Here Today, Dead to Maui

A Faith Cassidy Mystery

Catherine Dain

 

 

I had such a good time writing one short story with Faith Cassidy, her friend Michael, and Michael's cat Elizabeth that when I was asked for a story about cats and vaca­tion, Faith got the nod, even though Freddie O'Neal probably could have used a vacation at that point.

 

 

"A millionaire found me changing planes for Maui! Why is he short and ugly, Lord, when you know I like them tall?" Michael sang as he emerged from the bathroom wearing the hibiscus print shirt he had bought the day before.

"That's gross," Faith said. "Materialistic. Midlife Mick Jagger. And nobody came near you on the airplane. Or in the Hilo airport. Except for the fat woman who put the or­chids around your neck."

"Because I was traveling with you and Elizabeth. Every­one was looking at her. If I'd been alone, who knows? Be­sides, if you're so ascetically inclined, why did you accept the offer of a first-class airplane ticket and a week in a suite at the Lahaina Hilton?" Michael leaned against the central post marking the open French doors to the deck and stretched out his arms. "White sand! Ocean! Clean air!"

"Elizabeth's contract specified two tickets. No point in letting one go to waste when you didn't have anybody else to ask." Faith poured herself a second cup of coffee. She didn't particularly like the Kona blend, but it was all room service had to offer.

"Can't you just enjoy the vacation?" Michael turned back and sighed.

"Elizabeth has one more day of shooting. You're not on vacation until tomorrow."

"To Maui, and to Maui, and to Maui. Life creeps in its petty pace, especially when one is not quite on vacation." He knelt down in front of one of the flowered chintz arm­chairs so that he was level with Elizabeth. "Say Maui."

"Mrowr," she replied, blue eyes focusing intently on his dark ones.

"Maui."

"Mrowr."

"See how smart she is?"

"You didn't feed her this morning. She's actually saying she's annoyed."

Michael straightened up. "When did you become an ex­pert on my cat?"

"I've been part of her environment since you adopted her. She thinks of me as extended family. I felt obliged to return the compliment by paying attention to her behavior. Since I've spent my life—or two careers anyway, the dead one as an actress and the live one as a therapist—studying human behavior, and the cat thinks she's human, it wasn't hard. Trust me. She's hungry."

"So am I." He picked a cheese Danish out of the basket on the coffee table. "But she's supposed to be hungry. Otherwise, she might not eat on cue."

"You'd better hurry with that. Elizabeth's call is in half an hour. Eddie will be here any minute with the car."

"They have to set up a shot on the deck of an old whaler. No way are they going to be ready on time." Michael poured himself a cup of coffee and settled into the other chintz armchair.

"Then I think you ought to feed her."

"She only has to be hungry and annoyed for the next couple of hours. She'll be fine."

Faith shrugged. "Suit yourself. But if we're going to be here for a while, could you move to another chair? That one clashes with your shirt."

"All the furniture clashes with my shirt. This is Hawaii— the shirt is supposed to clash. Buy a muumuu and get in the spirit."

"Hawaiian clothes are the best thing that could have happened to the tourist industry. You can't tell you've gained fifteen pounds until you're home and it's too late. If I start to gain, I'll think about the muumuu."

"How can anyone gain on a diet of fish, rice, and fruit? If you're really going to stick to that. Get a muumuu or not. Put orchids in your hair. Drink mai-tais by the pool."

"Maybe when we've finished the shoot." Faith picked a blueberry muffin out of the basket. Blueberries counted as fruit. "I may even search for romance."

"You won't have to search far. Eddie Inouye has made it clear he's available."

"Yes, and he doesn't care who takes him up on the offer. No thanks."

"Well, one of us has to be nice to him if we want him to drive us to the Sacred Pools of Hana tomorrow. The road through the rain forest is supposed to be challenging, and I don't want Elizabeth's life at risk."

"I'll drive," Faith said. "You can hold Elizabeth and look at the scenery."

"I'll have to think about that," Michael replied. He finished his Danish and started on a pecan bun.

"Eddie," they chorused as the phone rang.

Michael stuffed the bun into his mouth and scooped Elizabeth into her carrier. Faith assured Eddie they would be right down.

The elevator took them to the lobby, where Eddie—a short, eager twenty-year-old wearing a shirt that clashed with everything—was waiting.

"Aloha," he said, grinning. "Phil said to tell you they're on time. We have to hurry."

"That has to be a lie. Can I go back for the basket of pastries?"

"I told you we should have fed her," Faith snapped.

"No, no," Eddie said. "He means it. Phil promised he'll have her finished before lunch. Okay?"

