I thanked her and spent the evening reviewing my property survey again. Something kept nagging at me about the office building’s location. So I drove over there after dark with a flashlight and measuring tape. The building sat on what was clearly my land according to the survey. But there was more. County records showed it had been built without proper permits, and the property-tax records were a complete mess. Someone had been very sloppy with their paperwork, or very confident they would never get caught.
My research session was interrupted by my phone ringing. “Mr. Kellerman, this is Detective Williams with the county fraud unit. We understand you’ve been having some issues with fake law-enforcement officers.” “That’s right. I filed a report with Deputy Martinez.” “We’d like to talk with you tomorrow. Seems your HOA has been busy with more than citations.”
What Williams laid out the next morning filled in the gap I had only guessed at. Willowbrook Property Management was not a separate company. It was Delilah’s shell, registered to the same address as the office sitting on my land. Jake Morrison, the actual treasurer, had started asking why landscaping invoices were paid to vendors that did not exist, and why cash withdrawals from the operating account lined up with Delilah’s family names. Detective Williams wanted the survey, the fake-badge photos, and the tire footage. David Blackwood wanted the same packet, plus every certified letter. Between the two of them, the case stopped being a neighbor dispute and became a fraud file.
The character-assassination campaign reached peak absurdity on Sunday, when anonymous flyers appeared on every doorstep in the neighborhood. The headline screamed, Dangerous individual threatens community safety, above a grainy photo of me working under the hood of my truck. The flyers claimed I was an unstable widower planning to convert residential property to industrial use, complete with fabricated quotes from concerned neighbors about declining property values and safety risks to children. Mrs. Patterson called within an hour of the flyers appearing. “Marcus, honey, this is backfiring on her worse than she realizes. Three neighbors have already stopped by to ask if you’re okay, and whether they can help. People aren’t as stupid as she thinks.” Indeed, the propaganda campaign seemed to be generating sympathy rather than fear. Jake Morrison reported that several homeowners had approached him asking questions about HOA finances after reading the flyers. “They’re wondering why she’s so desperate to discredit you, instead of addressing the legitimate concerns about missing money.”
But Delilah’s most dangerous gambit came Sunday night. I woke up to the sound of breaking glass from my workshop, followed by the acrid smell of smoke. Someone had thrown Molotov cocktails through the windows, setting fire to my tool-storage area. The volunteer fire department responded quickly, but not before several thousand dollars’ worth of equipment was destroyed. More importantly, the arsonist had specifically targeted my evidence-storage area. The fireproof safe where I kept backup documents was damaged, though its contents survived. “This is attempted destruction of evidence in a criminal investigation,” Detective Williams said as firefighters finished their work. “Arson with intent to obstruct justice carries a mandatory minimum sentence. She’s just upgraded herself from white-collar fraud to violent felony.”