On Thursday I wasn't required at the studios until the afternoon, so there was no problem about attending the meeting Ariana had called. Bob and I had carried extra chairs into Ariana's office and by nine o'clock we were all seated. Ariana was behind her desk, the rest of us arranged in a semi-circle facing her. The phones were still switched through to the answering service we used after hours, so Melodie was present, as were Bob, Lonnie, and Harriet. Quip, looking like death warmed up, was slumped in one of Ariana's comfortable black leather armchairs. Fran, looking not much better, was next to him.
On the surface Ariana seemed her usual cool, reserved self, although there was something brittle about her manner, as if she maintained a facade by sheer force of will.
"Before we begin," she said, "you all now know that the local office of the Department of Homeland Security has seen fit to designate Kendall & Creeling a possible terrorist cell."
Melodie glared at Fran. "Thanks, Fran," she said with heavy sarcasm. "Thanks very much."
A flash of her customary combativeness animated Fran's face. "Don't blame me for doing what any good citizen should do for disaster preparedness. You'd be the first in line, Melodie, if smallpox happened to be ravaging your body, covering your skin with bursting, toxic pustules."
This gave Melodie a bit of a jolt. She looked down at herself as though expecting to see signs of smallpox popping out all over.
I said, "It's hardly Fran's fault if these government galahs leap to ridiculous conclusions on the flimsiest of evidence."
Fran stared at me, clearly astonished to find me defending her. I gave her a little grin. "You can pay me later."
"The only way to deal with such accusations," said Ariana, "is to make a several-pronged counter-attack. Bob has contacts high up in the FBI and CIA, and he's made them aware of these totally unwarranted allegations."
I glanced across at Bob, his skinny frame folded awkwardly into his chair. I'd taken his pleasant, uncomplicated surface personality as being all there was to him. I was realizing belatedly I didn't really know much about the real Bob at all.
Ariana went on, "For my part, I've spoken with Senator Lawry, who is not only our Federal representative, but also a long-time critic of government intrusions into citizens' lives. I'm hopeful he'll pull some strings on our behalf. Finally, Lonnie is in the process of spreading details of our persecution, as he rightly calls it, across the Internet."
"What about the media?" Harriet asked. "You know how they love 'it happened to them and horror! it could happen to you' stories."
"That's our next move," said Ariana, "if we get nowhere with the head of the Los Angeles DHS. He's indicated he'll be happy to discuss the matter. I'm waiting for a firm appointment. Now let's move on to the much more important subject of Quip."
In a husky, halting voice, Quip recounted what he remembered of Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. When he and Yancy had left me they'd walked along the lane and onto a side street where Yancy had parked his car. Yancy had been literally shaking, Quip said, although no one seemed to be watching them and they saw nothing suspicious.
Once in the car, Yancy had blurted out that he was so terrified of what Blainey might do to him that he'd made the decision to leave town that very evening. If Quip wanted all the material Yancy had taken from Blainey's office, he would have to come with him to the self-storage complex where Yancy had the documents safely under lock and key.
"Yancy had a hip flask of whiskey," said Quip. "Before he started the car he took a swig from it-at least I thought he did-and handed it to me. By this time I was feeling every bruise and cut from the beating I'd taken, so I took a couple of good mouthfuls. Yancy started driving, and I remember he kept looking over at me. After a few minutes, I began to feel dizzy, and then, like they say in books, everything went black."
"Date rape drug," said Fran bitterly. "Rohypnol, GHB, something like that. Leads to partial amnesia-that's why Quip can't remember much of what happened."
Quip described his total confusion when he regained consciousness inside the storage unit to discover Yancy's body on the floor beside him. He couldn't find a light switch, but the roller door was half open, so Quip could see that Yancy's head had been dealt several savage blows. In the dim light, he'd missed seeing the crowbar which had now been proved to be the murder weapon. Quip had stumbled out into the street to find help and had found himself blinking in the glare of police lights.