"Three hours," Michael said to Faith. "We can handle that."

"Elizabeth is on L.A. time, remember. I've never known you to be this callous."

"Oh, for God's sake, Faith. One morning. For two days' deprivation every six months, she gets to eat shrimp, salmon, and chicken the rest of the year!" Michael turned hastily to Eddie. "Only for snacks, of course. Three meals a day she eats Pretty Kitty cat food."

"Don't worry. Eddie isn't going to turn you in," Faith said. "Are you?"

"No way, wahine," Eddie answered, still grinning. "Driving is my main livelihood. If I talk, nobody wants to ride with me anymore."

Faith nodded. "Let's go."

Eddie had parked his Honda right in front of the hotel, in the taxi loading zone. Two taxi drivers glared as Faith and Michael got into the back seat.

Eddie whisked the car away from the cluster of tall, white hotels, over the causeway, and down the narrow road the short distance to the Lahaina harbor. The day was so beautiful that Faith almost began to enjoy herself.

"What's it like living here?" Michael asked.

"Like this," Eddie answered. "Like every morning when I wake up, it's the first day of vacation."

"It must rain," Faith said. "There's a rain forest on the island."

"Yeah, but it only rains for five minutes at a time. Most of the time. Except for hurricanes, and this isn't the season."

"Stop it, Faith," Michael snapped. "No disasters. I am not anticipating a disaster on Maui."

Faith glared back.

"This is as close as I can get," Eddie said cheerfully. He had maneuvered through the jaywalking tourists to the pier, but there was no place to pull over. Two large silver trucks were taking up three parking spaces apiece. Several horns began to beep the second the Honda's brake lights went on. "I'll find a place to park and meet you on the set. Just yell if you want to make a quick getaway."

"Thanks," Michael said. "I was optimistic enough to schedule a tennis lesson for three and a massage for four."

"No problem." Eddie grinned at him.

The beeps became steady as Faith got out and took Eliz­abeth's carrier so that Michael could join her. They slipped between the trucks to the wooden walkway.

The whalers were smaller and newer than Faith had ex­pected, but then her idea of a whaler was based on John Huston's Moby Dick. She suspected that these had been used since the nineteenth century.

"I don't understand why they're shooting a cat food commercial on a whaler," Faith said.

"Cats love fish," Michael explained, in a tone that let her know any idiot could figure it out. "Pretty Kitty is for cats with a whale of an appetite."

"Yes, but whalers kill whales. When this commercial airs, they're going to lose all the New Agers and Trekkers and Greens who own cats. Maybe half the cat owners in the country." Faith picked her way carefully over heavy ca­bles that snaked from the trucks to a ship halfway down the pier.

"Maybe half the cat owners in L.A., tops. Besides, it's a tax-deductible week in Maui for anyone from Pretty Kitty, the ad agency, or the production company who wants to visit the shoot. Although the L.A. ad business is so bad I don't think anyone from the agency came." Michael waved at the deck. "Aloha, we're here."

"Oh, good." A young woman in tank top and jeans leaned over the railing. Two days in Maui had given her Southern California tan a bronze glow and turned the per­oxide streaks in her stringy brown hair almost white. She waved a clipboard at them. "Phil is setting up for the shot of Elizabeth now. He's lighting her stand-in."

Michael had one foot on the wooden ladder. He stopped so suddenly that Faith hit him with the carrier.

"What stand-in?" he asked.

The woman held a finger to her lips, then beckoned him aboard.

"What stand-in?" Michael asked again, after reaching the deck in two bounds.

Faith clambered up after him, bracing the carrier awk­wardly on each rung.

"Mrowr," Elizabeth said.

"Sorry," Faith murmured to the carrier.

"Faith, Jennifer," Michael said as he belatedly reached for the handle.

"Hi, Faith. Hi, Sweetums," Jennifer added to the carrier.

"Mrowr."

Faith nodded assent.

"Where's Eddie?" Jennifer asked.

"Parking the car. What stand-in?" Michael's voice shot up an octave, and Jennifer shushed him again.

"One of the Pretty Kitty executives is here with his wife, daughter, and cat," she whispered. "The daughter really wants to see her cat in a commercial. I hope Elizabeth is in fine form."

"Of course she is! What an outrage!" Michael snapped.

"Okay, okay," Jennifer said, holding up her hand. "I'm just telling you what's going on."

"We have a contract!" Michael lowered his voice.

"I know. But Pretty Kitty hired the ad agency, and the ad agency hired the production company."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that everyone is being very, very nice. Espe­cially Phil. This is his first network job, you know. I think he'd do anything to get more."

