“Most.”
“Why?”
Andrea shrugged.
“She hates cameras?”
Maybe.
Then she looked at me.
“Or she hates where they're pointing.”
I didn't answer.
Being controlling wasn't a crime.
Neither was being strangely interested in neighborhood cameras.
We needed evidence before we accused anyone of anything.
Then Karen gave us some.
The Disconnect
It happened on a Monday morning.
I had coffee beside my keyboard and my first conference call scheduled for eight.
At 7:43, I heard voices outside.
I looked through the front window.
Karen was standing in my driveway beside a man wearing a blue telecommunications-company polo shirt.
A utility van was parked at the curb.
I stepped outside.
“Can I help you?”
The technician looked at his tablet.
“Nathan Cole?”
“Yes.”
“I'm here for a service disconnect.”
I frowned.
“A what?”
Karen answered for him.
“No Internet until that camera comes down.”
I stared at her.
“You ordered my Internet disconnected?”
Karen smiled.
“I’m the HOA president.”
The technician looked uncomfortable.
I turned toward him.
“Who requested this?”
“Property-management authorization.”
“What property management?”
Karen folded her arms.
“The HOA has authority over exterior utilities.”
“No, it doesn't.”
“You ignored repeated compliance notices.”