“Sir?”
Marcus opened his mouth.
Vanessa interrupted.
“He claims he lives here.”
The officer looked toward her.
“Ma’am, let him answer.”
Vanessa went silent.
Barely.
Marcus continued.
“I closed on the property nine days ago.”
“I scheduled movers through the management company.”
“I have written authorization for the truck.”
“I also have a city temporary parking permit.”
The officer nodded.
“Can I see those?”
“Sure.”
Marcus handed him the management approval.
Then showed the digital city permit from his phone.
The officer checked both.
The female officer walked toward the truck.
She inspected the windshield permit.
Then the curb.
Then the cones.
Vanessa followed two steps behind her.
“That permit does not override private restrictions.”
The officer glanced back.
“We’ll check.”
Vanessa frowned.
Marcus watched.
The male officer asked:
“You have identification showing this address?”
“My license still has my old address.”
Marcus reached for his phone.
“But property records are public.”
The officer nodded.
“I can check.”
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“You are taking his word for everything.”
The officer looked at her.
“I’m verifying it.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“No.”
The officer’s tone stayed neutral.
“That’s different.”
Vanessa’s mouth closed.
Marcus nearly smiled.
The officer returned to the patrol car computer.
It took less than a minute.
He came back holding a small tablet.
“County records show the property transferred to Marcus Reed nine days ago.”
Marcus nodded.
Vanessa did not.
She looked irritated rather than relieved.
“That does not resolve the truck.”
The female officer returned.
“Truck is legally parked.”
Vanessa turned toward her.
“That still doesn’t resolve private restrictions.”
The officer asked:
“Do you have the restriction?”
Vanessa immediately opened her red handbag.
Of course she did.
She pulled out a cream folder.
Inside were printed neighborhood rules.
She flipped confidently.
Found a page.
Held it out.
The male officer read.
Then read again.
He looked at Marcus’s management approval.
Then back at the rule.
“This says commercial moving vehicles may load and unload between eight a.m. and six p.m. with prior property-management notification.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Correct.”
The officer checked his watch.
“Two forty-seven.”
“Yes.”
Marcus held up his paper.
“And management notification.”
The officer looked at Vanessa.
“Seems compliant.”
Vanessa’s face reddened.
“He did not notify me.”
The officer pointed toward the printed line.
“It doesn’t say you.”
“I am the neighborhood president.”
“That may be.”
The officer handed back the rule sheet.
“But this says property management.”
A neighbor coughed.
It sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Vanessa looked toward the sound.
Nobody admitted anything.
She turned back to the officers.
“You don’t understand how this neighborhood works.”