KK04 - Dingo Dilemma

by Claire McNab

  "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."

  Twenty-One

  Ariana, Bob, and I discussed the Dingo situation. Dingo rightly feared Blainey, who knew he was in possession of an audio of Blainey recruiting him to murder Yancy. We agreed it was vital for Quip's case to have Dingo tell his story to the police. It was going to be difficult to persuade him to, but the first step was to get together face-to-face.

  I was worried about Ariana, who seemed strained to the breaking point. "Why not leave it all to Bob and me," I said. "When Dingo calls back this evening to organize how and when he'll meet you, I'll say you're not available and that you've recommended Bob to take your place."

  "We may all be in government detention by then," said Ariana with a wry quirk to her mouth. "I've just been told that the LA director of the Department of Homeland Security—an individual so cloak-and-dagger that I wasn't permitted to learn his name—will be paying us a visit here at seven this evening after the staff have gone. You and I, Kylie, as co-owners of the business, are expected to be present, and I asked that Bob, being our senior investigator, be included too."

  "Yerks! Is there really a chance we'll be arrested?"

  "Anything's possible," said Ariana, "but I think it unlikely."

  "I'd better leave out extra food for Julia Roberts, just in case." We arranged to meet in Ariana's office at six-thirty, then Ariana went home, Bob went back to work, and I set off for Bellina Studios.

  I was getting the hang of this TV acting, which essentially consisted of copious amounts of standing around, and then a few intense minutes when the cameras were on me. Things were greatly helped by the fact the scene being shot didn't require Dustin as Timmy, so everything went quite smoothly. By four-thirty I was on my way back to Kendall & Creeling.

  The traffic was heavy, so everyone was leaving by the time I got back. Melodie was getting into her jazzy red sports car as I parked my subdued dark-gray Toyota. Seeing me, she got out and came over.

  "Kylie, can I ask you something?"

  "Ask and ye shall receive."

  She frowned at me. "What?"

  "What can I do for you?"

  "Bruce is real worried about his mom. He thinks this English guy is only after her money. I was wondering, does she live on a big cattle ranch?"

  Aunt Millie had a simple little house in Wollegudgerie, by no stretch of the imagination a cattle station. "Did Brucie tell you that?"

  "No, but Lexus and I were watching The Tho
rn Birds the other night, you know, that old series with Richard Chamberlain as the priest who falls in love? So romantic! Anyway, there was this humongous Aussie ranch, and Lexus said Bruce's mom lived somewhere just like that."

  "I hate to disillusion Lexus, but it isn't true. Brucie's mum lives in a perfectly nice house in a country town."

  "Oh, good," said Melodie. She leaned forward to say confidentially, "Lexus thinks Bruce comes from a rich family. I think that's why she's so interested in him. She'll be so disappointed."

  Melodie trotted cheerfully back to her car and I went inside, musing over what to wear to meet the nameless national security bloke. Julia Roberts was waiting for me at the front door.

  "Jules," I said, "you've got good taste. What do you recommend I wear to meet a high official in Homeland Security? Do you think something really dressy?"

  Julia Roberts slanted her ears quizzically. "You're absolutely right," I said, "plain and simple is better for these government types."

  I changed into black jeans and a green silk shirt and made myself a cup of tea. In case this meeting took some time, I served Julia Roberts her dinner early.

  Around six-fifteen there was a commotion outside. I put my head out the front door. The place was crawling with limousines and people in dark suits. "Stone the crows," I said to Jules, who'd been attracted by the noise, "it's like the president's arriving."

  The top honcho of the DHS turned out to be a disappointment. I was expecting someone commanding, with a military bearing, eagle eyes surveying the lay of the land, and all that stuff, but he was an insignificant man with a soft face and the hint of a pot belly. Accompanying him were Morgan and Unwin. "G'day," I said to them. "Ripper to see you again, even if you are a bit early."

  "Keeps people off balance," whispered Unwin in his slippery voice. There wasn't a hint of humor in his long, grayish face. He looked slight beside Morgan's thick-necked wrestler's build.

  To be polite, I said, "G'day," to the top honcho, too. "I'm Kylie Kendall."

  "I'm afraid I can't tell you my name or title for national security reasons." He had a bossy manner and a slight lisp.

  "Right-oh," I said.

  Ariana and Bob arrived as I was ushering the three of them into the reception area. Bob was cheery, Ariana distant. Morgan and Unwin went along to check Ariana's office for dangerous devices while the rest of us waited by Melodie's desk. The head bloke stood silent, gazing at nothing in particular, so Ariana, Bob, and I were silent too, although I caught Bob's eye and grinned. He gave me a warning, don't-cause-waves look in return.

  Morgan and Unwin came back with the all clear, so we trooped down the hall to Ariana's stark black-and-white room.

  Once Ariana, Bob, and I were seated and Morgan had taken position guarding the door and Unwin the window, the head honcho began to walk up and down, looking self-important. "Many have been the representations made on your behalf," he announced, "and these have persuaded us that you are not, and never have been a terrorist organization."

  He paused for reactions of joy or relief. Ariana said coolly, "We would appreciate some explanation for this baseless accusation."

  "Indeed." He cleared his throat and continued officiously, "We regret that analysts in the Department unfortunately mistook the admirable diligence of one of your employees in the realm of disaster preparation as an indication of possible terrorist activities. We acknowledge that this person is, in actuality, a deeply concerned citizen."

  "How about these two clowns here trying to bug our building?" Bob asked.

  Everyone looked at the two clowns. Morgan ran a hand over the red stubble on his skull, Unwin stared morosely at the floor.

  Irritation washed over the head bloke's face. "We also apologize for the attempt to plant listening devices in your premises. Again, this was a misguided but genuine effort to ensure the safety of our great nation. I assure you that this will not occur again."

