Wombat Strategy

TWELVE

"I'm throwing myself on your mercy," I said, shoving the book into my bag.

"Oh, yeah?" Fran was still smirking.

I looked around. The coast was clear. The delivery bloke had left, whistling cheerfully, not giving a thought to the fact he'd given Fran a weapon to king-hit me with.

"You know how you've aced this gofering thing…" I began.

Fran's smile vanished as though it had never existed. "What? What thing?"

"Ariana said you were a gofer, so I suppose when you're doing it, you're gofering."

It was impossible, but her hair seemed to suddenly flame a deeper red. "I'm not a gofer," she ground out. "I'm the office manager."

"Good-oh. Well, you know how you've aced this office managering thing?"

Fran narrowed her eyes to slits. "Yes?" she said, drawing the word out.

I was going to have to be a real bullshit artist to pull this one off, but I'd give it a go. "It's sort of like you're an inspiration to me. I want to ace private-eyeing the way you ace your job. That's why I'm studying on the sly. Don't want anyone to think I'm not a natural at this P.I. stuff."

I paused to see the effect of my words. Not encouraging. Fran wasn't frowning, but she wasn't looking receptive either. Blast her. I wasn't going to beg.

"Let me put it this way, Fran. I'd be really embarrassed if it got out I was reading a book on how to be a P.I. So I'm asking you to forget you saw it."

"Okay."

"Okay? You won't say anything?"

"Not a word. But you owe me. And believe it, I'll collect."

The front door opened, and in came a tallish bloke wearing ancient jeans and a red T-shirt with the words slow-slow fast-fast across the front in purple letters. He didn't fit Melodie's description of intense, having a putty face and a blob of a nose, although I noticed in contrast his thin-lipped mouth was set in a hard line. I took a punt and said, "G'day. You'd be Rich Westholme."

He glared at me suspiciously. "Who told you that?"

"She's training to be a P.I.," said Fran, with a touch of malice.

I indicated his chest. "Melodie mentioned that was the title of one of your movies."

His dark frown lightened. "Yeah," he said. "You can catch it on cable next month."

Julia Roberts came stalking down the hallway, then leapt with great grace up on the desk. He recoiled. "Jesus, get her away from me."

Jules, sensing someone who was repulsed by her feline self, walked delicately in his direction. I took pity on him, scooped her up, and deposited her on my side of the desk. She gave me a disgusted glare, then walked off, her tail snapping with irritation.

"Thanks. I can't stand cats." Rich Westholme peered around as though Melodie might be crouching beneath the desk. "Melodie here?"

"Audition," said Fran. She put her hands on her hips, which shoved her spectacular bosom out another centimeter or so. "You've missed her."

I got the impression she'd taken an instant dislike to Westholme, though with Fran it was hard to tell. She didn't look on anyone with much approval.

On the other hand, Rich Westholme was giving Fran, and her bosom, the glad eye. "Call me Rich. And you are…?"

"Not available."

He laughed, apparently thinking she was joking. "Good one. No, seriously, what's your name?"

"Fran," I said. "She's our office manager."

"Watch it," said Fran to me.

Rich Westholme slapped on a slimy smile. "Well, Fran, have you ever thought of being in movies?"

She directed a look at him I thought might burn his sallow face, but he continued to grin at her.

"What about me?" I said. "Maybe I've got ambitions to be in movies."

"Yeah, yeah." He didn't even bother looking in my direction. To Fran he said, "I'm casting at the moment. There could be a part for you."

I winced as Fran opened her rosebud mouth, having a fair idea what her response was going to be. With terrific timing, Melodie blew through the door at this exact instant. "Rich!" She rushed over and planted a proprietary kiss on his cheek. "You didn't say you were coming by."

"Yeah, well, I was in the neighborhood."

The phone rang. I waited to see if Melodie was intending to resume her duties, but she was too busy looping her arm through Rich's and leading him off. "Honey, you said you wanted to see where I work, so let me give you the official tour. And you'll want to hear about my audition…"

Fran said, "Dickhead."

I said, "Fuckwit."

We looked at each other. "You're all right," said Fran.

