The Julius House Page 0,3

flipped to the B's.

Bartell, C. H., 1202 Archibald Street.

Now, this may sound fishy, but up until that moment I hadn't thought of Martin's former wife being in Corinth.

I discovered I was burning with the urge to see Cindy Bartell. A particularly ridiculous jealousy had flared in my heart; I wanted to see her. Wise or not, I decided to lay eyes on Cindy Bartell while I was here. I took off my glasses and relaxed on the slablike motel bed, with an uneasy feeling that I was being seriously stupid, and wracked my brain to try to remember what Cindy did for a living. Surely Martin had mentioned it at some point or other? He was not one to discuss his past much, though he seemed fascinated with the placidity of mine... .

I almost fell asleep fully dressed, and when I forced myself to get up and wash my face and put on my nightgown, I had dredged up the fact that Cindy Bartell was, or had been, a florist.

The little telephone book informed me that there was a listing for a Cindy's Flowers.

I fell asleep as if I'd been sandbagged, still not having decided if my good taste and good sense would keep me away from Cindy's shop.

The next morning I showered briskly, put my mass of long, wavy hair up in a bun that I hoped would make me look religious, went light on the makeup, and cleaned my glasses carefully. I wore a suit, a khaki-colored one with a bronze silk blouse, and modest brown pumps. I wanted to look ultrarespectable, so Mrs. Bishop would be reassured, yet I wanted the religious cult front to be objectionable enough to tempt Joseph Flocken to sell the farm to spite his stepchildren. Unfortunately, I didn't know the location of the farm, since Flocken didn't have a phone listing. I was simply hoping I'd spot it during my driving around with the real estate agent.

I scanned myself in the motel mirror, thought I would pass whatever test Mrs.

Bishop chose to give, and went off to have a little breakfast before I met her.

Her directions proved excellent, which boded well for her efficiency. Bishop Realty was in an old house right off Main Street. As I entered the reception area, a door to the right opened, and a tall, husky blond woman emerged. She was wearing a cheap navy blue suit and a white blouse. "The Lord be with you," I said promptly.

"Miss Teagarden?" she said cautiously, after a glance at my ring finger. Naturally, I'd left my huge engagement ring in a zippered pouch in my purse. It hardly fit my new image.

"I do have a few places to show you this morning," Mary Anne Bishop said, still obviously feeling her way with me. "I hope you like one of them. We look forward to having your group settle in our area. It is a church, I understand?" She waved me into her office and we sat down.

"We're a small pacifist religious group," I said with equal caution, wondering about tax exemptions and other hitches connected with claiming to be an actual church. "We like privacy, and we're not rich," I continued. "That's why we want a farm a fair way out of town, one that we can fix up." "And you want at least - what - sixty acres?" asked Mrs. Bishop. "Oh, at least. Or more. It would depend," I said vaguely. I had no idea how big the Bartell/Flocken farm was.

"Excuse me for asking, but I was wondering why your group was interested in this part of Ohio. You seem southern, and there is so much farming land available down there ..."

"God told us to come here," I said.

"Oh," Mrs. Bishop said blankly. She shrugged her broad shoulders and assumed her Selling Smile. "Well, let's go find that place that's just right for you. We'll go in my Bronco, since we're looking at farms." So for a whole morning I drove around in rural Ohio with Mary Anne Bishop, looking at fields and fences and run-down farmhouses, thinking about how cold and isolated some of these farms would be in winter, how the land would look covered with snow. It made me shiver to imagine it. None of these farms was Martin's.

How on earth could I get her to show me the right place? Evidently Flocken hadn't listed it with anyone, was just sitting on it to keep Martin and Barby out. I began to hate Joseph