"They made me empty my pockets. I still had my wallet, credit cards and money untouched, but my cell phone was gone and when we went back to the storage unit, so was the document case Kylie saw Yancy give me earlier."
"I reckon the hip flask had disappeared, too," I said.
Quip nodded. "Of course it had. I was set up for Yancy's murder."
"Bad apple," Melodie said dejectedly. Everyone looked at her.
"Who is the bad apple?" Fran asked with a dangerous glint in her eye.
"Not Quip," said Melodie. She sighed gustily. "You think you know someone, speak with him practically every second day, and you never suspect he's a bad apple."
"Enough with the bad apples!" Fran snapped. "If you're talking about Yancy Grayson, say so."
"Melodie, tell them what you know," said Ariana. Her voice had none of its normal authority. I looked over at her and our glances locked.
I didn't say "Are you all right?" aloud, but the love and concern I felt must have been obvious to her, because she nodded slightly and gave me a faint smile.
This was Melodie's limelight moment. I'd bet a motza she'd spent ages rehearsing for this performance. She scanned the room, apparently to assure herself that we were all paying attention, took a deep breath, and began, "Yancy is-was-the principal receptionist at Norris Blainey's offices. Because of the volume of important calls coming through the switch, he had a designated relief receptionist, so that there was always a trained professional to answer the phone." She paused to reflect. "You know, not enough companies understand the impact of the first voice a client hears."
"Get on with it," Fran snarled between clenched teeth.
"I am getting on with it," said Melodie with dignity.
Lonnie groaned. "I'm hungry. Is this going to take all morning?"
"As I was saying before I was interrupted"-Melodie broke off the glower at Lonnie-"Yancy had Merle, a relief receptionist. She's fairly new at the game, but she has promise."
"Steady, Fran," I said. "Melodie will get to the point any day now."
Melodie ignored this and went on, "As often happens when professionals sharing vital responsibilities are thrown together, Yancy and Merle became more than colleagues, they were friends and confidants. Merle had nothing much to confide-she's young and leads a simple life."
The real Melodie broke through when she added, her green eyes wide, "But Yancy had lots to tell her and it was real interesting…"
Quip put his head in his hands. Ariana said, "Cut to the chase, Melodie. Now."
"Yancy told Merle that he'd been passing info about Blainey to Quip for his tell-all book. Yancy did it because he wanted a career in show business and he was hoping Quip could open doors for him." She shook her head. "I could tell, even on the phone, that Yancy didn't have that glow, that star quality. It's real tragic, really."
At this point a concentrated group glare speeded up Melodie's delivery. "OK, this is how it went down. A few days ago Norris Blainey found out what Yancy was doing. Blainey went off his head. He said he'd have Yancy's knees smashed, his fingers broken, and his face slashed if he didn't follow instructions exactly. Yancy had to set up a meeting with Quip here, on Tuesday night, and make sure someone witnessed it. Then he had to persuade Quip to go to a certain unit in the self-storage place by telling him he had much more stuff on Blainey there."
"This guy believed in fairy tales, did he?" Bob said. "He thought Blainey would simply let him go?"
"That's what Yancy told Merle."
"And what did this Yancy think would happen to Quip?" Fran demanded.
"He didn't know."
"It's a good thing he's dead-I would have killed him myself," Fran muttered.
"If she hasn't already, this Merle has to tell her story to the cops," Lonnie said.
"Merle won't," said Melodie. "She's terrified of Blainey. When the police interviewed people in the office, Merle told them she didn't know anything. She trusts other receptionists, but no one else."
"Can't blame her," said Harriet. "She's seen what happened to Yancy."
"I certainly can blame her," snapped Fran, leaping to her feet. Like a pocket-sized Amazon queen, she bounced on her toes, ready for hand-to-hand combat. "Lead me to this Merle. I'll rip the truth out of her."
Quip reached up to put his hand on Fran's arm. "Sweetheart, calm down. Harriet's father should interview her. If the worst happens and I'm charged with murder and there's a court case, she'd be a witness for the defense. My defense."
