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knees, his hands propping up his chin.
    Edna set her drink down too. “Like I said, I think we can use the information in your uncle’s letters to solve his murder and clear Charley’s name. You don’t realize how much that means to me. And you could recover the jewels. I’ve read all these letters dozens of times and I think I can retrace his route pretty closely. I recognize a lot of the names and places and.…”
    “And you want me to go?” Doug interrupted. “How come? I mean that’s nice of you, but why don’t you go?” That sounded rude, he thought, so he added, “I mean if you know the places and all, it could be like a vacation, you could clear your friend’s name, an adventure, like old times.”
    “Old times are just that, Douglas. Old. I have no trouble getting around here in Toronto or in London, but I’d have to go to Singapore and places a lot less developed. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see them again, but I’m afraid I’m really a bit too old this time. Besides, I’ve seen it all—wouldn’t you like a chance to see it yourself?”
    She’s reading my mind, he thought. And where is Singapore, anyway?
    “I figure that you could visit all the places in a couple of months and the costs wouldn’t be as great as you think. Besides, I’d be paying for it all. And you do have some time now that you’re out of work.”
    Doug looked up.
    “Oh don’t look at me like that Doug, you told me yourself not thirty minutes ago. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not going on this paid vacation, now that would be a shame.”
    He picked up his glass again and took another large sip. “It sure sounds inviting, but I’ve never been anywhere. Hell, I got lost coming here. How would I ever get around overseas?”
    “I’ve got that all worked out,” she said. “I know people who would check up on you, names of hotels, places to visit. It’s not like traveling in the Fifties, you know. It’s all five-star hotels and McDonald’s now—not that you’ll be spending time at either—but it is so much simpler than you’d imagine.”
    “Oh,” Doug said, surprised at how disappointed he felt. “So I guess there’s no adventure in it, just picking up some information and stuff?”
    She smiled as she took a last sip of wine. “There’ll be adventure, Douglas. I guarantee that.”

Chapter 3
    For the fourth time that morning, Doug stopped himself whistling the opening bars of “As Time Goes By.”
    “Casablanca. I’m in freaking Casablanca,” he said out loud as he looked over his balcony at the Sea Port Hotel, across the palm-lined street from the last remaining shops and alleys of the old quarter. He had arrived the night before and, just as Edna promised, it had all gone smoothly. The flight from Kennedy, economy, was smooth and he didn’t know what all those comedians had been talking about, the food was great. He had a window seat but there was nothing to see. The airport in Casablanca was better than the one in Scranton, and there was a driver from the hotel with his name on a card, just like the movies. There was cold beer in the fridge in the room and a basket of fruit on the table. He had a passport with an exotic-looking Arabic/French stamp in it and a black folder with his instructions was waiting for him at the front desk. This was definitely cool.
    He picked up the folder that contained the paperwork Edna said he’d need for this part of the trip. There was a map of the city with a few key addresses highlighted, photocopies of pages from travel magazines, a list of contacts and phone numbers, and the first set of instructions, neatly typed out. It was still early—the breakfast buffet did not open for another hour—so he pulled a chair out onto the balcony, grabbed a beer and the folder. It was already warm, but comfortable, and the smell of fresh bread—of all the smells he had expected in Morocco, fresh bread was not one of them—floated up from the bakery next to the