by Claire McNab
"I can't imagine what I was thinking. I'll rush right out and get one."
That got a glimmer of a smile from Aunt Millie. Fortunately, underneath her snarl there lurked at least a ghost of a sense of humor.
"You do that," she said. "And make sure it's red. I like red cars."
She did actually, having a rather battered red sedan herself. My mum always said it was fortunate her sister had chosen a bright color, as Millie was the world's worst driver and people needed to see her to get out of her way.
"I'm taking you straight to your hotel, so you can freshen up," I said, darting into a tiny break in the traffic that seemed to roar around and around LAX's many terminals in an unending loop of frustrated drivers.
"You're not taking me to meet those Kendall & Creeling people you'd rather be with than your own family?"
"I'm saving that for later."
When we made it to the freeway, it was, as always, clogged with vehicles. "Humph. The traffic's worse than the last time I was here," my aunt observed. "Much worse."
I looked at her in surprise. I had no idea she'd ever visited the States. I knew she'd been to Fiji with her husband, Uncle Ken, before he died, but I couldn't remember her traveling much more than that.
"I didn't know you'd been here before, Aunt Millie."
"Ken and I visited your mother when she was married to Colin and living here in L.A. I'm surprised you don't remember. You cried every time you set eyes on me."
"I wonder why," I said, hiding a grin. Obviously even at an early age I'd recognized a noxious relative.
My aunt sniffed. "Ken liked it here. Got carried away with all those film stars living nearby. Insisted on wandering around with a star map looking for their houses, until I put my foot down."
My mother contended that Uncle Ken had died to get away from Millie. I recalled being quite shocked the first time Mum had said this, but I had come to see it as a real possibility.
"How's Brucie?" I inquired politely. We might loathe each other, but he was family.
"He's doing all right." She glanced over at me with a fearsome glare. "You're not to put ideas in Brucie's head that you want him over here. He's like his father-a hopeless romantic."
I couldn't help smiling. Cousin Brucie didn't have a romantic bone in his body.
"Smile away, Kylie! Brucie's saving his money to buy a plane ticket."
My smile disappeared.
"He even had the hide to ask me, his mother, to fund his wild ideas. I told him, Brucie, your place is here in Wollegudgerie with your own kin, not gadding about with strangers."
For once, I felt the need to stand up for my cousin. "I'm his kin, too," I said.
"You're half American," snapped Aunt Millie. "Your father was nice enough to me, but he was basically unstable, like Yanks in general. It's no wonder you lobbed over here without a word to anybody. It's in your genes."
Now I was getting angry. She could criticize me all she wanted, but I wasn't going to hear anything against my father. "Please don't talk about Dad that way."
With a grudging nod, she said, "Fair enough. You're loyal. I'll give you that, Kylie."
Uh-oh. I held my breath.
"Loyal, except to your mother. You've been disloyal there, my girl, leaving her in the lurch that way, with the pub to run and Jack O'Connell being worse than useless."
"Jack and Mum are going to be married. It's a case of three's a crowd. I would have moved out anyway and probably left the 'Gudge for Sydney or Brisbane."
"I wouldn't bank on the marriage," said my aunt darkly. "Like most men, Jack's more trouble than he's worth."
"Mum's told you they're breaking up?"
"Not in so many words, but I know which way the wind is blowing. If Jack doesn't stop throwing his weight around, he'll be out on his ear."
"Mum told me she loves him."
"Love! In the long run it never leads to anything good. Addles your brains and ruins your common sense. I've no time for it."
She gave me her best piercing look. It made my skin tingle. "You're not in love, Kylie, are you? That's not what's keeping you here, is it?"
"Of course not," I said, thinking of Ariana's blue, blue eyes.
Aunt Millie grunted, a singularly nasty sound. "Of course everybody in the 'Gudge knows Raylene threw you over for that hairdresser, but I can't believe you're staying away just because of that."
"I inherited half of Dad's business here in L.A., Aunt Millie. That's what's keeping me here."
"Fifty-one percent, if I'm not mistaken. Controlling interest." Aunt Millie had always been sharp as a tack over anything financial. That gave me an idea.
