The Nosy Neighbor (The Busybodies collection) by Nita Prose

Author:Nita Prose [Prose, Nita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon Original Stories
Published: 2024-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

The rest of the day passes slowly. My mind won’t stop racing. I can’t sit down. I pace in front of my picture window. Doris and Bob are due back tomorrow morning, but if I’m right, only one of them will return. I think back to how Doris ran an index finger across her neck, suggesting Bob was a goner unless he found a passion for flamenco. I thought she meant divorce, but what if that’s not what she meant at all? What if Bob is already done for, buried in her backyard?

Oh, poor Bob. Poor allergic, four-eyed, asthmatic Bob. He was bland and boring in every way, a terrible match for Doris, but he wasn’t a bad man. Doris always wanted to transform him into someone he could never be. He didn’t stand a chance. Why she didn’t divorce him years ago, I’ll never understand. But is it really possible she took matters into her own hands? Even as I say it, I’m filled with doubt. It cannot be. Doris is a right pain in the ass, a narcissist if there ever was one, but she cannot be a murderer. I’m getting ahead of myself. I must be. But there’s only one way to know for sure.

On any given day, the hours of my old age pass far too slowly for my liking, but on this day, time is even more relentlessly slow. To pass the time, I decide to ring my niece. When my sister died ten years ago, Fiona became my last living relative, and sometimes it’s just nice to hear her voice.

The phone rings . . . and rings . . . and at last she picks up.

“Fiona! It’s your aunt Marge. How are you, dear? How are the kids?”

“Aunt Marge, it’s two in the morning,” Fiona replies. “You remember we’re living in Denmark now, right?”

“Oh dear, I forgot about the time change again, didn’t I.”

“Listen, I’ll call you another time, okay?”

“Yes, dear,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

I hang up, feeling ashamed of myself. Of course Fiona’s in Denmark now. And of course it’s hours ahead of us. How could I be so foolish?

I distract myself with a book, and it helps. When the streetlamps turn on, I’m filled with relief, though there are still hours more to while away before I can make my move.

When it’s bedtime, I help Harold upstairs. I tuck him into bed as usual and kiss him good night, then I wait a few more hours, tossing restlessly beside him, counting the cracks in the ceiling, hoping to find a reasonable explanation for Doris’s house to be filled with hidden peanuts. How long was she slowly poisoning Bob under everyone’s noses, and to what end?

The clock on my bedside table reads 3:00 a.m. Doris will return from Spain midmorning, so this is my only chance. I slip out of bed and get dressed in all black. I tiptoe to Doris’s house, make my way through the kitchen, and open the sliding door. The motion-sensor lights switch on immediately—something I never considered.

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