The Catmas Conspiracy, Evelyn Chambers Cozy Mysteries: Book 3

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

“A little to the left, Roger. No, my left. Your other left!”

Evelyn Chambers stood in her living room, arms crossed, directing her friend, Roger Reed, as he teetered precariously atop a rickety ladder. He was draping another string of lights on a large Christmas tree—one already adorned with so many lights, the room glowed with a jolly ambiance.

Roger, a lanky man in his early seventies with a mop of gray hair, gripped the string with one hand while the other white knuckled the top rung of the ladder. “Evelyn,” he said, his voice strained but tinged with humor, “I’m beginning to think these Christmas lights have a vendetta against me. They seem determined to turn me into a human pretzel.”

Evelyn chuckled as she continued to contemplate the tree. “Nonsense. They’re just testing your flexibility. Think of it as yoga for retired veterinarians.”

“Don’t you think the tree has enough lights?”

“There can never be too many,” she said with a laugh.

As Roger stretched to wrap the string around the top of the tree, Evelyn’s gaze drifted to the window. The early December sky was a canvas of soft grays, with the promise of snow in the air. Her mind filled with Christmases past, her children laughing as they decorated the tree and the rest of the house, the smell of baked goods wafting about, and the comforting presence of her late husband, Henry.

“You know,” Evelyn mused, absently stroking Midnight, her asthmatic black cat who had curled up on the arm of her favorite chair, “this reminds me of the Christmas when Henry decided to outdo the Tuttles next door. Or Margaret, anyway. He spent hours hanging lights on the house and in the trees; he was so determined to have the brightest home on the block.”

Roger smiled as he carefully descended the ladder. “Is there anyone who could outdo Margaret?”

Margaret and Frank Tuttle were Evelyn’s next-door neighbors, and they’d been friends since she and Henry had moved into the neighborhood decades before. Margaret had been friendly and kind to her new neighbor, and they’d become fast friends. It was hard to believe so many years had passed, and now Margaret and Evelyn were grandmothers. Evelyn doted on her son Vince’s two boys, Colton and John, just as Margaret did with her grandchildren.

“No one was a match for Margaret.” Evelyn grinned, lost in the memory. “She saw what Henry was doing, so she and Frank put out so many more lights and decorations she nearly short-circuited the entire neighborhood. Someone had to call the fire department, and when they showed up, poor Margaret, bless her heart, tried to convince them it was all part of her ‘festive fire safety demonstration.’ I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman try so hard to look innocent while standing next to a smoking reindeer statue. And Frank was mortified.”

Roger laughed so hard he plopped onto the couch, almost sitting on Butterscotch, Evelyn’s blind marmalade. The cat meowed as she jumped up, back arched, fur stiff.

“I’m sorry,” Roger said as he scooped her into his arms. Butterscotch leaned into his chest and began purring.

Evelyn smiled at that. “You have certainly won her over.”

She’d met Roger the previous July when she’d become entangled in the exploits of a local antique store owner, which had led to her being hired by the CIA as a consultant. She’d completed that first assignment, and to her surprise—if she was being honest with herself, her delight—she’d been asked to help again in Hungary. But after that adventure in August, she hadn’t heard from Agent Torres. Were her days as a CIA consultant over? She hoped not; she’d enjoyed her first two assignments.

“You look deep in thought,” Roger said as he carefully placed Butterscotch next to him and got back on the ladder with an angel tree topper.

“It’s nothing,” Evelyn mused.

No one knew of her CIA assignments, or that Henry had been an operative for the CIA. And she had to keep it that way. Recently, she’d also learned that on his last assignment, Henry had likely been poisoned after his cover had been blown, and that, not a heart attack, had killed him. But, the closer she got to Roger, she wondered how long she could keep those secrets from him. Henry had been gone for over five years, and although she missed him, she’d been moving on. A part of that seemed to be with Roger. Could she really tell him about that other, enigmatic, part of her life?

Before Roger could ask more, Lucky, Evelyn’s three-legged tabby, charged into the living room, a string of tinsel trailing behind him. Hot on his heels was Chance, a tabby kitten that Evelyn had rescued after a car chase in Paris. He’d been injured and had lost a front leg, but that didn’t stop him from hounding his older fur siblings.

“Oh my stars,” Evelyn sighed, using a phrase that her mother had often uttered in place of swearing or expressing frustration or exasperation. However, Evelyn’s tone now was more amused than anything. “Those two are worse than a pair of kittens. Although Chance isn’t full grown yet.”

Roger glanced down, his eyebrows raised. “Should I be worried about them knocking over this ladder? I’m not as spry as I used to be, you know.”

“Don’t worry,” Evelyn assured him, moving to intercept the feline troublemakers. “They may be mischievous, but they’re not about to risk their comfortable lives by angering me, their primary food source.”

“You’re never angry with them.”

“Rarely,” she admitted. “I have a soft spot for cats.”

“That’s for sure.”

She reached for Lucky and managed to untangle him from the tinsel, but the cat escaped her grasp. He ran to the armchair, sneaking underneath it. Midnight glanced down, tail swishing. Chance started after Lucky.

“Oh no you don’t,” Evelyn said as she picked him up. He meowed in protest, and she dangled the tinsel in front of him. “There. They’re all distracted.”

Roger quickly put the angel on top of the tree and hurried off the ladder. He stepped back and surveyed his work, head cocked to the side.

“It looks great,” Evelyn said. Just then, the doorbell rang. “I wonder who that could be.”

She went to the door and opened it, which brought a gust of cold air and the unmistakable energy of her neighbor, Margaret Tuttle.

“Evelyn! Roger! You won’t believe what I’ve come up with!” Margaret exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement, a Santa hat perched jauntily on her head. Behind her, panting happily and sporting a pair of felt antlers, was her loyal Labrador, Doyle.

