Claire McNab - The Dingo Dilemma

Ursula pushed her not inconsiderable self in front of Pauline. "You don't mean that, Earl," she said. "Pauline Feeney's a close personal friend of mine. I'd be very unhappy if she's not treated well. Dustin would be unhappy, too."

"Yeah," said Dustin, putting in his bit.

She stood waiting, one hand on a plump hip, her mouth in a triumphant half smile. An array of emotions flowed across Earl Garfield's face, most suggesting he'd happily tear Ursula's head from her body and drop-kick it off the set.

Then the reality of the situation hit him. "Any friend of Ursula's is a friend of mine," he managed to get out in a strangled tone.

In the crew there were amazed looks all around. I reckoned no one had ever seen Garfield back down before.

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."