  He paused, then added, "Unless, of course, a terrorist should enter your employ in the future."

  "Well, that's likely," I said.

  Another pause. I had an almost irresistible desire to giggle, but a warning glance from Bob calmed me down.

  Then the bloke was off again. "Another matter of extreme importance has come to our attention. Connecting the requisite dots convinces us that there is a deep-seated conspiracy with Norris Blainey at the centre. Unaccountably, Mr. Blainey has been a trusted informant to DHS"—he glared meaningfully at Morgan and Unwin—"while carrying out activities that are little short of traitorous."

  "Money-laundering?" I said.

  "What made you think of that?" he asked, his doughy face darkening with suspicion.

  Hell's bells! I said hastily, "It's what Blainey accused other people of, so I reckon he was doing it himself."

  He gave me a long, thoughtful look. "Miss Kendall, you've had several interesting telephone conversations with one of Blainey's associates, Douglas O'Rourke, an Australian national also known as Dingo O'Rourke."

  "You listened in on my cell phone," I said, indignant. Then it occurred to me DHS would have recorded the calls, so they'd have Dingo telling me how Blainey asked him to carry out a murder-for-hire.

  The same thing had occurred to Ariana. She pointed out how we needed the police to hear Dingo's conversation with me in order to clear Quip's name.

  "Quite so. Arrangements can be made. In return we expect your cooperation."

  "What type of cooperation?" Ariana asked.

  "We are anxious to interview Mr. O'Rourke; however, so far he has proved elusive." He checked his watch. "If he's on schedule he'll be calling Miss Kendall shortly. When he does, you are to arrange to meet with him this evening."

  Indicating Morgan and Unwin, he added, "You will be perfectly safe. These highly-trained operatives will shadow you and apprehend Mr. O'Rourke as soon as contact is made."

  Highly-trained? Crikey!

  ****

  It was quite unnerving the way everyone sat around and watched me answer my cell phone. Dingo's voice was urgent. "Kylie? Darken isn't herself."

  "What's wrong with her?"

  "I'm not sure, but she's off her tucker. Maybe she's fretting for her kennel mates..."

  "That could be it."

  "Or maybe she's sick. And I can't take her to a vet for treatment, not with a big reward on offer and our pictures everywhere. Darken knows you, Kylie. You'll have to come with the Creeling woman and take Darken back with you tonight for treatment."

  "About Ariana Creeling, she's not available. She said to tell you she'd send Bob Verritt in her place. Bob is—"

  "No way, Kylie! I don't care who he is, I've never heard of him. You come by yourself, then."

  He asked for a description of my car and its number plate, then he reeled off directions, which I dutifully copied down. "OK," he said, "you pick me up in one hour. That should give you plenty of time. Just you, alone. And make sure you aren't followed."

  I glanced over at Morgan and Unwin. I didn't have a lot of confidence in them, but the task of simply following my car, when there was no need to worry about me seeing them, wouldn't be so difficult, would it?

  Twenty-Two

  "Be careful," said Ariana, touching me lightly on the arm.

  "Piece of cake," I said. "Dingo would never hurt me."

  She flicked a glance to the other side of our parking area, where Morgan and Unwin were getting into a brown Buick sedan. "It's those two I'm worried about. Make sure you get right out of the way when they arrest Dingo."

  Bob came over to us shaking his head. "They've got that vehicle packed with every bit of surveillance equipment you could imagine, but I'm not sure those guys know how to use most of it."

  He clapped me on the shoulder and grinned. "Not to worry, Kylie, they've put a global positioning device on your car, so even if they lose sight of you, they'll find you again."

  There'd been some debate about whether DHS would simply wait for Dingo at the rendezvous point and arrest him ther
e, but it had been decided to let me pick him up and drive to wherever he was keeping Darken, so that she could be taken immediately to a veterinary hospital.

  I'd been quite touched by this concern for the dingo, but then Morgan had murmured that this was a public relations gesture designed to put a caring, human face on the huge bureaucracy that was the Department of Homeland Security. "The fact that we've rescued the star of Darken Come Home will be selectively leaked to news media personnel," he'd said with a small, satisfied smile.

  I got into my car and put down the window to say to Ariana and Bob, "Just in case something happens to me, the next scheduled dinner for Julia Roberts is Fancy Feast grilled tuna."

  Bob let loose one of his braying laughs. "That cat has a dinner schedule?"

  "Jules is very particular about the order in which she eats her meals. She likes variety."

  "Let's roll," called one of the dark-suited DHS people—in this case a woman—left behind when the nameless head honcho departed in a black limousine with his entourage.

  She came striding over to my car. "Stand back," she said to Ariana and Bob. Directing her attention to me, she asked, "Do you have any questions pertaining to Operation Dingo before the mission is initiated?"

  "Not a sausage," I said.

  "There's a problem with a sausage?"

  "No prob. I mean I have no questions."

  She gave me a long, suspicious stare. "This isn't a game, you know. It's a matter of national security."

  She waited until I nodded solemnly, then she checked her watch. It had many dials and bristled with knobs for different functions. She raised her arm so Morgan and Unwin in the Buick could see her signal. "On my mark...Initiate!"

  "You mean go?"

  "Get the hell out of here!" she yelled at me.

  I got the hell out.

  ****

  Dingo had given me the intersection of two suburban streets in Sherman Oaks as our meeting point. I wasn't crash-hot at reading an LA street directory, but this wasn't going to be hard to find, as it was just off Ventura Boulevard, a main traffic route. All I had to do was take Laurel Canyon Drive over the hill into the Valley and when I reached Ventura Boulevard turn left. I'd zoom along for a couple of kilometers, then turn right onto a side street. Simple, really.