Deception Down Under, Evelyn Chambers Cozy Mysteries: Book 4

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

The ballroom of the Whitecrest Hotel glittered with festive silver and gold decorations that draped every available surface, from the twin chandeliers glinting overhead to the flowing cloth tablecloths, smooth and elegant, that cascaded over the edges of several round tables. Seventy-two year old Evelyn Chambers glanced around. Lively chatter and soft jazz filled the room, punctuated by the occasional clink of champagne glasses. Couples twirled on a polished marble dance floor, their laughter mingling with the cheerful notes from the live band on stage that played a melodic tune.

“I’ve attended my fair share of New Year’s Eve parties, but none quite as lavish as this one,” she said to her friend, Roger Reed, a retired veterinarian.

He nodded as he smoothed his gray hair. “Me either. How did Margaret get the tickets?”

Margaret was Evelyn’s next-door neighbor, and they’d been friends for decades. Evelyn smiled at the thought of her friend.

“She’s a big donor at one of the local animal shelters, and she won them at a fundraiser.”

“It was nice of her to invite us,” Roger said.

“Yes, it was.” She eyed him in his traditional tuxedo. “You’re looking quite dapper tonight.”

Roger cocked an eyebrow, his lips pulling into a small smile. “Dapper? Where’d that word come from?”

“It seems to fit the mood.”

“I don’t know why I agreed to wear this bow tie,” he grumbled good-naturedly as he tugged at his shirt collar. “Is it crooked? It feels like I’m in a stranglehold. Reminds me of the time Mrs. Swanson’s poodle got its head stuck in a martingale collar. The poor dog nearly panicked itself to death.”

“Lucky for you, you’ve got me here to save the day,” Evelyn said. She tucked a tiny purse under her arm and reached over to adjust his tie; the smooth, black silk had been slightly askew. “Hold still, will you?”

Roger raised the other eyebrow and obediently stilled his fidgeting hands, submitting to her expert touch. She was learning this was typical of him—generally the easygoing type who was unflappable. His lanky frame belied a charismatic grace. That, along with his mischievous half smile, were things Evelyn found endearing.

She gave the bow tie one last tug and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You’ll be the talk of the ballroom.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re fond of me.” He appraised her. The dark plum dress she’d found at a consignment shop in Brookton—Margaret’s insistence on “a little browsing” had paid off—fit perfectly, its classic cut making it look far more expensive than it was. “And you, well—” He paused, his gaze swept over her sequined, deep-purple gown. “You look absolutely radiant, Evelyn.”

Evelyn felt a blush rise to her cheeks, though she tried to laugh it off. “Oh, Roger, at this age, I’m more ‘well-preserved’ than radiant.” She smoothed a hand over her gown, its fabric shimmering.

His gray eyes sparkled, full of warmth. “Don’t argue. You’re the star of the evening.” He winked playfully before turning his attention to a crowd that continued to gather around them.

A waiter in a suit sauntered up and handed them champagne flutes. Evelyn inhaled deeply, catching a scent of perfume and a whiff of evergreen from garland trimming the walls. There was something about a party like this that carried a timeless charm, the kind of night when old memories brushed shoulders with new ones. New Year’s Eve was supposed to be a time of celebration, a night for optimism, for looking ahead with hope. But for the past five years, this night had carried a bittersweet element for Evelyn, always with the thought about her late husband, Henry, who had made the holidays feel magical. They had shared so many of these nights together, wrapped in champagne toasts and secret wishes at the stroke of midnight. Then, the addition of her recent adventures played into her thoughts.

She sighed. “Do you ever feel like you’re waiting for something, but you’re not sure what?” she asked, almost to herself.

Roger put his arm around her shoulder. “You mean, besides a midnight toast and everyone kissing?” He gave her a cheeky grin.

She chuckled despite herself, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. “I mean . . . I’m not sure what I mean.” Or what I can say, she thought. He didn’t know of her missions with the CIA, and she didn’t know how long she could keep him in the dark, or what he would think if she told him. Lately, she’d felt as if there would be changes in her life. Something big, something beyond New Year’s resolutions and champagne toasts. Something with Roger, perhaps?

“A lot of people are waiting for something they don’t even realize they’re waiting for,” she said. “I get it.”

Sensing the shift in her mood, Roger tapped her champagne flute with his, the light “tink” pulling her gaze back to his.

“To something fabulous,” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously again. “Even if we have no idea what that something is.”

Evelyn drew in a breath and raised her flute with a nod. “To something . . . fabulous.”

She took a sip, the dry effervescence of the champagne teasing her tongue. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of something new on the horizon, something to fill the restless void.

