There were only three listed; Corinth was modest about its salability. The company that advertised specializing in farms (“agricultural acreage”) was Bishop Realty. I hesitated, my hand actually on the receiver. I was about to do some lying, and I wasn’t used to it.

“Bishop Realty, Mrs. Mary Anne Bishop speaking,” said a brisk voice.

“This is Aurora Teagarden,” I said clearly, and waited for the snicker. It was more like a snort. “I want to look at some farms in the area, specifically ones that are not in the best shape. I want somewhere pretty isolated.”

Mary Anne Bishop digested this in thoughtful silence.

“What size property did you want to see?” she asked finally.

“Not too big,” I said vaguely, since I hadn’t wriggled that information out of Martin.

“I could line some things up for you to see tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Bishop said. She sounded rather cautious about it. “If you could tell me-are you actually planning to farm the land? If I knew what you intended to do with it, maybe I could select properties to show you… that would suit you better.” She was trying awfully hard not to sound nosy.

I closed my eyes and drew a breath, glad she couldn’t see me.

“I represent a small but growing religious community,” I said. “We want a property that we can repair ourselves, and modify to suit our needs. We’ll be doing some farming, but mostly we want the extra land for privacy.”

“Well,” Mrs. Bishop said, “you’re not Moonies, are you? Or those Druvidians?”

Druids? Branch Davidians?

“Gosh, no,” I said firmly. “We’re Christian pacifists. We don’t believe in drinking or smoking. We don’t dress funny, or ask for donations on street corners, or preach in the stores, or anything!”

With an effort, Mrs. Bishop joined in my light laughter. The realtor gave me clear directions to her office, recommended a couple of restaurants for supper (“If you’re allowed to do that”), and said that she’d see me in the morning.