Half a block down from the coffee shop was a handicapped parking zone. In it sat a huge white Mercedes sedan. "Lovely, isn't it?" said Tami. It burped discreetly as she unlocked the doors.
"I'd rather go in my car," I said. Lonnie had put a global positioning gizmo on it, so wherever I drove, the vehicle could be located.
"You'll be much more comfortable in mine."
"But my car's on a meter." I checked my watch. "And it's about the expire."
"Don't worry about it. Lamb White will pay the fine."
Inside, the Mercedes had that terrific new-car smell. I sank into the luxury of the leather seat as I watched Tami take the blue plastic sign announcing the driver was handicapped off the rearview mirror.
As she shoved it in the glove box, I said, "I didn't know you were handicapped." I m not.
"So you're taking some handicapped person's spot?"
"They'll never miss it. Besides, my time is valuable. I can't waste precious minutes looking for somewhere to park."
The engine came to life with a well-mannered purr, and without indicating, Tami pulled out into the traffic. "Do you like this car?" she asked.
"It's OK."
Tami tossed off a laugh. "Just OK? This model is top of the line. One of the perks of working for Lamb White." She leaned over to put her hand on my thigh. Knees were bad enough. Now thighs? I repressed a quiver of horror.
With a meaningful little smile, accompanied by a thigh squeeze that hurt-she had fingers of steel-Tami said, "How would you like to join the Lamb White family, Kylie, as my personal assistant? A new car comes with the position."
"Dinkum? I'd get a Mercedes like this?"
This thought amused her. "I'm afraid these are reserved for top executives. Yours would be an entry level luxury sedan, or perhaps a mid-range SUV."
"I'll think about it." I looked around. "Where are we going?" She didn't answer.
Bob and Lonnie should be following the Mercedes. That was the plan if Tami insisted on using her car. I did a casual sweep of vehicles around us but couldn't see Bob's silver Toyota, or Lonnie's shabby Nissan. Of course that was the point-I wasn't supposed to be able to spot them. Still, it gave me a hollow feeling to think they might have lost me.
"We have to get our stories straight," Tami said. "Alf gave you these opals, and, worried that you could be involved in something illegal, you turned to me. Now, together, we've gone to Brother Owen for advice."
"But he was the one who planned the whole kookaburra scam in the first place."
"Don't mention that!" said Tami urgently. "Brother Owen mustn't know I've said anything to you about his being involved."
"You want me to lie?"
Tami gave me an exasperated glare. "Keep it simple. Alf gave you the opals. You didn't know what to do. You came to me. End of story."
We turned onto Rexford Drive. Obviously we were going to the French provincial house where the Lamb White barbecue had been held. I couldn't resist a look over my shoulder to see if any vehicle I recognized had followed us. None had. I had a sinking feeling something had gone wrong.
A middle-aged woman in a black dress opened the door for us. Brother Owen was waiting just inside. "Come in," he said, his manner solemn. I saw him eyeing my grubby canvas bag.
He led the way to a sumptuous study, lined with books and filled with heavy, dark furniture. Brother Owen ushered Tami and me to fat, wine-red leather chairs and seated himself opposite us. Giving me a small, avuncular smile, he said, "Tami tells me, Kylie, that Alf Hartnidge has given you a number of unset opals. It appears these have been smuggled into the States. This is a very serious situation."
Tami nodded a silent affirmation of the gravity of the circumstances.
"If the cops don't know anything about it, it isn't," I said.
Brother Owen leaned back in his chair. "I see. So you weren't thinking of going to the authorities?"
"I'm not sure what to do."
He shook his head regretfully, "It's hard to accept, but Alf's betrayed your trust, and mine too."
Tami shook her head, too, at the deceit of it all.
I put on a puzzled frown. "I don't get what you mean."
"It's clear to me Alf and Chicka arranged for the opals to be hidden in the kookaburra toys in Australia. Obviously they plan to sell them here. Now you've been implicated in this illegal activity. I'm afraid law enforcement won't believe your protestations of innocence. You're in a lot of trouble, my dear."
"I don't see why," I announced. "Alf said it was you who arranged for the opals to be put in the kookaburras."
Another regretful shake of his head. "After all I've done for Alf and Chicka Hartnidge. After all the opportunities they've been given."
"Shocking," murmured Tami.
Brother Owen gazed at the ceiling, as if calling for divine guidance. "As a man of God, I'll turn the other cheek, no matter how deep the betrayal, but still, the deceit breaks my heart."
"You'll turn them in?"
His attention snapped back to me. "Of course not. It's not my role to judge." Another ceiling glance. This bloke had that in common with Melodic "There is a higher, heavenly court that ultimately Alf and Chicka must face."
"So what happens to the opals?" I asked, ever practical.
"You will be giving the opals to me." He put out his hand. "These precious stones will be used in the work of the Church of Possibilities. Thus, out of evil comes good."
"Amen," said Tami.
Ron Udell came into the room. With his soft, flabby body and rumpled clothes, he was as unappetizing as he'd been at the Oz Mob Burbank offices. "I got here as soon as I could." He scowled at me, then said to Brother Owen, "Did you check her out?"
"No need. Kylie came to me for counsel." A self-satisfied smile. "And I believe we've solved her little problem."
"You can't afford to be careless." Udell went to a drawer in the desk and took out some sort of electronic instrument. I had a fair idea what it was. He strode over to me, the instrument extended in his hand.
It beeped. "Christ! She's wired!"
Both Brother Owen and Tami leapt up, mouths agape. Brother Owen put his hands to his head. "Jesus! Jesus! What the fuck did I say?"
Ron Udell, not standing on ceremony, ripped open my shirt and grabbed the microphone attached to my bra. He smashed it with his heel. Then he searched me roughly. "It's a radio transmission to someone outside the building."
Brother Owen turned on Tami. "You stupid bitch! You brought her here!"
"It's not fair to blame me. You told me to," she said resentfully.
"Fuck," said Udell, his face ashen. "If it's the feds, we've had it."
Brother Owen seized my shoulders and shook me violently. "Who is it? The feds? Tell me!"
"It's Alf and Chicka," I got out.
He released me. "The Hartnidges?"
"They realized you were setting them up, so you could take over the whole Oz Mob operation. I said I'd help."
Ron Udell let out a sigh of relief. "The Hartnidges. We can handle them."
Brother Owen released his breath in a similar sigh. "Thank God."
"Alf and Chicka are right, aren't they?" I said. "You arranged to have the opals put in the Kelvin Kookaburras, didn't you?"
"Don't say anything to her," said Udell.
Brother Owen shrugged. "Who's she going to tell, and be believed?" He was visibly regaining his pompous self-importance, now that his panic had subsided.
"You're absolutely right," he said to me. "It was an ingenious scheme. The Oz Mob concept is an excellent one, but the Hartnidge brothers have no idea how to fully exploit it. I do. I'm sure they'll listen to reason and sign the rights over to Lamb White. If they play along, I'll make sure they get something for their trouble. If not…" His gesture condemned Alf and Chicka to the outer reaches.
"And you didn't have much overhead with the scam," I said, "since you used stolen opals."
He looked at me with sudden misgiving. "How did you know that?"
"They were stolen from Ralphie's Opalarium in Wollegudgerie."
"How did you know that?" he repeated.
"Oh, fuck," said Ron Udell, as the study door opened.
"Excuse me, sir," said the woman in the black dress. "These gentlemen-"
Four men in dark suits pushed past her. "Thank you. We'll take it from here."