Marcus's engineering firm.
Why would Karen have a confidential-looking folder connected to my husband's company?
That question would haunt me for the next several minutes.
Because I was about to discover that the barbecue had never been the real target.
Marcus was.
And Karen's husband, Richard Whitman, had a lot more to lose than anyone in our neighborhood realized.
The police had Marcus standing beside the cruiser when Karen finally crossed the street.
She walked slowly, almost theatrically.
Richard followed her.
Karen pressed one hand against her chest.
"Officer, thank goodness you're here."
I stared at her.
She didn't look like someone who had just survived a terrifying encounter.
She looked like someone watching a plan unfold exactly as expected.
"He was yelling," she said. "We were afraid he might hurt somebody."
Marcus looked at her in disbelief.
"I never spoke to you today."
Karen ignored him.
Officer Miller began asking questions.
"When did the confrontation begin?"
Karen gave him a carefully prepared answer.
"He was shouting at us from his backyard."
"About what?"
"I don't know. Something about our property."
Richard stepped in.
"He became increasingly aggressive."
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the story was so obviously false.
Marcus had spent the entire afternoon grilling burgers.
Our patio camera had recorded everything.
But before I could say that, Karen suddenly lost her grip on the folder.
It fell.
Papers scattered across the road.
Several pages slid toward my driveway.
I stepped forward and caught one beneath my shoe.
Then I looked down.
My breath caught.
It was a bid document.
A highly detailed proposal.
At the top was the name of the State Capitol renovation project.
Below it was Marcus's company.
And beneath that was the name of the competing bidder.
Whitman Construction Group.
Richard Whitman.
I looked at Richard.
His face changed.
For the first time since the police arrived, his confidence disappeared.
He knew I had seen it.
"You shouldn't be touching that," he said.
I picked up another page.
There were numbers.
Millions of dollars.
Project estimates.
Engineering specifications.
Internal references.
Information that shouldn't have been lying on a suburban street.
"Why do you have this?" I asked.
Richard didn't answer.
Karen rushed forward.
"Give me that."
I stepped back.
"No."
Officer Miller looked between us.
"What's going on?"
I handed him the document.
"This belongs to my husband's company."
Miller glanced at it.
Then at Marcus.
Then at Richard.
Richard immediately began talking.
"Those documents are irrelevant. This is a neighborhood disturbance."
"Then why do you have them?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
That silence told me more than any explanation could have.
Marcus finally spoke.
"Officer, please listen to me. The contract was awarded yesterday. Richard's company lost the bid."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"This has nothing to do with that."
"Then why did you bring confidential bid information to my house?"
"I didn't."
"You were holding it."
Karen interrupted.
"Enough!"
Her voice was suddenly different.
The frightened-neighbor performance had disappeared.
She sounded angry.
The police officers exchanged glances.
Then Miller turned toward Marcus.
"You're still being detained."
"For what?"
"Possible threatening behavior and possession of a weapon."
"There is no weapon."
Miller pointed toward the barbecue.
"Your tongs were reported as a metal object being used aggressively."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
A pair of barbecue tongs had become a weapon.
Marcus shook his head.
"Officer, search the entire yard."
"We don't need to."
"Then look."
Before Miller could answer, a news van appeared at the end of the street.
My stomach tightened.
Who had called them?
Karen.
It had to be Karen.
The camera crew moved quickly.
A reporter stepped out.
"This is live," she said to her cameraman.
Richard immediately moved toward them.
He lowered his voice and began talking.
I couldn't hear everything.
But I understood the message.
A dangerous man.
A neighborhood disturbance.
Police intervention.
A frightened family.
They were constructing a story before anyone had even determined what happened.
Marcus was being turned into a headline.
And if that headline reached the wrong people, it could destroy everything.
The State Capitol contract was scheduled to be finalized publicly within two days.
Marcus's reputation was part of the deal.
His firm could not afford a scandal.
Richard knew that.
Karen knew that.
And suddenly the pieces fit together.
The barbecue had been a distraction.
The 911 call was not about noise.
It was about creating a public incident involving Marcus.
If he were arrested, photographed, and accused of threatening a neighbor, the contract could be questioned.
The losing bidder could challenge the procurement process.
Richard could step back into the competition.
I looked at Marcus.
He seemed to understand it too.
His expression was calm.
But his eyes were hard.
"Call Elaine," he said quietly.
I knew exactly who he meant.
Elaine Harris.
The woman who had known Marcus long before I met him.