I was excited but not showing it. I'd expected we have dinner in some local restaurant, but instead we were going to Ariana's place. Bob Verritt was driving and I was playing it cool. He was negotiating the sharp bends of the ascending Hollywood Hills road with more smooth skill than I had shown this morning. Of course, Bob probably had the advantage of knowing exactly where he was going. "Have you been to Ariana's place many times?"

His long face split in a smile. "Not often, and every time it's like receiving an invitation from the queen."

"She lives alone, doesn't she?"

"Apart from Gussie."

An arrow of disappointment skewered me. Then I thought how stupid I was to have thought otherwise. Why would someone as attractive as Ariana be alone?

"Here we are." Bob pulled through an entryway into a smallish parking lot just off the road. There was room for three, maybe four cars. A barred gate began sliding across to secure the area from the road. Facing us was the door of a double garage, and I supposed Ariana's BMW was nestling in there side-by-side with whatever Gussie drove. I pictured something sporty- maybe even a Porsche.

Not much could be seen of Ariana's house from this vantage point, just a blank wall with an entrance door. "Smile," said Bob, "you're on Candid Camera!'

I looked more carefully at the entrance. "There's a surveillance camera here?"

"Don't bother looking-you won't find it. The lens is tiny."

I became aware of a deep barking. The dog wasn't hysterical, but merely well-mannered, announcing there were intruders on the premises.

Ariana opened the door, her left hand hooked into the collar of a large German Shepherd. "Don't mind Gussie. She's friendly, as long as you don't attack me."

Gussie, tongue lolling, checked out Bob, gave a quick wave of her tail to acknowledge she recognized him, then switched her watchful gaze to me. I could have flung my arms around her neck and hugged her but thought it better to be more circumspect. Besides, I know dogs well, and although she seemed friendly, her role was to guard Ariana, and I was a stranger.

Ariana stood aside to let us in. "I got Chinese takeout. I hope that's okay."

"Bonzer." I realized I'd skipped lunch. "I'm starving."

"Then let's eat first and work later."

The house was on three levels, the last being a living room that stretched the entire length of the building. Jarrod Perkins could not have had a more stunning view. Far below us the brilliant lights of the city stretched in sparkling patterns until they reached a darkness I presumed was the Pacific Ocean. How odd to think the waves of that same ocean beat upon the shores of my own country, half a world away.

I'd expected the decor of Ariana's house to be stark, perhaps with black and white predominating, like her office. I couldn't have been more wrong. It was warm, comfortable, and welcoming. The walls were pale cream, the polished wooden floors glowed with honey tints, the couches and chairs, arranged to take advantage of the view, were upholstered in a deep rose fabric.

I would have loved to have had a tour of the whole house, but Ariana ushered us into a dining area adjacent to the kitchen, where we could look at the city lights while we ate.

Gussie stationed herself nearby, keeping an eye on Bob and me. I grinned at her. "You may look fierce, but you're just a big, gorgeous sook," I said. She cocked her head, considering me, then flapped her plumed tail a couple of times.

Fortunately Ariana had ordered generously. While she picked at her food and Bob ate moderately, I feasted. Takeaway from Wong's Cafe in the 'Gudge ran a pretty poor second to this spread. And just like I'd seen in the movies, everything came in delightful little cardboard containers that folded over at the top, not the plastic trays I was accustomed to.

"That was beaut," I said, sitting back with a sigh of satisfaction. "Thank you."

We moved to the living room for coffee. "I'm afraid I'm a poor host," Ariana told me. "I don't have loose tea, but I do have Twinings tea bags. Could you slum, just this once?" She almost smiled as she added, "It's not the herbal tea you so dislike."

I said I'd have coffee, but I was charmed by the offer. Almost as charmed as I was by the house, but nowhere near how much I was charmed by Ariana Creeling herself.

When we moved to the living room, Gussie came too, putting herself beside Ariana's chair. Bob folded himself onto one of the couches, and I sat beside him.

Ariana was all business. "Bob, what's the report on the Challoner case?"

He groaned. "Tracking this particular missing teenager is no piece of cake, especially when her parents are in the middle of an acrimonious divorce and blaming each other for their daughter's disappearance. Add to that the girl took quite a sum of money with her, and she's got an excellent support group. Getting information out of her friends is like pulling teeth, but I'm getting there, slowly but surely."

They discussed the runaway Cassie Challoner for a few minutes, then Ariana said to me, "Let's get to the Deerdoc situation."

