The Dingo Dilemma

Sixteen

I was getting used to the bustle of the soundstage. I stood to one side watching as they set up the next scene to be shot, where Timmy and Olive meet for the first time. Darleen's role was simple, as she was only required to sit beside Timmy and, as we spoke our lines, look intelligently from him to me-accomplished by her trainer signaling off camera-then get up and greet me as a member of the family at the end of the scene.

Earl Garfield was nearby, considerably calmer than this morning. Perhaps he'd popped a handful of tranquillizers for lunch. He was talking to Dingo, who was frowning heavily as he listened. Darleen was on a lead, and had fallen asleep at Dingo's feet.

Seeing Dingo made me think of the two blokes who'd been at his building and had then come to Kendall & Creeling claiming to be from Homeland Security. When Bob had shown Quip the photos Lonnie had taken, Quip had said he was sure they weren't the ones who'd attacked him. Lonnie hadn't yet been successful establishing whether Unwin and Morgan were Homeland Security or not, because he'd been rebuffed with the stern admonition that it was classified information, and to release it would only give aid to America's enemies.

This official obstruction had only resulted in making Lonnie more determined and he was now hot on the trail of the limousine that I'd seen in our parking area.

A sneering voice broke into my thoughts. "Making a move from private investigation to acting, are you?"

I didn't need to look around to know it was Norris Blainey. "G'day," I said. "Fancy meeting you here."

He was dressed as I'd first seen him, in a beautifully tailored dark suit, white shirt, and red silk tie, none of which disguised the fact he was a little shrimp of a fellow with a weak chin.

"I hope you and your partner have given some serious thought to my offer," he said.

I didn't hide my impatience. "You know perfectly well we've rejected it. You'd better get used to the fact you can't make an offer we'd accept."

Not fazed by this at all, Blainey smiled insinuatingly. "Trying to up the ante, eh? Sweetheart, you're out of your league. You're playing with the big boys, here."

I was fast getting jack of this bloke. "You're wasting your time. Kendall & Creeling's property is not for sale. Doesn't matter what you offer. Doesn't matter what you say."

His face darkened. He stepped too close to me and jabbed a forefinger in my face. "A friendly warning-I play hardball if I have to. If push comes to shove, you'll soon find yourselves begging me to buy you out."

I grabbed his wrist and forced his hand down. "Rack off," I said.

Blainey pulled himself free, his face mottled with rage. "Bitch," he snarled. "I'll have you fired from the cast."

"Jesus, Norris! Get the hell out," bellowed Garfield. "I'm creating a show here. I don't need you interfering."

The commotion woke Darken up. She got to her feet as, literally trembling with rage, Blainey stalked over to Earl Garfield. "Don't you ever speak to me that way again, you washed-up excuse for a director!" he yelled.

Darleen's lip curled, displaying sharp white teeth. Her growl was low and threatening. Dingo tightened his hold on her collar.

"Shit!" Blainey stepped back hastily. His panic subsided when he realized Dingo had Darken under control. "That dog's a menace," he said. "She should be put down. Exterminated."

Then he turned on his heel and exited with as much dignity as he could muster.

Unhappily, the afternoon shoot resembled the morning. Dustin argued over every line, the director spewed vitriol in all directions, and the crew gritted their collective teeth.

During a break, Dingo left Darken with her groomer and took me aside. "I can't go on this way, Kylie. Darken senses the tension. It's affecting her work. And that bastard, Blainey, he'll make good on that threat. He'll have her killed."

I would have liked to reassure him that it was unlikely Darken would be harmed, but Norris Blainey was clearly capable of almost anything, although I reckoned he was the type to always get someone else to do his dirty work, Quip being the perfect example of this.

His face stern with purpose, Dingo said, "If anything happens to Darken, I'll deal with that bastard personally."

As he turned to go back to his charge, I said, "I'd be really pleased if you'd ring your parents and tell them you're OK. If nothing else, it would get Aunt Millie off my back."

Dingo grimaced. "I can't think about that now, not with Darken and all."

