KK02 - Kookaburra Gambit

by Claire McNab

  "I don't want anyone else involved." I'd sharpened up my voice. "You see, Tami, I was thinking of keeping them."

  Tami's jaw actually dropped. "Keeping the opals for yourself?"

  I put on an expression of rat cunning. "Alf can't say anything, can he? The opals are what you call hot, isn't that the lingo? You'd get your share, if you'd help me."

  That offer got a look of calculation from Tami. Then, frowning, she considered the possibilities. Really, she was transparent as glass. After a long pause, she said, "We could keep some of the opals. I guess no one would ever know."

  I got obstinate. "I'm not taking this chance for some of the opals. I want all of them."

  Tami tried to hide her fury with a smile. "Of course you do, but Brother Owen knows you have the opals. It'd be dangerous to cross him, but he'd never miss a few." She had another look in the bag. "Do you know which ones are worth the most?"

  "That phone call you made—it was to Brother Owen, wasn't it?"

  "He is my boss," Tami said defensively.

  I took a handful of opals out of the bag and displayed them on the palm of my hand. "Look for ones with a shot of fire in them. They're worth the most."

  Tami's face was a picture of greed. She picked several up and examined them. I murmured, "Each one is worth thousands."

  "How many do you think we could take without it being noticed?"

  "Maybe three each."

  "Make it five or six." Tami slipped the opals she held into her pocket. "Now we go see Brother Owen. Hurry up and pick the ones you're keeping. He's waiting for us."

  I selected several stones and put them in the hip pocket of my jeans. "Brother Owen shouldn't get the opals," I said resentfully. "They're not his."

  Tami sniggered, not a nice sound. "They are, you know."

  I did my dim, puzzled act. Tami looked at me with scorn. "You don't get it, do you, Kylie? Who do you think came up with the idea of planting the opals in the first place?"

  "Not Brother Owen?" I said.

  "Brother Owen. And they're going right back into the kookaburra toys, where Alf Hartnidge found them."

  "It's something to do with the Oz Mob movie, isn't it? Alf told me he was worried about the morals clause."

  Tami looked at me sharply. "What do you know about that?"

  "Nothing much. I heard Alf and Chicka talking, that's all."

  "Talking about the contract with Lamb White?" She leaned closer. "Tell me exactly what you heard them say."

  "Gee, I don't know," I said vaguely. "It's not like I was really interested. I just caught a few words. Something about a legal challenge to the contract because some of the conditions were clearly unfair."

  Obviously this was not welcome information. Tami muttered something under her breath, then startled me yet again by suddenly leaping to her feet. "Come with me."

  I put on my mulish face. "No way." I clutched the canvas bag to my chest. "These are mine."

  Tami looked around the coffee shop, possibly wondering if anybody would notice should she deliver a knockout blow, sling me over her shoulder, and carry me away. Since we'd already attracted the attention of a scruffy bloke at the table next to us, who'd been tapping away at a screenplay on his laptop, I decided my jaw was safe for the moment.

  From her expression, Tami was struggling to find a way to persuade me to accompany her without actually slugging me. Apparently charm won, as she sat down again, put her elbows on the table, leaned forward, and said with warm sympathy, "I totally understand your hesitation, Kylie, but truthfully, I want what's best for you."

  "Oh, yeah?" My skepticism was obvious.

  "Kylie, don't be that way. You can trust me, truly you can. You have my word on that." A big, toothy smile flashed onto her face.

  The Complete Handbook had a lot to say about identifying the lying smile. I'd paid attention, because in this town of perfect teeth, constant smiling was practically mandatory. I mean, why spend all that money if you're not going to flash your pearly whites?

  I assessed Tami's smile, which was still at full force. My handbook noted that lying smiles last longer, and this one had been going on for some time. Phony smiles tend to use the bottom half of the face. This also checked out, as Tami's eyes remained flintlike while her teeth sparkled below. Third, a false smile is put together much more quickly than a genuine one, and disappears more rapidly. As I gazed at her, Tami's smile abruptly vanished.

  "Brother Owen is not a patient man," she snapped. "He expects to see us—and the opals—soon. I told him we'd be leaving immediately. It's not wise to make him unhappy."

  Charm was out. Bullying was in.

  "So what can he do to me?" I shook the canvas bag for emphasis. "I've got the opals and he hasn't."

  "I'd hate to see you come to harm."

  I drew myself up. "Are you threatening me?"

  The scruffy bloke had abandoned his screenplay and was openly staring at us. "Do you mind?" he said. "I'm creating here."

