It’s March! Spring is only a few weeks away. I’m ready to kick Old Man Winter to the curb. What about you? This week, the Tuesday Tales authors are creating scenes around the word GREEN. I’m continuing with The Case of the Missing Prince. Today, I’m introducing you to a new character — doesn’t every disappearance involve a mysterious woman?
“As I do,” I asserted, pushing myself into the conversation once more. “I trust Al to have my back should we run into trouble. He’s honest and trustworthy.” I let the word hang there a minute before continuing. “When I’m hired to do a job, I don’t think of it as going into battle. Rather, I approach it much like I would a game of cards. If I agree to sit down to play poker with someone, I expect all fifty-two cards to be in the deck, not missing or up my opponents sleeves. Sadly, that’s not the case here. Emile Novak hired me to find the missing prince, but he failed to be honest with me; in fact, not one of you was candid with me on Monday. I’m not some green operative fresh off the turnip truck. I’m a skilled professional with the experience and reputation to prove it. Emile provided me with some information yesterday, but not enough. I need to know absolutely everything that happened if I’m going to succeed in recovering the prince. I’ve learned a great deal from Anton, Zandro, and Petrov today, things that should’ve been in the cards you laid on the table. Now, I would like to know why you lied to me.”
He straightened in his chair, his eyes narrow, trying to gauge how far I was prepared to push this.
“I wasn’t aware that I had,” he parried, leaning back, his gaze focused on mine.
“Bullshit!” The word exploded from me before I could stop it. “I realize that dealing with women in authority may not be what you’re used to, but when I asked you if anyone other than your party knew who Leo was, you said no. We both know that isn’t the truth. Andreea Popa knew who he was and who the other members of your party were—except perhaps Anton who wasn’t with you that night. She had dinner with the four of you, and spent the night in Zandro’s bed. He assured me that she knew that you were all climbing the Bow Glacier Falls area the following morning. You claimed that what happened to Leo wasn’t an accident, that someone had followed you to Calgary. You never mentioned her presence to Petrov, and I doubt you said anything to Emile. So, I ask you, how do you know Andreea Popa?
I wish I could say welcome to march, but with the weather as it is and all the depressing news these days, I don’t know what to expect, so I decided it might be a good time to offer readers a chance to relax, laugh, and dream. This week, have an eBook cocktail on me. This box set contains the first five books in my Cocktails for You Series. Along with the story, you’ll find the recipe for the cocktail buried inside the bundle. If ever there was a time to lighten up and enjoy, it’s now!
A delicious smorgasbord of romantic comedies designed to make you laugh and brighten your day. Meet Kelly, Ronnie, Jewel, Sydney, and Robin, five women at a crossroad in life, each one searching to redefine themselves as only they can. Follow them as they blunder their way to falling in love and finding their own happily ever after. Tequila Sunrise She left him in stitches before pulling a Cinderella and disappearing. Ten years later, she wants a second chance. Champagne Cocktail She wrote a nasty letter to Santa, not expecting he would send a life-sized elf to her door with an offer she can’t refuse. Buck’s Fizz She’s determined to control her own destiny and not be a bargaining chip in her father’s business empire. The Tipsy Pig A socialite, a lone wolf, a snowstorm, and a pig with a taste for dandelion wine—the perfect recipe for disaster or romance? Make Mine a Manhattan What’s an author to do when she’s hopelessly stuck in her latest novel and the deadline is eight weeks away?
Enjoy!
And, when you finish those, check out the other books in the series.
You don’t always get what you want, especially when a typo can spell disaster.
Photographer Lee Andrews has sworn off men and hopes this assignment with travel writer Sasha Fedorov will bring her the recognition she craves. She’ll be sharing a room with the author for the duration of the trip. Discovering Sasha is male changes everything, especially when he didn’t expect to be working with a woman. Both are determined to be adults about the situation, keep their distance, and complete the contract. But that may be easier said than done, especially when the attraction she feels for him is magnetic. Can they keep their hands off each other and get the job done, or will her heart be broken along with the contract if they can’t?
What do you do when your family disappoints you? Run away, of course.
