hear the guard on his radio telling the dispatcher to call the Center City Animal Control Department. The colonel seemed to be preoccupied, and we strolled in silence. It wasn’t until we were close to my house that the colonel spoke.

  “Are you going to the HOA’s open board meeting this evening, Miss McMillan?”

  “Yes, I’ve never attended one, but my friend Liz asked me to come with her for moral support. She’s being harassed by the HOA to paint her house. That’s it over there,” I pointed, “right next to mine.”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with the paint job.”

  “Bingo. There isn’t anything wrong with it. It’s only been two years since Liz had her house painted. She tried to explain to Patty, the HOA manager, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “I know who she is, unfortunately.”

  “Well, Patty wouldn’t budge, so Liz took her case to Victor, the HOA president, and he just laughed in her face. I think she was so upset she didn’t know how to react, but now she’s decided that maybe the other board members might overrule Victor, if she can plead her case to them. So that’s why we’re going to the meeting tonight.”

  The colonel shook his head in disgust.

  “Ever since Victor and Patty took over, this place has become a nightmare. They’re insisting that I remove my flagpole, which I installed five years ago. Somehow they’ve managed to establish a new rule, regulating the height of flagpoles, and they say there’s no way to have my pole grandfathered. The whole thing is totally ridiculous. I’m going to the meeting to protest, for all the good it will probably do. My lawyer advised me to skip the meeting and let her handle it, but there’s nothing wrong with the public airing of a legitimate grievance.”

  Waving good-bye to the colonel, I thanked him again, wished him success at the meeting, and told him that I would see him there. I definitely wasn’t looking forward to it, and I was afraid that neither Liz nor the colonel would get too far with Victor and Patty in firm control of Hawkeye Haven’s HOA.

  My stomach felt queasy after my surprise encounter with the mountain lion. The colonel hadn’t seemed the least bit fazed by the incident, but I felt more than a little upset that my routine morning walk with Bear had turned into a life-threatening event. I was also slightly embarrassed that I’d almost fainted again this morning. No doubt, I was a sissy. Even though I never claimed to be brave, playing the damsel in distress on two consecutive mornings wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time. I sincerely hoped that Bear and I could return to our normal morning routine tomorrow.

  ***

  “Ready for this?” I greeted Liz,
as we hopped into my car for the short drive to the community center.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” she replied. “I’m so glad you’re coming with me.”

  “No problem. I just hope the board has more sense than its president seems to have.”

  Liz, a dynamic senior who had her own unique fashion style, nodded. She had been a real knock-out when she was younger, and she still looked glamorous. It would be difficult for the board members to ignore someone who presented such a flamboyant appearance as Liz, who wore enormous gold chandelier earrings, several flashy diamond rings, and a stunning ruby red caftan of silk chiffon trimmed with gold embroidery. Her beautifully coiffed honey-blonde hair, long eyelashes, bright red lipstick, and matching nail polish completed the picture. Not too many women could carry off such a showy look, but dressing the way she did was second nature to Liz, and she seemed oblivious to the somewhat shocked reaction people often had to her appearance.

  Much as I hated to attend this evening’s meeting, I wanted to stand by my friend in her fight against the unreasonable directive to paint her house. Even though Liz could well afford to have her house painted again, it seemed absurd that she might actually be forced into an unnecessary re-do because of Patty’s vindictiveness. Liz had told me that she was sure that Patty had become irritated and angry with Liz when Liz had parked her car in a covered parking space in the community center’s lot, a space that Patty had evidently considered her own, although it had been unmarked at the time.

  In fact, the very next day, a reserved-for-community-manager sign had appeared, marking the parking spot for Patty’s exclusive use. The painting notice had arrived in Liz’s mail just a few days later. Angry about the demand to paint her house, Liz had complained to Patty to no avail, then bypassed her and called Victor, who, as president of the HOA, had the authority to override the management company’s actions. Unfortunately, Victor didn’t want to deal with the issue and referred Liz back to Patty. As a close friend of Victor’s late wife Diana, Liz had expected Victor to listen, at least, to her complaint. Liz didn’t deserve such shabby treatment.