Veil of Civility

Chapter Four

The late afternoon sun glinted off the passenger side mirror and Declan squinted as he looked left and right over the edges of the four lane highway. Driving east on route 460 heading into Lynchburg, the sprawling campus of Liberty University had just come into view. Covering both sides of the highway, the campus was seemingly in a constant state of construction to keep up with the rapid growth of the student body. In the distance to the right a brand new building stood connected to the main campus by a long parking lot and a string of modern dormitories. The C.H. Barton Center for International Relations and Politics was designed to look like a larger scale model of Thomas Jefferson's Poplar Forest retreat, located a few miles southwest of Lynchburg. In a few hours Declan and Constance would be attending the center's grand opening, along with about three hundred other guests.

"Seriously, I don't see why you put up with this guy," Constance said, from the driver's seat of her late model Nissan Z sports car.

"He's not that bad," Declan said, with a small laugh. She was referring to Brendan Regan, an employee of DCM Properties and a man Declan had known for nearly fifteen years. To say that Regan was a bit abrasive was an understatement and Declan did at times wonder why he put up with some of the man's antics. In the end, he supposed it came down to feeling sorry for him.

"Not that bad? He's completely obnoxious and he causes more problems than anyone else working for you. Not to mention every time I'm around him all he does is stare at my breasts. Ugh."

"I do a healthy amount of staring at your breasts, too."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, backhanding him on the shoulder playfully and trying to hide a grin.

"Ow," he said, pretending that it hurt. "They were bouncing up and down last night, you know? It was quite entertaining."

"Stop it!" she said, turning bright red and covering an ear to ear grin with her hand.

Declan smiled broadly and laughed. Teasing her was almost the best part of being married.

"Left exit here to 501," he said, waving his hand across the gearshift to signal left.

"I know which way left is," she responded sarcastically.

"Just making sure, you are a Republican."

She signaled left and slowly glided over into the turn lane. "How far is it from here?"

"Not far. Go up Candler's Mountain Road then take a quick left onto Edgewood Avenue."

A few minutes later Constance pulled the sports car to a stop in front of a yellow brick ranch with a faded brown roof and broken out windows. Two utility body work trucks sat parked in the yard, the red and blue logo of DCM Properties ablaze against the vehicles' white paint. In the driveway sat a Ford Escape with a “City of Lynchburg” seal on its door, a grey logo at the bottom clearly identifying the vehicle as a hybrid. While most of the road was residential, the area's rapid development meant that businesses were starting to take over the first block of the Edgewood Avenue and that put this particular property under the purview of Declan's company.

"Right, then, let's go and see what Regan's gotten us into this time," Declan said, opening the passenger side door and stepping out.

"Yes. Let's," Constance said through clenched teeth.

They walked across the small patch of grass that made up the home's front yard and as they arrived at the door a tall black man dressed in white overalls appeared from inside.

"Hey, boss," said Poindexter Perry.

"Dex," Declan said, as he stepped up onto the covered front porch.

The sound of a raised voice with a Boston accent erupted from behind Perry. "I told him to take it easy this time," Perry said in his deep baritone voice.

"Why don't you have a look around the place with Dex while I go and straighten this out? The back rooms could use a woman's touch," Declan said to Constance.

"How do you do, Ma'am?" Dex said, tipping the edge of his white painters cap.

"Fine, Dex. Thanks for asking. How are Sherri and the girls?" Declan heard her say with a smile in her voice as he stepped away towards the basement stairwell.

Inside, the house looked like it was two different properties. To the left of the basement stairwell, which marked the center of the house, the one story ranch's bedrooms, bathroom and floors had been completely remodeled with new carpet, paint, tile and fixtures. To the right of the steps, where the kitchen and living area were located, were bare wooden subfloors, exposed support beams and loose drywall, covered with a thick layer of settled construction dust. Like all of the properties DCM worked with, this one had been bought out of foreclosure and they were now in the process of remodeling it into commercial office space so that it could be leased out.