Eva Malone wants two things in life: her freedom and answers about her past. After she inherits a resort from an uncle she didn’t even know existed, she heads to the seaside town where she was born, eager to uncover old secrets. When she arrives, the timeworn resort is a disaster, the sky’s about to open, and there isn’t a room to be had anywhere in town. Mysterious and handsome Callum Doyle emerges from the darkness and offers her a bed for the night. But the oh-so-hot tour boat captain, carpenter, and chef may have an agenda of his own. He’s determined to keep his promise to Eva’s uncle, no matter the cost. Fighting her attraction to the man is impossible, but when she learns the truth, will it drive Eva into his arms or make her run away again?
Marissa Kimble had everything she’d ever wanted—a promising career as an electrician and Zak Mitchum, the man she adored, had just proposed. What more could she possibly want? But fate is a cruel mistress. Everything went wrong when she walked in on Zak and Karen in a hot tub. It was hard to mistake what was happening for anything but what it was. With her trust destroyed, her heart broken, and her pride in shreds, Marissa escaped from Cedar Lake, leaving everything behind, searching for a place to lick her wounds. Discovering her sister was marrying into royalty and wanted her to be the Maid of Honor was both exciting and terrifying. Not only was she a first-class klutz without any experience in the world of the rich and famous, but her sister also conveniently forgot to mention that Zak would be there, as well as Karen and a few others who’d made growing up in Cedar Lake miserable. As hard as Marissa’s tried, she can’t forgive or forget either of them. Zak is determined that she hears his side of the story, but will she listen? To further complicate matters, Ken, Karen’s brother, is determined to get her to see him as more than an old tormentor. Will she succumb to his temptation, or will she forgive Zak and give them another chance? Love is often more complicated the second time around.
The Hollygrove Inn on the outskirts of Oakville, Vermont, has always been Noelle’s home, but lately, things haven’t gone well. When Clarington Resorts makes her uncle a generous offer, he accepts, but the offer requires them to move out of the inn before Christmas, canceling the annual Christmas Extravaganza, something he failed to mention to Noelle. Determined not to let that happen, Noelle comes up with a plan she hopes will delay the demolition and shows up at a town council meeting with a significant number of supporters. With goodwill essential to the company’s success in the area, they offer to send someone to discuss the matter and try to come to an arrangement. It’s up to Noelle to convince the company’s man to let them have this one last Christmas Extravaganza at the inn. But things are not what they seem. There’s something familiar about Jim Hatcher. When she discovers the truth about him, will she forgive him, especially when it looks as if her gambit has failed?
Andressa Myers is determined to live life on her own terms. Being an heiress to a multibillion dollar fortune is one thing, but having to marry one of the men her father considers the best bulls for his littlest heifer is another. She wants to be loved for herself, not Daddy’s billions. After suffering through a disastrous twenty-fifth birthday party where she meets four out of the five men her father has selected for her, she’s more determined than ever to find a husband on her own. Convincing her father to let her travel for a year is no small feat, but with her half-sisters help and a good old-fashioned hissy fit, she manages it. But Andie has no desire to travel. She wants to experience real life, and LA seems to be the perfect place to do it. All she needs is a job. After a few cosmetic alterations to her appearance, and a slight change to her name, Andie Harper gets hired as a bartender at an LA Comedy Club. With time running out and her search for Mr. Right seeming to have fizzled, she has to make a choice: go home and give up on love or beg Daddy to give her more time. Things go from bad to worse when she learns the club’s been sold to Rayburn Enterprises. The fifth suitor who failed to attend her party is none other than Cole Rayburn, the company’s new CEO, a man every bit as elusive as the legendary Howard Hughes. Fearing discovery, Andie’s concerns fade away when she recognizes the bar’s new manager. L J Simons, the man who worked as a waiter at her birthday party, is kind, considerate, movie-star gorgeous, but doesn’t recognize her. Sleeping with the boss is never a good idea, but she soon finds herself head over heels in love. Their relationship sizzles, and she’s certain that this is the man she’ll marry until, on the night of the club’s grand reopening, a woman with a mouth the size of Texas recognizes her. Will discovering her true identity destroy her relationship with LJ? But not all the secrets are revealed, and when that happens, will Andie stay or run away?
