Read Blessed Is the Busybody for Free Online

things I forget to. Between us, the universe is basically covered.
    “Do you know if the owner of the house across the street has authorized any repairs?” I asked.
    “Aggie! Tell me what’s going on!”
    I did, succinctly. Lucy’s a great audience. Her green eyes get as big as tennis balls when she’s excited, which is most of the time. Her mother named her for Lucille Ball, and it’s hard to say if her mother was on to something or the name influenced Lucy. But sometimes when we’re together I feel like Desi should be practicing conga drums in the next room.
    “You don’t mean it.” She sobered a moment. “That poor woman. What a terrible thing.”
    I told her about seeing the SUV. “So, do you know anything about the house? Can you find out?”
    “Are the police using your phone?” She went to the wall phone and picked up the receiver. Disappointment scrunched her features. “No, darn it.” Clearly she had hoped to pick up some tidbit from their conversation. “Hand me my Palm Pilot.”
    I searched through a purse as large as a briefcase, found and flipped open the organizer for her. She punched in a name and squinted as she committed the resulting phone number to memory.
    I sat back and watched the master of information gathering.
    Lucy leaned against the counter. “Sarah? How-are-you-this-is-Lucy. I’d love to show the house on Church Street tomorrow, but I hear they’re doing repairs. Can you tell me what? Will it interfere?”
    She listened, all eyes and coiling shoulder-length curls. She gestured excitedly at me as the other realtor spoke. “Really? You mean I heard wrong? Maybe it was the owners then. Someone saw a car parked in the driveway early this morning.” She gestured again. “They’re on vacation in Colorado? How odd. And I’m sure no one was showing it that early. . . .” She covered the receiver. “Do you want her to come over and take us through the house? Or shall we go alone?”
    I wasn’t sure how things had gotten to this point. Wasn’t this a job for the police? On the other hand, what kind of lead did they have? I’d seen an SUV in the driveway. Roussos hadn’t been impressed. How long would it take before someone got around to checking inside the house?
    How about forever?
    Lucy didn’t wait for my reply. “Well, I think I’ll just check it out before I take my clients. They’re not much of a bet, so don’t get your hopes up.” She listened, said her good-byes, and hung up. “She’ll be so-o-o-o pissed when she finds out what happened over here. She’ll know I was lying.” She didn’t sound concerned.
    “Lucy, we can’t march through the front yard and across the street. Someone will notice.”
    “I’m parked in the church lot. We’ll get the car and drive to the house. It’s perfectly legitimate, Aggie. I’m a realtor. The house is for sale. There’s a lockbox. If the police want to come, too, let them.”
    Curiosity has always been my downfall. As a young child I was the fearless middle sister who climbed the forbidden backyard maple to spy on neighbor children. And later that same day as I waited for my X-ray, I was the one who followed suspicious noises and found my doctor and nurse conducting a private anatomy class. The other occasions when I’ve let my curiosity get out of hand are too numerous to mention. Rarely have they turned out well.
    “Is this one of those minister’s wife hang-ups?” Lucy said. “Are you afraid someone might think bad things about you?”
    “If value judgments are being made, they have to do with a certain body on our porch.”
    “So?”
    I was sure we weren’t in danger. Whoever had dumped poor Jennifer Marina was probably in Pennsylvania or West Virginia by now. But it would be wonderful just to peek at the house, to see if there was any reason to summon the police and not wait for them to get around to a visit on their own.
    I got to my feet. “Let’s go.”
    I don’t remember sneaking out of my own yard