The Dingo Dilemma

by Claire McNab

  Dustin took this moment to cop a feel. "Want to lose an arm?" I murmured.

  His lewd grin wavered. "What?"

  "I'll rip it off and beat you to death with it."

  "What are you doing, Dustin?" his mother asked in a stentorian voice.

  He stepped away from me. "Nothing."

  I was just thinking how refreshing it was to have someone discipline the little twerp when Ursula looked me up and down and shook her head. "You can do better, Dustin. Much better."

  ****

  Except for Julia Roberts, the place was empty when I got back to Kendall & Creeling. She was miffed because, as she made clear to me, I was late with dinner again.

  "Fair crack of the whip, Jules. You almost always get your dinner on time."

  She didn't look convinced, so I gave her a can of Fancy Feast chicken and liver, her favorite, as a peace offering.

  Melodie had left three messages for me. I was to call Aunt Millie the moment I got in because it was "real important." The other two were mundane: confirmation for a dental checkup and a reminder from a specialist service for classic cars that Dad's Mustang was due for an oil change. There was no urgent message from Mum, which was strange. And, although I really didn't expect it, nothing from Ariana. Maybe she'd call later.

  To prepare for the rigors of a conversation with Aunt Millie, I had a shower, changed into ancient sweats, and got myself a glass of wine. Thus fortified, I dialed the international code for Oz and then her number.

  "What's the latest about Dingo?" she demanded as soon as I'd said hello. "Harriet and Gert are beside themselves with worry because they still haven't heard a word from him, but someone from the government called by, asking lots of questions."

  "What sort of questions?"

  "Who were Dingo's friends, whether he belonged to any groups or clubs, why he wanted to go to the States-all that sort of stuff. Gert got quite short with him. Told him he had no right prying into people's private lives."

  As far as I knew, Australia didn't have the equivalent of Homeland Security, but I was betting this bloke was from one of the intelligence services. "He didn't say what government department he was from or show any official identification?"

  Aunt Millie snorted-her first this conversation, but I was sure not her last. "He probably did," she said, "but you know Gert and Harry. Totally scatterbrained, the two of them. No wonder Dingo's turned out nutty as a fruitcake."

  "Dingo's perfectly normal," I protested.

  "Normal? You call spending your life at the beck and call of a wild dog normal?" A mini-snort came down the line. "I don't know what's worse-the fact it's a dingo, or that its name is Darken. Darken!"

  Belatedly I recalled that Aunt Millie's middle name happened to be Darlene. "It's spelt a different way," I said. "Your name, I mean."

  "Darken the Dingo," she muttered. "Like you'd think it was a person."

  "I think Darken is a person as far as Dingo is concerned," I said. "He's very worried about her welfare."

  "A dingo's welfare! I never thought I'd see the day."

  I checked the time. I had twenty-five minutes before I had to unlock the gate in the back fence for Yancy. To hurry the conversation along, I said, "Aunt Millie, I'll call the O'Rourkes if you give me their telephone number. I saw Dingo today, so I have up-to-date information."

  "Better you tell me. I'll pass it on," said Aunt Millie. I could imagine the dark twist she'd put on what I told her.

  "Reassure them Dingo's fine," I said, "and that he'll call them soon. Remind them that he has a stressful job. It's a lot of responsibility, caring for an animal star." I put a positive spin on a few more details of Dingo's preoccupation with Darken, ending with, "There's been some talk of criminals snatching Darken and holding her to ransom, so Dingo's guarding her day and night."

  This got more muttering from my aunt. I'd never realized she felt so strongly about dingoes.

  "Aunt Millie, I'm a bit worried about Mum. I haven't heard from her for days."

  "She's got her hands full with Jack's little performance."

  I sighed to myself. Mum's fiancé was, as Aunt Millie frequently pointed out, more trouble than he was worth. "What's Jack done now?"

  "Taken to his bed, the nitwit. Says he can't cope, that he's having a nervous breakdown over running The Wombat's Retreat. I ask you, who deserves to indulge in a nervous breakdown over the pub? Not Jack! I said to your mother, turf him out on his ear, but she'd have none of it."

