Us old folks have got a lot of time on our hands on account of we’re retired, so we like to take day trips to casinos, and longer trips to faraway spots we never been before. These longer trips are called “tours,” and my granddaughter, Emily Andrew Miceli, just happens to run a travel agency in Iowa that specializes in ‘em. I’m Marion Sippel, by the way, but to my granddaughter, I’m “Nana.”
The last place Emily and her husband brung us was Scotland – a big island with a zillion sheep, one road, and a lot of grown men walkin’ around in skirts. In Edinburgh we toured the castle, then poked around the Britannia – the ship that Queen Elizabeth hung out to dry at a shopping mall when she got done sailin’ the Seven Seas in it. We made a potty stop at the place where some fella hit the first golf ball, then banded together on our assigned teams for some geocachin’ in Braemar, where folks gather once a year for them Highland Games, which is like our Windsor City Senior Olympics, only without the old people. Lookin’ back now, I think we shoulda skipped Braemar on account of that’s where all the trouble begun.
Emily’s parents come along with us this time, and I couldn’t do nuthin’ to stop it. I get along fine with Emily’s Dad. He’s a quiet fella who knows everything about farmin’ and nuthin’ about handheld electronics, which turned out to be a real bummer at Loch Ness. But it’s Emily’s Mom, my daughter Margaret, what sets my dentures on edge. She don’t wanna let me out of her sight ‘cuz she thinks she can take care of me better than I can take care of myself. So when she starts hoverin’, I gotta hightail it outta sight or risk gettin’ smothered to death with kindness. Poor Margaret. I know she don’t mean to be a nuisance, but she’s sure turned into one.
Some guests on this tour weren’t too keen on other guests ‘cuz they belonged to clans what was feudin’ with each other three hundred years ago, so they decided to take up where their dead relatives left off and talk smack to each other. That didn’t turn out real good for one of the guests, and it got even worse the farther north we drove, where there was few roads and fewer people. Makes sense now why the highland and island tour don’t score big on the popularity chart.
There’s nuthin’ there!
I’ve got a notion that all the bad stuff what happened on the trip was on account of the curse that got unleashed because of the geocachin’, which is a fancy word that means scavenger huntin’ with GPS. Tilly and Emily don’t pay no mind to curses. I never give curses a thought before Scotland, but after what happened, I got a whole different opinion now. Of course, the curse didn’t have nuthin’ to do with why folks was disappearin’, or why I got my own personal tour of the jail in Wick, or why guests was so afraid to leave the Orkney Islands once they got there. This trip was a real pip! But I can’t tell you no more about it right now ‘cuz Margaret is headed straight for me with a bottle of vitamins that’s probably s’posed to keep me livin’ forever, so I gotta run.
Maddy is giving away one (1) copy of BONNIE OF EVIDENCE. Contest open to US residents only and ends February 15. Leave a comment to be included in the giveaway. Book will be shipped directly from the author.
Meet the author
When Maddy Hunter travels abroad, she usually has a hidden agenda. She’s not looking for famous sites; she’s looking for places to kill people. It makes for a very exciting holiday! BONNIE OF EVIDENCE is the 8th installment in her nationally bestselling and Agatha Award nominated Passport to Peril Mystery series. Dutch Me Deadly was published in February, 2012, and Fleur De Lies, the French adventure, will be released in 2014. Maddy lives in Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband and a bunch of characters in her head who keep asking, “Are we there yet?”
Please visit her website at www.maddyhunter.com or become a follower on her Facebook Fan page. Her backlist is available on Kindle, Nook, and perhaps a few other platforms that she doesn’t know about.
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