3: 3

The last couple of days, we'd been busy handing out welfare packages to residents who'd prepaid their property fees for the whole year.

Pantry staples. One set per household.

Katherine Finch saw the announcement in the group chat and came down to the property office again.

"Property Manager Harrington, that pantry set of yours—send one up to 503."

I really couldn't believe her.

She was nearly a year behind on her fees. Over three thousand dollars.

We'd posted three payment notices, and she'd torn down every one and thrown it in the elevator.

I kept handing packages to the residents in line.

"Only prepaid residents get them. Your fees haven't been paid."

She was not happy.

"Why are you treating me differently?"

"They can get one but I can't?"

"Is this because I filed a complaint after you people wronged me? So now you're settling a personal score, is that it?"

Out came her phone again.

"I'm going live right now, let everybody see"

"exactly how you garbage property people retaliate against a resident just for standing up for her rights!"

I put a hand in front of her phone.

"Sorry, company policy. Fees first, then the gift."

"Do me a favor,"

"because if I hand you a pantry set and you decide it's poisoned and file another complaint, I really will lose my job."

Her face went white in an instant.

The other residents in line all laughed.

Heads down, shoulders shaking.

"You—you're making malicious assumptions!"

Katherine's voice climbed higher.

"My last complaint was to keep the industry in order!"

"Yes, you were keeping order."

I nodded.

"And so you don't strain yourself, you can buy whatever you need, or have your husband buy it."

"It's for your own safety."

A few residents passing the door looked over with plain contempt.

Katherine's face went red, then white.

"Fine, Sandra Harrington. You remember this."

She threw the line at me and left.

That evening, Katherine posted another secretly filmed video in the resident group chat.

It was me dropping off holiday treats for Vera Chavez in Building 3.

The caption read:

"Property manager suspected of bribing residents with gifts to buy their loyalty,"

"cozying up to people to line up false testimony. Requesting a full investigation by the relevant authorities."

Vera was in her eighties. Her son lived in another city.

Every time the property had a welfare handout, I brought her a set too. Had been for years now.

The chat went quiet for five minutes, then Vera's granddaughter jumped in.

"503, don't you have anything better to do?"

"We younger ones aren't around, so Property Manager Harrington's the one bringing her things and fixing her faucet."

"If your complaint scares the property team off from coming to her door, you and I are going to have a problem!"

A whole line of replies followed.

"Team Property Manager Harrington!"

"Katherine Finch, give it a rest!"

Ivy was finally happy.

"See? People can tell what's what."

I was glad, but I didn't let it go to my head.

The next day the company held a training session, and Clive, Ivy, and I went.

The instructor was a property veteran with twenty years in, teaching how to handle disruptive residents and how to preserve evidence.

Clive listened and took notes the whole time, his notebook packed with writing.

"We were too soft before,"

Clive said.

"All we thought about was good service. Never thought about protecting ourselves."

After the training, a Building B resident sent me a video.

"Property Manager Harrington, guess what my peephole camera caught?"

It was Katherine letting a man into her place at two in the morning.

She opened the door in a nightgown, and a man slipped inside.

The two of them walked in with their arms around each other.

That man was almost certainly the one I'd spotted before.

He had a real instinct for not being seen, a cap pulled low, everything covered up tight.

But his build was nothing like Katherine's husband's.

I'd met her husband. Short, stout, balding. This man was tall and thin.

Ivy leaned in to look.

"Sandra, that's the same man from last time!"

"Don't say anything yet."

I answered.

"The clearer the evidence, the better."

That afternoon Katherine Lawrence from the repellent company came by to see us, bringing a box of new samples and an ingredient test report.

When she'd heard someone had reported the repellent, it had made her furious.

"Our ingredients are fully transparent. Musk? Come on."

"Do you know how much that stuff costs per gram? You think we don't factor in cost?"

"One look and you can tell someone's been watching too much TV."

While she was talking, out of the corner of my eye I caught something past the glass doors of the lobby.

Katherine had her phone up, lens aimed at us, and hit the shutter.

Her eyes flashed sharp behind the phone, and she turned and slunk away.

Clive saw it too.

"What's she up to now?"

I stared at the direction where she'd disappeared.

What else would she be up to.

Just biting whoever she could get her teeth into.

I thought about the man in that footage. Come to think of it, he looked awfully familiar.

4: 4

This time, Katherine filed her complaint under her own name and sent it straight to the county housing authority.

It said:

"Sandra Harrington took kickbacks from the insect-repellent manufacturer and used cheap, counterfeit product to treat residents like lab rats."

"For her own gain, she poisoned a pregnant woman and her child, causing irreversible harm."

"We demand her arrest, her dismissal, and criminal charges."

She'd even attached that photo she'd secretly taken:

Me and Katherine Lawrence talking in the lobby, shot from a sly angle that made it look like something was being handed over.

