A Brush With Danger, Evelyn Chambers Cozy Mysteries: Book 2

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

Evelyn Chambers stood in her kitchen, her phone to her ear, waiting for Agent Anthony Torres to continue. The CIA supervisor had just told her he needed her in Hungary. Evelyn’s hands were clammy as she listened to his next words, delivered in his steady yet brusque voice.

“I know you just finished an assignment for me, but something’s come up, and I could use your help.” Whatever was going on must’ve been big because Torres had dispensed with any pleasantries.

“In Hungary?” She held the phone tightly, a little stunned.

“Yes.”

Evelyn’s heart beat even faster as she thought about her past assignment. What had started as a chance encounter with a mysterious stranger from her late husband’s past had turned into an adventure like nothing she’d experienced before. She’d been hired by Torres as a CIA consultant, and if she was being honest with herself, once she’d completed that assignment, she hadn’t expected to hear from him again anytime soon—or maybe not at all.

“What do you need from me?” she asked, keeping her voice calm.

“I don’t want to discuss details over the phone. Would you be available tomorrow morning, say nine a.m., at CIA headquarters?”

Evelyn glanced at the clock. It was almost five o’clock now, and she had dinner plans with Roger Reed, a retired veterinarian she’d recently met during her aforementioned escapade. They’d become fast friends, and she was looking forward to spending the evening with him. So, meeting with Torres in the morning would work out well, although she knew her curiosity at what he wanted would eat at her all night.

“Tomorrow’s fine,” she answered Torres.

“Excellent,” he said, a tinge of relief in his tone. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She ended the call, her mind racing as she stared out the kitchen window to the back yard. What kind of mission required her presence in Hungary? And would she go? She’d only returned four weeks ago from her assignment in Paris and had barely settled back into her routines. It was August in Brookton, Virginia, a small town west of Langley. This time of year, her garden needed tending, as did her yard and flowers, and she’d been kept busy. She’d also been to yoga, and had started her exercise regimen again, walking in the early morning hours while it was still relatively cool. She frowned. If she agreed to help Torres, her little slice of peace was going to be disrupted.

A soft meow interrupted Evelyn’s thoughts. She glanced down at Midnight, one of her four cats. He was a colossus, and yet gentle and spry on his paws.

“Hello there.” She reached down and petted his glossy black coat. “Is it dinnertime?”

Midnight blinked deep green eyes at her, tail swishing.

“Oh, I said the magic words,” Evelyn went on as Lucky—one of her two tripod cats—bounded into the kitchen as if he had four legs instead of three.

Behind him, Butterscotch walked gingerly into the kitchen.

“And how’s my little girl?” Evelyn cooed. The blind feline followed the sound of her voice, stopping near her feet. Evelyn scooped her up, and Butterscotch began purring loudly. “You’re such a pretty marmalade, but you know you got your name because I love butterscotch.” She’d told the cat that a hundred times if one. Butterscotch pressed her head against Evelyn’s chin, as if acknowledging the truth of the statement.

A small but mighty meow filled the room as Chance—the latest addition to her furry brood—let his presence be known. Still a kitten, she’d rescued him after a scary car chase in Paris. He’d unfortunately lost a front leg, but his recovery was going well, and he was adapting to his new home, being quite the pest to his older siblings.

“Yes, I hear you,” Evelyn said to Chance. “You all want some dinner, and then I need to get ready. Roger’ll be here at six.”

The cats eagerly followed her around as she got canned food out of the refrigerator and prepared their meals. She put bowls on the floor and filled their water dishes, and as they ate, she checked on the apricot chicken which had been in the slow cooker all day. A sweet and savory smell wafted throughout the house, and her mouth watered as she took a knife and fork and shredded the meat. When she finished, she nodded her head satisfactorily.

“Just how I like it,” she said.

She retrieved a rice cooker from the pantry, and once the rice was cooking, she went into the bedroom. After a quick shower, she dried her gray hair, Butterscotch lounging on the floor nearby. Chance and Lucky weren’t in sight, but Midnight eyed her carefully as she put on light makeup and dressed in tan slacks and a light blue blouse. When she finished, she slowly twirled around.

“Do I meet with your approval?” she asked the black cat.

He swished his tail.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, then smiled when she heard the doorbell.

Evelyn hurried to the front door, opening it to reveal Roger Reed, tall and lanky, with his gray hair slightly tousled from the evening breeze. He held a small bouquet of wildflowers, a thoughtful touch that widened her smile.

