"Ian," thirteen-year-old Natalie Kabra reprimanded loudly, "you can stop with the polo game for about three minutes to eat dinner for once!"

Ian Kabra scoffed on the back of his cream-colored polo pony. He'd lost games two times in a row last week. He intended to crush the other team today.

"The ball!" he muttered, smoothing his night-black hair against his head. Ian maneuvered his horse towards the oncoming ball and hit it cleanly between the goalposts.

"Yay, Ian!" Natalie cheered from the sidelines. "But it's time for dinner, you twit!"

Ian dismounted, ignoring the offers for high-fives from his teammates. He handed his horse's reins to a waiting servant, and another servant escorted the spoiled sixteen-year-old into the grand dining room. Ian's polished shoes clicked against the marble floor. He spied Natalie sitting at the far end of the table and sat down next to her.

"Did you enjoy the game?" the girl asked primly.

"It was satisfying," Ian replied, checking his silver watch. "I thought you said it was dinnertime. The food hasn't arrived yet."
"I bloody well know," Natalie responded tautly. "I don't know what's taking so long."

The food finally arrived. Caviar, Ian thought hungrily. The children devoured their meals, not speaking to each other.

"Oh, Ian," Natalie said at one point, her fork in the air, "I suppose you might want to check your email when we finish eating. There's a, erm, letter." She smiled evilly.

Ian shook his head in distaste. Sisters.

Even so, when he was finished with his food, he went upstairs to his bedroom and grabbed his Macbook Air from his desk, bringing it to his silk bed. He opened the computer and logged into his email curiously.

Inbox (3 emails unread):

Sender: Sophia Ryan, Subject: Your New Steinway Piano

Sender: Amy Cahill, Subject: Saladin is lost!

Sender: Tom Jones, Subject: High Society Dinner Tomorrow

Ian quickly glanced at the subjects, then the senders. His eye caught on one particular name: Amy Cahill. Was this what Natalie was talking about? Ian groaned. Natalie was always joking about how Ian had almost fallen for this Cahill girl two years ago. He didn't know what he had been thinking, associating with...a commoner.

Yet, Ian thought about her again. Her blonde-brown hair, cascading over her shoulders into her face, the way she stuttered when she spoke to him, her little ninja brother, Dan.

Ian clicked on the email. He noticed it was sent to all of the Cahills Amy and Dan knew. The email read read:

Hello, Cahills,

It's been awhile.

But I'm emailing because Dan and my cat, Saladin, ran away yesterday, and we haven't been able to find him since. Please be on the lookout for him! He is an Egyptian Mau - all grey-white with dark spots all over him so he looks like a snow leopard. He loves Red Snapper, and he says, "Mrrrp," a lot.

Please help Dan and me find our cat! It means a lot to us. Saladin is the one reminder Dan and I have of Grace.

Thank you!

~Amy and Dan Cahill

Ian sighed. The siblings had gotten their annoying feline lost. And they expected Ian to go looking for it?

Ian felt a strange sense of determination rise in him. He picked up his cell phone from his bedside table and dialed Inspector Blackhorn's number.

"Hello, Mr. Kabra," Blackhorn muttered into the phone

"Blackhorn," Ian replied. "I have a job for you. In America. A girl I know...her cat is missing." Ian gave the inspector a description of Saladin.

"Sir," Blackhorn said after a moment. "I am a fully qualified inspector. I worked for Scotland Yard. You want me to use my expertise to find a cat?"

Ian lowered his head, grudgingly thinking about Amy. Then he said, "Yes."