Missing in Morocco, Evelyn Chambers Cozy Mysteries: Book 8

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

Evelyn Chambers eyed her coffee table with amusement as Margaret Tuttle pulled the last item from a tote bag decorated with garden gnomes. Ribbons, scorecards, paw-print flyers, even a couple of squeaky toys. Margaret had managed to turn a quiet Friday in Brookton into a craft store explosion. Evelyn leaned back with her coffee, watching her four cats weave through the mess like it was their personal parade route.

“This is going to be a fantastic event,” Margaret declared as she meticulously lined up a row of ribbons adorned with charming paw-print motifs. “Frank says I’m going overboard, but it’s for charity, after all.”

The Easter Paws on Parade neighborhood dog fashion show wasn’t a new idea. Back in February, Margaret had come up with a plan, complete with sketches of dogs in Easter bonnets, draped in flower garlands, or sporting bunny ears that ranged from charming to downright comical. She’d since added paw-print banners and gnome-themed bandanas. Now, with Easter a little over a week away, the whole production had spilled from conversation into piles of paper and props.

Evelyn sipped some coffee and placed her mug on a coaster. “The animal shelter will certainly appreciate the donations. How many dogs do we have in the show?”

“At least twenty,” Margaret replied, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “We might get more. The Brookton Gazette is doing a feature on us this weekend.”

Midnight, Evelyn’s asthmatic black cat, chose that moment to leap onto the coffee table, settling himself directly atop a stack of freshly printed flyers. His green eyes narrowed as if personally offended by the canine-themed event planning that was happening in his domain.

“Midnight!” Evelyn scolded gently. “Don’t sit on those.”

The cat swished his tail defiantly and batted at one of the flyers that featured Margaret’s Labrador, Doyle, wearing a festive Easter bonnet.

Margaret laughed. “He’s just jealous he’s not the star of the show.”

“More like territorial,” Evelyn replied as she shooed him off the table. “You know how he feels about dogs invading his space, even if it’s only on paper.”

Midnight pranced across the room and into the corner. He circled three times, then curled into a tight ball, although his unblinking green eyes made it clear he hadn’t forgiven the intrusion of dog paraphernalia.

Margaret returned to arranging her dog show materials, spreading out judging scorecards next to a stack of handmade gnome-themed dog bandanas.

Evelyn picked up one of the bandanas to examine the whimsical design. “Ah, we can’t have an event without a nod to your famous gnome collection.”

“Of course,” Margaret beamed. “I couldn’t resist incorporating my garden gnomes somehow. The dogs will look adorable in them.”

“I’m sure they will,” Evelyn agreed as she put the bandana back with the others.

Lucky, her three-legged tabby, crept toward the table as if stalking prey, tail flicking in concentration, then sprang forward, snagged a ribbon, and tugged it triumphantly toward him.

“Oh no you don’t,” Margaret said. She grabbed him and gently extracted the ribbon from him. “These are for the winners—or they will be, once I finish them. I’m sure you’d take first prize in the cat division if we had one, though.”

“Did we finalize the contest categories?”

Margaret nodded. “We’ll have the classics: Best Dressed Dog, Waggiest Tail, Owner-Pet Lookalike.” She sorted through her papers and pulled out a schedule. “And we added Best Trick and Cutest Puppy. The egg-and-spoon relay will be last, and there’ll be a prize for that.”

“The owners have to balance an egg on a spoon while walking their dogs through the obstacle course, right?”

“Exactly. It tests coordination, trust, and leash control.”

“And mild humiliation.”

“That too.”

“That sounds rather chaotic,” Evelyn observed with a raised eyebrow.

“Gloriously so,” Margaret confirmed. “That’s half the fun.”

“True. And I assume Doyle is entered in the Handsomest Dog category?” Evelyn teased.

Margaret gave a quick wave, as if brushing the notion away. “No, no—nothing like a Best-Looking Dog category. The last thing we need is someone sulking because their poodle lost to a terrier. We’ll keep it lighthearted and fun, no hurt feelings.” She laughed, her eyes crinkling. “Besides, Doyle would take the prize without even trying, and then we’d really be in trouble.”

Evelyn laughed with Margaret, the scene as ordinary as any of her days in the quaint town west of Langley. It had been two months since her mission in Mexico at a butterfly sanctuary, and she’d wondered more than once if Torres, her CIA supervisor, would call on her again. However much she told herself each assignment might be her last, a part of her kept waiting for him to reach out again.

“Is Roger joining us today?” Margaret asked, interrupting Evelyn’s thoughts.

“He’s hiking this morning,” Evelyn replied. “He wanted to go today and avoid the weekend crowds. He’ll be over later, though.”

“You two are still going strong, I see,” Margaret observed with a knowing smile.

