“So you’ll do it?” an unfamiliar woman’s voice was asking.
“I’ll have to ask my boss, but if he says yes, we’ll do it,” said Odelia. “The only problem is: I can’t really afford to spend three weeks in Thailand on my salary.”
“That’s all right. I’ve arranged for you and Detective Kingsley to join the show as one of the four couples.”
Vesta, as she entered the living room, slightly out of breath, both from excitement and the fact that she’d practically skipped the final step in her eagerness to join the conversation and had had to perform a number of complicated and acrobatic movements in order to stay upright, said, “Me too! I’m going as a couple, too!”
“Gran!” said Odelia, surprised to see her aged relative burst onto the scene like a cuckoo from a clock. She smiled at a young thin woman with glasses, and said, “This is my grandmother. She’s a big fan of Passion Island.”
“Where do I sign up?” said Vesta, licking her lips and rubbing her hands.
“Um…” said the woman, giving Vesta a decidedly skeptical once-over.
She directed an anxious glance at Odelia, who said, reassuringly, “Gran is fine. She won’t tell anyone what she just heard. Isn’t that right, Gran?”
“Who cares? I want to be on the show!”
“I’m afraid…” the woman began.
“Oh, no!” Vesta lamented plaintively. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to take me with you to Thailand! I want to go! I want to be on the show!”
“It’s a miracle Kimmy has been able to get Odelia and Chase on the show,” said Alec. “You can’t expect her to get you signed up, too, Ma.”
“But—“
“You don’t even have a partner.”
“But—“
“No,” said Alec, using his cop voice. “And no means no.”
“But, but, but…”
“Listen, I’ll send you a link that gives you exclusive behind-the-scenes access,” said the woman named Kimmy. “How does that sound?”
“Lousy! I’m going to Thailand with you! Odelia?” She turned to her granddaughter, and gave her her best puppy-dog look. “Pretty please?”
But her granddaughter was as unyielding as Kimmy. “I’m sorry, Gran,” she said. “Not this time.”
She set her jaw, gave the collected company a mulish look, and said, “This isn’t over!” then turned on her heel and strode off.
If Odelia and that Kimmy person really thought they’d deny her the opportunity to join her favorite show ever, they had another thing coming. And as she stomped out into the backyard, through the hole in the hedge and into her own backyard, the first contours of a plan started to form in her mind.
Whether Odelia liked it or not, she was going to Thailand. “Just you wait and see,” she muttered, as she slammed the kitchen door and took out her phone. She knew just who to call.
Chapter 7
“I don’t want to go to Thailand, Max,” Dooley said for the umpteenth time.
“And we’re not,” I responded, reiterating what I’d told him all those previous times.
We were walking down the street on our customary foray into town, eager to extract some snippets of news from our usual correspondents in our fair town. Snippets we faithfully relay to Odelia, who collects the greatest hits and puts them in her newspaper.
“But Odelia is going, and Chase, and there’s no way they’ll go without dragging us along,” Dooley said, and not unreasonably so.
“First off, it’s not even a sure thing Odelia is going,” I said.
“But she promised Kimmy she’d go and look for those missing women.”
“She said she was going to ask her boss. That’s a different thing altogether. And if I know Dan, he’ll probably say no. Odelia has a full plate right now, and there’s no way he’ll allow her to disappear for three weeks. Also, didn’t you hear what Chase said this morning? He has a lot of work at the police precinct, so he’s not going, either. And if they’re not going, we’re not going.”
“I hope so,” said Dooley. He didn’t look convinced, nor did I blame him. When the call of adventure sounds, Odelia is often all too eager to heed it, and usually she likes to take us along with her, as her eyes and ears in the world of pets and other furry creatures. Only I was with Dooley on this one. The prospect of becoming a yummy snack for the discerning Thai didn’t hold a lot of appeal for me. I like to eat, but that doesn’t mean I also like to be eaten, if you see what I mean.
We’d arrived in the heart of town, and made a beeline for our friend and frequent collaborator Kingman, Hampton Cove’s unofficial feline mayor. He was lounging on the sidewalk, regaling a small gathering of—strictly female—felines with his tall tales.
“Hey, you guys,” he said by way of greeting once we hove into view. “So there I was,” he continued fascinating the six or so adoring females, “hanging from a single claw, and it was only through the sheer strength of my not inconsiderable muscular prowess that I managed to hoist myself up and back to safety. Meanwhile the rat, which was easy twice my size, was first stunned then turned vicious. And as it yelled, ‘Why don’t you just dieeeeeeee!’ and came charging in my direction, pure hatred written all over its hideous features, fangs dripping with saliva, ready to pounce and shove me into the abyss, I—“
“I saw that movie!” Dooley suddenly interrupted. “I don’t remember what it was called…”
“Please be quiet,” said Kingman. “So the rat came storming in my direction and I decided to take a stand. ‘You will not pass!’ I called out to the vicious creature.”
“Ooh, Kingman!” one of the females cooed. “You’re such a hero!”
“We saw it together,” said Dooley, once again interrupting Kingman’s narrative. “It was playing on Wilbur’s little TV.” He gestured to the small TV set Wilbur Vickery, Kingman’s human, likes to keep next to the cash register, so he can watch sports when business is slow. Though he often watches when business isn’t slow, too, it must be said.
“Shush, Dooley,” said Kingman. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something? So that rat came zooming in my direction, claws out, eyes red and bulging and—“
“And then the rat attacked and they fought and by some miracle that brave little cat won the fight and flung the rat into the ravine. I liked it. The lead cat was quite the actor.”
“Dooley!” Kingman cried, as his feline audience began to show signs of restlessness.
“Yes, Kingman?” said Dooley.
But too late. The fatal fascination Kingman had held over his admirers was broken, and as they dispersed, aiming such choice words at Kingman as ‘fake’ and ‘show-off’, Kingman shouted back, “But the story isn’t finished! Ladies, please!”
But no dice. Kingman had been booed off the stage and his fans were fans no more.
He heaved a deep sigh. “So hard these days to educate and entertain. One faux pas and they’re gone.” He directed a not-too-friendly glance at my friend. “And your babbling didn’t help. Why did you have to go and interrupt me just when I was going so well?”
“Odelia is thinking about sending us to Thailand to be eaten,” said Dooley. “And we need your advice, Kingman. I don’t want to be eaten, and neither does Max.”
Kingman’s wrath quickly dissipated. “Thailand? Eaten?”
“How many times to I have to tell you, Dooley?” I said. “We’re not going to Thailand. And even if we were, I’m sure Odelia wouldn’t allow people to eat us.”
“Odelia is going to Thailand?” asked Kingman, interested. “On vacation?”
“Not a vacation,” I said. “Five women who participated in a reality show have disappeared, and the show’s assistant producer has asked Odelia to investigate.”