"Aunt, why don't you help Mum with the Wombat's Retreat? You've always been terrific with anything to do with money."
Silence. I looked over to see why. Her face was squinched in a thunderous scowl. "Aunt Millie?"
"I offered," she ground out. "Your mother turned me down flat. I have no idea why."
I did.
The accommodation I'd booked for my aunt was a mid-range hotel off the Sunset Strip and deliberately not within walking distance of Kendall & Creeling, unless you wanted a long slog uphill.
I'd originally suggested a motel as a less expensive alternative, but my aunt had been convinced the odds were any motel situated near the infamously sinful Sunset Strip was likely to be a house of ill repute, frequented by individuals with corrupt sexual appetites. She wanted none of that, thank you.
I got her settled into the hotel and left her eyeing the mini-bar. Although she rarely drank alcohol, Aunt Millie was a great believer in the medicinal powers of brandy as a pick-me-up. I'd have mentioned to her brandy could also be quite a throw-me-down, especially when one was jet-lagged, but Aunt Millie never took advice, particularly from feckless nieces like me.
I'd hardly walked through the door at work before Melodie demanded, "Where's your Aunt Millie?"
"I left her back at her hotel."
"Bummer."
I regarded Melodie with deep suspicion. "Why do you want to know where my aunt is?"
Melodie blinked innocent green eyes. "No particular reason."
Lonnie came hurrying down the hall. I knew it was him before I saw him, because he favored one leg, just a little, so he had a very identifiable gait. "Is Kylie on her way back?" he called. Then he saw me. "Oh, hello. You're here." He gazed past me hopefully.
"Aunt Millie isn't with me," I said.
Usually Lonnie and I got on very well, but since I'd snarled at him on Monday because he'd gone and told Fran and Melodie about my singing during the meeting, he'd been rather distant.
"Kylie's left her aunt at the hotel," said Melodie.
"What's going on?" I demanded.
A sigh from Lonnie. "You might as well tell her."
Melodie tossed her head." You tell her. It was your idea."
"Oh, all right," said Lonnie. "We've got a bet with Fran about your aunt."
"What kind of bet?"
"Fifty dollars says Fran can't be civil to your Aunt Millie for longer than thirty minutes. Time starts the moment they meet."
"And Fran agreed to this?"
"Would you believe it, she did!" Lonnie cackled. "Silly girl thinks she can control her essential nature."
He gasped when from behind him, Fran snapped, "Watch it! This silly girl will take you apart."
"I'm out of here," said Lonnie, scooting back the way he'd come.
Melodie and Fran both looked at me. "The earliest you'll see my aunt is tomorrow," I said. "After her long trip, she's very tired."
"Does music run in the family?" Fran inquired with a wicked smile. "Does your Aunt Millie sing to herself, too?" Fran wasn't one to let things go.
To the best of my knowledge, my aunt was tone deaf. "Opera," I said. "Lovely voice."
"Another shipment of Oz Mob toys has arrived," said Bob, coming into my office and folding himself up like a paint easel into a chair. "Chicka called in a panic. You weren't here, so I spoke to him."<
br />
"More opals?"
Bob nodded. "The Kelvin Kookaburras are loaded with them. Same as before, Chicka says. Good quality black opals."
At our advice, the Hartnidge brothers had rented a unit in a self-storage facility and were keeping all the toys shipped to them in that secure location. We had some of the smuggled gems in our safe in the offices, but it was more than likely that undetected stones were still concealed in the little bodies of other toys.
"I've been thinking," I said to Bob. "Maybe we should set a trap. Get Alf and Chicka to bring some of the Kelvin Kookas into the Burbank office and leave them there. Then see who acts suspiciously. Lonnie could set up a concealed video camera, couldn't he?"
"Nanny cams," said Bob. "Parents install them to check that the nanny minding their children isn't abusing the kids when no one's watching. We've handled a couple of cases recently." He grimaced. "Very upsetting."
"Crikey," I said, "people can be gross, can't they? Anyone who touches a kid should be shot."
My phone rang. It was Alf Hartnidge. "All set, love? I'll be picking you up in forty minutes, OK?"
