“SueEllen,” I said. “I don’t want to alarm you, but your neighbor is spying on you.”

“Oh, that’s old Mr. Zeller,” she said, sipping her champagne, not the least bit perturbed. “He’s a retired astronomy professor. Used to teach at Caltech. Don’t worry. He’s harmless.”

“Yoo hoo, Mr. Zeller!” She sat up straight in the tub, giving him an unobstructed view of her boobs.

And then she blew him a kiss.

Good Lord. She was actually getting off on this.

Now that would make an interesting chapter for her book. She could call it Entertaining the Neighbors. At least we wouldn’t have to bother with recipes.

An hour later, SueEllen was still strolling down memory lane. And I was ready to strangle her. I hadn’t been off that damn toilet seat all afternoon, except to add hot water to her tub.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she’d asked. “I’m so comfortable in the water, I hate to move.”

Heavens, no. I wouldn’t want her to exert herself by actually having to turn on a faucet. So I’d smiled weakly and turned on the hot water. I felt like a slave girl in one of those old ’50s biblical epics.

I checked my watch. 5:10. I couldn’t believe it. The woman was about to break the Guinness record for World’s Longest Bath. Even I don’t stay in the tub for four hours at a stretch. But here she was, still soaking, and still yapping. By now, of course, I was famished. I would’ve sold my soul for a Tic Tac.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes, SueEllen called it a day, and got out of the tub.

“Hand me my robe, will you, dear?” she said, flaunting her fabulous body. Not an ounce of fat anywhere. I wondered if she’d had any of it sucked away by her plastic surgeon husband.

Just as she was tying the belt on her robe, a buzzer sounded. SueEllen crossed to a control panel above her bath and pressed a button.

“Yes, who is it?”

A young man’s voice filtered through a speaker. “It’s me, SueEllen. I forgot my key.”

“My stepson Brad,” SueEllen whispered to me. “Always forgetting his key.”

“Okay,” she said, pressing a button. “Come on in.”

Once again, my mind boggled. What sort of person has an intercom for their bathtub?

“Isn’t this clever?” she said. “I had it installed so in case the maid isn’t around, I don’t have to get out of the tub to answer the door. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

Yeah, we all know how irritating it is when the maid isn’t around to answer the door.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? You can meet my husband and stepchildren—Brad and his sister Heidi.”

“Actually, I think I’ve already met Heidi.”

SueEllen shook her head, in a gesture that was meant to portray sympathy.

“Poor Heidi. Such a troubled child. Terrible weight problem. I’m sure you can relate.”