Fran's militant stance deflated. I was surprised and almost embarrassed to see Fran bend her head and kiss his fingers. Fran never was demonstrative that way.
Before the meeting broke up, Ariana allocated tasks. Ariana herself would liaise with her contacts high up in the LAPD and Bob would investigate Blainey's movements on Tuesday and Wednesday to establish if he had an alibi for the time of the murder-estimated as somewhere between ten and twelve on Tuesday evening. Harriet, whose relationship with her father was still very tentative, would monitor developments in Quip's defense through her father's personal assistant. Melodie was to report any further information her network could glean. And Lonnie would carry out an in-depth background search of Blainey's staff, concentrating particularly on relief receptionist, Merle.
"What about me?" I said. "What do I do?"
"Kylie, it's not necessary for you to do anything," said Bob with a grin. "It's quite extraordinary, but you're what I call an event magnet-things just seem to happen to you."
For some reason this amused everyone. Even Ariana smiled.
"Is that a compliment, Bob?" I asked.
"Absolutely," said Bob, laughing. "Life before you was quite boring, in retrospect."
Ariana said to me, "You've got your hands full with Dingo O'Rourke and the missing dingo. When that's resolved, you can get involved with Quip's case."
The meeting over, Lonnie helped me carry chairs back to respective offices. "About Pauline…" he said.
Uh-oh! There was no way I was going raise the subject of Lonnie with her again.
"Thing is, Kylie, I've decided to win her hand."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm rising to the challenge, not giving up. I'm going to woo Pauline, sweep her off her feet, show her the inner, romantic me.
"Blimey," I said, "do you think she's ready for this?"
Lonnie's face was flooded with eager enthusiasm. "I'll be the love train coming down the tracks. Pauline won't know what hit her."
I was afraid he was right.
I was in my office learning my lines for the afternoon shoot when Dingo called on my cell phone. Lonnie had said the cell wasn't secure, but I didn't want to scare Dingo off, so I didn't mention this.
"Jesus, Kylie," he said, "I'm screwed. Blainey's hung me out to dry. You saw the reward for Darken is a quarter of a million?"
"It was on the news. And so were you, Dingo."
"That bastard, Blainey! He set up the scheme in the first place, but now he's out to get me."
Blainey had engineered Darleen's disappearance? "So Darleen wasn't in any danger at all?" I said.
"Of course she was! That's why I took her."
"You've lost me, Dingo."
He gave an exasperated sigh. "It's too bloody complicated to give you all the details, but Blainey had this scheme to get the maximum publicity in order to bump up the ratings of the show. The story would be that Darleen had been kidnapped and held for ransom and that I, being a fair dinkum Aussie from the Outback, would use my ancient tracking skills to find Darleen and rescue her."
"So what went wrong?"
"It was me put Darleen in harm's way. I had something on Blainey, and when I tried to collect, he turned on me."
"You tried to blackmail Norris Blainey?"
"The bastard didn't take it well," said Dingo. "And then he decided to punish me by having Darleen killed."
"He also sooled the Homeland Security blokes onto you. What was that about?"
"There's a lot you don't know. I've got to have insurance, or I'm dead meat. I mean it, Kylie. Blainey wants to get rid of me. Permanently."
"Go to the police."
"I can't. I'm up to my neck in it. You're working with that high-powered PI, what's her name? Creeling? Well, I want to hire her."
It was stupid of me, but I felt quite hurt. "You were sort of my case, Dingo."
"No offense, Kylie, but you're a beginner at the private eye racket. I need someone who knows what they're doing."
I told him I'd speak to Ariana, but at the moment she was fully engaged with Quip's case.
"Then she'll want to see me," he said. "I know all about that, too."
"You do?"
Perhaps there was a note of doubt in my voice, because Dingo snapped, "Bloody hell, I do. I never went through with it, I swear, but I taped Blainey offering me a cool two hundred thousand to kill Yancy Grayson."