Persuasion!

This gentleman, who seems to have fingers in many village pies (and who delivers eggs from his hens to us weekly), stopped cutting grass in a field to ask if I fancied a role on the Village Hall Committee.  His wife had suggested me to him.

Sounds innocuous enough, except that a chance conversation with the daughter of our property's vendor elicited the information that it might be a poisoned chalice – with a history of poor decisions and unsound buildings.

More research needed, perhaps . . .