When Paris Galanis’s short story, Captive Hearts, written under a pseudonym, wins a writing contest, the hair salon owner is both elated and terrified. While all she’d expected was feedback on her entry, what should be a dream come true becomes a nightmare. The publisher’s decision to serialize her novella on their new E-Zine website sends her into panic mode. The last thing she wants is for the people of Timberton to read her story and recognize themselves, especially the town’s most popular bachelor. While all the single ladies in town view Russ Templeton, the owner of Hunter’s Haven, the town’s only bar and grill, as a ruggedly, handsome, dream catch, Paris sees him as an obnoxious, self-centered jerk with commitment issues that date back to high school when he nicknamed her PG, the Greek geek girl. But Russ has changed. When he asks her to help him co-chair the town’s Canada Day celebration, she agrees. Discovering a tiny kittens leads to a steamy kiss, but his reaction hurts her more than she thought it could. An unexpected date to a wedding, changes everything, until she discovers that once again, he’s used her, but it’s too late, he’s wormed his way into her heart. When the first chapter of her novella appears, everyone in town is more than a little curious about the local author who writes with such passion, and they’re eager to discover the person behind the pseudonym. With the town busybodies determined to learn the truth and Russ encouraging them, keeping her secret will be harder than ever. Opposites attract, and when they connect, anything can happen, even love.
Mara Howard hates the cold and everything that goes with a traditional winter in Canada. When she wins a Christmas vacation to Miami, it seems too good to be true. Will this be the holiday she wants, or the holiday she needs?
For the past five years, she’s dedicated her days to mothering the sweet five-year-olds who cross the threshold into her classroom every day and her evenings to Doug Austin, the down-to-earth electrician she intended to marry. But those plans went up in flames when Doug accepted a job in the Yukon, the last place someone who abhors winter, cold, and snow as much as she does would ever consider living.
Rudy Sandcastle returned to his hometown after his wife’s death. Now, the screenwriter lives with his aunt and helps her with her small inn while she assists him in raising his precocious five-year-old daughter, Callie, a child on the hunt for a new mommy. Sadly, unless things improve, the town and the inn’s days are numbered. He needs to find a way to bring tourists to the area this Christmas season, and a contest offering a free vacation may be his chance to do just that. Who wouldn’t want to star in an online travelogue?
Determined not to spend the Christmas holidays bemoaning her fate, Mara gets online looking for an affordable vacation. What could be better than spending Christmas with sun, sand, and sea for company? An online contest for an all-expense-paid Christmas vacation in Miami is exactly what she needs to kickstart a new plan.
But when things are too good to be true, they usually are. It was all in the fine print, but who bothers to read that? A name is just a name, or is it? This Christmas vacation promises to be one she’ll never forget.
Let your spirits be lighter and hope for the best. Spring is coming.
Welcome to the last post of February 2026. This record-breaking winter still has us in its grasp. I can appreciate Mother Nature’s hot flashes, but maybe it’s time to turn down the A/C and give us a little heat! Today’s Tuesday Tales word prompt is HEART. I’m continuing with The Case of the Missing Prince and giving you insight into one of the things that gave me the idea for this story. Enjoy.
My eyebrows climbed my brow. Crushed leg injuries happened when a leg was subjected to heavy, prolonged compression—in his case, the weight of the earth and rocks. Severe complications and the possibility of secondary infection which could lead to amputation or death. If he was still walking on that leg, limping or not, he was damn lucky.
“Petrov mentioned that you’d needed surgery. He didn’t get into specifics.”
“Yes, once they managed to get me to the hospital, they reduced the swelling, opened my leg and with the help of rods, pins, screws, and an artificial knee, put it back together. Quite impressive or so I’ve been told. Until they were sure it would heal properly, the possibility of amputation was on the table, but as my mother used to say, I’m tougher than I look, with the heart of angel and the courage of a lion. Unfortunately, the leg is shorter than the other and the limp is permanent, but when I saw the doctor this morning, she pronounced me fit for duty. I can get a note if you need one.”
He was baiting me, and I wasn’t about to fall for it. I was in charge here, not him.
“No, that’s fine. I’ll take your word for it.” I had no intention of seeing this interview turn into a shouting match across the room. “Please sit so we can get started.”
