“Mr. Vance,” I said, stopping a few feet from the trench.
He did not look up from his clipboard, but his jaw tightened. “We have a permit for the drainage line, if that is what you are wondering.”
“I wanted to speak with you about the note left on my windshield this morning,” I said, my voice low and level. “And the comments your wife made yesterday.”
Grant let out a gruff mumble, his thumbs hooking over the edge of his pockets. “Valerie handles the neighborhood association business. I handle the construction.”
“It was left on my private property,” I said.