  There was a pause, then she said in a less strident voice, "I can't entirely blame her. It is nice, at times, to have a man around the house."

  I blinked. Could it be that Aunt Millie was getting soft? If I wasn't so pressed for time I'd ask her what she meant.

  "I'll call Mum tomorrow. Now, if there's nothing else…"

  "There's the matter of Brucie."

  Hell's bells! No way did I want to be the one to tell Aunt Millie that Brucie was planning to stay in the States. "You haven't spoken with him?"

  "Yes, Kylie, I've spoken to Brucie," Aunt Millie snapped. "I'm not at all satisfied that I know what's really going on. A mother's aware when a child is keeping something back."

  I decided the safest thing was to be vague. "I haven't seen a lot of him, but he seems to be having a great time."

  "Brucie mentioned a girl called Lexus. I said to him, don't put your trust in someone who's named after a vehicle, but he paid no attention. I hope I can rely on you to be straight with me, Kylie. Who is this Lexus?"

  "She's a friend of Melodie's. They share an apartment."

  Aunt Millie had met Melodie, and hadn't found her anywhere near serious enough about life in general. "Lives with Melodie, does she? A flibbertigibbet, I imagine."

  "I've only met her a couple of times. She seems quite nice. Aunt Millie, really, I have to go."

  Never one to lose the opportunity to deliver a final blow, my aunt said, "Very well, Kylie, rush off by all means. Just think about this, my girl. A child's ingratitude cuts like a knife. Brucie seems set to break my heart the way you've shattered your mother's."

  I gave an exasperated sigh. "Aunt-" I broke off when I realized she had hung up.

  The conversation had taken so much time I had to rush to let Yancy in. Jules looked disapproving as I galloped past her on my way to the back door of the building. I suspected that her plans for the evening included napping on my lap as I watched TV.

  The gate in the back fence was secured by many metal bars and padlocks, so I went into the garage where the Mustang was parked and, without turning on the light, punched a button and opened the main door.

  "Thank God! You're Kylie, right?"

  He was breathing quickly as if he'd been running. His bass voice was instantly recognizable. I said, "That's me."

  "I don't think I was followed," he gasped, slipping into the garage. "I left my car parked on the street half a mile away and jogged here."

  After hitting the button to close the door, I turned on the light. Yancy was not tall, but he had a compact body and an intriguing, mobile face. He was so blond his hair was almost colorless. Clutched under one arm was a flat zip-up document case. He was sweating and his hands were shaking. "Can we go inside?" he said. "I don't feel safe out here."

  I led the way across the yard and through the back door. "Thank God!" he exclaimed again as soon as we were inside. "Is Quip here yet?"

  Yancy started violently as Granada loudly played. "Shit! What's that? Your cell phone?"

  "Front door." I pointed to the kitchen. "Help yourself to coffee while I let Quip in."

  Quip had said his eyes were still too swollen for him to drive, so he'd catch a cab. I checked the image in the security monitor to make sure it was really him before I opened the door.

  Quip looked almost as furtive as Yancy. He limped in as fast as he was able, winced as he hurried to close and lock the door, then said urgently, "Yancy made it? Yes? Thank God!"

  "What exactly is going on?"

  "I'll
explain everything in a moment." He took my arm. "Fran doesn't know I'm here. You promised not to mention anything about it, remember?"

  "Where does she think you are?"

  "At home in front of the TV. Tonight's Fran's yoga class."

  "Fran does yoga?" This was a startling thought. I tried in vain to imagine Fran contemplating the world serenely from a lotus position.

  "Has for years. Anyway, after the session she always has drinks with friends from the class. By the time she gets home I'll be back. She'll never even suspect I've left the apartment."

  My expression must have shown my distaste for such deception, as Quip hurried to say, "It's for Fran's protection. The less she knows about it, the safer she is."

  "Oh, bonzer," I said sarcastically. "Yet you're happy to explain everything to me. So what about my safety?"

  "You're not my wife. They can get at me through her."

  I had the strong suspicion the real reason Quip wanted Fran kept in the dark was because of Yancy. When I said this to him, Quip's battered face flushed.