He walked over to the chair in front of the desk and sat. He glared up at Al still standing behind me like some kind of avenging angel.
“I take it he’s coming with us?” He did nothing to minimize the look of displeasure on his face. “I see no need to include others on our search.”
“He is,” I barked the words, annoyed by the man’s lack of savoir faire. He had no right to tell me who could or could not work this case. “Al Binette is my most trusted employee.”
“And yet, his name isn’t on your company’s employee roster. Why is that? You aren’t the only one who researches those with whom he must work,” he challenged, reminding me of his parting shot on Monday.
“I realize working with people you don’t know may not appeal, but remember that works both ways.”
Before I could respond, Al placed one hand on the top of my chair, indicating that he would deal with the man himself. Why not? If this was a pissing contest, I wanted no part of it.
Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the blog post that allows a select group of authors to share their works in progress with you. Since Saturday was Valentine’s Day, this week’s word prompt, KISS, is most appropriate. Enjoy?
Two hours later, Al and I had finished the working lunch Hallie had picked up for us at Coffee Clutch. We’d gotten a little frisky after we’d eaten … nothing over the top, but we’d kissed and cuddled while we’d discussed the case. I’d never realized how helpful it was to have someone I could trust with me when I had issues, and believe you-me, I had issues. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe what the men had told us, it was just that I should’ve been told all of that up front, and the fact that I hadn’t been pissed me off.
While Anton hadn’t revealed anything particularly surprising, other than the fact that he’d spent two days in his room with the runs—if that was true—the information from Zandro had been disturbing to say the least. Why hadn’t Viktor mentioned Andreea Popa when I’d asked him if anyone had known that Leo was the prince? He’d lied to me, and I wanted to know damn well why. He was the one who’d claimed they’d been followed. It seemed to me that Ms. Popa was as good a candidate for that role as anyone else, and the fact that she and Zandro had engaged in a little pillow talk before her vanishing act and the prince’s certainly was of interest to me.
The intercom on my desk buzzed. I glanced at my watch. It was too early for Petrov; he wasn’t due here until two-thirty, while Viktor was scheduled for four. Perhaps Hallie had discovered something about Andreea. Why hadn’t she just brought it in? Silly me. She was no fool and might’ve guessed what we were doing behind closed doors. The intercom buzzed once more, pulling me out of my head.
I stood, straightened my clothing, walked over to my desk, and depressed the button.
“Yes, Hallie, what’s up?”
“Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Chambers…”
The emergency alarm in my brain went off, and my eyebrows drew together. Something was wrong. The only time Hallie spoke to me that way was when there was a client present. I checked my watch again. I hated being late, but then I would never show up an hour early either. If it wasn’t one of the Zoborans, who else had come to see me? Had Emile sent Nadia over with more information? I looked over at Al and shrugged. I would know soon enough.
Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the blog that lets you look at the work in process of the authors involved in it. It is still bitterly cold where I am, -20 C, -28C with the wind or -4F and -18F for my readers in the US. This week, our word prompt is BLEAK, like the weather with 15 cm or 6 inches of snow in the forecast for today. I am so over winter!
I’m continuing with my Cozy Mystery, The Case of the Missing Prince. and I have a surprise for you! That’s right. Here’s the cover.
Al laughed. “You don’t have to cover up on my account. I thoroughly enjoy the view.”
Cheeks burning, I forced myself to drop the sheet.
“Then, you might as well get an eyeful!” Drawing on my bravado, I stood, reached for the coffee mug, and flounced down the hallway to the bathroom, as if I were a runway model in Paris during fashion week, showing off the latest couture design. “Eat your heart out!”
Al’s rumbling laughter followed me down the hallway. “I will, but I’m saving you for dessert after dinner.”
Now, that was something that would keep me going today.
Twenty minutes later, casually dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and half-boots, I entered the kitchen. Al sat at the table, engrossed in something on his laptop. Knowing my breath was now minty-fresh, I bent down and kissed him.
“Good morning.” I inhaled deeply allowing his forest-fresh aftershave to blend with the aroma of coffee, cinnamon, and maple syrup. “It smells fantastic in here.” I glanced at his laptop and noted that he was catching up on the news on the CBC app. “Anything special going on in the world today?” Most of the news was pretty bleak these days, but one had to stay informed.