Evelyn and Roger exchanged a knowing look. Margaret’s enthusiasm was as infectious as it was unpredictable.

“Margaret,” Evelyn said. Unable to keep Chance in check, he leaped out of her arms and raced down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Evelyn shut the door and gestured for her friend to come into the living room.

Roger greeted her warmly, and he tipped his head at her and Doyle. “I see you’ve brought the North Pole with you. To what do we owe this festive invasion?”

Margaret beamed, her eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. “Oh, it’s going to be magnificent! I’m creating a ‘Doggy Winter Wonderland’ in my front yard!”

Roger raised an eyebrow. “A what now?”

“A Doggy Winter Wonderland!” Margaret repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Picture this: a doghouse, but not just any doghouse—an igloo! And snowmen, but with adorable dog faces and floppy ears. Oh, and the pièce de résistance—a dog Santa on a sleigh, being pulled by different dog breeds!”

Evelyn and Roger stood in stunned silence for a moment, trying to process the fantastical scene Margaret was painting.

“That sounds . . . unique,” Roger finally managed, seeming not sure what else to say.

Evelyn recovered more quickly and grinned. “Margaret, I have to hand it to you. Just when I think you’ve reached the peak of your creative Christmas spirit, you somehow find a way to outdo yourself.”

Roger’s eyes danced as he eyed Evelyn, probably thinking about her story of Margaret trying to outdo Henry in the decorating department.

As Margaret draped her coat over the arm of the couch, she started to detail her plans as Doyle began to explore Evelyn’s living room. His nose twitched with interest as he sniffed at the boxes of decorations scattered around.

“Doyle, sweetie, be care—” Margaret’s warning came a moment too late.

With a playful bark, Doyle pounced on a pile of tinsel, sending it flying into the air. In his excitement, he spun around, effectively wrapping himself in a shimmering cocoon of silver strands. His activity sent Midnight and Lucky into a tizzy, both bolting from the room. Only Butterscotch remained, still on the couch, ears perked to the activity she could only hear but not see.

“That dog,” Evelyn said as she watched Doyle prance around, seemingly quite pleased with his new tinsel outfit. “Looks like someone’s getting into the Christmas spirit a bit too literally.”

Roger stepped in to help. “Come here, you festive furball. Let’s get you untangled before you turn into a walking Christmas tree.”

As Roger worked on freeing Doyle from his tinsel trap, Evelyn turned to Margaret. “So, tell me more about this winter wonderland of yours. I have to admit, I’m intrigued.”

“It’s going to be magical!” Margaret threw up her hands as she talked. “I’m thinking of adding a frozen fire hydrant—like an ice sculpture, but not real ice, of course; it’ll look just like it. And maybe some candy canes shaped like bones. Oh, and an angel made entirely of dog biscuits!”

“What about your gnomes?” Evelyn asked.

For years, Margaret had been a collector of garden gnomes, and she’d recently taken to decorating them in waterproof costumes that looked like historical figures. Cleopatra was complete with a miniature golden headdress and a tiny, hand-painted asp wrapped around her arm. Napoleon Bonaparte was dressed in a detailed blue military coat with a tiny bicorne hat. Margaret’s attention to detail even included painting the gnome’s ceramic face with a fierce expression.

“Some of them will get a Christmas makeover as well,” Margaret said. “Oh, it’ll be so much fun.”

Evelyn patted her shoulder. “Margaret, your creativity never ceases to amaze me. I’m sure your display will be the talk of Brookton.”

“Speaking of talk,” Roger chimed in, having finally freed Doyle from his tinsel prison. “Have you heard about the drama at the town council meeting? Apparently, old Mr. Finch got into quite the heated debate about the color of the town square Christmas tree.”

“He’s always stirring up trouble,” Evelyn said.

As they continued to chat about the latest Brookton news and upcoming holiday events, Evelyn found her gaze drifting to the window again. The gray sky seemed to stretch endlessly, reminding her of distant horizons and untold adventures. Would there be more for her?

“You know,” Margaret said, interrupting Evelyn’s reverie, “I wonder if I can get my Doggy Winter Wonderland into the papers—or whatever Internet sites people go to these days. It would be great for people to come see it.”

A slight smirk played on Roger’s lips. “I’m sure word will spread, and you’ll have a ton of visitors from all over the DC area. I’m particularly looking forward to seeing this dog biscuit angel.”

“I’ll be working on it soon,” Margaret said. She looked at Doyle who had managed to shed his reindeer antlers during his tinsel adventure. She found them on the floor and put them back on his head. He looked up, his expression goofy.

Roger eyed the dog. “Will he be part of the display?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Margaret said. “He can’t stay outside all the time, though.”

“He could be a greeter when you’re there,” Evelyn suggested.

“Oh, perfect!” Margaret shrugged into her coat. “I’d better get going. These doggy decorations won’t create themselves! I’ll keep you both updated on my progress.”

After Margaret left, her enthusiasm lingered in the air like the scent of cinnamon. Roger turned to Evelyn.

“Shall we finish the living room? I promise to try not to turn myself into a Christmas decoration in the process.”

Evelyn nodded, her eyes still holding some of that faraway look. “I appreciate the help.”

“It’s no trouble at all.”

“Where do you want this wreath?” Roger asked.

Evelyn focused on the task at hand. “Over the fireplace, I think. It’ll look perfect there.”

As they worked, her home filling with the warmth and cheer of the season, Evelyn smiled to herself. In the past sixth months she’d been to Paris and Hungary, and she felt the itch to go somewhere else.

Would that happen?

 

From the first word to the last, I had trouble putting this book down. It’s very well written. I highly recommend adding it to the top of your reading list, you won’t be disappointed. ~Reader review