"All right." Michael sighed and turned to Faith. "You see why I didn't feed her. One lousy shot and I'd have to get a job."

"Jennifer! Let's go!" a male voice called.

Faith, Michael, and Elizabeth followed Jennifer aft, step­ping between cables when possible.

Cameras, lights, and reflectors were all focused on a very fluffy cat the color of an underripe cantaloupe, wearing a cubic zirconium collar. Her amber eyes darted nervously around the crowd. A red-haired, freckled girl about ten years old was sitting cross-legged beside her, smiling at anyone who would smile back.

"That's Marlene," Jennifer whispered to Michael, drawing the name out to three syllables. "As in Dietrich. The girl's name is Boots. Good luck."

She took the clipboard over to the camera.

Michael shook his head, gaze still fastened on Marlene. "She's pretty, but she's not an actress. We're fine." He looked around, spotting a youth with a three-day growth of beard, whose knees were sticking out of his Levi's. The young man was wearing the only Hawaiian shirt that might have come out of a suitcase, not a store. "Phil! I hope we're not late. I didn't realize we were shooting on MTV video time."

"Hey, Michael, how ya doing?" Phil trotted the four steps that separated them and clapped Michael on the back. "Glad to see the star has arrived." He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Okay! Get ready for a take!" Then he knelt down beside the girl. "Boots, honey. I'm really grateful for your help. And I'm going to remember what a beautiful cat Marlene is, next time we're casting."

Boots looked at him adoringly. She carefully picked up Marlene, then winced when the nervous cat sank bare claws into her naked shoulder.

Michael lifted Elizabeth from the carrier and placed her down on the crossed pieces of silver tape marking the spot Marlene had vacated. Elizabeth stretched, surveyed the as­sembled group, winked one blue eye at the cameraman, and settled onto her haunches, pearly tail falling naturally into place.

"Here." Someone thrust a crystal dish heaped with Pretty Kitty into Michael's hand. He put it down on an­other taped mark to Elizabeth's right.

"Roll the tape!" Phil called.

"Rolling!"

"Slate the camera!"

"Slated. Take one."

"Action!"

"Discover the food," Michael whispered.

Elizabeth turned toward the dish. Her eyes widened dra­matically. She approached the dish and sniffed, then looked back toward Michael.

"That's right, baby, time to eat," he whispered.

Elizabeth sniffed again. She shook her head. Straightening up, she made a graceful pirouette and over­turned the dish with one kick from her left hind leg.

"Cut!" Phil called.

"Oh my God," Michael moaned.

Faith tugged his arm. "There's something wrong with the food."

"What?"

"Something wrong, damn it, think!"

"There's something wrong with the food!" Michael yelled.

"What do you mean, son?"

Michael discovered he was standing next to a tall, florid man still decorated with a fading airport lei. Red hair and freckles marked him as Boots's father, even if he wasn't old enough to be Michael's. He was glaring down menacingly.

"I mean sabotage!" Michael gasped. "It can't be Pretty Kitty."

"Come on, Michael." Phil clapped him on the shoulder again. Michael was starting to feel hemmed in. "We'll try another take. If it'll make you happy, we'll even open a new can."

"Where's Elizabeth?" Faith had squeezed between the men to the overturned dish. Elizabeth was nowhere in sight.

"Elizabeth!" Michael dropped to his knees, to search for her at her own level.

"Hey, guys, anybody seen the cat?" Phil asked.

The murmurs from the crew were all negative.

"Could she have jumped overboard?" The question came from a short, dark-haired woman in a muumuu draped with a fading lei that matched the one Boots's father was wearing.

"Absolutely not!" Michael snapped. Still, he crawled to the edge of the deck and checked the ocean. The gentle, blue waves were unbroken. "Elizabeth!"

His stomach churned, and he began gasping for breath.

"All right! That's enough!" Faith was standing on Eliza­beth's mark. The lights had been turned off, but the reflec­tors focused enough sunlight to create a glow around her shins. Her arms were raised, palms out, like an evangelist. Everyone quieted down and stared. She was glad she hadn't worn a muumuu. The way the long sleeves of her white overblouse fell back past her elbows made a more dramatic effect. "I have to ask one question. You!" Her right hand swooped down, index finger pointing to Boots's father. "Are you driving a rental car?"

"Why, yes." His face became even more florid.

"Thank you." Both palms out again, Faith looked at each silent face in front of her. "I know who took Elizabeth. And I know who sprayed the ant poison on the Pretty Kitty." She waited for the gasps to subside. "We will all turn toward the railing, eyes shut, while I count to thirty. During that time, I expect Elizabeth to reappear on her mark. Otherwise, the person responsible will be looking at both civil and criminal charges. Which will not be good for that person's livelihood. Now! Toward the railing. One! Two!"

