She jumped out, her crisp blazer already showing sweat stains, her perfectly styled hair falling out of place.
She took one look at the destruction, and her face cycled through shock, denial, and sheer terror.
“Derek, you absolute idiot!” she screamed across the gap. “I told you to be careful with that stupid bridge!”
“Aunt Marjorie, it just collapsed!” Derek yelled back. “Not my fault it couldn’t handle real trucks!”
Marjorie spotted me on my side of the creek, standing next to Inspector Bradley.
She immediately went into damage control.
“Inspector, this was clearly an accident!” she yelled. “Roman should have maintained his infrastructure better! The HOA will obviously contribute to reasonable repairs.”
Contribute to repairs.
After three months of systematic demolition, it was time to drop the bomb.
I stepped forward and opened my waterproof documentation case.
“Inspector Bradley,” I said, projecting my voice so Marjorie could hear every word. “Here is comprehensive documentation of systematic overloading beyond safe capacity. Derek’s trucks averaged 38 tons on a bridge rated for 15.”
