Claire McNab: The Dingo Dilemma

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."

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 Thorn 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."