“So nice to see you,” Roger said.

“Come in.” Evelyn stepped aside, and he handed her the flowers as he entered the foyer. She admired them as she sniffed them. “These are lovely, thank you.”

“You said not to bring anything, but I couldn’t come empty-handed.” He made a show of sniffing the air, a mischievous twinkle in his light blue eyes. “Something smells good.”

She waved for him to follow her into the kitchen. “It’s too hot to have the oven on, so I made apricot chicken with rice, and I’ll throw together a salad.”

“That sounds wonderful,” he said as he leaned against the island. “How are you this evening?”

“I was busy in the yard today,” she said, her mind suddenly thinking about Torres and his mysterious phone call.

Roger raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

Evelyn nodded and held up the flowers. “Will you get me a vase from the cupboard above the fridge?”

“Of course.”

He stood on tiptoe and retrieved a vase, and as Evelyn filled it with water, he turned to see Chance in the doorway. Roger bent down and held out a hand.

“And how are you?”

The brown tabby kitten stood back, head bobbing shyly to the side. Then he meowed quietly.

“It’s okay, Chance,” Roger said. He stayed calm, his demeanor non-threatening. After a moment, the kitten approached and rubbed against Roger’s hand. “What’s the French word for Chance?”

“Chanceux,” Evelyn replied. “Which means ‘lucky’ or ‘fortunate’. The perfect name for a kitten who survived a car crash.”

“And fortunate you happened to be there to rescue him.”

“It was.”

Evelyn’s lips twitched slyly. If Roger only knew what had really happened on that Parisian street when she’d found Chance . . . She glanced at the kitten. The secret would be theirs for now, although she wished she could share with Roger what had happened. Maybe someday, she thought.

As if he was afraid of missing out on some attention, Lucky appeared in the hallway and made a beeline for Roger, who laughed.

“Come here,” he said as he petted the tabby. He glanced at Evelyn. “And where are the other two?”

“Last I saw, Butterscotch and Midnight were in my room. By now, they’re probably fast asleep.”

Roger stood up. “No need to let our dinner disturb them.”

“Oh, it won’t,” Evelyn said.

“What can I help with?” Roger asked as he went to the sink to wash his hands.

“I’ve already set the table, but how about you get the salad from the fridge while I fix us drinks?”

“You got it.”

As he pulled a bowl of salad and dressing from the refrigerator, Evelyn quickly prepared a Scotch and soda for him. As he sipped it, she fixed a Moscow Mule for herself, then took a drink.

“Oh, that’s so good on a hot night.”

“It has been warm,” he said.

They chatted about the weather, and he helped her get the food to the dining room table. Then they dug in.

“This is good,” he said after taking a bite of the chicken. “Just the right amount of sweetness.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Henry liked that recipe.”

Roger smiled at the mention of her husband. They’d both lost their spouses about five years ago, but she couldn’t tell Roger that Henry had been an operative for the CIA, and that she’d recently learned he’d likely been poisoned after his cover had been blown. Another secret to keep for herself.

“Any more trips planned?” Roger asked after a bit.

“I love to travel, so who knows?” Evelyn replied vaguely, her thoughts again drifting to the call from Torres.

“I was thinking about taking a mini vacation myself,” Roger said between bites. “Maybe to the coast. Norfolk or Virginia Beach.”

Evelyn nodded. “That sounds lovely. The coast is always refreshing. Any particular reason for the trip?”

Roger shrugged, a wistful look in his eyes. “Janet and I liked the beach, and the ocean air would be a nice change of pace.”

His wife had died of cancer, and although Evelyn knew Roger missed her, he had also moved on. Something Evelyn’s quirky friend, Margaret Tuttle, had gently urged her to do. And maybe she had, Evelyn thought to herself. After all, she’d been a CIA operative, if only once.

“Then you should go,” Evelyn said.

Roger’s eyes danced. “Trying to push me out the door?”

“Of course not.”

He beamed, and their conversation turned to reminiscing about past travels and shared memories, the laughter and stories flowing easily. As she listened to him, Evelyn realized she liked this man, and she definitely did not want to push him away. And yet, there were things she couldn’t tell him.

After dinner, they sat in chairs on the covered front porch and visited until dusk settled in. Roger was just saying he needed to go home when Margaret stepped outside her house with Doyle, her Labrador, at her side. She wore a bright, oversized button-down shirt featuring a loud, tropical print with flamboyant flamingos and lush palm trees. High-waisted polka dot capri pants in sunny yellow contrasted boldly to the shirt. She looked to Evelyn’s house and waved.

