Ch. 9 | The HOA Must Go On

“You better get your HOA minions together,” the caller shouted. “Otherwise there’ll be hell to pay! I don’t pay $1,200 a month to have some hall monitor reject nag me about weeds. Don’t think I don’t know HOA board elections are around the corner. Keep this up, and I’ll get the votes to boot your ass out.”

Before Vesna could respond, the call ended.

“Jerry’s on one today,” David—the HOA vice president and Vesna’s ever-loyal lackey—remarked.

“Tell me about it,” she muttered.

Normally, the Croatian-born, American-raised HOA president was a cool customer. But with elections looming and resident dissatisfaction bubbling up, things were starting to slip.

She’d already clashed with Peter over the speed bumps. Vesna had pushed them through unilaterally, using her brother’s concrete business, of course. Most residents grumbled but moved on. Peter, however, launched a petition and cited bylaw violations, forcing her to reverse the decision. Since then, he’d been loudly questioning the legitimacy of her control over HOA funds.

In the 22 months since Lago Tierra opened, Vesna had run unopposed. Well, “run” was generous—she’d been installed by the developers and carefully handpicked her officers. Timid, pliable ones. As long as they could hand out fines and enforce arbitrary rules, she was left alone to manage the books—and the real power.

She ruled with an iron fist. With David as her loyal steed, she was queen of the development.

But things had gotten sloppy. Too many citations, too many disgruntled residents. Jerry’s angry phone call was just the latest warning.

She’d have to rein the Karens in and start winning hearts again. Jerry, as gauche as he was, had friends. A bad word from him could jeopardize everything.

She couldn’t let that happen. There was too much at stake. No one else could be president. Not while Vesna still had breath in her body.

Her phone rang again. It was the front gate.

“This is Officer George,” the guard said with earnest importance. “There are two detectives here to see you.”

Vesna rolled her eyes. George was competent, but he suffered from an advanced case of wannabe cop syndrome—despite making barely above minimum wage.

“Let them in, George.”

Great, she thought. This must be about the Griers.

Jack and Anne Grier had up and vanished without a trace. As bizarre as it was, Vesna had to admit—their disappearance made her life easier. The Griers were well-liked and threw boisterous block parties that stretched late into the night. Rumors swirled about what went on behind closed doors, but nothing ever stuck.

She’d once made an offhand comment to Anne about the parties, and it backfired. Since then, Anne and Jack had been quietly campaigning for her removal.

The door opened. Detectives Jasmine and Greg entered.

Jasmine—a pretty Indonesian woman—didn’t look like a cop. Neither did Greg, a soft-spoken Jewish guy from California. They were an odd pair, Vesna thought. Nice enough, but always snooping. Their presence made her paranoid.

“Hi Vesna,” Jasmine said, her tone warm but wearied.

“Hi,” Vesna replied coolly. “Look, if this is about the Griers, I have nothing new to add. They left. We haven’t heard anything since.”

David nodded stiffly beside her, broadcasting unwelcome.

Undeterred, Jasmine said, “A family from your development was murdered. Peter and Janice Jilinski. Their daughters too. We found them in their Subaru at the bottom of Lake Mead.”

Vesna gasped. Her head spun. Dead?

She sat down, trying to collect herself.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” she said, swallowing hard. “What do you need from me?”

Jasmine, surprised, glanced at Greg. She hadn’t expected Vesna to cooperate.

“Right,” she said. “We’ll need access to the Jalinskis’ home, and any information you have about their interactions or relationships here.”

“They were well-liked,” David interjected quickly.

Jasmine turned toward him.

“I have their spare keys,” he said, pulling open a drawer. “I can take you now.”

Vesna shot him a grateful look.

“Anything you need,” she added smoothly. “We’ll cooperate fully.”

The detectives nodded and followed David out.

Vesna sank back into her chair, hands trembling as she ran them through her hair. The reality hit her: Peter was gone. Just like that.

What luck.

Murder was bad for property values—but in a twisted way, Peter’s death was convenient. One less opponent to challenge her rule.

Still, a sliver of unease curled in her gut. First the Griers ghosted the neighborhood. Now this. Something felt… off.

But she didn’t have time to dwell. She needed to act.

First, a letter to the community. Something solemn yet composed. Offer grief counseling in the event center. Maybe even host a memorial service. Yes—that was good. A faithful, steadfast leader in a time of tragedy.

Her campaign would be the stuff of legend.

She smiled as she tapped the keyboard.

My reign is still secure, she thought.