Faith had reached twenty-seven by the time she heard the soft Mrowr and felt Elizabeth rub against her leg.

"Elizabeth!" Michael cried.

"Thank you all," Faith said, bowing, as the crew ap­plauded.

"Let's get ready for the next take!" Phil shouted. "New can of cat food. Clean up the mess from the old one!"

"I'd like to fix the dish," Faith said.

"Down the stairs to the galley." Phil pointed toward the low cabin.

Michael hugged Elizabeth. He even sobbed a little into her fur, which she didn't like at all.

Faith returned a moment later with the crystal dish, piled high. She set it down on the mark.

Michael released Elizabeth in the general area of the other mark. The cat swiftly groomed the spot where Mi­chael's tears had dampened her fur and then settled pre­cisely in the center of the taped cross, tail flaring gracefully.

"Roll the tape!" Phil called. "Let's do it again!"

Take two went without a hitch. Elizabeth approached the food daintily, then attacked it with gusto.

When she was finished, she sat back and cleaned her face, first with her tongue, then with her paw. The camera captured her entire performance.

"Perfect!" Phil said. "Now the high five!"

Michael prepared for the signature shot that gave Eliza­beth her value. He would kneel, with his right arm raised, and snap his fingers. Elizabeth would leap up and slap his palm with her right paw.

This, too, she did perfectly.

"That's a wrap for the cat," Phil said. "Thanks, Michael. Good job."

"You're welcome." Michael had Elizabeth in his arms as soon as he heard the word wrap.

Faith retrieved the carrier from the top of the low cabin, where she had placed it for safekeeping.

"The car's about two blocks away. You want me to get it?" Eddie Inouye materialized next to her.

"I think we can walk back to the hotel," she said. "We want to see a little of Lahaina, and we can do that this after­noon. But tomorrow morning at ten we'd like to leave for some sightseeing, especially the Sacred Pools of Hana. Do you think you could pick us up then?"

"I'll be there." Eddie grinned at her and took off again.

Michael snapped the carrier shut. Jennifer grabbed his arm before he could pick it up.

"I'm so glad Elizabeth is all right," she said. "Really."

Faith had already started down the ladder by the time Michael caught up. He handed her the carrier, then fol­lowed her down.

"All right," he said, as they picked their way between ca­bles toward the street. "Which of them was it? Eddie or Jennifer?"

"Both. Eddie sprayed the ant poison, Jennifer grabbed the cat."

"How did you figure it out?"

"Well, I guessed a lot of it. I knew when Eddie said he wouldn't give you away on the cat food that someone else had been talking in his car. It wasn't Marlene's family, be­cause they had a rental. Most members of the crew rode in the trucks with the equipment." She paused until they passed the trucks in question. "And Jennifer pointedly told us that Phil wanted this job to lead to more—not realizing that the best outcome for Phil would be a great commercial, which he wouldn't get if he cast a bad actress in the lead, just to do a favor for the big boss. Favors get more work only at Jennifer's level. Not only that, but from the look on her face when she asked where Eddie was, it occurred to me that he might be a little less available than he was yes­terday."

"She enlisted him in the plot?"

"Such as it was. Mostly improvised, I think." They were back on the narrow sidewalk. Faith surveyed the small shops across the street, with their window displays of muumuus. "How about lunch?"

"Tell me the rest first."

"Eddie didn't think we'd suspect ant poison, after you told him that Elizabeth didn't normally eat Pretty Kitty. He thought you'd suspect simple cat perversity."

Michael raised his eyebrows innocently.

"Mrowr," Elizabeth said.

"I know, dear," Faith said to the carrier. "You're a pro­fessional. That's the point."

"But when sabotaging the food didn't work, someone had to grab her, someone who knew her, hence Jennifer."

"Good work," Faith said dryly, patting Michael's shoulder.

"How did you know it was ant poison?"

"I didn't. I just thought ants are a problem in tropical climates, so wherever there was food, there had to be ant poison. I checked the galley when I refilled the dish, and I was right."

"I'm awfully glad you're here," Michael said. "I may not always tell you that, but I am grateful for your friendship. I'll buy lunch."

"Here today, dead to Maui," Faith said. "Lunch will do for a start. And did you say you had an appointment for a massage this afternoon?"

"It's yours." Michael sighed.

"Take Elizabeth, run on ahead, and order salmon for three from room service. I'll be there as soon as I've made a quick purchase. Vacation starts now."

"Maui." The word came clearly from the carrier.

"Indeed."

2007.05.19/MNQ

3,500 words