I made myself yet another cup of coffee, thinking I might want to move to decaf as I poured the fully loaded cup of caffeine, and allowed the images of the people at Angie’s front door to run through my head. Felyne O’Shea, the HOA manager, Beatrice Gransby, former President, and Cynthia Barron, HOA Treasurer. Plus the mystery man. I had no doubt that the Palm Hills PD would quickly track him down.
Beatrice kept rolling through my mind. At this point, she had the most motive. She clearly hated Angie for taking over her HOA, as she saw it. Was there more to it than that? Maybe she was replenishing her own wealth with money from the HOA. That would be a reason to kill. Besides revenge, maybe she thought she could be reinstated to the board.
What did I know about Beatrice? She wasn’t fat, but also not skinny, not tall or short. She liked to wear beiges and browns, and her hair always looked the slightest bit oily. From what I could recall, she wasn’t a great HOA President, but she also wasn’t horrible; she had kept things running until the neighborhood needed more attention than she was able to give.
When was the last time I had seen her? I was pretty sure it was when Angie and I went for coffee, a little while after the residents had elected Angie over Beatrice to the HOA Board of Directors.
Angie and I stopped off at the Rise and Grind Coffee Shop for a well-earned bit of tea and muffins after dropping Mr. Tuttles off at home. Rise and Grind was across the street from the most-used entrance to the Sunhaven neighborhood, making it an easy place for the residents to walk or bicycle to, some with their dogs. Most of the customers were Sunhaven residents, which meant that the hardworking baristas would earn good tips. On any given morning, one would have to pass several bored dogs tied to a table, patiently waiting for their owners to finish their breakfasts. It was a popular place for college students to buy a small latte and claim a table in order to do their homework, utilizing the free wi-fi. It was also popular for businesspeople to gather there to meet for the first time, make deals, or finish up contracts. I once overheard a group discussing details of some agreement, and I was sure I heard the word “millions” involved. I wished I had been able to overhear more of the conversation, but it was impossible without being too obvious. This all meant that the inside of the coffee shop was often full, crowded, and it could be difficult to find a seat.
Angie laughed as we entered. “I swear, Kate. This place has served as my office ever since I got on the board. I’ve had more meetings here….”
As we stood in line, Beatrice Gransby came up behind us. Angie stiffened, while I pretended not to notice her.
After finishing our order, a chai latte for me and a caramel macchiato for Angie, we moved to the side to wait for our drinks. Beatrice, too, ordered and moved towards us.
“Hello, Angie,” she said. Her mouth was pinched in a frown while her eyes gave me the once over. “And…”
“Kate,” I offered.
“Right, you’re the owner of that company, what was it called? WagTheDog or something.” The way she said it made it sound like a dumb name, but I wasn’t offended. That would have been a good name, too. Beatrice’s eyes seemed too small for her face, flickering from me to Angie and back, like a predator sizing up the opposition. “How is retirement? Are you bored yet?”
I smiled and shook my head. I wasn’t taking the bait.
“Bea-” Angie started.
“Stop! I won’t hear any type of apologies from the likes of you. You’ll find out soon enough that the job is rough. Your happy-go-lucky, ‘everybody loves me!’ type of management will last about one month, if that. Everybody complains. Nothing you do is good enough. The only way to handle this job is to ignore them all and don’t let it get to you.”
Her voice was rising. People looked up from their conversations and coffees.
“And do you think I’d let you get to me? Not a chance in the world. You’re the bright bulb, about to burn out when the reality of running an HOA hits you like a ton of bricks. You think people actually care if you cleaned up one area? For God’s sake, no! All that will happen is that the rest of them will come for you, wanting the same thing. Put rock down over there? They’ll say it looks barren! Upgrade the sprinklers? They’ll ask why you didn’t plant more flowers. You literally have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. All anybody in this neighborhood thinks about is themselves, and it’s me, me, me! People want the common areas they can see from their windows to be beautiful, and fuck everybody else!”
There was a general gasp from the other customers watching from their tables. I was slightly amused; profanity was an everyday occurrence when you work with business people.
“And when you raise dues to give the people what they want, they’ll bitch at you again!”
Beatrice took a step closer to Angie. I stepped between them. She’d have to go through me to get to Angie.
“Your problem, and you have a lot of them, is that you’ve promised much more than you can deliver, and it’s all coming back to bite you in the ass!” Beatrice’s face started getting red as she thrusted her finger at Angie, just next to my shoulder, with each word. I took one more step to the side to block her from even being able to do that, but she also stepped to the side to better be able to glare at Angie.
“You seem to think you’re some sort of Nemo, leading the minnows home, or some shit, but the fact of the matter is that the homeowners aren’t minnows, they’re sharks, and they’re going to eat you up and spit you out before breakfast.”
Angie held up her hand, palm out. “Beatrice, please…”
“I was the only one who could control the masses, set expectations, make sure nobody got too greedy with their requests.” Her voice took on a bad Southern accent. “I’m so special, I want the new playground to be across from my house.” Then, in an old man’s deep, gravelly voice, “I don’t want any kids playing near my house with all their noise and balls in my yard.”
Beatrice went back to her normal voice, although slightly more screechy now. “Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? You stuffed the ballot box and STOLE that election. I should have you arrested!”
That was it. I don’t lose my temper often, but claiming that Angie stole an HOA election was so ridiculous it would have been funny in a different setting. I stepped up to her, pulling my shoulders back and using my best intimidating stance. “Stop, Bea. Just stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
The coffee shop had gone completely silent as every customer sat, watching with rapt attention. I don’t think anybody took a breath for a solid minute. Most of the clientele were from our HOA, so they all knew the history between these two.
“Medium Cookies and Cream Frappuccino for Beatrice?”
Beatrice huffed over to the counter, grabbed her drink and left. We all watched her leave. As the door shut, murmurs filled the air while everybody averted their eyes away from us.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” Angie said, “but I was absolutely not about to apologize. And I unequivocally did not steal any elections.”
I shook my head. “Did you even understand the Nemo reference?”
“Not really. Was that as in Finding Nemo? I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve seen it, but I don’t recall any minnows.”
“I don’t think there were any. And who’s Nemo in that analogy? Are you Nemo? Maybe you’re lost.”
Angie stifled a laugh. “Maybe you’re Nemo and I’m a shark. I’m not sure. Some mysteries were never meant to be solved.”
We took our drinks to the tables outside and sat. The weather was perfect, not too hot and not too cool. Several women stopped off at our table on their way out. While none commented on Beatrice’s accusations, they did make pleasant small talk with Angie for a few minutes.
“That’s their way of expressing support,” Angie told me. “Most people don’t like confrontation, but they find ways to let me know they’re behind me.”
I’ve never forgotten Beatrice’s vitriol, and I vividly remembered her red face, flared nostrils, and the look she gave Angie. Hatred. It was pure hatred.
That incident took place shortly after Angie had been elected over Beatrice to the HOA Board. How angry must Beatrice have been in the months after, when Angie was doing ten times the job Beatrice ever hoped to do. People were stopping Angie in the street to tell her what a great job she had done on the rock and the irrigation. That must have festered in the months since, watching Angie succeed where Beatrice had failed.
Was Beatrice angry enough to kill? To me, the answer was yes.