I continued to bombard Evelyn with text messages throughout the morning until she responded with a succinct: ‘Sorry, fell asleep. Home now.’ I could relax knowing that she hadn’t been trafficked into white s*****y, abducted by a cartel, killed in a mob hit, arrested, assaulted, dismembered, incapacitated, maimed, or mutilated but she offered no explanation for her disappearance and deftly ignored any follow-up questions I sent. I got the feeling she was hoping I would let the matter drop.
Foolish mortal.
After several days spent pelting her with questions that never got answered, I drove out to the Botanic Gardens to track her down at work. I found her in the Visitor’s Center supervising a crowded market selling what appeared to be dried turds in all shapes and sizes. A host of ladies in
