Claire McNab - Kookaburra Gambit

"You won't be a receptionist anymore?"

Melodie broke out of her misery to give me an irate glare. "My acting career, Kylie."

Harriet grinned. I said, "My mistake."

"Besides," said Melodie, "being a receptionist isn't what I'd call a career. It's more a filler. Something you do until you're discovered."

"What happens if you're never discovered?" I inquired.

Irritated, Melodie clicked her tongue. "It's the bees who are never discovered. I'm not a bee."

The phone rang. Harriet gestured to Melodie to take the call. Glowering at this unwarranted interruption, Melodie snatched it up. She really could act. Her voice full of warm interest, she said, "Good morning, Kendall & Creeling. How may I be of help to you?"

Harriet and I had turned away, when we were jolted by a shriek from Melodie. "Larry! Larry! Awesome!"

Melodie, the receiver pressed to her bosom, gazed at us wide-eyed. "Larry, my agent, says I have a callback tomorrow! He says they've told him I'm practically a sure thing! I'm going to be a Refulgent girl!"

To make sure we got the picture, Melodie tinkled her Refulgent laugh.

"Will I kill her, or will you?" Harriet asked.

Hand raised to knock, I stood outside Ariana's brass-studded door. I felt a touch of trepidation, even though I'd rehearsed what I was going to say. I'd remain calm and speak with measured, cool tones, as I reminded Ariana that she and I were co-owners of Kendall & Creeling. That being so, any discipline of staff-in this case, Melodie-should have involved me too.

Ariana would be likely to point out that it was me who had made it easy for Melodie to skip off to the audition, because I volunteered to answer the phone for her. Better to bring this up myself, before Ariana did.

Also, I'd had a bright idea for the Hartnidge case and wanted to run it by her. I was expecting some opposition, which was understandable. Last time I had a lash at an undercover role, I'd got a black eye for my trouble, but this time would be different. I'd be super cautious. Besides, I was more experienced now.

Thinking about that, I decided not to mention experience. I had made a bit of a hash of things in the past, and but for Julia Roberts, might not be around at all.

I took a deep breath, knocked sharply, then opened the door. It s me.

"So I see," said Ariana, looking faintly amused. "Come on in."

I came in and sat down. Ariana leaned back in her black chair behind her black desk. As usual, she herself was wearing black. I had the sudden thought that maybe Ariana was in long-term mourning for Melodie's mother, Sharon Schultz. Though if that were so, it would be years… But then, Queen Victoria wore widow's black for the rest of her long life, after Prince Albert died.

"Kylie?"

I became aware that Ariana was waiting for me to speak. In a rush, I blurted out, "Melodie's got a callback for the Refulgent commercial."

"She's had plenty of those before."

"Ah, but this time Larry-my-agent says she's a sure thing."

A crease appeared between Ariana's elegant eyebrows. "Larry is your agent?"

"No, he's not, of course. But haven't you noticed how Melodie always calls him Larry-my-agent, like it's one word? It's sort of sticks in my mind that way."

I was making a complete galah of myself. I hadn't kept to my plan, and this was the sorry result. I'd pretend this bit of the conversation hadn't happened, and start again.

"Ariana," I said, "I've got something important to discuss with you."

"Before you do, I want to apologize. I should have consulted you before I spoke with Melodie about the time she's spending at auditions when she should be here, doing her job. Seeing you sitting at the reception desk this morning, answering the phone, was the final straw."

Feeling a jab of guilt that Melodie was taking all the blame, I said, "It's not like Melodie made me do it. I volunteered."

"You're a partner in the company. Melodie had no right to presume on your good nature."

Half of me rejoiced that Ariana was speaking of me as her business partner. The other half was embarrassed at how pliable I'd been. "I should have been tougher. I'm just a pushover."

"No way are you a pushover, Kylie." Ariana's tone was dry, in fact, pretty close to sardonic. "Life would be much easier if you were." Before I could ask her what she meant, she went on, "You said you have something important to discuss with me?"

"I reckon I could go undercover at Alf and Chicka's business. Maybe I come in as a personal assistant, or an expert in PR, or something like that."

As I'd expected, Ariana looked skeptical. "And you'd be doing what?"

"Basically snooping around. No one would suspect me. Why would they? I'd just be an Aussie established in L.A., who'd be happy to pick up some work with an Australian company."

Ariana's phone rang. "Excuse me." She listened for a moment, then said to me, "Your Aunt Millie's calling from Wollegudgerie. Do you want to take it here?"

Considering the fact that I was about to make a strenuous effort to talk my aunt out of coming to L.A., I said, "I'd better take it in my office."

On the way down the hall, I marshaled all my arguments. It was to no avail. Aunt Millie's mind was set in concrete. "I'll arrive next Wednesday," she said. "And Kylie, I expect to see you waiting for me at the airport."

Wouldn't it rot your socks?

I was brooding at my desk, trying to work out how to keep Aunt Millie occupied so she didn't have a chance to interact too closely with anyone, when Harriet cheered me up by popping in to ask if Chantelle and I were free for dinner the next night.

"Maurice and Gary will be there," she said. "I'd love you to get to know them."

Maurice was Harriet's unborn child's dad, by way of a syringe. Gary was his long-term partner. I'd met them fleetingly one time they'd called in to collect Harriet when her car had died.

I told Harriet it was a yes for me, but I'd have to check with Chantelle. One advantage of having a relationship with a receptionist is that you can always get them on the phone, even if there are constant interruptions from calls or the necessity to exchange super-nice remarks with clients drifting by.

"Hold please," said Chantelle to me after I'd only got three words out. I heard her say warmly, "A very good afternoon to you, Mr. Duddle. It's wonderful weather we're having, isn't it?"

"Was that Frank Duddle, who directed Afternoon of the Dancing Zombies ?" I asked when she got back to me.

"That's the one. He's a little guy, with a head as bald as a billiard ball. Hold on…Good afternoon, Ms. Sarandon. It's wonderful weather we're having, isn't it?"

"Why do you keep mentioning the weather?" I asked when Chantelle came back to me.

"Safe topic of conversation. And everyone's got a set of weather phrases to use."

"So let's say Tom Hanks waltzes in. I suppose you'd chat with him about the catastrophic effects of global warming."

"Global warming's political." Chantelle's tone was severe. "A receptionist doesn't initiate discussion of politics or religion. And weather should never be controversial."

"Best to stick to 'It's not the heat, it's the humidity'?"

"You've got the idea," Chantelle said.

Having established she'd be delighted to dine at Harriet and Beth's place, I rang off. It was early Saturday morning at the 'Gudge-Aunt Millie had called at the crack of dawn there-so I had to wait at least an hour before calling Bluey Bates at home.

Bluey was Wollegudgerie's only lawyer, and he'd looked after all the stuff to do with my dad's will. His brother, Ralphie Bates, owned Ralphie's Opalarium, one of the jewelry stores making a good living selling opals to the tourists. A few months back, when I'd still been living at the Wombat's Retreat, the Opalarium had been burgled during a long weekend. Only the finest stones were taken, to a total value of a cool quarter of a million. The law in town, Sergeant Mucka Onslow, had been completely baffled. Not surprising, as most things baffled Mucka.