On the day the investigators came, Brandon Lawrence personally escorted the inspection team into the conference room.

He didn't so much as glance at me. First words out of his mouth:

"We will fully cooperate with the investigation and show no leniency."

Under the table, Ivy nudged me and tipped her head toward Katherine, who was trailing right behind them.

Katherine still looked smug.

"You have to get justice for me!"

The inspectors spread the complaint and the photo across the table.

"Property Manager Harrington, someone has filed a formal complaint accusing you of taking kickbacks."

"Do you have anything to say?"

I slid over the folder I'd had ready all along.

Purchase contracts, corporate transfer records, invoices, the manufacturer's credentials.

"All the repellent was purchased through the company's corporate account."

"The manufacturer is a licensed distributor. Not one cent passed through my hands."

"Every transaction has a bank record. You're welcome to check."

I called Katherine Lawrence in to testify.

She produced the manufacturer's statement and added, "Musk is expensive. Our consumer repellent sells for about fifteen dollars a bottle."

"If we put musk in it and sold at a loss, we might as well be running a charity."

The inspectors exchanged a look, flipped through my materials, and started nodding.

Then a man in a blue shirt asked me, "What about Ms. Finch's miscarriage? How do you explain that?"

"She says the repellent caused it."

I looked at him. "I'm asking her to produce the hospital's miscarriage diagnosis and the specific test reports."

"We need to see the evidence linking the repellent to the miscarriage."

"On our side, the repellent's ingredient test report came back today."

"The regulators who came out last time have already issued us a certification."

"No musk. And nothing that could cause a miscarriage."

The smug look on Katherine's face froze on the spot.

Blue Shirt turned to her. "Ms. Finch, can you provide your medical evidence?"

She hesitated before answering. "I... I didn't get any."

"You filed a formal complaint with no evidence?"

Blue Shirt frowned.

"But I really did feel sick after using it!"

Katherine kept arguing anyway. "The smell was overpowering. I'm the victim here!"

Katherine Lawrence couldn't hold back. "Ma'am, please take responsibility for your words and actions."

"The label clearly says 'for external use, avoid heavy contact.' Right there in black and white."

"You took a large amount and used it to mop your floor. That's on you."

"Keep slandering our company and we'll have our legal team talk to you."

The conference room went quiet. People glanced at one another, trading looks.

In the end the inspection team ruled the complaint false, and publicly commended our charity work.

They only reminded us to keep a paper trail on the vetting process going forward.

On his way out, Blue Shirt gave Brandon a look. "Supervisor Lawrence, your staff do charity work and get falsely accused for it."

"You let the complainant run wild, sat back and did nothing, even fanned the flames. That's dereliction of duty, isn't it?"

Brandon finally looked uncomfortable. "I'll organize an internal review right away..."

Ivy muttered under her breath, "Review, my ass."

The moment they left, I turned around and called 911.

The patrol car arrived before Katherine had a chance to leave.

She saw the uniforms come through the door and looked genuinely baffled.

"What's this about?"

I handed over the complaint and the receipt. "A false complaint filed under her own name, fabricating facts."

"I want charges filed. I want her held responsible."

The color drained completely from Katherine's face. "I was just doing my civic duty!"

"I have the right to oversee you! You can't arrest me!"

"You have rights."

I looked at her. "And what about me and the property team? We don't have the right to protect ourselves?"

"You complained once, we bore it. Twice, we let it go. This is the third time."

"Be too nice and people walk all over you. Today I'm done being nice."

She stood there, stunned, with nothing to say.

That night I posted the police receipt in the resident group chat with one line:

"The charity can stop, but fairness can't be thrown away."

"Thank you to every neighbor who trusted me."

Five minutes later, the chat lit up with a hundred messages.

Some gave a thumbs-up. Some said, "She's had this coming for ages."

Others tagged Katherine directly. "Does your face hurt yet?"

Once Brandon had finished dealing with his report to the higher-ups, he came back and pointed in our faces. "What were you thinking, blowing this up so big?"

"A mistake is a mistake. Who among us is perfect?"

"You settled a personal grudge on the company's dime, without a single thought for our collective reputation!"

"Sure, you feel great now. I'm the one who has to clean up your mess and clear things up!"

"Do this again and none of you keep your jobs. I'll replace every property manager here!"

Brandon ranted himself hoarse, but the three of us ignored him.

Because we'd noticed something.

Back in my office, the three of us huddled around the computer and played that peephole video again.

This time I grabbed screenshots frame by frame and enlarged the tall, thin man's face.

After the man went into 503, he took off his hat in the entryway.

It was no one else. It was Brandon Lawrence.

The three of us looked at each other.

No wonder Brandon was jumping out of his skin.

He and Katherine...

I saved the screenshots.

Then I dialed the headquarters oversight department.