§ § § - June 27, 2009

When she'd taken the latest arrival to the hotel, she returned to the main house, where she found Roarke speaking with another older man, this one with a well-groomed mustache that had already turned white, long ahead of his salt-and-pepper hair. He was tall and a little too thin, except for a paunch that formed a perfect little mound under the T-shirt that shouted, ANARCHY NOW! "I'm tellin' ya, Mr. Roarke, I saw The Shawk and Crashah over at the restaurant not an hour ago, havin' breakfast! Whatta they doin' here?"

"Mr. Wellborn, please calm yourself," Roarke said, rising. "I am not entirely sure whom you refer to when you speak of 'The Shark' and 'Crasher', but if indeed you did see them at the restaurant, please be advised that they have every bit as much right as you to be on the island."

"Well, I don't care," Wellborn snapped, his heavy New York accent oozing off every word. "Maybe I coulda written it off as a co-inky-dink if I'd seen one of 'em, but both of 'em? Somethin' fishy's goin' on here, and I wanna know what the story is."

Leslie edged around the irate visitor, smoothing Anastasia's hair in the hope that his yelling wouldn't rouse her. "Be right back, Father, I'm putting Anastasia in for her latest nap." Roarke nodded and she made her escape, dawdling for a moment till she no longer heard the yelling, then venturing back down. Wellborn was gone, but as Leslie descended the last few steps, the door opened and admitted Colin Matney, accompanied by Camille, who was carrying a large binder with papers sticking out of it in all directions. They were in the middle of an animated conversation, which came to an abrupt halt when they emerged into the foyer and saw Roarke.

"Good morning, Mr. Matney," Roarke said, shaking hands, "and hello, Camille—it's quite a surprise to see you here."

"Aw, well, I was coming over to give Leslie some info, and I met Mr. Matney in front of the house. He asked about my binder and we started talking about Shock Treatment."

Colin Matney grinned. "Never thought I'd meet another fan who still wishes the guys'd get back together. So are they all here yet?"

Roarke nodded, resuming his seat while Leslie settled into the computer chair and Matney and Camille filled the leather chairs. "The last band member arrived within the last half hour; Leslie picked him up and delivered him to the hotel. Unfortunately, I have already seen evidence that your mission to reunite Shock Treatment will be a difficult one indeed."

Matney and Camille looked at each other, and Camille said, "Y'know, I thought that looked like The Rebel stomping up the lane."

"The Rebel?" Leslie repeated.

Camille grinned at her and got up to give her the binder. "By some miracle I actually found my old Shock Treatment scrapbook. Here, take a look."

While Colin Matney explained to Roarke how he'd become a Shock Treatment fan and the impact the band's breakup had had on him, Camille pointed out a particular article to Leslie. "This should tell you anything you need to know. It came out at the time they announced the band was going defunct. Stage names, real names, ages, history, origins, a full discography, the whole thing."

Leslie soon found that "The Rebel" was none other than their irate guest, Ronald Wellborn; Bill Wade, the man she had picked up at the plane dock, had gone by the stage name of "Electrifier". "Crasher" had been born Peter Boniface, and "The Shark's" real name was Gordon Hammer. The lead singer, a Mark Irizarry, had taken on the moniker "Howling Mark". All five had been born in or around New York City, where the band had begun before moving to Los Angeles and seeing their career take off, around 1976.

"So what was The Rebel doing here, Mr. Roarke?" they heard Colin Matney ask.

"That's what I meant by my statement when you arrived. Mr. Wellborn—or, as you refer to him, The Rebel—is already aware that Mr. Boniface and Mr. Hammer are on the island, through having spotted them at the restaurant."

"If he saw them there, then they must have seen each other," Leslie put in.