We'd arranged for me to meet the Burbank Oz Mob staff this afternoon as Alf's girlfriend. He'd be playing the successful entrepreneur, mega keen to impress me with his business.
"How do I look?" I said to Bob. "Do I impress you as the sort Alf would have as a girlfriend?"
Bob gave me a long, critical examination. "Higher heels," he said. "And more makeup."
When I'd been shopping with Harriet a few weeks back, she'd persuaded me to buy one pair of really high heels, but so far I'd avoided wearing them, figuring I needed practice if I wasn't to sustain a serious ankle injury.
"High heels? You sure, Bob?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. A girlfriend of Alf Hartnidge's would wear high heels."
I rarely wore much makeup, so I was no expert, but I knew someone who was. I made for the reception desk.
"Melodie, I need some help with my makeup."
"Makeup?" She seemed astonished I'd need assistance in this area. "You don't wear makeup, Kylie. You should, of course, but you don't."
"I'm pretending to be Alf's girlfriend this afternoon, when I meet his staff. I need to look like she would look."
"How much time have I got?" said Melodie, hauling one of her voluminous makeup bags from under her desk.
I checked my watch. "About twenty-five minutes." Melodie rolled her eyes. "That's cutting it fine, but you've come to the right person." She peered at my face. "Twenty-five minutes?" she said. "Even for me, it'll be a challenge."
Alf arrived five minutes early, just as Melodie was putting the last touches to my face. I left them talking about Chicka and the movie and bolted back to my room to grab the high heels. When I tottered back on them, Alf was saying, "It'll be Penny Platypus or Korinne Koala, or maybe Wendy Wallaby. Not sure yet, love. The rest of the cast hasn't been finalized. We're talking to Russell Crowe's people about getting him for Kelvin Kookaburra. No probs with the Aussie accent there."
Melodie batted her eyelashes at him. "Which is the biggest female part, Alf?"
"That'd be Penny Platypus, I reckon."
"Penny Platypus…" Melodie gazed at the ceiling. I had the thought it might be a good idea to put a sign up there, possibly reading, get back to work!
She let her breath out in a long sigh. "I'm focusing, focusing. I'm searching for the real essence of Penny Platypus. The essential platypus…"
Alf gazed at her, nonplussed.
"Do you even know what a platypus is?" I asked.
Melodie frowned, "Um…" The phone rang. She seized it like a drowning woman would a lifeline. "Good afternoon! Kendall & Creeling."
Out in the car park, I stopped to blink at the gigantic pink convertible sitting in the visitors' spot. "Where did that come from?"
"It's a vintage Cadillac," Alf said, sweeping open the passenger door with a flourish. "Got bored with the car I had, so I went for something a bit flashier. The bloke that rented me this specializes in unusual luxury cars. There was a gold Maserati I had my eye on, but this beauty was calling my name."
As we pulled out into the traffic, Alf said, "Watch the heads turn, old love, watch the heads turn."
And turn they did, although it may not just have been the pink Cadillac. Alf drove like a man possessed. "I like to put the pedal to the metal," he bellowed above the slipstream we were generating.
"I can see that," I shouted back, hanging on for dear life.
On Burbank Boulevard we mercifully hit heavy traffic, and Alf was forced to slow down. I took the opportunity of relative silence to say, "Alf, lay off those one-armed hugs you like so much. My biceps are black and blue. You don't know your own strength."
"Sorry, mate. Will do."
My cell phone hiccupped. It was Melodie. "Your Aunt Millie's on the line. She says she's rested and ready to go."
"Oh, hell," I said. "Tell her I'm on a job and that I'll call her back as soon as I can."
"A problem?" Alf asked.
"My Aunt Millie's in town."
He looked at me uncomprehendingly, then his expression changed. "Strewth! Not Millie Haggety?"
I nodded. "My Aunt Millie."
Alf looked as though he'd swallowed something very unpleasant. "Ah, jeez, love. I don't have to see her, do I? Last time I ran into Millie Haggety was at our big family do at Chrissie. I suppose you know she's a sort of distant cousin of ours by marriage. Her hubby had Hartnidge blood somewhere."
"What happened?"
"We had words. That's all I'll say." He shook his head despondently, then said, half to himself, "The world's just not big enough to escape her, is it?"
