THE WHEEL CLAMP AT PALM CREST
Chapter I: The Emerald Suit and the Yellow Clamp
The scorching afternoon sun glared down on the concrete driveway of a luxury Mediterranean-style villa in Palm Crest Estates. Parked neatly on the wide pavers was a gleaming black luxury SUV, its tinted windows spotless and its engine quiet.
Standing on the driveway with an arrogant smirk, dressed in a tailored emerald-green pantsuit, black stilettos, and clutching a leather clipboard, was Evelyn Cross. As the self-appointed tyrant and president of the Palm Crest HOA, Evelyn ruled the gated enclave with an iron fist, handing out thousands of dollars in arbitrary fines every week.
Beside the front tire knelt a municipal tow technician wearing a neon safety vest and work gloves, adjusting a heavy yellow steel wheel boot around the tire rim.
"Boot it," Evelyn commanded with a sneer, pointing an aggressive finger. "They've ignored my warnings long enough."
Rushing out from the front portico with his smartphone raised to record was Marcus, a well-dressed resident in a dark jacket.
"Hey! Read the damn plate before you touch that car!" Marcus shouted, stepping between the worker and the vehicle.