I walked back to the porch steps and sat down. Mike sat next to me. Brenda stood her ground at the end of the driveway. She wasn’t going to let us escape. She stood guard, arms crossed, tapping her foot, glaring at the pitcher of lemonade as if it were a vat of toxic waste. The wait was agonizingly perfect. 10 minutes, 12 minutes. Then we saw it. The familiar cruiser turning the corner, Officer Miller. And this time he wasn’t alone. A second cruiser followed him. Brenda had apparently sounded the alarm so effectively that they sent backup. “Showtime,” I whispered to Mike. I reached into the bag sitting by my feet. I pulled out the Manila folder. I held it in my lap. The cruisers pulled up. Officer Miller got out of the first car.
He looked at the lemonade table. He looked at the sign. He looked at Brenda. Then he looked at me. His shoulders slumped. “Mr. Bennett,” Miller said, walking up the driveway. “Brenda.” “Officer!” Brenda lunged at him. “Look! Look at this! He’s selling lemonade without a license. And look at the sign. It’s a hate crime.” Miller walked over to the sign. He read it. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Ma’am, a sign excluding you from free lemonade isn’t a hate crime. It’s well, it’s rude, maybe, but it’s not illegal.” “It is harassment,” she shrieked. “He is targeting me. And look at the structure. A table on the driveway? That violates HOA Bylaw 7.3 regarding temporary structures.” “I don’t enforce HOA Bylaws, ma’am,” Miller said wearily. “I enforce the law.
Is he selling it?” “It says complimentary,” Miller noted. “That means free.” “It’s a trick,” Brenda insisted. “It’s a front. He’s using it to lure people into— to give them hydration?” I offered. “Officer,” Brenda switched tactics. “I want him arrested right now for disturbing the peace.
He is disturbing my peace intentionally. He is provoking me. I am a tax-paying citizen, and I demand you remove this criminal element from my neighborhood.” Miller sighed. “Ma’am, I can’t arrest a man for giving away lemonade. I can ask him to take the table inside if it’s blocking the sidewalk, but—” “It’s not blocking the sidewalk,” Mike piped up. “I measured. 3 ft of clearance.” “You see?” Brenda yelled. “They are mocking the law. If you won’t arrest him, I will call your supervisor. I will call the mayor. I know people. I have a clean record, and I am a victim here.” A clean record. The words hung in the air. I stood up. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but my hands were steady. This was it. The moment Sal had promised me. “Officer Miller?” I called out. Miller turned to me. “Yes, Mr. Bennett? Can we just put the table away and call it a day?” “I’m happy to put the table away,” I said, walking down the steps. “But before you go, there’s something you need to see. Since Brenda brought up records—” Brenda scoffed. “Oh, please. What is he going to show you? His library card?” I walked past the lemonade stand. I walked past Brenda, who recoiled as if I were contagious. I stopped in front of Officer Miller and his partner. “My neighbor has been very vocal about the law,” I said, keeping my voice loud enough for the neighbors, who were now peeking out of their windows, to hear. “She’s very concerned with rules, ordinances, warrants.” “Get to the point, Bennett,” Miller said. “I hired a private investigator,” I said.