"Take my cell phone number," I said, pressing one of my new business cards into his hand. "If you want to talk about it, call me."

We were about to begin the scene yet again, so Dustin and I took our positions facing each other. Darken, looking bored, had been put at Dustin's feet. I was ready to clasp my hands to my bosom and deliver my opening line, which had been rewritten several times and was now "Leaping lizards! Timmy! Fair dinkum, is it you?" when a minor commotion occurred off set.

Darlene got to her feet and stared in the direction of the disturbance. I caught a glimpse of iridescent green, then Pauline Feeney came into full view. Beside her Jason, the brooding bloke, had Upton and Unity more or less under control. Sailing along at the rear in pink-and-white glory was Ursula Jaeger.

Garfield took one look at the poodles and bellowed, "Christ! Get those dogs out of here!"

Darlene's hair rose on her neck. For the second time that afternoon her impressive teeth came into view as a snarl vibrated in her throat. Both poodles recoiled. Upton even gave a frightened yelp.

"Gutless wonders," declared Ursula with scorn. "I told you, Pauline, they're good-for-nothing girly dogs."

Pauline gestured imperiously for Jason to remove Upton and Unity to a safer location, then turned to Earl Garfield with an ingratiating smile. "Mr. Garfield, it's so wonderful to meet you," she gushed. "I've long admired your work."

From the incensed expression on his face, the director had recognized her. "Get off the set," he hissed, "or I'll have you thrown off it."

"But-"

"Giles! Where the hell are you? Get security to escort this woman out."

Ursula pushed her not inconsiderable self in front of Pauline. "You don't mean that, Earl," she said. "Pauline Feeney's a close personal friend of mine. I'd be very unhappy if she's not treated well. Dustin would be unhappy, too."

"Yeah," said Dustin, putting in his bit.

She stood waiting, one hand on a plump hip, her mouth in a triumphant half smile. An array of emotions flowed across Earl Garfield's face, most suggesting he'd happily tear Ursula's head from her body and drop-kick it off the set.

Then the reality of the situation hit him. "Any friend of Ursula's is a friend of mine," he managed to get out in a strangled tone.

In the crew there were amazed looks all around. I reckoned no one had ever seen Garfield back down before.

Dustin took this moment to cop a feel. "Want to lose an arm?" I murmured.

His lewd grin wavered. "What?"

"I'll rip it off and beat you to death with it."

"What are you doing, Dustin?" his mother asked in a stentorian voice.

He stepped away from me. "Nothing."

I was just thinking how refreshing it was to have someone discipline the little twerp when Ursula looked me up and down and shook her head. "You can do better, Dustin. Much better."

Except for Julia Roberts, the place was empty when I got back to Kendall & Creeling. She was miffed because, as she made clear to me, I was late with dinner again.

"Fair crack of the whip, Jules. You almost always get your dinner on time."

She didn't look convinced, so I gave her a can of Fancy Feast chicken and liver, her favorite, as a peace offering.

Melodie had left three messages for me. I was to call Aunt Millie the moment I got in because it was "real important." The other two were mundane: confirmation for a dental checkup and a reminder from a specialist service for classic cars that Dad's Mustang was due for an oil change. There was no urgent message from Mum, which was strange. And, although I really didn't expect it, nothing from Ariana. Maybe she'd call later.

To prepare for the rigors of a conversation with Aunt Millie, I had a shower, changed into ancient sweats, and got myself a glass of wine. Thus fortified, I dialed the international code for Oz and then her number.

"What's the latest about Dingo?" she demanded as soon as I'd said hello. "Harriet and Gert are beside themselves with worry because they still haven't heard a word from him, but someone from the government called by, asking lots of questions."

"What sort of questions?"

"Who were Dingo's friends, whether he belonged to any groups or clubs, why he wanted to go to the States-all that sort of stuff. Gert got quite short with him. Told him he had no right prying into people's private lives."

As far as I knew, Australia didn't have the equivalent of Homeland Security, but I was betting this bloke was from one of the intelligence services. "He didn't say what government department he was from or show any official identification?"

