By two, hundreds of angry ticket buyers were posting refund demands on Cedar Ridge’s Facebook page.
By three, someone discovered the HOA’s event refund policy said tickets were nonrefundable except if the organizer canceled.
Which they had.
At 3:18, the page disappeared.
At 4:00, residents began arriving at the clubhouse.
At 4:40, somebody livestreamed the emergency HOA meeting.
I watched from my kitchen table.
Trish sat at the front of the room beside Bradley Shaw.
Two hundred homeowners shouted questions.
Where was the money?
Why had tickets been sold without confirmed access?
Who authenticated the agreement?
Why was the event insurance carrier denying coverage?
Why had the HOA spent $91,000 before ticket sales were complete?
That number made me sit upright.
Ninety-one thousand dollars.
On a corn maze.
Rachel was watching too.
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes.”
Then a resident asked the question I had been waiting for.
“How much money is left in the operating account?”
Trish tried to close the meeting.
People started shouting.
Linda Price stood from the second row.
The room quieted.
She held a folder.
“I want an answer to that too.”
Trish stared at her.
“Linda, sit down.”
“I served as treasurer for four years.”
“You are out of order.”
“There were transfers from the reserve account.”
Bradley leaned toward his microphone.
“This isn’t the appropriate forum for—”
Linda raised her voice.
“Two hundred and seventy thousand dollars.”
The clubhouse exploded.
Trish stood.
“Turn off the livestream.”
The video ended.
Rachel and I looked at each other.
“Corn maze?” I said.
She shook her head.
“No.”
The doorbell rang.
Ben Holloway stood outside.
He wasn’t smiling.
“I need to show you something.”
We went to the porch.
He handed me a photocopy of a sheriff’s incident report.
“Deputies responded to Cedar Ridge about thirty minutes ago.”
“Fight?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Linda Price says someone broke into her house.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Sometime during the HOA meeting.”
“What was taken?”
“Laptop.”
“Anything else?”
“Printer.”
That was strange.
“Jewelry?”
“No.”
“Cash?”
“No.”
“Just electronics?”
“Not exactly.”
He looked at Rachel.
“She says a file box is missing.”
I already knew.
“The emails.”
Ben nodded.
“She told you?”
“She came here this morning.”
“I need a statement.”
I gave him one.
Every word.
Exactly as it happened.
Ben wrote carefully.
When he finished, Rachel asked, “Any forced entry?”
“Back window.”
“Cameras?”
“Doorbell camera disconnected at 7:14.”