He shook his head. “Not much. Same old rants and raves, but it appears to be a slow news day.”
“Well, that’s a blessing. Lately, we don’t get many of them. The old saying, ‘no news is good news,’ has never been more accurate.” I sipped from my half-empty mug, the coffee now cooler than I liked. I made a face and set it down. “Did you get a chance to look over the files again? The ones from my interview with Emile, Jacob, Petrov, and Viktor?”
He nodded before standing and going over to the counter, coming back with the carafe and refilling my mug with hot coffee before going back over to the stove. He opened the oven door and took out two plates covered in French toast, complete with the sliced bananas he’d promised, and decorated with powdered sugar that I didn’t even know I had. The can of maple syrup sat in the center of the table.
“I did. Loved the way you referred to Viktor as Mr. Male Chauvinist Pig, MCP for short.”
I shrugged. “He did apologize … sort of, but it didn’t feel sincere.”
“It probably wasn’t.” His gaze met mine and held it. “Is that why you wanted me here? Because you think he won’t follow your leadership?”
I shook my head. “It did cross my mind that he would be difficult, but that isn’t why I wanted you here. I trust you. I don’t trust him. And I missed you. You were coming soon, and I wanted you here sooner,” I admitted.
Here we are in February and I’m certainly seeing the effects of Climate Change in the prologued periods of cold we’ve had this winter, not to mention more snow than ever.
February 4 question – Many writers have written about the experience of rereading their work years later. Have you reread any of your early works? What was that experience like for you?
Rereading early works, especially things I wrote before I decided to try to be a published author showed me how very little I knew about writing, despite the fact that I’d been teaching high school English for years. While the storyline wasn’t bad, the head-hopping and other writing errors were shameful. Even the punctuation needed work. Luckily, in my early career, I had some excellent editors who showed me the error of my ways. I’m a much better writer for having written those early stories and so many other books. It seems the more you write, the better you can get–but perfection? That’s another matter.
But, on the same note, since I’ve started to put my books into audio files using the Virtual Voice function, I’ve listened to books I wrote several years ago, surprised that I could be taken in by my own stories the way I have been. I suppose it’s all a matter of taste. I love transporting my readers to other times and places, and if I do it to myself, so much the better.
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.”
Welcome to the last week of January, 2026, another month gone by in the blink of an eye! This week, the authors of the scenes for Tuesday Tales are working with the word prompt SUNNY. I am continuing with my cozy mystery, The Case of the Missing Prince.
“I’m awaiting a kidney, Ms. Chambers, but I won’t have to wait much longer. Jacob is giving me one of his. He is a distant cousin and an excellent match.”
“Jacob Horvath?”
“Yes. That is the real reason Jacob plans to retire at the end of the year. He will need to recover.”
“When is the surgery scheduled?”
If anything happened to him, to whom would I report?
“The surgery is scheduled for late November. By then, we will know what has happened to the prince, will we not?”
I nodded. “You’ll know something well before that. Hopefully, it will be the answer you want.”
He just smiled. The door opened, and Nadia stepped into the office.
“Minister, your next appointment is here. I can show Ms. Chambers out.”
I stood. “Good luck with … everything. Will you have Nadia send me those phone numbers?” I reached down for the contract we’d signed and slipped it back inside my purse. “I’ll have my assistant send you a copy of this.”
He nodded. “Yes, of course, and Nadia will e-transfer you the price upon which we agreed. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
It seemed that not even the trusty personal assistant knew the truth.
I shook hands with the minister and followed Nadia back to the front door. The Lurch-like butler was waiting and escorted me the rest of the way to the entrance.
When I stepped outside, I saw that the day was now sunny if still unseasonably cool. I strolled leisurely to my car, the hairs on my nape telling me that somewhere behind those lead-glass window panes, someone was watching my every move. Friend or foe? Only time would tell. If the prince’s disappearance was linked to a political coup to get the government to concede to foreign interference in their affairs, then this could be far more dangerous than I had anticipated. Thank God Al would be with me.