Evelyn felt warmth creep into her cheeks. “We’re enjoying each other’s company. It’s been nice having a steady presence in my life.”

“Mm-hmm,” Margaret hummed, clearly not fooled by Evelyn’s attempt at nonchalance. “It’s nice to see you happy, Evelyn. I know you’ll always have Henry in your heart, but moving on is okay, too.”

Evelyn smiled, thinking of her husband. Henry’s sudden death from a heart attack almost six years ago still lingered with her, the loss dulled but never erased. He had always claimed to have been a CIA analyst, and she’d accepted that, although she’d wondered if there had been more to his work than reports and files. On her first mission, she’d gotten confirmation that his death had been bound up in a clandestine operation he had never shared with her.

Her attention turned to Butterscotch, her blind marmalade cat, who padded carefully across the room, nose twitching. She reached the table and set her front paws against its edge, whiskers brushing the jar Margaret had decorated with dog-bone stickers.

“Careful, sweet girl,” Evelyn murmured and moved the jar before Butterscotch could tip it over. “That’s for the shelter funds.”

A sudden commotion drew their attention as Chance, Evelyn’s three-legged tabby, pounced on a pile of plastic eggs Margaret had brought. One egg went rolling across the floor before disappearing under the sofa.

“Lest we forget about you,” Margaret said.

“A new toy.”

As Chance pawed under the sofa, the doorbell rang. All four cats immediately abandoned their various positions and raced out of the living room.

“Expecting someone?” Margaret asked.

Evelyn shook her head. “No,” she replied.

She got up and went to the foyer. Chance, braver than his feline siblings, hurried with her. Evelyn peered through the peephole to see a young man in a long-sleeved shirt on her porch. When she opened the door, the courier smiled politely and held up a manila envelope.

“Delivery for Evelyn Chambers.”

“That’s me,” Evelyn confirmed.

She took the proffered padded envelope and glanced at it. There was no sender listed, only her name and address in neat, impersonal printing.

“Have a nice day,” the courier said before turning and walking briskly back to his unmarked van.

Evelyn closed the door and examined the envelope as the cats weaved between her ankles, their curiosity overcoming their skittishness of strangers. She paused, unwilling to admit how much she anticipated what might be inside. Then she tore open the package. A sleek phone, much like ones she’d been given before, lay with a single note that read simply: “Call me.”

There was only one person it could be from. Torres.

“Who was that?” Margaret called from the living room.

“Just a delivery,” Evelyn said.

She slipped the phone into her pocket and returned to the living room. The cats trailed after her, disappointed that the interruption hadn’t been more exciting.

“Margaret, would you excuse me for a moment? I need to make a quick call.”

Margaret looked up from arranging donation envelopes. “Of course, dear. Take your time.”

Evelyn retreated to her home office and closed the door behind her, but not before Midnight, Lucky, and Chance slipped in. Butterscotch had meandered back into the living room, distracted by the noise Margaret was making. Midnight immediately hopped on her desk, while Lucky settled on the windowsill. Chance curled up in a patch of sunlight on the carpet. Taking a deep breath, Evelyn pulled out the phone and dialed the only number programmed into it. It rang twice before a familiar brusque voice answered.

“Evelyn.”

“Mr. Torres,” she replied. She kept her voice low despite the closed door. “I received your package.”

“Good.” There was no preamble, no pleasantries. Typical Torres. “I’m sorry to interrupt your day, but we have a situation that requires attention.”

Evelyn perched on the edge of her desk chair and absently stroked Midnight’s sleek fur. “What kind of situation?”

“Bill Gardner has gone dark.”

The words sent a chill through her. Bill, with his James Bond charm and pleasant laugh, wasn’t a friend in the everyday sense, but he was as close to one as she had when in the field. She genuinely liked and respected him.

“What happened?” she asked, unable to keep the concern from her tone.

“He was on assignment in Morocco,” Torres explained. “I can’t get into the details of his mission. However, he’d checked in regularly until three days ago. Since then, nothing.”

“Could something have delayed his check-in?” Evelyn asked, although she knew Torres would have already considered all possibilities.

“That’s unlikely. He had multiple ways to contact us.” There was a brief pause. “We need someone to retrace his steps, someone who won’t attract attention.”

“Someone like me,” Evelyn concluded.

“Precisely.” Another pause. “Will you go?”

Evelyn didn’t hesitate. Bill had been there for her on past missions; she couldn’t do less for him now.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed.

She could almost hear Torres’s nod of approval through the phone.

“I thought you’d say that,” he said. “Everything is arranged. A car will pick you up tonight at seven for your flight.”

“Tonight? Oh my stars!” she said, using an exclamation her mother often had in order not to curse. “What should I pack?”

