Tuesday Tales: From the Word SMUG

If you’re looking for the A to Z post, it’s the one before this one.

Good morning. I hope everything is working out for you. Spring is still hit or miss here, but winter has to retire sooner or later! This week, the author’s who share their work on Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, SMUG. I looked up the word just for the fun of it–I’m weird that way. Smug is an adjective describing someone excessively self-satisfied, arrogant, or complacent about their achievements or abilities. It suggests an annoying level of pride, often accompanied by a condescending attitude. If that didn’t describe Viktor when Evie met him, I don’t know what would, but the truth and our sleuth have brought him down a peg or two. I’m continuing with The case of the Missing Prince.

“The man we’re searching for disappeared the day of the Bow Glacier Falls landslide. He may have gone off with a woman, a blonde, but we don’t know for certain,” I explained to Hank. Viktor had confirmed that Andreea was blonde, so Al’s discovery could be a major breakthrough. It was still unproven, but unproven didn’t mean wrong. “Now, shall we get going? I want to get settled and start making calls.” I touched Viktor’s shoulder to get his attention. “I thought we’d visit the convalescent home this afternoon to see Janek. Hallie informed them we’d be coming.”

Yesterday, I’d spoken to Emile, and he’d admitted that all of the injured men had been treated using their real names since the Zoboran government had paid their hospital bills and continued to do so for Janek. If anyone had questioned the aliases, it hadn’t been mentioned, but then, in times of stress, the truth was usually the first thing to came out. That made me wonder why they’d kept up the charade for the prince. Despite all of the information the men had shared, something was still missing. The government had flown Janek’s wife to Calgary when the prognosis had been grim and were covering her living costs. She would probably be happy to get home again. I traveled a lot in this business, but more than four months living out of a suitcase in hotel would finish me off.

Viktor no longer looked as smug as he’d had when we first met. He nodded.

“That makes sense. Petrov can speak with his wife, Zoya, and we can find out when he’ll finally be able to return home.”

Hank started the van and headed out onto the road.

Al reached for my hand on the seat. “What time will we go?”

“Around two. That’ll give us time to … unpack and stuff. Hank, if we want to be at the Buffalo Spring Convalescent Home for two o’clock, when will we need to be downstairs to meet you?”

“About half-past one. It’s on the outskirts of the city, but thirty minutes should be plenty of time to get there at that time of day.”

“You heard the gentleman,” I announced, showing that I was in charge.

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