“Morning.”
“You called them?”
“Yes.”
She marched toward my house.
The officer stopped her.
“Madam, I need you to stay here.”
“She’s doing this because of some stupid argument!”
I called back, “Twenty-two stupid arguments, actually.”
Denise looked like she wanted to throw something.
“You could have knocked!”
I nearly laughed.
“I did.”
“You could have knocked this morning!”
“At half past five?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“So I could move it!”
I stared at her.
That was the first time in weeks she’d admitted that moving it was, in fact, possible.
The officer asked, “Have you previously been asked not to obstruct this driveway?”
Denise immediately said, “No.”
I put my coffee down.
“Would you like the photographs?”
She turned.
“What photographs?”
I held up my phone.
“The twenty-two photographs.”
Her face went blank.
The officer looked at me.
“Can you send those to the case number?”
“Already did.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
I had uploaded 19 of them while I waited for the truck.
The last three were still attaching.
But emotionally, I felt it counted.
Denise folded her arms.
“This is harassment.”
The officer remained calm.
“Documenting a vehicle obstructing private access isn’t harassment.”
“She’s been photographing my house.”
“I photographed your car.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
The driver continued attaching equipment.
Denise heard the metal clank and spun around.
“You’re not towing it.”
The officer explained that she had an opportunity to deal with the matter before removal, depending on the enforcement procedure, but there would still be a penalty.
Denise looked stunned.
“How much?”
When he told her, her mouth dropped open.
“That’s ridiculous.”
I picked up my coffee again.