  "Oh, please," said Tami, rolling her eyes. "Creating!"

  "And you'd know?" sneered the scruffy bloke.

  "As a matter of fact, I would," Tami declared. "I happen to run a major movie company."

  Consternation filled his face. "Oh, shit!"

  Tami smiled triumphantly—a genuine smile this time. "You've blown it, buddy."

  "But I've got this surefire hit screenplay..."

  Tami made a big show of ignoring him. "Where were we, Kylie?"

  "You were threatening me."

  "Threatening?" She tsk-tsked over that. "What I was doing was warning you. Brother Owen plays hardball." She reached over to give my hand a squeeze. "But we can manage this together and come out on top."

  I pretended to ponder for a moment or two. "If I go with you, what's the deal?"

  Tami's shoulders relaxed. She thought she had me, and all that was necessary now was to reel me in. "I'll tell you in the car. Trust me, it will be to your advantage."

  "All right," I said, oozing reluctance. "But don't leave me alone with Brother Owen. He makes me nervous."

  "I'll look after you, Kylie."

  "You make me nervous too."

  "I do?" This obviously pleased Tami. "Trust me, you have no reason to be anxious about me. I have only your best interests at heart."

  The scruffy bloke gazed morosely after us as we exited the coffee shop.

  Twenty-Three

  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 come
s 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."

  Twenty-Four

  Lonnie was rightly pleased with himself. It had been his idea to wire me twice. Ron Udell had discovered the obvious transmitter and destroyed it. The second one, a tiny thing disguised as a button on my shirt, had continued to transmit everything that was said in the room.

  Apart from that, Lonnie and Bob, staking out the coffee shop, had seen Tami arrive in her white Mercedes. After she'd gone in to meet me, Lonnie had casually stopped to tie his shoelaces next to her car so that he could surreptitiously fix a global positioning device to the vehicle. That meant they could follow us at a distance, without any worries they would lose me.

  Ariana had handled the law-enforcement side, liaising with a friend high up in the LAPD and using a contact in the FBI to set up the arrests.

  Brother Owen made bail, huffing his innocence of all charges, which included fraud, smuggling, extortion, and tax evasion. The L.A. Times published their series exposing the Church of Possibilities early, to coincide with the publicity. Tami Eckholdt and Ron Udell were said to be cooperating fully with the authorities in their inquiries.

  In Australia, Ralphie Bates had been arrested on the initial charge of insurance fraud.

  With a compassionate thought f
or the unsuspecting casino operators, I'd put my Aunt Millie on a flight to Las Vegas.

  Alf and Chicka Hartnidge were in talks with several industry executives with the view of having another movie studio take over the Oz Mob project.

  At Kendall & Creeling, everything was back to normal. Buoyed by the possibility she'd still get to play Penny Platypus, Melodie was busy refining what she fondly believed to be an Aussie accent.

  This had driven Fran to distraction. She and Melodie had a yelling match in the kitchen, and Harriet and I had to separate them.

  Fran, snarling, marched off in one direction, Melodie, peeved, marched off in the other.

  "I'd say Fran will blow her foofer valve if she doesn't look out," I said.

  "Her what?" said Harriet.

  "Foofer valve. It's just a saying, like you might remark that someone's gone berkers, and to watch out, because they're likely to blow a gasket...or a foofer valve."

  Harriet looked at me dubiously. "If you say so," she said. She walked off, shaking her head.

  Actually, there was something that wasn't back to normal at Kendall & Creeling. It was the way Ariana was treating me, as if I might suddenly embarrass her with some outpouring of inappropriate emotion.

  I'd have to set her straight, so we could go back to the way we were before we'd made love. I tried not to think of that night too much, but images of us together in her bed jolted me when I least expected them.

  I gave it some thought and decided it would be best to be direct. I'd approach this logically. After everyone had gone, I collected a writing pad and pen, and I took them into the kitchen where Julia Roberts was dining on chicken.

  "How's this, Jules?" I said. I read out: "Ariana, I hope you don't think I took that night with you too seriously. It was lovely, but just a one-night stand."

  Julia Roberts stopped eating and looked at me.

  "You're right, Jules. That makes Ariana seem cheap, as if she's just in it for sex. But then again, what's wrong with that? Sex is a good thing, don't you think?"

  Julia Roberts went back to her chicken. I went back to my writing pad.

  "OK, how about this: Ariana, we're business partners. I don't want to imperil that relationship."

  Imperil wasn't the right word. Endanger? Put at risk?