Aunt Millie snorted-her first this conversation, but I was sure not her last. "He probably did," she said, "but you know Gert and Harry. Totally scatterbrained, the two of them. No wonder Dingo's turned out nutty as a fruitcake."

"Dingo's perfectly normal," I protested.

"Normal? You call spending your life at the beck and call of a wild dog normal?" A mini-snort came down the line. "I don't know what's worse-the fact it's a dingo, or that its name is Darken. Darken!"

Belatedly I recalled that Aunt Millie's middle name happened to be Darlene. "It's spelt a different way," I said. "Your name, I mean."

"Darken the Dingo," she muttered. "Like you'd think it was a person."

"I think Darken is a person as far as Dingo is concerned," I said. "He's very worried about her welfare."

"A dingo's welfare! I never thought I'd see the day."

I checked the time. I had twenty-five minutes before I had to unlock the gate in the back fence for Yancy. To hurry the conversation along, I said, "Aunt Millie, I'll call the O'Rourkes if you give me their telephone number. I saw Dingo today, so I have up-to-date information."

"Better you tell me. I'll pass it on," said Aunt Millie. I could imagine the dark twist she'd put on what I told her.

"Reassure them Dingo's fine," I said, "and that he'll call them soon. Remind them that he has a stressful job. It's a lot of responsibility, caring for an animal star." I put a positive spin on a few more details of Dingo's preoccupation with Darken, ending with, "There's been some talk of criminals snatching Darken and holding her to ransom, so Dingo's guarding her day and night."

This got more muttering from my aunt. I'd never realized she felt so strongly about dingoes.

"Aunt Millie, I'm a bit worried about Mum. I haven't heard from her for days."

"She's got her hands full with Jack's little performance."

I sighed to myself. Mum's fiancé was, as Aunt Millie frequently pointed out, more trouble than he was worth. "What's Jack done now?"

"Taken to his bed, the nitwit. Says he can't cope, that he's having a nervous breakdown over running The Wombat's Retreat. I ask you, who deserves to indulge in a nervous breakdown over the pub? Not Jack! I said to your mother, turf him out on his ear, but she'd have none of it."

There was a pause, then she said in a less strident voice, "I can't entirely blame her. It is nice, at times, to have a man around the house."

I blinked. Could it be that Aunt Millie was getting soft? If I wasn't so pressed for time I'd ask her what she meant.

"I'll call Mum tomorrow. Now, if there's nothing else…"

"There's the matter of Brucie."

Hell's bells! No way did I want to be the one to tell Aunt Millie that Brucie was planning to stay in the States. "You haven't spoken with him?"

"Yes, Kylie, I've spoken to Brucie," Aunt Millie snapped. "I'm not at all satisfied that I know what's really going on. A mother's aware when a child is keeping something back."

I decided the safest thing was to be vague. "I haven't seen a lot of him, but he seems to be having a great time."

"Brucie mentioned a girl called Lexus. I said to him, don't put your trust in someone who's named after a vehicle, but he paid no attention. I hope I can rely on you to be straight with me, Kylie. Who is this Lexus?"

"She's a friend of Melodie's. They share an apartment."

Aunt Millie had met Melodie, and hadn't found her anywhere near serious enough about life in general. "Lives with Melodie, does she? A flibbertigibbet, I imagine."

"I've only met her a couple of times. She seems quite nice. Aunt Millie, really, I have to go."

Never one to lose the opportunity to deliver a final blow, my aunt said, "Very well, Kylie, rush off by all means. Just think about this, my girl. A child's ingratitude cuts like a knife. Brucie seems set to break my heart the way you've shattered your mother's."

I gave an exasperated sigh. "Aunt-" I broke off when I realized she had hung up.

The conversation had taken so much time I had to rush to let Yancy in. Jules looked disapproving as I galloped past her on my way to the back door of the building. I suspected that her plans for the evening included napping on my lap as I watched TV.

The gate in the back fence was secured by many metal bars and padlocks, so I went into the garage where the Mustang was parked and, without turning on the light, punched a button and opened the main door.

