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.
Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
Living the Dream 