"Hey, listen to me," a loud voice said from in the basement. "Hear the words that are coming out of my mouth. I'm not replacing an entire electrical panel because of a little bit of rust. There's no water in here. Do you see any water?"

Declan shook his head and descended the basement stairs. The aged wood creaked underneath his weight and the two men standing in the unfinished room looked up as he reached the bottom. Standing in front of an open electrical panel in the musty smelling room was Brendan Regan, an overweight man with a clumsy cluster of blonde hair, a beer gut hanging over his belt and a lopsided expression that gave him the look of a fat kid in an ice cream shop faced with an impossible number of choices. Regan's six foot frame towered over the building inspector in front of him, a stout man in a blue denim shirt with receding gray hair and a bushy mustache.

"Hi, I'm Declan McIver. I'm the principal for DCM Properties," Declan said, extending his right hand toward the inspector.

"Howard Terry, Mr. McIver. Lynchburg City Planning and Zoning," the man said, as they shook hands. "Your subordinate here was just telling me you have no plans to replace the electric in this house, but I'm afraid the city is going to require an update before we can issue a certificate of occupancy."

"I haven't had a chance to look at it yet. We just started this project a few weeks ago. What are we dealing with?"

"Well, this desk jockey here says the whole thing has to come out because it's rusted," Regan said. "But the only rust I see is the quarter-sized spot there. Here, I'll scratch it off."

"Easy, Brendan," Declan said. "We're all professionals here."

"Professionals, my big ass; he's a hack."

"That's enough. Mr. Terry's with the city and if we're going to be successful in expanding our business to Lynchburg we need to listen to what he has to say. Why don't you wait upstairs while we finish up down here?"

"Fine, you want to kiss his ass, you kiss his ass," Regan said, as he pushed his way between Declan and the inspector and headed for the steps mumbling, “Stupid desk riding bureaucrat."

Declan watched the inspector as Regan climbed the steps, the man's eyes followed him with a disapproving glare.

Declan flashed a smile as the inspector looked back at him. "I've raised him since he was thirty," he said, with a short chuckle as he bent down to take a closer look at the electrical panel. Pulling a multi-tool out of his back pocket, he opened it and produced a Phillips head screwdriver. After loosening four screws, he pulled the face off the junction box at the bottom of the panel. Rust colored water slopped out of the bottom of the box and spilled onto the floor.

"There's your problem, Mr. Terry, ground water," Declan said, pulling out a fistful of hastily taped wiring. "We'll install a new watertight conduit and a NEMA-4 junction box. Think that'll get us a C.O.?"

Terry nodded. "Yeah, that'll do."

"Thank you, sir," Declan said, as he stood and shook hands with the inspector again. "Let me give you one of my cards. My cell number is on there if you run into anymore issues."

Terry took the card and withdrew one of his own from his pocket. "I'll be by for a final inspection when you're done remodeling," he said, handing his card over.

Declan nodded and followed the building inspector up the basement steps. As the man left the house and closed the front door behind him, Declan turned and looked into the kitchen. Constance sat uncomfortably on an upturned five gallon bucket, with Regan and Dex standing nearby, Regan grinning ear to ear as he attempted to position himself at just the right angle to get a view down her shirt. Declan grinned as she flashed Regan an annoyed look and pulled her jacket closed.

"You about ready, then?" Declan asked.

Constance jumped to her feet and said, “Yes, very much so."

"Dex, good work man," Declan said, as he opened the door for his wife. "I'll be round Monday to help you secure the back deck. Regan, try not to bring the entire city council down on us in the meantime, will you?"

Regan grumbled a response as Declan closed the door.

"You're fired," Constance mouthed inaudibly from outside the house.

Declan flashed a smile. "He works cheap," he said, as he put his arm around her and led her back to the car. "Let's get to the hotel and get checked in."