“According to this,” Miller said, his voice changing—the weariness gone, replaced by the sharp professional tone of a cop who just found a reason to do his job—“you failed to appear in court three times in 2019.”
“I moved. I didn’t get the notices.”
“Moving across state lines to avoid a court date makes you a flight risk, ma’am.” Miller closed the folder and looked at his partner. “Run it. Verify the NCIC status.”
The partner nodded and jogged back to the cruiser. Brenda took a step back.
“You can’t do this. I am the HOA president. I am the victim here. He’s the one with the lemonade stand.”
“Ma’am,” Miller said, “illegal dumping, leaving the scene of an accident—these aren’t HOA violations. These are crimes.”
“I… I have to go inside. I need to take my medication. I feel faint.”
“Ma’am, stop.” Miller didn’t yell, but the command was absolute. “Do not go inside.”
Brenda stopped. She looked at her front door. It was fifty feet away. It might as well have been on the moon.
“This is ridiculous,” she hissed, turning back to me. “You did this. You dug up ancient history to humiliate me.”
“You called the cops, Brenda,” I said softly. “You invited them here. I just gave them some reading material.”
The partner stuck his head out of the cruiser window and gave Miller a thumbs-up. “Confirmed. Ohio wants extradition. Active warrant, fully extraditable within a five-hundred-mile radius. We’re within range.”
Miller nodded. He reached for his belt.
“Brenda Miller—or Kowalski—I’m going to need you to turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
The moment was surreal. I watched as the handcuffs came out. The metal glinted in the sunlight.
“No!” Brenda shouted. She swatted at Miller’s hand. Big mistake.
“Ma’am, do not resist!”
In one smooth motion he spun her around and pinned her wrists.
“Assault!” Brenda screamed. “Police brutality! Help, neighbors, help!”
Mrs. Higgins, the lady with the poodle, was standing on her lawn three houses down. She watched Brenda screaming. Then Mrs. Higgins took a sip of her coffee and went back inside.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Miller recited as the cuffs clicked shut. Click. Click. The sweetest sound I had ever heard.
“I will sue you!” Brenda wailed as they walked her toward the car. “I will sue this entire city! I will have your badges! Jason—I will take your house! I will burn that deck down!”
“Anything you say can and will be used against you,” Miller continued, unbothered. He opened the back door of the cruiser and guided her in. She had to duck her head to fit the visor inside. The door slammed shut.
The silence that followed was heavy, profound, and absolutely delicious.
Miller walked back over to me and handed me the folder. “We’ll keep a copy of the warrants. You can have this back.”
“Thanks, Officer.”
Miller looked at the lemonade stand. He looked at the pitcher. “Is that actually lemonade?”
“Fresh squeezed. With a hint of mint.”
Miller looked at his partner, then back at me. “It’s a hot day, and we have a lot of paperwork to do before we transport her.”
“On the house,” I said. “For the boys in blue.”
I poured two cups. Miller took one. His partner took the other. Big Mike raised his red cup.
“To neighborhood safety.”
Miller took a long drink, lowered the cup, and wiped his mustache. “That is damn good lemonade, Mr. Bennett.”
“Try to keep the noise down,” he added. But there was a twinkle in his eye. “We don’t want any more complaints.”
“I think the complaints are going to drop significantly after today,” I said.
Miller chuckled. He walked back to his car. I saw Brenda in the backseat. She was still screaming, but the glass was thick. I couldn’t hear a thing. She was pounding on the window. I lifted my cup to her—a silent toast.
“Cheers, Brenda.”
The cruisers drove away, taking the noise, the drama, and the HOA president with them.
I looked at Big Mike. He was beaming. “Did we just win?”
“We didn’t just win,” I said, taking a sip of the lemonade. It tasted like victory. “We loitered our way to justice.”
“What now?” Mike asked.
I looked at my beautiful, empty street. I looked at my magnificent cedar deck. I looked at the rocking chair waiting for me behind the privacy screen.
“Now,” I said, “I finish my book.”