Thirteen
The Oz Mob office was in a smallish, dun-colored building just off Burbank Boulevard. Alf plummeted down the driveway into underground parking and screeched to a halt in a spot too small to contain the whole length of the Cadillac. Getting out, I inspected the considerable overhang at the back, caused by a boot clearly large enough to transport several bodies without crowding.
"It's sticking out quite a way," I observed.
"No worries," said Alf. He gestured at the other parked cars. "No one here wants to get pink paint on their transport."
I could see what he meant. Most of the cars seemed very new and very pricy. "All leased," said Alf, leading the way to dusty concrete stairs. I wobbled along behind on my extremely high heels. "Part of the package to get good staff."
"You're paying all these leases? Isn't that expensive?"
"Technically, our Oz Mob company's picking them up. It was on Tami's advice."
"Tami of Lamb White?"
"That Tami. She personally recommended this crash-hot accountant, Ira Jacobs, and we snapped him up, quick smart. Ira's a wonder. Showed us how leasing was by far the best way to go. In fact, he's got everything financial humming along, both here and in Australia. Don't know how Chicka and I did without him."
"So he has considerable control over the company's money?"
Alf glanced over at me rather defiantly. "I know what you're going to say. You've warned us some of our staff might not be true blue, but I'm sure Ira's the genuine article. I'd know if he wasn't."
Ariana, Bob, and I had talked it over and decided to give the Hartnidges a general warning that we'd found indications that some of their staff could be plants. We weren't going to specifically name anyone until Lonnie came up with concrete evidence.
"Who did Ira work for previously?" I knew from Lonnie it was the Church of Possibilities, but Alf would be in the dark about that.
"Some film company in New York," said Alf vaguely.
"You don't know the details and still you hired him?"
Alf frowned at my critical tone. "Tami had her Lamb White people run a background check. Told me Ira was dinky-di." Reaching the top of the stairs, he put his hand on the latch of the heavy metal door bearing the sign first floor and looked at me searchingly. "Do you know any different?"
Alf d
idn't strike me as good at hiding his feelings. If I revealed Jacobs had lied about his past employment, I was pretty sure Alf would start glaring at the accountant suspiciously. It wouldn't help our investigation if the bloke got wind of the fact that Alf was on to him, so I said, "We're still digging. I'll get back to you when we've got something specific."
"Because," said Alf, pushing open the heavy door, "I wouldn't want to let Ira go. Top bloke in every way. You'll see what I mean when you meet him."
I followed him into a thickly carpeted area, partitioned off into many largish cubicles. The Oz Mob setup was too small to employ a receptionist, so I had no need to worry about the RN- as I now mentally referred to the receptionist network.
I readied myself to twitter, as I imagined a rather dim girlfriend would. Tugging at my too short skirt, I contemplated my legs. They did look good in heels, but the blasted things were just as challenging to walk in as I'd feared. I thanked the genetic gods for my strong ankles.
Apart from Ira Jacobs, there were two others I was interested in meeting. One was Patsy Eckholdt, Tami's sister, who was calling herself Paula Slade. The other was Ron Udell, who had done public relations for COP, but, like Ira Jacobs, had concealed this when joining the Hartnidges' company.
Alf was looking around, seemingly expecting something to happen. Apparently the something was Chicka. He suddenly popped out of one of the cubicles. "G'day," he said, then swallowed nervously. Beads of sweat trickled down his face.
Alf had confided to me earlier that Chicka suffered from stage fright. "But it's me playing the role," I'd said, "not Chicka."
"He feels he has an important supporting part. He's taking it very seriously. Even skipped breakfast this morning to practice."
Clearly, practice hadn't made perfect. As an audience arrived, namely a woman with a bunch of folders in her hand, Chicka fixed her with a desperate stare and blurted, "Look who's here. What a surprise. It's Alf with his girlfriend, Kylie."
The woman halted and glanced sourly from me, to Alf, to Chicka.
Chicka cleared his throat. "Alf, have you brought Kylie here to impress her with the office?" He paused to give me a lips-drawn-back grin, so obviously false I had to change my involuntary giggle into a cough.