I got into my vehicle, put on my seatbelt, and started the car. Turning right, I drove through the subdivision until I reached Sussex Drive. As soon as I could, I pulled into one of the viewing areas. Across the Ottawa River, the trees decorating the Gatineau Hills were resplendent in their red, orange, and yellow coat of leaves, dotted here and there by evergreens. I shut off the engine, reached for the envelope Emile had given me, and opened it, pulling out six sheets of paper—the truth and nothing but the truth.
Winter has this part of Canada firmly in its grasp. This week, the authors from Tuesday Tales are writing their scenes based on the word prompt COLD. I’m continuing with The Case of the Missing Prince.
Minister Novak nodded. “Now, since I’m certain that you haven’t come simply to share my tea, am I to assume you’ve decided to take the case?”
“I’m considering it,” I admitted.
He narrowed his eyes. “But…”
“I have some questions I need answered first.”I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “I was doing some online research last night, and I was surprised to find absolutely nothing anywhere about a missing prince. So my first question to you is: is someone really missing? And if so, who is it?” I put up my hand to stop him from interrupting me. “More to the point. I have the official list of names from everyone who was on the mountain that day climbing, and there is no Viktor Opole nor a Stanislav Drulivic on it. So would you be so kind as to explain what’s really going on here? Unless you’re completely honest with me, I’m walking out of here, and you can find someone else to do whatever the hell it is you want. As you said yesterday, I am a business woman, but I’m nobody’s fool.”
The man hung his head. When he looked up, he seemed to have aged ten years.
“My apologies, Ms. Chambers. I was going to remedy that situation when you agreed to take the case. The crown prince is indeed missing. The reason his name doesn’t appear on the list is that the entire party used aliases. From your online research, you would’ve realized that the prince keeps a very low profile. He has always been shy, and eschews publicity, although that is changing. Viktor alluded to some of the political issues threatening our country at the moment. What he didn’t mention was that much of it is being funded by another nation intent on getting its hands on our mineral wealth.” He sighed, making me wonder about his health again. “Prince Stanislav has very definite opinions on Zobora’s future, and he’s not prepared to compromise them. He can’t be bought, blackmailed, or bullied into submission, but until he is king, he can’t make any changes.”
I leaned back. “I see. Where does the king stand on his son’s proposed changes?”
Emile sipped his tea, emptying the small glass before refilling it. He offered me more.
“No, thank you.”
If that had been icy cold water, I would’ve been all over it.
Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Our word prompt is YEAR. I’m continuing with The Case of the Missing Prince. In this scene, you see how Evie’s thought process works as she explains the situation to Al.
“What do you mean missing? I haven’t seen anything about that on the news.”
“I know, and that’s just one more thing that doesn’t add up. Hallie and I did a deep dive into the landslide near Banff, Alberta, in June. The prince was among the climbers, but he hasn’t been seen since the landslide. They’ve asked me to find him—my reputation for locating missing people is stellar—but from what I can see, if anyone’s been looking for him, it’s all been very hush-hush. His name wasn’t even listed as one of the climbers, although the other members of his party were—well, not the bodyguard, but that’s another issue. There have been no posters, no ads, not even online posts asking if anyone has seen him, even though the foreign minister says they are offering a million dollar reward for information leading to his return. It looks as if they haven’t made the disappearance public yet, even though he’s been missing a full quarter of a year. I’ve asked him not to make that reward public just yet. If the prince has gone off on his own or is hiding from someone who wants him dead…” I explained everything Hallie and I had learned about the landslide and what I’d been told by the foreign minister, Petrov, and Viktor. I also described Hallie’s kidnapping theory and my own that the prince might have gone off on his own. “I don’t know why I didn’t ask what they’d done so far to find him. I assumed they’d pulled out all the stops. They did interview those first responders, but I think the only others they spoke to were the prince’s friends, as if the fact that he’s missing is some kind of state secret. Don’t you think that’s odd? You would think that they would be tearing apart Banff and the surrounding area in their search.”
“Maybe they’re afraid of grifters, you know, people who claim to have information only to try and get money for nothing. The other side of it, a missing heir to the throne might start a civil uprising in the country. You did say there are people opposed to change. They might push the agenda. If the king is old and grieving, well, they might arrange an accident. You really won’t know until you ask.”
Living the Dream 