The band transitioned into another jazz number, the tempo picking up as more partygoers filled the dance floor. Roger eyed the couples, then turned to Evelyn with a “should we?” look on his face. Before he could speak, Margaret and Frank Tuttle entered the ballroom. Evelyn’s smile widened as she caught sight of her friend. Margaret was like a one-woman New Year’s Eve celebration. Her dress, a classic evening gown of midnight blue silk, was cut with the modest elegance of a woman who knew exactly what suited her. But her hat drew all eyes—an elaborate creation that would’ve put Royal Ascot to shame. Small glass and silver dogs raced around its wide, upswept brim, their tails creating graceful arcs. Each dog was a different breed, meticulously detailed right down to their sparkling collars. A cascade of silver streamers fell artfully from one side of the hat, occasionally catching in her dangling earrings that—naturally—featured tiny paw prints. She clutched an evening bag shaped like her beloved Labrador, Doyle, complete with a rhinestone collar that matched her bracelet. Her hand gripped Frank’s, leading him with the force of a woman born to command attention, even among a sea of glittering gowns and elegant tuxedos.

“And here comes the reason we’re at this swanky affair,” Roger whispered wryly.

“I’d say, for all the work she does at the animal shelter, she’s earned a chance to be colorful.”

“She’s colorful here, there, and—”

“Everywhere,” Evelyn finished, tipping her head at him.

Before Roger could respond, Margaret joined them, pulling Frank in her wake.

“Evelyn! And Roger! What’re you two doing over here, hiding like that? Really, Evelyn, a woman as statuesque as you can’t go blending in with the wallpaper now, can she?” Margaret’s voice was boisterous, but affectionate, nonetheless.

“Statuesque,” Evelyn laughed with a shake of her head. “Margaret, your vocabulary never ceases to amaze me.”

“Happy New Year’s Eve!” Frank chimed in, his baritone voice booming over the jazz band.

Frank was tall, with a cheerful belly that jiggled as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his tuxedo straining slightly at the middle. His wrinkled face lit up with joy, genuine and boyish in a way that made Evelyn grin. Frank was kindhearted, although shy; the kind of person who always seemed happy just being part of the evening, never trying to be anything more. And, she thought without any malice, he couldn’t compete with Margaret.

“Happy New Year’s Eve, Frank,” Evelyn said as she leaned in to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

“Margaret, you’ve outdone yourself again,” Roger added, shaking Frank’s hand and bowing slightly to Margaret with a mock-serious air.

“I know, I know!” She twirled around. “I thought the two of you—and well, this crowd—deserved something special. And the Whitecrest Hotel’s ballroom fits the bill. Just look at this grandeur!”

Margaret paused to look around the room, then led the others to a table decorated with noisemakers and party favors. They took their seats, and Margaret continued to hold court.

“You know what we need?” she exclaimed. She clapped her hands together to gather everyone’s attention. “At midnight, we’re going to make some real noise! Frank, honey, what if you and Roger clinked champagne flutes together loudly, and Evelyn and I’ll blow on these noisemakers until—oh Roger! What if you snuck into the kitchen for some pots and pans? We’ll bang them loud enough for everyone in the room to think we’ve lost our minds!”

“I don’t know about that,” Frank murmured.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Roger said, then rescued Frank from any more midnight plotting and planning by offering Evelyn his hand. “Would you like to dance?”

“I’d love to,” Evelyn said.

Margaret shooed them. “You two have fun. Frank, honey, would you get us some champagne?”

“I think she’s already had a bit,” Roger said as he and Evelyn stepped onto the dance floor.

“Agreed,” Evelyn replied. “And good for her. She’s not driving, so she should have some fun.”

The band shifted to something slow—Cole Porter? Evelyn wondered, although how she knew that she wasn’t sure. She and Roger had never danced together before, but it came naturally, him guiding her into an easy turn. His hand was steady at her waist, hers resting lightly on his shoulder, the perfect distance between them.

“How are the kids?” he asked.

“If you’re referring to my cats, they’re perfectly well-behaved.”

“All four of them?” He smiled. “Even Lucky, who nearly knocked over your Christmas tree?”

“He was trying to get at the tree topper. I prefer to think of it as him getting some exercise.”

“He’s agile for a three-legged cat.”

“Both he and Chance are. Those two tripods amaze me. And so does Butterscotch,” she said, referring to her blind marmalade.

“It’s a good thing you were there to stop the tree’s fall, or Lucky would’ve really been in trouble.”

“Margaret keeps threatening to teach him some manners.”

“Charm school for cats?”

“She’s convinced she can train any animal. She says if she can teach Doyle manners, Lucky should be easy.” They turned smoothly to avoid another couple. “Although I notice she hasn’t volunteered to demonstrate this theory.”

“Wise woman,” Roger said. “What else are the cats doing? Still holding book club meetings without you?”

“I found all four curled up on my reading chair yesterday. I don’t know how they managed, but they did.”

“Midnight’s asthma’s not acting up?”

“Not in a while, thank goodness.”

Her black cat had green eyes, and he seemed more intelligent and observant than any cat she’d ever had. He frequently sat on a high perch and watched over his other three fur siblings with disdain.

Evelyn and Roger danced and chatted for a moment longer about Evelyn’s cats, and when the tune finished, they went back to the table. Roger sat next to Frank, and the two engaged in an animated conversation about football, so Evelyn turned to Margaret.