"Thank God! You're Kylie, right?"

He was breathing quickly as if he'd been running. His bass voice was instantly recognizable. I said, "That's me."

"I don't think I was followed," he gasped, slipping into the garage. "I left my car parked on the street half a mile away and jogged here."

After hitting the button to close the door, I turned on the light. Yancy was not tall, but he had a compact body and an intriguing, mobile face. He was so blond his hair was almost colorless. Clutched under one arm was a flat zip-up document case. He was sweating and his hands were shaking. "Can we go inside?" he said. "I don't feel safe out here."

I led the way across the yard and through the back door. "Thank God!" he exclaimed again as soon as we were inside. "Is Quip here yet?"

Yancy started violently as Granada loudly played. "Shit! What's that? Your cell phone?"

"Front door." I pointed to the kitchen. "Help yourself to coffee while I let Quip in."

Quip had said his eyes were still too swollen for him to drive, so he'd catch a cab. I checked the image in the security monitor to make sure it was really him before I opened the door.

Quip looked almost as furtive as Yancy. He limped in as fast as he was able, winced as he hurried to close and lock the door, then said urgently, "Yancy made it? Yes? Thank God!"

"What exactly is going on?"

"I'll explain everything in a moment." He took my arm. "Fran doesn't know I'm here. You promised not to mention anything about it, remember?"

"Where does she think you are?"

"At home in front of the TV. Tonight's Fran's yoga class."

"Fran does yoga?" This was a startling thought. I tried in vain to imagine Fran contemplating the world serenely from a lotus position.

"Has for years. Anyway, after the session she always has drinks with friends from the class. By the time she gets home I'll be back. She'll never even suspect I've left the apartment."

My expression must have shown my distaste for such deception, as Quip hurried to say, "It's for Fran's protection. The less she knows about it, the safer she is."

"Oh, bonzer," I said sarcastically. "Yet you're happy to explain everything to me. So what about my safety?"

"You're not my wife. They can get at me through her."

I had the strong suspicion the real reason Quip wanted Fran kept in the dark was because of Yancy. When I said this to him, Quip's battered face flushed.

"You think I'm two-timing Fran? I'd never do that. Yancy's been my main source for info on Blainey. Now he's in danger, too. So you can see why I want Fran kept completely out of it."

I wasn't totally convinced, but decided not to pursue it further. I took Quip along to the kitchen, where Yancy, clutching a mug of coffee, stood apprehensively watching the doorway. He was so nervous, sweat was running down his face and dripping off his chin. "Oh, thank God!" he exclaimed when he saw Quip. "You made it OK."

"There's an awful lot of thanking God going on," I observed.

"Yancy and I are in real danger," said Quip. "I mean, look at me. If Bruce hadn't intervened, I'd likely be crippled, if not dead."

Yancy nodded. "Norris Blainey's a murderous son of a bitch. Now that he suspects I've been feeding information to Quip, I'm at risk. The only thing to do is get out of town, go somewhere he'll never find me." He gestured to the document case on the counter. "I've brought print-outs of some of Blainey's shady property dealings. There's more where that came from. I've got it in a safe place."

"I need everything you can give me," Quip said. "You won't leave LA before passing the stuff on to me, will you?"

"Of course not. I want you to crucify the bastard."

"I had a run-in with him today," I said. They both stared at me. I added in explanation, "Blainey has a financial interest in the company making Darleen Come Home. I've got the part of Olive, Timmy's sister, for two episodes, so I was on the set. Blainey turned up this afternoon."

"The production company's losing money fast," said Quip. "I've got evidence Blainey's tried to unload his interest in it, but got no takers."

"I suppose you've heard about the dingo," said Yancy. "Driving here, it was all over the news."

I had a sinking feeling. Surely Norris Blainey hadn't had time to arrange her death. Then again, someone close to Darleen-the vet perhaps-could be paid enough to deliver a fatal injection. "What's happened to Darleen?" I asked.

"She's disappeared. Vanished into thin air. There's talk of a reward already."