"No, apparently not; Mr. Wellborn stated that Mr. Boniface was on one side of the room and Mr. Hammer on the other." Roarke turned back to Matney. "Since they are all staying in the hotel and this is not, in the end, a large island—and since there are five of them—sooner or later they are all bound to discover that the entire band is here. I am given to understand that they split up the band amid a great deal of animosity, which has apparently persisted through the years since. Do you have a plan of any kind for bringing them together to discuss this reunion you hope for so avidly?"

Colin Matney cleared his throat and let his eyes roam all over the room for several seconds, then reluctantly met Roarke's gaze again. "Well, uh...no."

Camille looked on with wide-open fascination while Leslie, still carrying the scrap-book, got up and paused beside Roarke's desk. "How do you expect this to happen, then? I don't suppose you were planning on using your appeal as one of the world's top-ten Shock Treatment fans, were you?"

Matney turned crimson and essayed a ridiculous little grin. "Well, maybe something like that. I guess I...well, now that I'm actually thinking about it, maybe I could meet up with each of the guys separately. Ask for their autographs, maybe, and then kinda ease into reminiscing about the good times they had with the band..." He noticed the looks Roarke and Leslie exchanged. "Well, c'mon, they had to've had some good times, right? Otherwise the band wouldn't've lasted as long as it did."

Leslie shrugged a shoulder in concession. "Okay, I'll give you that. What else?"

"Well, maybe ask them a little bit about what they've been doing, their families...you know, stuff like that. Small talk. Ask 'em if they think reunion tours are a cool idea or just a stupid fad." He shrugged and tried to look appealing.

Camille had edged closer to the desk as he was talking, and now she put in, "You know, our friend writes for the island newspaper. Maybe we could recruit her to do some informal interviews with the guys, and they could come out in tomorrow morning's paper."

"Hey, that's a great idea," Matney blurted. "If she came with both of us as fans, then I guess the guys'd kinda have to cave in and at least talk to us, huh?"

Roarke cleared his throat, just loudly enough to get their attention, and said, "Bear in mind that all five men believe they have been invited here on the house for a short vacation, and that each one is here without any knowledge of the presence of his four former bandmates. Or at least, they were until Mr. Wellborn spied Mr. Hammer and Mr. Boniface."

"They're going to meet up soon enough as it is," Leslie said. "If you want to make a success out of all this, Mr. Matney, you might have to lock these guys into one room together and hope like crazy that there aren't any dead bodies when you open it again."

Camille snickered; Matney reddened again and grinned foolishly. "Well, I tell ya what, it'll be worth it if they'll just bury hatchets long enough to do a concert. I never got to see them live, and I always wished they'd do a reunion tour so I could have the chance."

"You and me both, bud," Camille agreed fervently.

Roarke nodded. "Very well, then, Mr. Matney, I will grant you your fantasy."

"Just be warned," Leslie added with a trace of a smile, "we're not responsible for any injuries or deaths sustained in possible arguments or out-and-out fights."

Matney nodded. "Right, right. Thanks for the opportunity, Mr. Roarke." He bounced out of his chair and ran out.

"You were kidding about the injuries-and-deaths bit, right?" Camille asked.

"Nope," said Leslie blithely. "Were you thinking of helping this guy? Because if you are, this might be a good time to get hold of Myeko."

Camille eyed her dubiously for another five or six seconds before shaking her head, pulling out her cell phone and putting through a call to Myeko. It was clear that she was enthusiastic, for Camille's big grin gave it away.

"Incidentally, Leslie," Roarke said, "I suggest you be present at this...series of improvised interviews. While the resort may not be responsible for deaths or injuries, it would nonetheless be in our best interests to prevent any such events from taking place."

Camille's mouth fell open at his dry delivery; Leslie just grinned. "Message received, Father. Well, Camille, let's go talk to Myeko."

‡ ‡ ‡

"You are not," Christian said, staring at his wife in the middle of lunch. She had just finished explaining that she, Camille, Myeko and Colin Matney were all going to be in on the "interviews" Matney planned to hold with the former Shock Treatment members. "Does it really take four of you to handle that? Doesn't Mr. Roarke need you for something?"

