A dead, suffocating silence fell over the garage. Arthur looked at the rusted cylinder, his face turning an intense, burning shade of crimson. There was no killer, no grand conspiracy, and no biohazard threat to the community property values. It was just a highly embarrassing, localized plumbing failure that only affected his own lawn. To make matters worse, Marcus and Clara walked up the driveway, having seen the garage door open.
“Everything okay, Artie?” Marcus asked, completely unaffected by the smell out in the open driveway. “Did you find your murderer?” Tim looked at the neighbors, then back to Arthur. “Hey, did you drop this by the side window last night?” Tim asked, holding up Arthur’s muddy, cracked clipboard. Clara gasped, looking at Arthur. “Arthur, did you trespass without Board approval?” Arthur swallowed hard, his grand illusion of authority completely shattered. He snatched his clipboard, muttered a hasty apology to Tim, and practically sprinted back across the property line, locking himself inside his house to wait for the fresh air to arrive.