Arthur adjusted his glasses again, his eyes drifting to the three-story stone house behind the fence.

“Harry Caldwell made a very generous donation to the neighborhood road repair fund last week, David.”

“The equipment is sitting on my grass,” I said.

“We like our quiet corners around here, Mr.

Kessler,” Arthur said, backing up two steps toward the curb.

“Let’s not stir up needless friction over a few inches of lawn.”

“The property line got surveyed five years back,” I said.

“Surveys can be read different ways,” Arthur said, his eyes slipping away from mine as he put his pen back in his pocket.