“Temperatures can fluctuate, so bring layers.”

Evelyn glanced at Midnight, who was watching her with those intelligent green eyes, as if he understood exactly what was happening.

“More details about the mission will arrive soon.” Torres’s tone was matter-of-fact. “The phone you’re using now is secure, and my number is programmed into it, under Charlie Cash. Keep it with you at all times, and report to me daily.”

“I understand.”

“Good. And Evelyn?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“We’ll speak soon.”

The line went dead before she could respond. That abruptness said more than any explanation could about the gravity of the situation.

Evelyn sat for a moment to gather her thoughts. Midnight butted his head against her hand, demanding attention. Lucky leapt down from the windowsill and padded over to join them, while Chance remained contentedly in his patch of sunlight.

“Well,” Evelyn murmured to her feline audience, “it seems we’re going to Morocco.”

She took another moment to compose herself before she returned to the living room, where Margaret was now admiring her handiwork. The coffee table was transformed into a colorful display of dog show paraphernalia, with Butterscotch batting halfheartedly at a ribbon that had fallen to the floor. Margaret looked up, her smile fading as she took in Evelyn’s expression.

“Is everything all right?” Margaret asked.

Evelyn stood in the center of the room, her mind racing to construct a plausible story for why she would suddenly need to go out of town. “Not really,” she admitted, hating to deceive but knowing it was necessary. “That was about my cousin in California. She’s . . . she died suddenly.”

The lie tasted bitter in her mouth. She’d used a similar excuse before, and she prayed Margaret wouldn’t notice a pattern or ask too many questions about this previously unmentioned cousin.

“Oh, Evelyn.” Margaret’s face filled with sympathy as she rose and came around the table to embrace her friend. “I’m so sorry. Were you close?”

“We were, once,” Evelyn replied, feeling terrible for exploiting her friend’s kindness. “I need to fly out there tomorrow for the funeral.”

Margaret squeezed her shoulders. “Of course you do. Is there anything I can do to help? I could watch the cats, or—”

“That’s very kind,” Evelyn interrupted gently, “but Roger can manage the cats. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“If you’re sure,” Margaret said as she returned to her seat. “But don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all.”

Evelyn’s gaze drifted to the colorful display on the coffee table—the ribbons, the scorecards, the flyers with Doyle’s smiling canine face. “I hope I’ll be back in time for your dog show.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Margaret insisted. “Family comes first.”

“Roger will help out,” Evelyn said firmly. “He’s good with dogs, and I know he’d be happy to lend a hand.”

Margaret nodded warmly. “He is a dear, isn’t he?” She began gathering her materials, carefully placing everything into the tote bag. “I should let you go so you can prepare for your trip.”

“You don’t have to rush off,” Evelyn protested, although she was relieved at the chance to organize her thoughts and make arrangements.

“Nonsense,” Margaret replied. She zipped up the bag. “You have packing to do and calls to make. I’ve monopolized enough of your morning with dog show chatter.”

As Margaret collected the last of her things, Chance emerged from under the sofa, triumphantly carrying a plastic egg in his mouth. He dropped it on the floor and Margaret laughed.

“I guess he has a new toy,” she said.

“Leave it to a cat to ignore everything you buy from a store and play with something else.”

“Keep an eye on this little troublemaker.” Margaret gave Chance a gentle scratch behind the ears. Then she straightened up and patted Evelyn’s arm. “Call me when you get back, all right? I want to hear all about your trip.”

“I will,” Evelyn promised, knowing there was so much she wouldn’t be able to share.

She walked Margaret to the door, the cats following in a curious procession. After one final hug, Margaret headed across the yard to her own house next door, turning once to wave before disappearing inside. Evelyn closed the door and leaned against it, then looked down at the four cats gathered around her feet.

“Well,” she said, “it seems we have another adventure ahead of us.”

Midnight meowed loudly, as if in protest.

“I know,” Evelyn replied. “I’m not thrilled about leaving you all again either. But Bill needs help, and . . .” She trailed off, surprised by the depth of her conviction. “And I need to be the one to find him.”

With a resolute nod, she headed toward her bedroom to pack. Morocco awaited, and so did Bill Gardner, hopefully alive and well, although the knot in her stomach suggested otherwise. Before she touched a suitcase, though, she’d have to call Roger and let him know she’d be away. Roger knew about her part-time career and supported her without hesitation. But this mission she would face alone.

Wow, I don’t know if the author has been to Morocco but it sure felt like I was experiencing the same beauty and mystery of this country. Evelyn is off to track down her CIA friend and she finds things just don’t add up. I’ve read all eight in this series and have enjoyed every one. It’s a cozy mystery without a murder in every story. You just don’t know what adventure you will have with Evelyn. ~Reader review