"The Hummer?"

"It was an incendiary device. No details yet. Perkins made it easy, as he never bothers to lock his vehicles. The doorman of the building didn't notice anything, but it could have been planted long before Perkins parked the Hummer in Beverly Hills. When he was interviewed by the cops this afternoon, he said he had no idea who could have wanted to harm him."

"Ha!" Bob snorted. "If you included everyone Jarrod Perkins has pissed off, potential suspects would number in the thousands."

"Do you think the bomb has anything to do with the missing therapy session recordings?" I asked.

"It's possible," said Ariana. "I did my best to persuade Dave Deer to tell the police about the blackmail threat, but he insists it's got to be kept quiet."

Bob said, "You don't believe they're one and the same? The thief is the blackmailer?"

"It would be very helpful if it were one person, but I've a strong feeling it isn't the case."

Bob grinned at me. Jerking his thumb at Ariana, he said, "Always trust this one's strong feelings. She's uncanny. Spooky, even."

"Just don't call it female intuition," said Ariana. She handed us stapled pages. "Lonnie and Harriet have completed background checks of the staff. These four have been less than frank, as you'll see. Even so, Kylie, when you're at Deerdoc don't concentrate only on these people. In my experience it often turns out to be the last one you'd expect."

"Like the butler," I piped in.

"There are butlers in Hollywood," said Bob. "The most highly prized specimens speak with that lockjaw English accent. Jarrod Perkins doesn't have one, however. His personal assistant, Sven, fills the role of butler, troubleshooter, bodyguard, enforcer. The whole enchilada."

"How do you know all this?" I asked.

"I've done work for Perkins in the past. Never again. He's an asshole of the first order."

I studied the names of those meriting closer attention: Reuben Kowalski, Randy Romaine, Kristi Jane Russo, and Oscar Sherwood.

I was about to comment if you called someone randy in Australia you would mean they were oversexed, but then I decided this would be entirely too flippant. "How about Deer's personal assistant?" I asked. "Noreen resigned awfully fast today. Maybe she's bailing before she's caught."

Ariana considered this, absently stroking Gussie's head. "Her background checks out, but you could be right. I'll have Harriet take another look at her."

Bob gave me advice for my undercover role. The golden rule, he told me, was to avoid confrontation. "Let's say you catch someone red-handed doing something incriminating, get out of there and call security. Don't try and handle it yourself."

"In this case security's Fred Mills," I said. "He could be worse than nothing."

"You work with what you've got," said Bob.

"Whoopy-do," I said, unimpressed.

"Because you're new, no one's going to be surprised if you ask a lot of questions, but be careful not to overdo it, and always have a convincing reason for asking the question, in case you're challenged."

"I'm a natural stickybeak. How about that?"

Bob patted my shoulder. "With that cute accent of yours, I'm guessing you can ask as many questions as you like."

We spent the next half hour going through the shortlist. Reuben Kowalski had neglected to advise he had an extensive arrest record, spread over several states, for petty theft. Randy Romaine hadn't found it necessary to mention his hobby of celebrity stalking. He'd been picked up several times late at night loitering outside female stars' homes, and in two instances he'd actually trespassed. Kristi Jane Russo was an Aussie with a drinking problem she'd concealed in her job application. In Sydney she'd been involved in two serious traffic accidents, one with fatalities. Oscar Sherwood had never been charged with anything, but in two of his previous jobs considerable sums of money had mysteriously disappeared.

"These four have no idea we have this information," said Ariana. "We don't want to tip them off. After this is over, however, I don't believe they can count on continuing their careers at Deerdoc."

I looked down at Gussie, who had her head resting on her paws but her eyes fixed hopefully on Ariana. "Is she waiting for her walk?"

"I take her every night."

"But she doesn't have a yard, does she? Why don't you bring her down to the office during the day?"

Bob grinned. Ariana sighed. "I'm touched you're worried about Gussie's welfare," she said crisply. "Would it make you feel better to know I have a professional handler who picks Gussie up each weekday, along with a number of other dogs, and takes them running at a dog park?"

"It does make me feel better."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

She was being sarcastic, of course, but if Bob hadn't been there maybe I'd have said "Too right, there is!" and leaned over and kissed her.

Or maybe not. Okay, definitely not. But crikey, it was tempting…