"Are you afraid one of those guys will try to seduce me or something?" asked Leslie, genuinely puzzled. "I don't get your objection."

Christian noticed that Roarke and Rogan were both peering quizzically at him too, and made a little "ahem" noise. "My nephew used to see articles all the time that referred to the, uh, sexual escapades of the various band members."

"Maybe they've reformed," Rogan said.

"Even if they haven't, I'm not remotely interested, just so you know," Leslie said with a grin at Christian. "As if you didn't. Camille got in on it because she and Mr. Matney seem to have developed sort of a rapport as fellow Shock Treatment fans, and Myeko's the newspaper reporter, so they need her expertise at teasing answers out of celebrities."

"But why do they need you there?" Christian asked.

"Technically, they don't, I'll concede to that. I just can't figure out why you're objecting so strenuously," she said.

Christian sighed. "Because of Anastasia. She may not be the glutton she was a few weeks ago, but she does still need to be fed every four to five hours—and I don't think I'd want you having to accommodate her in the middle of one of those interviews."

"Oh, that's it," Leslie said and snickered. "Well, I admit, it's not necessary for me to be there, and I'm not even sure I want to be. After all, this is Colin Matney's thing, not mine. I suppose I let Camille and Myeko dragoon me into agreeing to go with them."

"Don't," Christian said. "I'd rather you were here. Even Mr. Roarke isn't with a guest all the time, now, is he?"

"Not usually, though it has happened," said Leslie, thinking back to a certain Lisa Corday and her nightmarish encounter with the ghost of Elizabeth Bathorý almost thirty years before. "But that's only under special circumstances, which I admit, these aren't."

Roarke cleared his throat, and they all looked at him. "Christian, perhaps you didn't understand what Leslie told you when she first explained where she would be this afternoon. As second-in-command here, she carries enough weight, legally speaking, that her presence should be enough to deter any possible injurious circumstances."

"Perhaps in that case you should have sent her to the pineapple plantation when they used to have all those brawls, before the original house was burned down," Christian said, the brow aiming for his hairline. "If her presence is that influential..."

"Och, uncle, maybe it's ye who should be there instead," Rogan remarked, grinning. "I seem to remember in any case that ye wanted to prod these two into airin' some things they haven't discussed yet."

"Christian and Leslie's issues are not yours to ponder. You have your own fantasy to worry about, Rogan," Roarke admonished him, while Christian and Leslie glanced at each other in startled surprise. "You haven't checked up on Mr. Drake at all yet, have you?"

"No, uncle, but then again, ye've yet to show me how to decode that damn electronic lock ye insist on hangin' off the door to that little room. Once I've mastered that, then I've no problem with doin' a checkup. Say the word when ye're ready."

Roarke agreed, and while the rest of the lunch conversation veered to other topics, Christian and Leslie said less than they might have, both glancing a little skittishly at each other, each privately wondering what grievances the other might have with them and both speculating as to what issues Roarke was referring to. Rogan and Roarke themselves talked about odds and ends, and the triplets chattered away as they always did, oblivious to the atmosphere between their parents.

It was almost another hour before Roarke had Christian and Leslie settled in the study; by then Noelle had taken the triplets off to the children's wading pool for a while, and Anastasia had been fed and settled down for another nap. After Roarke had demonstrated the electronic lock to Rogan three times and finally gotten the younger man to master its intricacies, he sent Rogan back to check on the Drake fantasy and carefully closed the door before taking a seat across from his daughter and son-in-law.

"What issues do you think we have?" Leslie asked her father, straight out, before he could open the discussion.

Roarke drew in a long breath, as though savoring the very action, and focused on her. "I refuse to beat around the bush; as you are well aware, my days are numbered—" her face paled at this— "and I believe I have the right to get directly to the point. Your reaction just now, Leslie, merely reinforces my sense of urgency in this matter." He leaned forward and gazed hard at her. "What order, precisely, do your life's priorities reside in?"