Bentley Little - The Association

The agent nodded. "Let's go."

Calhoun was indeed at the community center, seated in front of the hall at the same table he had occupied during the annual meeting, looking as though he had never left. The room was empty and dark, all of the chairs gone, a pasty gray light filtering in through a small square of skylight in the middle of the ceiling. The president faced the deserted clubhouse, and Barry could not for the life of him figure out why the man was here or what he could possibly be doing all alone in the building.

The lights switched on before they were halfway across the floor, and Calhoun was standing, moving out from in back of the table, stepping off the platform. He was smiling broadly, an expression of false cheer on his face, and he led with an outstretched hand. "I'm Jasper Calhoun, president of the Bonita Vista Homeowners' Association."

He and Geddes shook, and once again Barry was struck by the man's odd, almost inhuman, appearance. He hoped that the agent had taken note of it as well.

As before, Geddes was all business. There was no small talk, only a few introductory remarks, and then his electronic notebook was open and he was asking questions.

Calhoun had come prepared. Barry had to give him that. After denying knowledge of everything the FBI agent asked, after accounting for his whereabouts and the whereabouts of the other board members during the disputed time periods and offering to provide surveillance videotapes to back up his claims, after effectively blunting all possible suspicions, the president picked up a series of charts and graphs from the table at which he'd been sitting and started quoting the remarkably low crime rates consistently posted by Bonita Vista.

"I'm as anxious as you are to have this situation resolved," Calhoun said earnestly. "Any crime, especially an unsolved crime, reflects badly on Bonita Vista and is a blot on our sterling record. To be perfectly frank, one of my duties as a board member is damage control, public relations, and this is a nightmare for us. As I'm sure Mr.

Welch will confirm, we are very concerned about our image and take extraordinary measures to make sure that our community is not only safe but perceived as safe by both residents and nonresidents. In fact, I believe Mr. Welch and his wife had some personal experience with the efficient way in which we deal with lawbreakers and troublemakers. Mrs. Welch was harassed by a disgruntled ex-employee, and two members of our security committee detained him until the sheriff could arrive to arrest him. The association was willing to press charges and to make sure that Mrs. Welch never had to testify in court or see the man again." He spread his hands. "This is an example of the service we provide for our residents and the extent to which we will go in order to preserve and protect our reputation."

He sounded good, Barry admitted. Hell, if he didn't know better, he'd probably believe the story.

"It wasn't just one lone criminal. We have also been harassed by the association," Barry said. He pointed at Calhoun "You and your cronies have fined us and intimidated us and repainted our house and re landscaped our property."

The president smiled sympathetically.

"Do you deny citing us for violating a rule that bans minorities from staying in Bonita Vista?"

"Homeowners' associations do necessarily have rules and regulations that all of its residents must follow."

"Illegal, discriminatory rules?"

Calhoun looked at Geddes. "Life is a little different within a gated community, particularly one that is located in an unincorporated area, where the homeowners' association must furnish the sort of services and protection ordinarily provided by government agencies. Are you familiar with homeowners' associations at all, Agent Geddes?"

"I live in a gated community," Geddes admitted.

"And do you like it?"

"I wouldn't live anywhere else."

Calhoun nodded. "Then you know what I'm talking about." He gave Barry a tolerant smile. "I'll be the first one to admit that they're not for everyone. Some individuals don't respond well to the stringent requirements for membership. But associations maintain standards that are necessary for the good of the community. That is what we do here. But to extrapolate from that that we are involved in kidnapping or other illegal activities is frankly ludicrous."

There was a lot more that Barry wanted to say, but Geddes was already closing his notebook. He raised a silencing hand as Barry started to speak, then thanked Calhoun for the interview and started toward the door, indicating that Barry was to follow.

The lights went off as they reached the exit, and he turned to see Calhoun seated at the table in exactly the same position as when they'd arrived.

He shivered.

"So?" Barry prodded as the door closed behind them. He knew the answer already but felt obligated to ask.

"I'm sorry," Geddes said as they walked back out to the car, "but I'll be recommending that we concentrate our efforts on searching for an outside suspect, a person or persons with a specific grudge against your friends. I do not believe that Mr. Calhoun is in any way involved in these disappearances--if they are disappearances--and I

don't think that your homeowners' association is responsible for or complicitous in whatever crime may have occurred."

"They--"

The agent held up a hand. "I understand your antipathy toward the organization, but I think you have allowed it to cloud your judgment.

The idea that your homeowners' association is behind the kidnapping of your friends makes no logical sense and there is absolutely no evidence to support it. As Mr. Calhoun said, the proposition is ludicrous.

This doesn't mean that we won't make every effort to locate your friends. Of course we will. The majority of our cases are missing persons, and it's very rare that we do not close our cases. This branch of the Bureau in particular has a stellar record in this area."

He stopped walking. "We know our job, Mr. Welch. And we're good at what we do. We'll also keep you apprised of any and all developments in the case. But I have to be honest, and I'm telling you right here and now that you're barking up the wrong tree."

/ wouldn't live anywhere else.

Barry looked at the agent, then nodded and started toward the car. "I

understand," he said.

And then it was all over.

Or at least it seemed to be. No progress was made in finding their friends, but a week went by with no fines or charges or intrusive action. And then another. And another. It was as though things had gone back to the way they were that first month, and Maureen found it easy to pretend that all was well. She helped Barry repaint the house brown with forest green trim, and they went into town and cleaned out his office, where, miraculously, everything was as he had left it. She also picked up a few clients from her E accountant web page.

And she was pregnant.

She was not positive at first. Her period always varied a day or two, and once it had even been a week late. But when two weeks had gone by and there were not even any signs of imminent menstruation--no bloating, no oily skin, no PMS--she knew that she was pregnant.

She'd had a feeling from the beginning that this time it was the real deal, but she didn't want to jinx it so she'd said nothing to Barry.

She was still not certain what his reaction would be. Irrespective of the chaos around them, she was not sure he was ready to be a father, not sure, despite his protestations to the contrary, that he ever wanted to be a father.

But she told him in bed on the night of the fourteenth day.

"I have news."

"Good or bad?"

"Under the circumstances, I'm not sure." She looked at him. "I'm pregnant."

"Are you positive?"