“Hello, Margaret,” Evelyn called out.

Doyle ran across the grass, and Margaret made a beeline after him. The dog sprang onto the porch and zoomed happily between the chairs, taking pets from Evelyn and Roger.

“I recognized the car,” Margaret said, glancing at a silver Mercedes parked in the driveway. She grinned at Roger. “How’re you?”

“Doing great,” Roger said.

Margaret looked through the storm door. “Butterscotch wants to say hello to Doyle.”

“You can let her out,” Evelyn said.

Roger raised his eyebrows. “The cat likes Doyle?”

“They’re best friends,” Margaret pronounced proudly as she opened the door.

Butterscotch’s nose twitched, her head up. Then she carefully stepped onto the porch, Evelyn watching her carefully. Doyle saw the marmalade and his tail wagged slowly in a controlled swish, careful not to whip too vigorously as he approached Butterscotch. The cat, senses sharpened by her lack of sight, turned her head toward the sound of Doyle’s soft panting. Her whiskers trembled, catching the subtle shifts in the air as she neared Doyle.

With a sniff, Doyle investigated Butterscotch, his nose gently nudging her side. The cat responded with another tentative step forward. Doyle’s tongue lolled out in a goofy grin, giving Butterscotch the space to initiate further contact. She brushed against the dog’s leg, her tail flicking lightly. Doyle responded by carefully crouching down, nose to the floor between his front paws. Butterscotch snuggled beside Doyle, his body a protective barrier against any perceived threats.

Roger laughed. “How cute. And what about the other cats?”

“They can’t stand Doyle,” Margaret said with a headshake.

As if to emphasize that, a loud hiss emanated from the house. Roger glanced to the door. Chance stood on the other side, back arched, mouth open as he stared at the dog. Roger laughed again.

“You’re okay,” he said to the cat.

Chance backed up, then stood and watched as Doyle and Butterscotch rested contentedly.

“How’s Midnight, after he had that asthma attack?” Margaret asked Evelyn.

“He’s doing fine now,” Evelyn said. Midnight was on asthma medication and a steroid, but periodically had attacks. “It still amazes me what can be done for our animals.”

“So true,” Roger murmured. Then he stood up. “I really should be going.” He lightly touched Margaret’s arm. “So nice to see you again.”

“You, too,” Margaret said.

Doyle pushed himself up, stretched, and turned to Roger. Butterscotch meowed, and Evelyn scooped her up and put her back in the house. Another hiss came from within, and Roger grinned as he patted Doyle’s head.

“It’s okay, big guy. Chance may warm up to you in time.”

Doyle wagged his tail as Roger stepped off the porch.

“Good to see you,” Evelyn said with a wave.

“Thank you for dinner, Evelyn.”

“Anytime, Roger,” she said. “Have a good night.”

Roger held up a hand. “I’ll call you soon.”

Evelyn and Margaret watched as he backed the Mercedes out of the driveway and headed down the street. Once the taillights disappeared, Margaret turned to Evelyn.

“You enjoy his company,” she said.

Evelyn nodded. “I do.”

Margaret’s lips rose into a playful smile. “I’m glad to see that. You need more excitement in your life.”

“Oh?”

Evelyn searched her friend’s face, wondering if Margaret knew more than she was letting on. But Margaret only smiled as she petted Doyle.

“I’ll be going, too,” she said. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Evelyn replied.

Evelyn and Margaret had been friends for years, ever since she and Henry had moved into the neighborhood. There was hardly a day that went by when Evelyn didn’t talk to her.

“Come on, Doyle,” Margaret said to her loyal companion.

Evelyn waited until the two crossed the lawn and disappeared into the neighboring house, and then she went inside. As she closed the door, Evelyn felt anticipation and nervousness bubbling within her.

What did Torres want?

She tried to dismiss her apprehension as she cleaned up from dinner, then went into the bedroom. The four cats followed her, their presence a comforting constant. Finally, she settled under the covers, Butterscotch beside her, the other cats at the end of the bed. Evelyn lay in the dark, her thoughts a whirl. Finally, she put her hand on Butterscotch, and the cat’s rhythmic purring lulled Evelyn to sleep.

 

This is a very detailed story with wonderful descriptions of Budapest and the people involved. Pawlish has a way of weaving a story that is filled with action, intrigue, danger and the unexpected. I am anxious for the third book to come out! I highly recommend this book, series and author. ~Reader review