Story code: ST-000195
Part 2: The Ledger
Evelyn stared at the thick, tanned fingers gripping the fabric of her beige cardigan. She did not look at the black metal of the rifle hanging inches from her hip, nor did she flinch at the crumpled cream cardstock pressed against her cheek. She simply looked at Wade’s knuckles.
“You are wrinkling my sweater,” Evelyn said. Her voice carried no tremor. “And you are currently committing battery against an elected association officer. Under Section 8, Paragraph C, physical intimidation carries an automatic five-hundred-dollar penalty.”
Wade’s jaw flexed. He held her there for another second, his breathing heavy and smelling of stale coffee and peppermint, before he shoved her shoulder backward and released his grip. He smoothed the crumpled invoice out against the chest of his tactical vest.
“You think you own this street because you have a little rulebook?” Wade said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. The other two armed men were watching from the edge of the mulch, their hands resting on their weapons. “We are the only ones keeping the cars in driveways and the doors from getting kicked in. The city abandoned this subdivision. We are the authority out here now.”
“You are a noise complaint with an inflated sense of purpose,” Evelyn said, adjusting her collar. “You are also a massive financial liability to the Oak Creek property values. Four thousand dollars. In cash. Delivered directly to my door.”
“And if I don’t?” Wade asked. “You’ll call the cops? Go ahead. Call them right now. Let’s see whose side they take when they find out we’re doing their job for free.”
“I have no intention of calling the police,” Evelyn said. “I will simply take your house.”
She turned her back on him for the second time. Wade did not follow her. Evelyn walked up her concrete driveway, pulled her keys from her pocket, and unlocked her front door. She stepped inside, engaging the deadbolt and the chain lock before leaning against the heavy wood. Her shoulder ached where he had grabbed her.
In her pocket, her phone vibrated again. She pulled it out. *St. Jude Medical Billing*. She held the power button until the screen went completely black, cutting off the vibration.
Evelyn walked to her mahogany desk. She bypassed the calculator and the violation templates, reaching down to the bottom drawer. She unlocked it with a small brass key she kept on a chain around her neck. She pulled out a heavy, green canvas ledger-the official Oak Creek Homeowner Association financial record.
She opened it to the current month. The columns were filled with her neat, precise handwriting. On the left were the incoming monthly dues. On the right were the expenditures. Evelyn ran her finger down the right column until she found the entries written in red ink.
*Emergency Roof Repair – Clubhouse: $1,500.*
*Landscaping Retainer – Advanced Tree Service: $2,500.*
Neither the clubhouse roof nor the neighborhood trees had been touched in three years. Evelyn opened her top desk drawer and pulled out a stack of paperclipped invoices. The logo for St. Jude Medical Billing was printed in harsh blue ink at the top of each page. The past-due balances matched the red entries in the ledger perfectly. Exactly four thousand dollars. The money had already been withdrawn from the Oak Creek operating account in cash. She had needed to pay the hospital before they sent her accounts to collections and placed a lien on her own home.
If she deposited four thousand dollars in cash from Wade’s fines into the HOA account, she could balance the ledger. The missing money would be replaced, disguised as incoming penalty revenue. But if she called the police on Wade, there would be no fines. There would only be a municipal citation, the funds going straight to the city courthouse. She needed Wade’s money, and she needed it off the books.
A sharp knock echoed through her living room, causing Evelyn to jump.
She closed the ledger, locked it back in the drawer, and walked to the front door. She looked through the peephole. It was Greg, the HOA Treasurer. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot, wiping sweat from his receding hairline.
Evelyn unchained the door and opened it a fraction. “Greg. It is past business hours.”
“Evelyn, you need to look outside,” Greg said, his voice pitched high with panic. He pointed back toward the street. “Wade just went live on the neighborhood Facebook group. He posted a picture of the invoice you gave him.”
“He is welcome to complain online,” Evelyn said. “He still owes the balance.”
“It’s not just complaining,” Greg stammered. “He’s telling everyone that you’re running a shakedown. He told the whole subdivision to withhold their monthly dues until the board submits to an emergency financial audit. He’s demanding to see the bank statements.”
Evelyn’s stomach tightened. A cold drop of sweat slid down her spine. “He does not have the authority to demand an audit.”
“He does if he gets thirty signatures from the residents!” Greg stepped closer, his eyes wide. “And he’s already got twenty. Look at the park, Evelyn.”
Evelyn stepped past Greg and looked across the street. The situation at the playground had escalated violently. Wade had set up a blue pop-up canopy next to the swings. Coolers were being unloaded from a pickup truck. There were no longer three armed men in the mulch bed. There were at least a dozen. Neighbors were walking out of their houses, crossing the lawns, and signing a clipboard Wade had placed on a folding table.
“They’re organizing a blockade,” Greg whispered. “Wade said nobody pays the HOA another dime until they see the physical ledger. He wants the books by tomorrow morning, Evelyn. If you don’t show him the accounts, he’s going to the county clerk to file a fraud complaint.”
Evelyn stared at the armed men gathering signatures. She had demanded the money by Friday, but Friday was now a lifetime away. If Wade filed a fraud complaint tomorrow, the county would freeze the Oak Creek bank accounts. The missing four thousand dollars would be discovered immediately.
“I will not be intimidated by a mob,” Evelyn said, though her fingertips felt numb.
“What are we going to do?” Greg asked. “Should I call the police?”
“No!” Evelyn snapped, louder than she intended. She caught herself, smoothing her cardigan. “No police. A police report will require us to submit our financial records to prove damages. We handle this internally.”
“Internally? Evelyn, they have rifles and a petition. How are you going to get them to back down?”
“I will get his money,” Evelyn said, her eyes fixed on Wade, who was currently shaking hands with the man who lived at 408 Maple. “I will just have to accelerate the collection process.”