  "You think I'm two-timing Fran? I'd never do that. Yancy's been my main source for info on Blainey. Now he's in danger, too. So you can see why I want Fran kept completely out of it."

  I wasn't totally convinced, but decided not to pursue it further. I took Quip along to the kitchen, where Yancy, clutching a mug of coffee, stood apprehensively watching the doorway. He was so nervous, sweat was running down his face and dripping off his chin. "Oh, thank God!" he exclaimed when he saw Quip. "You made it OK."

  "There's an awful lot of thanking God going on," I observed.

  "Yancy and I are in real danger," said Quip. "I mean, look at me. If Bruce hadn't intervened, I'd likely be crippled, if not dead."

  Yancy nodded. "Norris Blainey's a murderous son of a bitch. Now that he suspects I've been feeding information to Quip, I'm at risk. The only thing to do is get out of town, go somewhere he'll never find me." He gestured to the document case on the counter. "I've brought print-outs of some of Blainey's shady property dealings. There's more where that came from. I've got it in a safe place."

  "I need everything you can give me," Quip said. "You won't leave LA before passing the stuff on to me, will you?"

  "Of course not. I want you to crucify the bastard."

  "I had a run-in with him today," I said. They both stared at me. I added in explanation, "Blainey has a financial interest in the company making Darleen Come Home. I've got the part of Olive, Timmy's sister, for two episodes, so I was on the set. Blainey turned up this afternoon."

  "The production company's losing money fast," said Quip. "I've got evidence Blainey's tried to unload his interest in it, but got no takers."

  "I suppose you've heard about the dingo," said Yancy. "Driving here, it was all over the news."

  I had a sinking feeling. Surely Norris Blainey hadn't had time to arrange her death. Then again, someone close to Darleen-the vet perhaps-could be paid enough to deliver a fatal injection. "What's happened to Darleen?" I asked.

  "She's disappeared. Vanished into thin air. There's talk of a reward already."

  Seventeen

  As soon as Yancy and Quip left via the back laneway-Yancy said he'd drop Quip at the nearest hotel so he could pick up a cab-I went to my room and turned on the TV to a local channel's newscast. Darleen's disappearance had not been relegated to the entertainment reporter, but was important enough to be the lead story.

  There were only a few facts available, but later the police chief would be speaking to the media with further details on the eleven o'clock news. So far all that was known was that at the close of the day's shooting on Darken Come Home., the star dingo had been taken to her air-conditioned run and given her evening meal. When an hour later, the kennel attendant had looked in on Darleen and her two stand-in dingoes, Darleen's run had been empty.

  Also missing, the report went on to say, was dingo wrangler Douglas O'Rourke, also known as Dingo O'Rourke. As he was an Australian citizen, authorities were checking his status as a resident alien. A photo of Dingo flashed on the screen. He was scowling at the camera, his droopy mustache not hiding the grim set of his mouth. To someone who didn't know him, he looked like a villain, perfectly capable of carrying out such a heinous crime.

  "A beloved dingo spirited away, who knows to what fate?" intoned the male anchor at the news desk.

  His female equivalent shook her head. "Heartbreaking, Chad, heartbreaking. Many children will go to bed crying tonight."

  "T feel a little like crying myself," said Chad. "There's something about an animal in peril that touches me deeply."

  I changed channels. This newscast was also leading with the dingo-napping story, although the emphasis here was on how there had been rumors for some days of an extortion plot involving the snatching of Darken. That being so, had additional steps been made to ensure her safety? Also, was the Collie Coalition merely part of a publicity campaign, or could this group actually be responsible for her abduction? And was Darken, as star of the show, heavily insured?

  These were good questions, and I was thinking about them when my cell phone rang.

  "Kylie, it's me, Dingo."

  "Dingo! Where are you? Have you got Darken?"

  "She's safe."

  "How did you get her out of the studios?"

  "It was simple. All vehicles are searched coming in, but none going out. I put Darken on the floor behind the driver's seat, threw a rug over her, and told her to be quiet."

  "You've got to bring her back before the cops catch up with you," I said.

  "No way," he growled. "It's not like I've done anything wrong. Darken's in my protective custody. If I hadn't taken her, she'd be dead by now."

