
It’s chilly in most of the Western Northern Hemisphere, but maybe this week’s posts will warm you up! Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, a blog post where you get to see what myself and my author friends are doing. Each week, we have a word prompt to incorporate into our stories. This week, that word is DRY. I’m continuing with my cozy mystery, The Case of the Missing Prince. Enjoy.
Ottawa International Airport was quiet when I arrived just before seven. Al’s plane was due in at seven-thirty, and I was anxious to see the man who’d won me over with kindness and a killer smile. On this level, there were few places to sit and wait, but I was lucky enough to find a spot at the Starbuck’s. Knowing I couldn’t just sit there, I ordered an iced Chai Latte to sooth my dry throat and waited.
As I did, my mind drifted back to what I’d learned this afternoon. Emile had been quite open once I’d forced his hand, but I hadn’t learned much from Jacob Horvath although the man was forthcoming about the surgery and the environmental initiatives Zobora Copper and Fine Metals were considering. It seemed like the mine operators, those under contract to the crown as well as those working for other landowners were resistant to change, especially when such changes affected their bottom lines. Adding filters, scrubbers, changing energy sources, and investing in carbon-capture wasn’t free. He talked about the fact that Zobora Copper and Fine Metals was a leader in the industry, but he didn’t deny the fact that like all other similar industries, they had a long way to go. He was quite excited about some of the crown prince’s ideas, discussing the man with a fondness usually reserved for a doting uncle referring to his favorite nephew.
Could it all be an act? Too many people were focused on the prince’s qualities and great ideas, but everyone had flaws, and every idea had potential drawbacks. The other thing that nagged at me was the fact that while everyone wanted the prince found—or so they said—no one was willing to admit he was missing. Even I was supposed to limit my search to his alias and not bring up his real name.
The screen changed. Al’s plane had landed. I finished my latte and stood. Ten minutes later, he was the first one down the ramp. I hurried over to him and stopped, suddenly as nervous and shy as a teenager talking to the captain of the football team.
“Welcome to Ottawa.” I licked my lips. “How was the flight?”
He grinned and released his hold on the bag-covered metal cart.
“It was okay, a little turbulence at first, but…” He pulled me into his arms for a long, deep satisfying kiss that curled my toes. “I’ve missed you.”
Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.







