The Elusive Mrs. Pollifax($7.99Value)

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“Mrs. Pollifax gives Agatha Christie's Miss Marple a rival to reckon with.”— Toronto Star If you make it across the border, get us help. Some of us care. Do you understand? Right now we desperately need passports and identity papers. The arrests grow insane. At the very hour this message was en route to the CIA, Mrs. Pollifax was waiting for her night-blooming cereus to do its thing. She hardly got to see it, however, because Mr. Carstairs was already on his way to recruit that gallant lady for another daring mission. Soon the most unlikely of all international spies was sporting a beautiful new hat—perfect for hiding eight forged passports. “Mrs. Pollifax is an enchantress.”— The New York Times “Mrs. Pollifax gives Agatha Christie's Miss Marple a rival to reckon with.” — Toronto Star “Mrs. Pollifax is an enchantress.” — The New York Times My grandmother is a big fan of the MRS. POLLIFAX mysteries by Dorothy Gilman. I was at first hesitant to try the books, because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to relate to mysteries featuring a suburban grandmother working for the CIA. But because my grandmother's taste in literature has always been impeccable, I decided to delve into Mrs. Pollifax's adventures. I began with THE UNEXPECTED MRS. POLLIFAX, the first in the series, and immediately found them delightful. Mrs. Pollifax is just the kind of grandmother I'd love to have: resourceful, intelligent, somewhat sly, and, of course, a secret CIA operative. Her adventures take her to all corners of the globe: from an authentically described communist China (MRS. POLLIFAX ON THE CHINA STATION) to an exhilarating safari across Africa (MRS. POLLIFAX ON SAFARI). I've thoroughly enjoyed joining her on her adventures, and intend to read them all. I recommend them to everyone who's interested in learning about different countries and cultures--and, obviously, espionage! --Malinda Lo, Editorial Assistant g for a view of her night-blooming cereus, the mild-seeming Mrs. Pollifax received urgent orders for a daring mission to aid an escape. Soon, the unlikely-looking international spy was sporting a beautiful new hat that hid eight forged passports.... While waiting for a view of her night-blooming cereus, the mild-seeming Mrs. Pollifax received urgent orders for a daring mission to aid an escape. Soon, the unlikely-looking international spy was sporting a beautiful new hat that hid eight forged passports.... Dorothy Gilman  (1923–2012) was the author of 14 Mrs. Pollifax novels, including  The Unexpected Mrs. Pollifax,  the series debut;  Mrs. Pollifax Pursued;   Mrs. Pollifax and the Lion Killer;   Mrs. Pollifax, Innocent Tourist;  and  Mrs. Pollifax Unveiled . She was also the author of many other novels, among them  Thale’s Folly . 1   A small group of friends had assembled in Mrs. Pollifax’s living room on this warm July evening. There was Miss Hartshorne from apartment 4-C across the hall; Professor Whitsun from the botany department of the university, and various loyal members of the Garden Club, led by Mrs. Otis, the president. For the last hour–without the slightest embarrassment–they had continued to check both their wristwatches and the clock on Mrs. Pollifax’s wall. It was twenty minutes before midnight.   “Do you think now, Emily?” asked the president of the Garden Club anxiously.   “Yes, is it time?” asked Miss Hartshorne.   Mrs. Pollifax glanced at the professor for confirmation. He nodded. “Now or never I should say.”   “Wonderful,” breathed Mrs. Pollifax. “Lights out then, everyone!”   Flashlight in hand, she led the group into the kitchen. The window was open to the sultry night and the screen was already unlatched. Her flashlight played over the grillwork of the fire escape and came to rest on the box under the window. A reverent hush descended upon the group as they hung over Mrs. Pollifax’s shoulder.   “It’s bloomed,” said Professor Whitsun in an awed voice. “I see it!”   “It’s in bloom,” called Mrs. Otis triumphantly over her shoulder to the others. “It’s happened!”   “Turn on the lights and bring it inside,” ordered Professor Whitsun. “Gently now. Are my cameras in place?”   Tenderly the window box was lifted to the sill, embraced and carried into the living room, where it was placed in the center of the rug.   “There are three!” cried Mrs. Pollifax, dropping to her knees beside a trio of delicate, spiky white flowers.   “So that’s a night-blooming cereus,” whispered Miss Hartshorne.   “They bloom just once a year, and then only for a few hours,” said Professor Whitsun, adjusting the tripod for his camera.   “And Emily grew it on her fire escape,” said Mrs. Otis. “Oh, Emily, it’s such a coup for our Garden Club!”   “Speech,” called the corresponding secretary.   “Yes, speech, Emily!”   “Hear! Hear!”   Beaming with pleasure Mrs. Pollifax rose to her feet and gently cleared her throat. “The night-blooming cereus …” she began.   At that same hour in New York City,