“Thanks so much for the invitation,” Evelyn said. “We’re having a wonderful time.”

Margaret stood up and steadied her extraordinary hat. “How about some food? There’s a buffet table I’m dying to visit.”

“I could eat,” Evelyn replied.

As they approached the buffet, Margaret eyed her friend. “You and Roger looked good on the dance floor.”

Evelyn’s cheeks felt hot again. “Come on, Margaret. We were following the music, like everyone else.”

Margaret grinned mischievously as she reached for a plate. “Following it quite well, I’d say. Don’t play coy with me. I’ve known you far too long to be fooled.”

Evelyn laughed. “There’s nothing to be fooled by. Roger’s a friend.”

Margaret lifted a perfectly tailored eyebrow. “He’s not just that, is he? There’s something more between you two tonight. I can feel it.”

Evelyn’s hands stopped as she reached for a roll. She was amazed at how easily Margaret could read her, the way she peeled back layers like someone unwrapping a present they knew they’d wanted. It made her wonder how much Margaret might suspect about her secret life as a CIA consultant, and about her recent trips to Paris, Budapest, and Munich. Evelyn hadn’t said a word to her family or friends about it all, even though a part of her wanted so much to share, to let everyone know how the excitement of the last six months had rejuvenated her. But she couldn’t.

Margaret was still talking. “You and Roger are like peanut butter and jelly, if the jelly was made of fireworks!”

“I don’t know about that,” Evelyn said, but she wondered if Margaret was correct.

How would my secret life accommodate a relationship? Evelyn thought to herself.

She remained quiet for a moment, mulling over Margaret’s words as she watched Roger across the room, his head tilted slightly as he listened intently to Frank, who was probably enthusiastically recounting some sports moment. There was an ease to Roger, a grounded calm that Evelyn found increasingly appealing.

“You two are like tea and scones—a comfortable pairing, and perfectly matched,” Margaret went on as she took a few cookies. “My mind is on food.” She held up her plate. “I have enough to share with Frank.”

“Ditto,” Evelyn said.

They returned to the table and settled into their seats, the ambient hum of the party wrapping around them like a warm blanket. Roger glanced at the sight of Margaret’s plate piled high with a variety of treats.

“Margaret, you’ve got enough on there to feed half the hotel,” he quipped.

“I’m making sure I’m ready for midnight,” she said. “No one wants to start the new year on an empty stomach.”

“I think you’re ready for midnight and then some,” Frank said wryly.

Evelyn pushed her plate toward Roger, and as he took a small cucumber sandwich, she again thought of Margaret’s words. Everything seemed so natural with Roger.

“New Year’s resolutions?” Roger asked the others.

“I’ve got something.” Margaret launched into a complex plan for neighborhood pet coordination, a way to make sure all their furry friends stayed safe, and Frank nodded agreement.

Roger turned to Evelyn. “And you?”

“Try new things,” Evelyn said vaguely.

“Me too,” Roger agreed.

“Oh, midnight is half an hour away,” Margaret announced.

“More champagne to toast?” Roger asked Evelyn.

She was about to answer when she heard her phone beep in her purse, which she had set on the table. Evelyn hesitated, the delicate sound of the notification drawing her attention. It wasn’t like her phone to go off during events like this. Her son, Vince, and daughter, Kyra, knew she was here and likely wouldn’t bother her. Unless it was urgent. She pulled her purse onto her lap and retrieved the phone. The screen glowed, and she saw a short message.

Report to room 601. T

Evelyn’s stomach knotted. She knew who this was.

“Everything okay?” Roger asked.

“Yes,” Evelyn said as she hurriedly put the phone away. “I need to step out for a moment before the countdown. But I’ll be back.”

Roger frowned, a flicker of concern on his face. “Step out? Is everything okay?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, her tone breezy. “A quick trip to powder my nose. I won’t be long.”

She prayed Margaret wouldn’t want to join her, but her friend was absorbed in her neighborhood pet coordination plan with Frank.

Roger’s gaze remained on Evelyn, searching for something beneath her casual words, but then he seemed to accept her response with a nod. “Okay, but don’t be too long. I want to ring in the new year with you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” she said, though her mind was already half out the door.

Margaret flittered her hand in a wave as Evelyn rose and smoothed her gown, glancing one last time at Roger. His eyes held hers for just a beat longer than usual, an unspoken question hanging between them. If he suspected anything of her other life, she couldn’t answer it—not tonight, maybe not ever.

She excused herself and made her way through the crowd as if she were just another partygoer heading to the restroom. But as soon as she was out the door, her steps quickened. The ballroom, with its laughter and elegance, faded behind her, replaced by the relative tranquility of nearly empty hotel corridors. She went to an elevator, got on, and rode it to the sixth floor.

 

I greatly appreciate and enjoy reading these stories! I am seventy-three and still working as a Medical Laboratory Scientist. I know firsthand about still being able to make a difference. Great job, Ms. Pawlish! ~Reader review