With a mug of hot jasmine tea in hand, I started The Big Snoop in the great room. I’d already done a search for Wendy’s laptop last night, but the consolation prize would be a tablet or other device that synced calendar and contacts. I lifted cushions and slipped my hand into crevices hoping something might have ended up there.

When that proved futile, I collected all the papers piled throughout the downstairs and settled on one of the sofas. Since I’d already leafed through them, I wasn’t optimistic. Still, I took a closer look at each page, stacking the few utility and household bills in one pile, incidentals and clothing for Wendy and the girls in another. There might be little food in the cupboards, but there was obviously a fortune in clothing in their drawers and closets. Gracey Group paperwork went into a third pile, and I carefully went over each page for hints about Wendy’s western trip. As expected, if there’d been any related paperwork, she’d taken it with her.

The piles grew and multiplied. In the end I had half a dozen neat stacks and nothing to show for my time except a talent for organization. I placed them in an empty drawer in a desk in the corner, and while I was at it, searched the rest of the drawers. Next I went through the downstairs, fruitlessly searching the coat closet and the pockets of the jackets, checking behind and beside the television set, lifting everything I could. I was glad nobody was watching. The likelihood that anything related to Wendy’s trip would be hidden behind the television cable box was ludicrous.

Still, I checked.

After I’d searched every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen, I made a turkey sandwich and took it out to the screened porch. For entertainment, a mockingbird serenaded me, practicing trills and the calls of other birds while I munched. I wondered if mockingbirds had calls of their own. Would anybody notice if they slipped in an original phrase?

The concert was solo, uninterrupted by human voices or even the hum of cars. While I wasn’t expecting a parade, I wondered how many people were actually in residence now. I decided to take a closer look. With half my lunch still uneaten, I dusted the crumbs from my hands and changed my shoes, locking the doors leading outside before I started my jog down the road.

Forty minutes later, after a healthy dose of Florida humidity, I still wasn’t sure. Even though many houses showed no obvious signs of life, cars might be in garages and shades or curtains drawn against the harsh sunlight. Using flowering potted plants, display flags and proliferating Christmas decorations as evidence, I estimated that no more than half the population of Tropicana was here at the moment. I wondered if my extroverted sister had felt lonely.

Inside the town house, the rest of my lunch and a shower revived me for the second phase of my snoopfest. The next place to search was Wendy’s room, temporarily my own. I’d saved it, hoping that by now I’d be ready for the more intimate details of her life. Unfortunately, electric bills and Holly’s spelling tests hadn’t prepared me.