Claire McNab: Wombat Strategy

Ariana came back, and like she'd read my mind, said, "I've told Melodie to order pizza for everyone. That okay with you?"

"Too right! I could eat a horse and chase the rider."

Her lips twitched, just a little. Fair dinkum, one day I might just get a smile out of her. I said, "What's Dave Deer here for? I reckon I can ask, being your partner."

Ariana went behind her desk and sat down. She gave me a long, blue stare. A cold one. She really did have bonzer eyes. "Before I go into that, have you thought a little more about selling out to me? I'm willing to increase my offer substantially."

"I'm not too keen on selling."

I saw a muscle jump in her cheek. She was browned off with me, I could tell, but trying not to show it.

"Los Angeles is thousands of miles from your home," she said, putting emphasis on "thousands."

Home? A vision of my last scene with Raylene flashed in front of me like a movie. It wasn't pleasant-we both said things we shouldn't have. Raylene was a teacher at the local school, and Wollegudgerie being as small as it was, it was deadset I'd run into her all the time. She had pretty well shredded my heart, and I wasn't up for more punishment. What's more, she'd taken up with Maria at 'Gudge's one and only hairdressing salon, so where would I get my hair cut if I stayed?

I shook my head. "I don't think I'll sell my share."

In a reasonable tone, like she was talking to someone pretty dim, Ariana said, "This idea of yours of becoming a private investigator-it's not a piece of cake. It takes real commitment."

"I'll do whatever it takes."

She was making a real effort not to snarl at me. "I'm asking you, before you make a final decision, to sleep on it. Okay?"

"Well, that's the thing," I said. "I haven't got anywhere to sleep. Like I told you, I just up and left. Didn't take time to book a hotel or anything."

"You can stay here." She went on to explain how one of the advantages of having offices in a converted house was that a bedroom with adjoining bathroom was available for the odd overnight guest, or for someone who'd been on a stake-out all night and needed a place to get a couple of hours' sleep.

I thanked her, not letting on I'd already scoped out the bedroom through the window, not wanting her to think I was a stickybeak. Then it hit me: Why was I thanking Ariana when half the place was mine?

"Who's Bob Verritt?" I said. "And Harriet Porter? Oh, and Fran?"

I was beginning to expect her answers to be crisp, and she didn't disappoint. "Bob's an experienced RI. He's out of town on a case. Back tomorrow. Harriet works for us part-time. She's putting herself through law school. Fran does filing, messages, that sort of thing. A general gofer."

"Gofer?"

"Go for this and go for that."

I grinned at her. "Bit like a bitser."

"You have me there."

"What you'd call a mongrel dog-a bitser's a bit of this and a bit of that."

The corners of Ariana's mouth curled just a little. One day I was going to get a full laugh out of her, but I wasn't holding my breath. She said, "I'd strongly advise you to avoid calling Fran a bitser."

"I was commenting on the parallel construction," I said, prim-like. That made her blink, but then, she couldn't know I'd been terrific at English grammar at school.

I found out why Ariana had given that advice about Fran when we all trooped down to the kitchen for pizza. Fran came in last. She was a little thing, a redhead with pale skin and quite a would-you-look-at-that bust that sort of stuck out like a shelf above her narrow waist and, frankly, sexy hips. She would have been quite good-looking but for the nasty scowl on her face.

If my mum had been there she would have given some helpful advice about the danger of creating permanent frown lines and how whistling a happy tune was the way to go. I wasn't that pushy. I just said "G'day, I'm Kylie" and gave her a cheerful smile. Lead by example, my mum always says.

"Fran," she growled in response.

"Don't mind her," said Lonnie, grinning. "She's always like this, aren't you, Sunshine?"

Fran shot him a look that could have dropped a crow clean out of the sky, and stomped over to the counter where unopened pizza boxes were piled, filling the air with mouthwatering smells. Switching her attention to Melodie, she said, "Did you order vegetarian? You know I'm a vegetarian."

"I hope so." Melodie was clearly more concerned with her nail polish. "Rats! I got a chip," she announced, holding out a finger for inspection.

Fran mumbled something unpleasant under her breath. I winked at Ariana. "I see what you mean," I said, with a nod toward Fran, who was opening each box in search of a suitable pizza. "She's not a bitser at all. More an attack dog."

Ariana's expression didn't change, but I sensed she was softening a bit toward me. Of course, that was probably wishful thinking. She wanted me long gone. I'd just have to show her how I'd be a dinky-di asset to Kendall & Creeling. Then she'd warm to me.

Or maybe not.

Full of pizza and with a slug of coffee to keep my eyes open, I went off to have that longed-for shower. Lonnie had kindly brought my battered old suitcase down from the front desk and shown me where the sheets and towels were kept.

My room, at least for tonight, had bright throw rugs on the polished dark flooring, a queen-size bed with an elaborate carved headboard, and a brightly patterned bedspread that matched the curtains. There was a table by the bed and a huge, heavy dresser against one wall. A television set and combination video/DVD player sat on metal shelving, positioned for viewing from the bed.

The place was also something of a storeroom, with a pile of cartons stacked against one wall and a sports corner containing two golf bags with clubs, several tennis rackets, and a tightly rolled exercise mat.

I luxuriated under a very hot shower, washed my hair, and shaved my legs-the last not for any reason except it gave me an excuse to enjoy the spray drumming on my shoulders for a little longer. My hair was short, so it dried quickly. Changed into fresh clothes, and feeling delightfully clean, I thought I'd go back and talk things over with Ariana. But first I'd have a quick lie-down on the bed…

"Wake up, sleeping beauty."

I opened my eyes to Lonnie's cheeky smile. "What time is it?"

"After six. Everyone's gone home, and I'm locking up. Just checking to see you've got everything you need. There's food in the kitchen, so help yourself."

I followed his chubby body to the front door, feeling a little uneasy to be left alone in a strange house in a strange city. Lonnie didn't reassure me much when he said, "You're locked in tight. No one can get in. You should be safe."

"Should be?”

He pursed his lips. "Any neighborhood can be dangerous after dark, some more than others."

"Is this a some, or an other?"

He flashed his charming little smile again as he punched me on the arm, gently. "Just be careful, okay? Don't let anyone in, no matter how convincing a story they come up with."

I must have looked a bit alarmed, because he rushed to assure me the outside was floodlit until sunrise, then gave me the number of the security service that checked the building at intervals during the night. "But call the cops if you think there's a real emergency-" He broke off to look over my shoulder. "Don't come near me, Julia Roberts!"

The tawny cat I'd seen before was strolling in our direction, tail held high. "Does Melodie's cat live here?" I asked.

Lonnie screwed up his face. "Unfortunately, for the moment, yes. Melodie's between apartments, and staying with a friend where pets aren't allowed." He added in a long-suffering tone, "The fact that I'm violently allergic to cat hair doesn't seem to matter to anyone except me."