{"product_id":"mrs-pollifax-pursued-isbn-9780449149560","title":"Mrs. Pollifax Pursued","description":"\u003cb\u003e“Mrs. Gilman has a nice, relaxed style and an easygoing way of telling a story. . . . Should delight you whether you're looking for smiles or thrills.”—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003eThe last thing Mrs. Pollifax expects to find in her junk closet is a young woman hiding. Kadi Hopkirk insists that she's being followed by two men in a dirty white van. Under the cover of darkness, Mrs. P. tries to drive Kadi back home to Manhattan, only to have a dark green sedan give them a run for their money and, Mrs. P. begins to suspect, their lives.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFinally Kadi shares the startling truth: her friend, Sammy, is the son of the assassinated president of an African country and, unbeknownst to the young man's bodyguard, he passed her something under the table during a recent meeting. Ever resourceful, Mrs. P. puts in a call for help to her CIA colleague, Carstairs, who installs them in a safe house—at a carnival! Before Mrs. P. knows it, a dash to safety expands into an assignment that leads to hair-trigger violence in exotic places. . . . \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Lively . . . funny . . . All’s right with the world as long as Mrs. Pollifax is part of it.”—\u003ci\u003eMobile Register\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e”This fast-moving tale sports a lively, energetic style, much like its heroine.“\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eDorothy Gilman\u003c\/b\u003e (1923–2012) was the author of fourteen Mrs. Pollifax novels, including \u003ci\u003eThe Unexpected Mrs. Pollifax,\u003c\/i\u003e the series debut; \u003ci\u003eMrs. Pollifax Pursued;\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eMrs. Pollifax and the Lion Killer;\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eMrs. Pollifax, Innocent Tourist;\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eMrs. Pollifax Unveiled\u003c\/i\u003e. She was also the author of many other novels, among them \u003ci\u003eThale’s Folly\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cb\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMrs. Pollifax, relaxing for a few minutes over coffee at her kitchen table, dutifully scanned the headlines of the morning newspaper: OPEC MEETING ABORTIVE; FOOD RIOTS IN UBANGIBA; TORNADO HITS KANSAS; but she was far more interested in the abduction of Henry Bidwell six days ago, about which there was a long article, but with very little fresh news. His disappearance intrigued her; she enjoyed mysteries, having been involved in a number of them herself. Words like \u003ci\u003esnatched\u003c\/i\u003e appealed to her, and n\u003ci\u003eo witnesses\u003c\/i\u003e—on such a busy street, too—fueled her curiosity. Reading further she discovered that \"no witnesses\" was not quite true: the police had now unearthed a fruit vendor on the next block who had noticed Bidwell standing on the curb because he'd seen him sway dizzily and be helped into a car. \u003ci\u003eTaken sick\u003c\/i\u003e the vendor had thought, but since his view had been blocked by lines of parked cars, and he had been half a block away, his information was too scanty to be of help. Bidwell, however, remained missing and it was becoming more and more obvious that because of his position he'd been abducted for ransom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf his situation intrigued Mrs. Pollifax, his importance did not, since planting basil in her greenhouse was the more vital to her this morning. Draining her cup of coffee, she picked up her trowel and walked through the open door into the bright sunny greenhouse. Her geraniums were blossoming in colorful profusion but this year she was planting herbs, too, and she noted that both the mints and the sage were nearly ready to be transplanted into the garden. \u003ci\u003eThis\u003c\/i\u003e was where she celebrated spring, planting and nurturing, adjusting vents and shade and drinking in the pungent smells of warm earth, lime, bone meal, and mint.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGlancing up from her work she was surprised to see a shabby white van once again drive past the house on its way up Maple Lane. She frowned because she had seen it pass the house three times yesterday, noticing it especially because of the sign on its side panel, which she had mentioned to Cyrus as he packed to attend the meeting of the American Bar Association.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Lost art, spelling,\" he'd said. \"Emily, where's the other blue tie I wear with this shirt?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You'll only be away until Monday,\" she'd reminded him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I spill,\" he pointed out. \"Bound to spill if I don't carry spares.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe had laughed and restored the extra ties to his suitcase, but later the van had driven past for the third time and she had noticed how it slowed at the sight of Cyrus checking the tires of the car in the driveway. It was impossible to mistake it because it bore the same misspelled sign: CHIGI SCAP METAL.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow it was passing the house again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis\u003c\/i\u003e, she told herself sternly, \u003ci\u003eis what comes of\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eworking for Carstairs and the Department; the antenna\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003ekeeps working, there is too MUCH awareness,\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003ewhich is all very well on assignments fraught with\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003edanger but I am NOT on assignment, I'm in my own\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003ehouse and trying to plant basil.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOn the other hand, she reflected thoughtfully, very few cars used Maple Lane; it was a shortcut to the highway that only neighbors used, and few people knew about, and its usual traffic was familiar to her: Mr. Gogan off to work each morning and returning; Mrs. Haycock driving to her job at the hospital; the young Abners delivering their son to day care, the mail truck, the carpenters building an addition at the Witkowskis.