I looked at the pond.
The fish were still everywhere.
"How many do you think there are?"
"From the photographs? Several thousand. Perhaps more."
"Could the entire population be worth six hundred thousand dollars?"
Kenji did not answer immediately.
Then he said, "It is possible. But we would need a proper inventory, health assessment, and provenance verification before making any claim like that."
I thanked him.
Before hanging up, he gave me one final warning.
"Do not let anyone remove those fish until you have legal advice and a proper inventory."
"I won't."
"And don't assume that the most beautiful fish are necessarily the most valuable. In this market, documentation matters as much as appearance."
After the call, I sat quietly for a long time.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Possibly more.
Meredith had dumped a potentially valuable collection into my pond without permission.
And now the association was trying to claim control over it.
I called Rebecca.
She answered immediately.
"I have news."
"So do I," she said.
"What?"
"The association just sent a second notice."
"What does it say?"
"They're demanding access to the pond for a scheduled inspection."
I closed my eyes.
"Of course they are."
Rebecca continued.
"And I've found something else."
"What?"
"The payment records for the landscaping contractor."
I sat up.
"What payment records?"
CHAPTER 6
"The association's financial disclosures show a payment of $84,500 to a company called Greenline Environmental Services."
"That's a lot of money for fish."
"Exactly."
"Who owns the company?"
"That's what I'm investigating."
I looked toward the pond.
Then I said, "Rebecca, I think we're going to need a much bigger folder."
The following week became a blur of paperwork, phone calls, and increasingly strange discoveries.
Rebecca filed a formal notice disputing the association's claimed access rights.
She requested preservation of all records relating to the fish delivery.
She sent a letter demanding that the association identify the supplier, disclose the purchase price, and provide the names of everyone involved in the decision.
At the same time, Dr. Foster began coordinating a more detailed assessment of the pond.
She brought a second specialist, a veterinarian experienced in aquatic animal health.
Together, they examined the fish, collected samples, and reviewed the tags.
Their preliminary findings confirmed that the pond contained several distinct groups of koi.
Some appeared to be ordinary commercial-grade fish.
Others showed characteristics associated with higher-value breeding stock.
The specialists also found that the fish had been transported under questionable conditions.
Several had minor injuries.
A number showed signs of stress.
The water quality was acceptable, but the sudden introduction of such a large population could create problems if the pond's oxygen levels dropped or waste accumulated faster than the ecosystem could process it.
The county issued a temporary directive prohibiting the movement of fish from the pond until the assessment was complete.
I was relieved.
At least no one could simply arrive with a truck and take them away.
But the association was becoming increasingly aggressive.
The board sent a third letter.
This one claimed that the fish had been introduced as part of a community environmental initiative and therefore should be considered a shared asset.
Rebecca responded with a demand for the legal basis of that claim.
The association sent another letter.
It said the board was reviewing its position.
Then, on a Thursday morning, a contractor arrived at my gate carrying a clipboard.
He said he had been hired to install a temporary observation platform along the pond.
I told him he was on private property and needed to leave.
He called his supervisor.
His supervisor called Meredith.
Within ten minutes, Meredith arrived.
She stood beside the gate while the contractor waited in his truck.
"Daniel, this is getting ridiculous."
I held up the county directive.
"No work is authorized here."
"The observation platform is a temporary structure."
"It is still unauthorized."
"The residents want to see the fish."
"The residents can look at the pond from the road."
"That isn't sufficient."
I stared at her.
"Why do you need access to the pond so badly?"
Her face tightened.
"Because the association has invested significant resources in this project."
"Then perhaps the association should have invested in legal advice before spending money on my property."
She stepped closer.
"You don't understand what you're doing."
"I understand perfectly."
"No, you don't."
She pointed toward the water.
"Those fish were acquired for the benefit of the community."
"Then explain why the association's records show an $84,500 payment to a company that appears to have no history of operating an aquatic breeding facility."
Her face went pale.
For the first time, Meredith looked genuinely frightened.
It lasted only a second.
Then she recovered.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Neither do I. That's why I'm asking."
She turned abruptly.
"Cancel the work," she snapped at the contractor.
Then she walked back to her SUV.
I watched her leave.
When I called Rebecca, she sounded almost cheerful.
"She knows we found the payment."
"Yes."
"Good."
"Rebecca, you keep saying that."
"Because people make mistakes when they realize someone is checking the records."
I looked at the pond.
"How many mistakes do you think she has made?"
Rebecca answered without hesitation.
"Enough that I want every document she has ever signed."
Two days later, I discovered the first real connection between the fish and the money.
It came from a former employee of Greenline Environmental Services.
His name was Marcus Reed.
He contacted me after seeing a photograph of the fish that had been shared by a local resident.
He said he had worked for Greenline for almost four years before leaving the company the previous spring.
According to Marcus, Greenline had never operated a fish-breeding facility.
It was a landscaping and grounds-maintenance business.
Its work included lawn care, drainage repairs, tree removal, and small commercial construction projects.
When I asked why the company would have supplied thousands of koi, he gave a short, uncomfortable laugh.
"They wouldn't have."
"Then why would the association pay them?"
"I don't know. But I remember a conversation about a shipment."
"What conversation?"
"One of the managers said the company had been asked to transport a large batch of ornamental fish from a warehouse outside the city."
"By whom?"
"Someone connected to Briar Glen."
"Do you remember a name?"
Marcus hesitated.
Then he said, "Meredith Caldwell."
I asked whether he had any documents.
He said he might.
That afternoon, he emailed me several photographs of internal work orders he had kept when he left the company.
One document listed a delivery scheduled for the week before the fish appeared in my pond.
The destination field contained my property address.
The description read:
Aquatic stock transfer—special handling required.
The quantity field listed 4,800 units.
The invoice total was $84,500.
The order had been approved by someone identified only as M.C.
The delivery instructions included a handwritten note:
Release entire stock into water body before inspection. Do not leave containers on site.
I read that sentence three times.
Then I forwarded the documents to Rebecca.
Her response came back almost immediately.
"Daniel, do not contact Marcus again until I speak with him."
"Why?"
"Because if these records are genuine, we may be dealing with deliberate concealment."
She called me ten minutes later.
"Where did he get these?"
CHAPTER 7
"He says he kept them when he left the company."
"Did he explain why?"
"He said the company had a habit of changing work orders after jobs were completed."
Rebecca was silent.
Then she said, "I'm going to arrange a meeting with him."
"Do you think Meredith knew what she was doing?"
"I think the documents raise serious questions. But we need to establish the full chain of responsibility."
I looked toward the pond.