“First let me introduce this young lady,” said Uncle Alec. “Kimmy Flannery, meet my niece Odelia and her future husband Chase, also known as Detective Kingsley. Kimmy works for a production company in the capacity of assistant producer, isn’t that right, Kimmy?”
Kimmy nodded. “I work for Sunshine Pictures. I don’t know if you’ve heard of them?”
Both Odelia and Chase shook their heads.
“No, I guess the product we make is more famous than the company. Passion Island is our main product right now, and has been a big hit for the past five seasons, now in prep for season six.”
Odelia’s mouth opened, and Chase’s jaw dropped. And when I glanced around, I could see that both Brutus and Harriet were very impressed indeed as well.
“This is serendipity,” Harriet said in a low voice. “I’m a believer, you guys.”
“A believer in what?” asked Dooley.
“Serendipity!” said Harriet.
“I’ve heard about that,” said Dooley. “It’s a national park in Africa.”
“I think that’s the Serengeti,” I said, and brought my paw to my lips in the universal sign of ‘Better shut up now or risk Harriet’s ire.’
“First off, this is not official,” said Kimmy, as everyone distributed themselves amongst the couches, or at least those spots that hadn’t been taken up by yours truly and my three friends. Cats are not easy to dislodge, so we simply stayed put, even if it meant that Uncle Alec had to remain standing, and Chase had to take the arm of the couch.
“I’ve worked for Sunshine Pictures from its inception,” said Kimmy, as she glanced around nervously, as if expecting nefarious elements to spring up from behind the curtains. “And don’t get me wrong: I love my job, and my colleagues. But something very strange has been happening, and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to proceed.”
“Kimmy is Charlene’s niece,” Uncle Alec explained. “And when Charlene heard about what happened, she told her to come and see me.”
“At first I didn’t want to,” said Kimmy, giving Uncle Alec an apologetic look. “In fact going to the police was the last thing I wanted to do.”
“But Charlene told her not to look upon me as a cop,” said Uncle Alec. “I mean, I’m a cop, of course, but I’m also a guy who has a very talented niece—a niece who’s a natural sleuth.” He gave Odelia a wink.
“So what’s the problem?” asked Chase. “What’s going on?”
Kimmy took a deep breath and launched into her story. “I’m not sure, but for the past five years we’ve staged five productions of Passion Island, with increasing success. And in those same five years, five of our participants have gone missing.”
“Probably eaten alive,” Brutus muttered.
“What do you mean?” asked Odelia with a frown.
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with our show?” asked Kimmy.
“I am,” said Odelia.
“Then I don’t have to explain that four men and four women participate each season. It’s my job to make sure they’re taken care of, not only their physical well-being but also psychologically. Which is why we always stay in touch with all participants even after the show has been taped and aired. Well, the strange thing is that I haven’t been able to contact several of the women of the past seasons, five altogether, one from each show.”
“You mean the winners?”
“Not the winners,” said Kimmy. “Contestants, not seductresses.”
“What’s a seductress, Max?” asked Dooley.
“Um…” I said.
“In Passion Island four couples are sent to Thailand,” Harriet explained. “The men are dropped on one island, the women on another. Once there, the men are joined by six seductresses and the women by six seducers, whose sole task it is to, well, seduce them. Make them perform an act of infidelity. If the candidates succumb to the charms, they lose. The couple that manages to remain faithful to each other wins the big prize.”
“What a weird show,” I said. I hadn’t really paid attention to Passion Island, as I’m not all that big on reality shows—they rarely feature cats, after all, or kibble—but this concept struck me as a little—or a lot—cruel.
“So what do you think happened to these women?” asked Chase.
“I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t seem to reach them.”
“Have you talked to their families? Maybe they simply don’t want to have anything to do with the show anymore,” Odelia suggested.
“Oh, I’ve tried everything. And it’s not as if they’ve actually been reported missing. In every single case they’ve decided to sever all contact with their loved ones.”
“But why?”
“Well, four women said they’d found Mr. Right, and got married after a whirlwind romance—so whirlwind they didn’t even invite their family or friends to the nuptials. And in one case the woman said she’d joined a convent in the Himalayas.”
“So… not exactly missing,” said Chase.
“None of these women has skyped or been seen alive since their alleged marriages or entry into monastic life. They’ve sent the occasional text or email, but no pictures or any other contact. No phone calls, no nothing, and their families are justifiably worried.”
“So why don’t they go to the police?” asked Odelia.
“Because they’ve been specifically asked not to. Allegedly by the women themselves.”
“And you think something else is going on.”
“Yes, I do. I think all five of them have been abducted, and a cover story has been fed to their families. Only there’s nothing I can prove, and the families don’t want the police to get involved.”
“They believe the cover story.”
Kimmy nodded. “They’re afraid that if they talk to the police they might never see their loved ones again.”
“It’s a pretty strange story,” said Chase, rubbing his chin.
“I know, and I didn’t know what to do, until I happened to mention it to my aunt, and she referred me to Alec, who referred me to you.” She directed a desperate look at Odelia. “I have a gut feeling something bad has happened to these women, and I don’t know where else to turn.”
Chapter 6
Following Odelia’s instructions, Vesta had found the spare mattress in the attic. Chase was supposed to get it down for her, but apparently he’d been detained. And since Vesta had never been the type of person to sit and wait, she’d decided to get the darn thing down herself.
Which in her case meant she’d simply shoved the mattress over to the attic door by giving it a couple of good kicks, and then, like a seasoned football player, had punted it down the stairs, sending it tumbling into the abyss.
The mattress landed on its feet—or in this case, since mattresses rarely have feet, on its side—and it only took another couple of good shoves and kicks to get it into position, squeezed in between Chase’s dumbbell rack, his home trainer, and Odelia’s desk.
“What a dumbbell,” Vesta mumbled under her breath. Why people bothered with fitness she’d never understand. If God had wanted humans to work out, he’d have outfitted them with leg warmers, a sweatband and a glittery leotard, like Jane Fonda.
She glanced around. It wasn’t exactly the coziest place in the world, but for now it would do. She didn’t like to admit it, but she hated waking up in an empty house, and going to bed without the comforting sounds of Tex and Marge brushing their teeth and hitting the hay same time as her.
She was getting pretty soft and mushy in her old age, but that couldn’t be helped. Like her cats, she was a creature both of comfort and habit, and if Marge and Tex decided to desert her, at least she had her granddaughter and that goofy cop she insisted on dating to tide her over until the European traveling couple’s triumphant return.
And she was trudging down the stairs, reminding herself she needed to ask Chase to switch the TV to her favorite channel and keep it there for the duration, when she heard the two words in the English language that never failed to give her a jolt of pleasant anticipation and excitement: Passion Island.