Claire McNab: Wombat Strategy

"Sort of like a bear," said Melodie. "Would a wombat attack you?"

"No, but it might walk over you if you got in its way."

"Australia's got such cute animals," Melodie enthused. "I just love those cuddly koala bears. And birds. My aunt's got one of those big white cockatoos with the yellow crests."

"That reminds me," I said. "There was this bird in the middle of the night. Whatever it was, it had a real routine of clicking sounds, and trills, and snatches of birdsong. When it got to the end, there'd be a break, and then it'd start all over again."

"Mockingbird," said Lonnie. "They arrive here in spring and drive everyone mad for a couple of months." He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "Trying to attract the ladies, that's what they're doing. Each of them has his own individual song."

A man I presumed was Bob Verritt stuck his head through the kitchen door. "Lonnie, there's a messenger at the front with a package for you. Something from Dr. Deer." He caught sight of the carton. "Any left?" Then he caught sight of me. "Hello!" He came all the way into the kitchen. "So you're Colin's daughter. I'm Bob Verritt."

He was one of those very tall, thin, concave guys who are sort of curved over themselves. His blue suit hung on him like his shoulders had been replaced by a wire hanger. He had lank hair of no particular color, a long face with a beaky nose, and the nicest smile. He even had a chipped front tooth, which was a first for the dentally perfect people around here.

He seemed surprised when I put out my hand, but he shook it anyway, saying, "I can't tell you how sorry I am about your father. He was a regular guy."

"Thanks. I wish I could have known him better, spent more time with him."

"You take after Colin in one way-he could rattle Ariana's cage too."

"She's upset?"

That got a hearty laugh. "And then some. She's just told me how you dropped in out of the blue yesterday and have plans to stay. All I can say is when I left her office, she wasn't a happy camper."

"Whoa," said Lonnie. "If Ariana's on the warpath, I'm getting out of the way."

"Don't forget, the messenger's waiting," said Melodie.

Lonnie didn't seem in much of a hurry, wandering off with a mug of coffee and yet another doughnut.

Melodie turned her wide green eyes on me. "How come you've upset Ariana?"

Bob Verritt answered for me. "Kylie's aiming to become a P.I. and replace her dad in the business."

"No!" Melodie looked at me with admiration. "But it's so hard. And you'll have to get a green card and everything."

"I don't need a green card," I said. "I was born in Los Angeles. I'm an American citizen."

"I thought you were Australian." Melodie spoke in the reproachful tone of someone who'd been fooled. "You sound like one."

"I'm an Australian too. I've got dual citizenship."

"Cool!"

Something she'd said hit me. "What do you mean it's hard to become a P.I.?"

Bob said, "You haven't been a cop, have you? Or got a degree in law or criminology."

"That's a no to both."

"Well, since you're starting from scratch, after the FBI says you haven't got a criminal history, you have to put in three years as a trainee under the supervision of a licensed P.I."

"Crikey! Three years? I was hoping I'd just have to take some sort of exam."

My disillusionment seemed to amuse Bob. "The exam's after you've completed a total of six thousand hours-two thousand each year. And you have to be paid for your time, or it doesn't count."

This was turning out to be a bigger commitment than I'd bargained for. "Let me get this straight. I'm an apprentice for three years, then I take an exam, then I'm a true-blue PL? Right?"

"Unless you've got a criminal record."

Hoping my disappointment didn't show, as I hated it when anyone felt sorry for me, I grinned at him. "No record. They never caught me."

"I auditioned for a P.I. role once," said Melodie. "One of three girls working for this millionaire. Guy's Eyes, it was called. Glad I didn't get the part. The show never made it past the pilot episode."

"Major bummer," I said, being polite. Three years was buzzing around in my head. But hell's bells, I didn't have any concrete plans for the future. I could start off, and if I didn't finish, well, that was the way it went.

It suddenly occurred to me that Ariana could stonker me completely by refusing to be my supervisor. "You're a licensed P.I., aren't you?" I said to Bob.

He put up his hands. "Oh, no, Kylie. I'm not going to be the meat in the sandwich between you and Ariana. Work it out with her."

"I'll do that."

No time like the present, as my mum always says. I'd need my strength, so I grabbed a plain doughnut and washed it down with coffee. Then I strode down the hall to Ariana's office, set on following yet another of my mum's pieces of advice: Start as you mean to continue. I was going to start off confident, sure of myself. Ariana would be begging to take me on as a trainee.

The door was open and Ariana was behind her desk, her blond head bent over something she was reading. "Got a mo?" I said.

She skewered me with her blue gaze. "Sure."

I felt my self-confidence leaking away a bit. Maybe I should chat her up first, approach the subject from the side, burble on for a minute or two about nothing in particular.

"Yes?" Ariana said.

"I want you to be my supervisor. Bob Verritt's explained the whole P.I. thing. I know about the three years and all that." When she continued to look at me, expressionless, I added hastily, "I'm really keen, dinkum I am. You won't be sorry."

"I get inquiries almost every week from individuals who think it would be great to be a private investigator. I tell them all the same thing: It's not enough to want the job. You have to have the skills."

I couldn't think of any particular skill that would help me here, so I said, trying not to sound defensive, "I'm interested in people. What makes them tick." Jeez, did that sound like I might be a bit of a stalker? "But I'm not what you'd call a real sticky-beak, so no worries there."

Ariana sighed. "Okay, Kylie, I'll ask you the questions I use for would-be interns."

I sat up straight. "Fire away."

She didn't look enthusiastic. "Do you have computer skills?"

"Yes."

That took her back a bit. "You do?"

I took a minute to detail how I'd set up the pub's system and how I'd learned a lot of different programs-word processing, accounting, home office printing, and so on. And then I remembered the courses I'd done, so I told her about them.

It seemed to me Ariana had perked up a little. "How about photography? Any experience?"

"Back home, I've got my own darkroom." Now I was sounding up myself, just like Dave Deer. "Look, I'm not claiming to be a crash-hot photographer of people, which is probably what you're looking for. All my shots are of wildlife, or landscapes."

She asked me a few questions about cameras, and I must have answered okay, because she nodded. She said, "I don't suppose you're familiar with digital cameras?"

"I brought one with me. Got it as a Chrissie present last year." I didn't add it had been a gift from Raylene and I'd seriously considered leaving it behind. But hell, it wasn't the camera's fault that she'd turned out to be two-faced.

Ariana's expression had gone from blank to maybe-considering. "You won't be sorry," I said again. "I think I probably will be."

I jumped to my feet. "Leaping lizards! You're taking me on!"

"Oh, God," said Ariana to herself, but I heard it clearly. "What have I done?"

Figuring I'd better learn the ropes, I started off at the reception desk. Melodie was in residence, consuming what had to be the last available doughnut. I eyed it covetously, as my success with Ariana had sparked my appetite.