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe supposed that eventually there would be a reasonable explanation for this new vehicle going up\u003cbr\u003e and down the lane at such odd hours. What she did not understand was why its frequent appearances had begun to make her uneasy. \/ \u003ci\u003eneed food,\u003c\/i\u003e she decided; of course she needed food after such an early breakfast, and with a glance at her wrist watch she put aside her trowel and returned to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door she inspected its contents critically: the chicken was for dinner, the salad—but she didn't want salad, she was too hungry after driving Cyrus to the airport at dawn. Her eyes fell on the package of Cyrus's favorite salami, and—\u003ci\u003eliving dangerously,\u003c\/i\u003e she thought with a smile—she opened a fresh loaf of bread, unwrapped the salami, and made a sandwich. Pouring a glass of milk she carried her lunch on a tray to the patio where she could sit in the sun and admire the tulips and crocuses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was a pleasant scene; beyond the beds of flowers, at a distance, marched a row of birches that lined the unpaved road into the woods, but as her gaze moved from the tulips to the distant trees she saw that she was not as private as she had hoped: something white caught her eye. A car was parked on one side of the woods road, no doubt its occupant eating his or her lunch, too, she thought, and wondered why the discovery made her uncomfortable. With a sigh she stood up and carried her tray back into the house. Depositing it on the dining table, and scolding herself for doing this, she drew out Cyrus's birdwatching binoculars from the drawer of the buffet and walked to the window.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eI'm being ridiculous\u003c\/i\u003e, she thought.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey were very fine binoculars and, although a tree concealed the front of the car and its occupant, she could see that it was a shabby white van and she could make out five letters of the sign on the panel: SCAP M.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I think,\" said Mrs. Pollifax aloud, very firmly, \"that I will move the car out of the driveway and into the garage.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe had no idea why this was important, and as she walked out of the house and climbed into the car she asked herself why. \u003ci\u003eBecause Cyrus is away? she\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003ewondered, and I'm alone here? But why move the\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003ecar?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFinding no ready answer she drove the car to the rear of the house; the garage doors obediently swung open and closed behind her, and for that moment she felt snug and relaxed. Reentering the house from the garage she walked down the hall past the living room and through the kitchen, and as she reached the greenhouse saw the white van drive past the house and disappear.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe sighed with relief.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eEmily,\u003c\/i\u003e she thought, \u003ci\u003eyou've behaved very irrationally\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003ethis past hour, and need I remind you that this is\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003ethe route to paranoia?\u003c\/i\u003e With grim resolve she resumed her planting of basil and presently found other matters to think about: the Garden Club meeting tomorrow, for instance, and the sandwiches she had volunteered that were already made and covered with a damp cloth in the refrigerator. Wondering if the men attending the meeting would be content with cucumber sandwiches, it occurred to her that she might add half a dozen sandwiches of salami. \u003ci\u003eCholesterol\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003ebe damned,\u003c\/i\u003e she thought, and abandoning the basil she walked into the kitchen to expand the refreshment menu.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The salami, however, was not in the refrigerator.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis seemed odd, since she had made a sandwich of it scarcely an hour ago; nevertheless the salami was not where it should have been in the refrigerator, nor was it on the counter or the kitchen table.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePuzzled, she emptied the refrigerator's top shelf of chicken, bread, salad, the platter of Garden Club sandwiches, and a carton of eggs, but the salami had not been hiding behind any of them; it was simply not there. With a sigh of exasperation she began the tiresome job of returning the food to the top shelf, but when she picked up the newly opened loaf of bread it struck her as surprisingly light; she examined it more carefully and felt a vague sense of disquiet because earlier she had extracted two slices from the top of the loaf and now there were at least five slices missing, as well as the crust.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDefinitely uneasy now, Mrs. Pollifax walked to the cupboard in which she stored canned goods and ran a sharp eye over its contents. There had been eight tins of sardines yesterday and Cyrus had packed two of them for snacks; there should have been six left but there was now only one. Gone, too, were the screw-top jars of herring, and the six-pack of colas had been reduced to four.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe house suddenly felt oppressively silent. Mrs. Pollifax was no longer uneasy; a small chill was racing down her spine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWhat this means\u003c\/i\u003e, she thought, feeling her way gingerly toward an explanation, \u003ci\u003eis that while I drove\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eCyrus to the airport this morning someone broke into\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003ethis house and stole some food.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis was the rationale that she preferred, but of course it was entirely wrong because only an hour ago she had made a sandwich of the missing salami and bread.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVery reluctantly she approached the only viable explanation, and she did not like it at all. It meant that she was not alone here, there was someone else in this house with her. Now, at this moment. Hiding somewhere.","brand":"Fawcett","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300375908581,"sku":"NP9780449149560","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780449149560.jpg?v=1767733072","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/mrs-pollifax-pursued-isbn-9780449149560","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}