A week later, the signs became impossible to ignore.
I found a bright pink, plastic flamingo drink float bobbing gently in the skimmer basket.
I don't own pool toys.
I stood there staring at it, my mind racing through logical explanations.
Had it blown over the fence?
Unlikely, given the weight of the hedges and the high winds required to lift it over a six-foot barrier.
Someone had been in my backyard.
Someone had been in my pool.
Determined to nip this in the bud, I decided to take a stroll around the neighborhood.
As fate would have it, I bumped into Margaret near the community mailboxes.
She was in her element, loudly berating a young teenager for riding his skateboard on the sidewalk.
When she saw me, her posture stiffened, and she offered a tight, insincere smile.
"Ah, the new resident," she said, her tone dripping with condescension.
"I hope you are keeping up with your landscaping duties.
The drought is no excuse for brown patches.
" I ignored her jab.
"Margaret, I have a concerning issue.
I have reason to believe someone has been trespassing on my property. specifically, using my pool while I am at work.
" Her eyes widened, but not with surprise—it was a calculated look of mock indignation.
"Trespassing?
In Whispering Pines?
That is quite an accusation.
Are you sure you haven't just been careless with your belongings?
" "I found a pink flamingo float in my pool yesterday," I stated flatly.
"I don't own one.
And my furniture has been rearranged.
" Margaret let out a sharp, dismissive laugh.
"Well, if you are going to leave your gate unlocked, you can hardly blame the neighborhood children for taking advantage of a nuisance.
In fact, if your pool is becoming a public hazard, the HOA may have to step in and issue a fine for failing to secure a dangerous water feature.
" My blood boiled.
My gate was always locked with a heavy-duty padlock.
The only way in was to scale the fence or have a key.