Claire McNab - The Dingo Dilemma

"Bob," I said, closing Bob Verritt's office door behind me, "I need help. Urgently."

He looked up from the papers he'd been reading. "What have you done now?"

"Now?" I said, indignant. "It's not like I make a habit of getting myself into trouble."

That made Bob laugh immoderately. "Kylie, it's your modus operandi."

I smiled reluctantly. Unfortunately, there was some truth in the charge.

Still grinning, Bob leaned his skinny frame back in his chair. "So what's the problem?"

"I've sort of become an actor, by accident."

I told Bob the sequence of events that had led to my being offered the role of Olive. He indulged in more unrestrained laughter.

"Can't tell you how pleased I am that I amuse you so much," I said, rather miffed at his lighthearted attitude.

Making a real effort to be serious, Bob said, "So why didn't you tell Garfield it was a case of mistaken identity?"

"I was going to, and then it hit me that this would be a perfect way to spend some time near Dingo O'Rourke and find out what's going on with him. Dingo made it pretty clear he's not intending to see me again, but he won't have any choice if I'm in the cast. And don't worry about me being out of the office. Olive's only scheduled for two episodes, so it won't be a long-term thing."

Bob's grin broke out again. "You could make a big splash in the part. If that happens, your character will join the permanent cast."

"There's Buckley's chance of that. What I know about acting could be written on the head of a pin, and in block letters. That's why I need your advice."

"Were you asked if you had an agent?"

"I almost said Melodie's Larry-my-agent represented me, but then I thought that might not be wise."

"Good grief," said Bob, the smile wiped off his face. "Melodie! She's not going to be happy."

This struck me as quite an understatement. "Melodie's going to be mad as a cut snake. She'd been telling everybody how she aced her audition for Olive and that she's a sure thing for the part."

"I'd keep out of dark alleys, if I were you."

There was silence while we both contemplated Melodie's likely reaction. Hostile was probably the best I could hope for under the circumstances. Completely berko was more likely.

"Bob, I'm a babe in the woods about this acting stuff," I said, "and I can hardly ask Melodie's advice."

"Let's give this some serious thought. OK, first you need an agent or an entertainment lawyer to represent you and negotiate your contract. Since you've already got the job, I'm thinking a lawyer's the way to go. Ask Harriet-she'll recommend someone first-class. And you need to join SAG or AFTRA, whichever has jurisdiction over Darleen Come Home." He added helpfully, "That's the Screen Actors Guild and the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists."

I sighed. "This acting lark's more complicated than I bargained for."

"Just wait until you get a taste of Earl Garfield as autocratic director," said Bob with a wry smile. "He's been known to make grown men cry."

Harriet was as amused as Bob had been, but she did manage to stifle her giggles long enough to call an entertainment lawyer friend, and set up an appointment for later that afternoon. Swearing her to silence, as I had yet to tell Melodie the bad news, I went looking for Julia Roberts. At times like this Jules was an excellent sounding board. I'd use her to trial a few different ways to introduce the inconvenient fact that I'd inadvertently stolen the part Melodie coveted.

I couldn't locate Jules, and as she had any number of hidey holes where she could be lurking, I gave up the idea of using her as a test audience. I knew I had no excuse to put off the awful moment any longer. My mother's oft-repeated advice echoed in my ears: "Strike while the iron is hot. She who hesitates is lost. Bite the bullet…"

Mum. Of course she'd be anxious to hear what was going on with Dingo. I persuaded myself I'd give her a quick call and catch her early before things got hectic at The Wombat's Retreat. Then I'd dash Melodie's hopes.

Jack O'Connell, my mum's fiancé, answered the phone. "Jeez, Kylie, you've rung at a bad time. We've got a bloody emergency, no two ways about it."

He put the phone down before I could ask what sort of emergency it was. After a long delay, Mum came on the line. "Can't talk, darl. The kitchen staff's just walked off the job. There's no one to cook breakfast, and wouldn't you know it, we've got a full complement of guests. I've got everyone pitching in, including Millie."

"What upset the kitchen staff?"

"Jack upset them, that's who. Rubbing them up the wrong way, telling them how to do their jobs…"

I could see where this was heading. "I'll let you go, Mum, and call later, when-"

"I need you here at the Wombat, Kylie. I can't run the place on my own, and Jack's no help, as you can see. So when are you coming home?"

I was saved from answering by a hubbub at the other end of the line. "Gotta go, love. Jack says they're coming to blows in the kitchen."

Right. Now I'd speak with Melodie. Before I was out my office door, the phone on my desk rang.

"Is that you, Kylie? The nice young woman I met yesterday?"

"Mrs. Blake?"

"Phyllis, please." She dropped her voice to a hoarse whisper. "Something odd. I thought you should know."

When silence indicated a prompt was needed, I said, "Know what, Phyllis?"

"This morning I just happened to be getting a bit of air out the front of our building, when these two men turned up. Asking questions about Dingo. Shifty-eyed. Very suspicious."

"Do you have any idea who they were?"

"Naturally, as a matter of course I asked for ID," said Phyllis, sounding a little hurt that I hadn't realized this. "I've watched enough shows on television to know you ask for ID. So I did. 'Show me some ID,' I said."

"And did they?"

"That panicked them a bit." Phyllis had a note of satisfaction in her voice. "Looked at each other, then the one who seemed to be the leader told me that they were just friends of Douglas O'Rourke's. I knew immediately they were up to no good. I said, 'You're no friends of his if you're calling him Douglas. He's Dingo to his friends. So who are you?' And they said not to worry, and left. I thought it best to follow them. You've got to be proactive about crime these days."

I had a vision of Mrs. Blake in her slippers and housecoat trotting along behind these two slippery-looking blokes. "Stone the crows, Phyllis, that sounds like a dangerous thing to do."

"Not at all. I always carry my personal alarm in my pocket. A touch of a finger and an ear-splitting noise gets everyone's attention. I had my hand on it the whole time. One of them looked over his shoulder and saw me, then the two of them rushed to get into a big black limo."

"You didn't get the number, did you?"

Phyllis sighed. "Sorry, dearie, no. My eyes aren't as good as they used to be."

I grabbed a pen. "Could you describe them to me?"

This took some time, as Phyllis was nothing if not thorough. As I jotted the last detail down, she said, "At first I thought they might be mafia, you know, like in the movies. But these two weren't good enough for that. And they weren't bill collectors. Bill collectors come straight out with it and don't beat around the bush like these bozos."

I wasn't quite sure what a bozo was, but it didn't sound flattering. "Maybe you should call the cops if you see these two blokes again."

"The cops?" said Phyllis with scorn. "I can look after myself. Tell you what, if they turn up again, I'll call you."

I got her to promise to be careful, and said goodbye. Excuses over. I stiffened my upper lip and headed for the front desk.

Melodie had company.

"G'day, Kylie," said Cousin Brucie. "You never told me someone as beaut-looking as Melodie worked here. If I'd known, I'd have lobbed in even sooner." He gave her a big smile. "I can see it's true what they say about California girls."