Claire McNab - The Dingo Dilemma

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."

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.