  "Dingo, you don't know that."

  "I do. Yesterday, on the set, I asked Garfield for an armed guard on Darken, twenty-four hours a day. He turned me down flat. That's when I realized he was in on the scheme to hurt her."

  From past experience I knew that when Dingo had his mind set on something, he was next to impossible to budge. Even so, I tried. "I can see Blainey wanting to harm Darleen-he's the kind to do that sort of thing-but why would Earl Garfield? What good docs it do him to have something bad happen to the star of his show?"

  There was an obstinate silence at the other end. I tried again. "I reckon Garfield was involved in a stunt to fake a kidnapping and pretend she was being held for ransom. The whole thing was aimed at getting a lot of free publicity for the show and so push up the ratings. Killing Darleen wouldn't help at all, but her triumphant rescue would."

  Silence. "Dingo?" I said.

  "Maybe you're right." The concession was made grudgingly. "I'll think about it. I'll call you tomorrow."

  "Stop! Don't hang up."

  "What? I've got to go."

  "About the two odd blokes Phyllis Blake said were asking questions about you at your apartment building…"

  "What about them?" he snapped impatiently.

  "I'm pretty sure it's the same two who turned up here with the story that Kendall & Creeling had won an award for disaster preparedness. They gave their names, after a bit of persuasion, as Morgan and Unwin."

  "So?"

  "They claimed to be from the Department of Homeland Security."

  Dingo swore, and before I could say anything else, he'd disconnected.

  I looked at the phone in my hand. I wanted to call Ariana, not just to tell her what had happened with Dingo, but simply to hear her voice. I felt our relationship had reached a new level, but still I hesitated. Things between us were too new and fragile to put at risk.

  Realizing I was hungry, as I hadn't eaten since lunch in the studio commissary, I decided to make myself a toasted cheese sandwich and a cup of tea. After that I'd think about calling Ariana.

  I turned on the kitchen TV and found a cable channel running a news crawl along the bottom of the screen. Darleen's disappearance featured prominently. I learnt in quick order that: Earl Garfield, reclusive award-winning writer a
nd director, was too upset to comment in person but had released a statement saying he was "deeply disturbed"; details of a substantial reward to be offered for Darleen's safe return would be released tomorrow; the head of security at Bellina Studios admitted she was "completely baffled" as to how Darken had been smuggled out of the complex; the ASPCA, the Humane Society, and other animal welfare groups combined to deplore the use of an innocent animal in an apparent extortion plot; famed animal psychic Jessica de Lyons had been in extrasensory contact with Darleen and pronounced her "well, but unhappy and confused."

  My cheese sandwich was history and I was pouring a second cup of tea when the phone on the wall rang. One line was switched through to handsets in the kitchen and my bedroom when the office was closed, but since I'd got a cell phone, most people I knew called me on it.

  "Kylie? It's Fran. Is Quip there?"

  With perfect truth, I said he wasn't. Crikey, where was Quip? He'd had plenty of time to get back before Fran arrived.

  A frantic note surfaced in Fran's voice as she went on, "Quip can barely walk, and his face is a mess. I left him watching television. When I got home a few minutes ago, he wasn't here."

  A quiver of fear touched my skin. Could Blainey have gotten to Quip and Yancy after they'd left me? Were they lying dead, tumbled in a gutter somewhere?

  "Perhaps he's with a neighbor," I said, hoping against hope it would turn out to be true.

  "I've been to every apartment in the building, but no one's seen him. I've called everyone I could think of. I can't get hold of Mom or Ariana, so I've left them both messages to get back to me. I'm about to start calling the local hospitals."

  Even if Quip were perfectly OK and off having a fine time with Yancy, as long as there was a chance he had run into Blainey's thugs again, I had to dob him in.

  "Quip was here earlier this evening."

  "He was! With yew?" Her tone was deeply suspicious.

  Stone the crows! Did Fran think Quip and I were having an affair? "We weren't alone. Yancy was here."

  "Who?"

  "Norris Blainey's receptionist, Yancy. I don't know his last name. He's been supplying Quip with inside information for his book."