Claire McNab - Kookaburra Gambit

"So you're thinking someone pretending to be a tourist lobbed in and contacted Ralphie?"

"Funny thing," said Bluey, "the week before the opals disappeared, I ran into Ralphie in the company of a couple of Yanks. I would have stopped for a chat, but my brother couldn't get rid of me fast enough."

I sat up straight. "Did you get their names?"

"I didn't, but I know they were staying at the Wombat's Retreat."

This wasn't surprising. Except for a few bed-and-breakfasts, Mum's pub was the only accommodation in town. Bluey worked out the approximate date he'd seen the blokes with Ralphie, and I said I'd check direct with Mum.

"Ralphie's such a bloody fool," said Bluey. "But he's family, so I have to stick by him. Thank God our mum and dad aren't here to see him behind bars. That's where the stupid bastard's going to end up, you know."

What could I say? Poor Bluey was absolutely right.

I said goodbye and hung up, then picked up the phone to call Mum. I hesitated. Coward that I was, I didn't want to say to her, "Don't keep asking me to come back to help you run the Wombat. It's not going to happen." She'd be upset, and probably cry, and I'd feel awful.

Still, this was business. This was my first real case. I punched in the numbers briskly, before I could change my mind.

Mum was distracted. "Kylie, lovely to hear from you dear, but I'm waiting for the plumber. The hot water's off, and wouldn't you know it, we've got a full house."

I told her the information I wanted. "Do you mind, dear? I'll put Rosie on. She can look it up for you."

"Who's Rosie?"

"She's new. Not great, but she'll have to do for the moment. Since you've been gone, I've had trouble coping with the paperwork. Millie will tell you all about it."

Fortunately, before Mum could really get going on this subject, the plumber turned up, and I was transferred to Rosie. Rosie didn't seem too bright, and it took her ages to find the registration details I wanted, but I finally heard one name I recognized.

I would have never thought the security procedures brought about by rising terrorism in the world would ever be of help to me, but I was wrong. Everyone registering in the Wombat's Retreat had to provide identification, and foreigners were required to show their passports. Ron Udell, accompanied by a man I didn't know, Simon Wardley, had stayed at the pub the week before the Opalarium burglary.

I thanked Rosie with so much enthusiasm I startled her, hung up, and did a little jig around the room. Who could I call and say how clever I'd been? Then I gave myself a mental slap. I was a professional. I'd wait until tomorrow and coolly mention it to Bob and Ariana.

Thinking of Friday reminded me of my date with Chantelle. We'd had plans to visit a new lesbian bar in West Hollywood on Friday evening, but now Aunt Millie was expecting me to have dinner with her. I called Chantelle to explain the problem.

"Why don't we three have dinner?" said Chantelle. "I'm dying to meet your aunt, having heard so much about her."

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"And then," said Chantelle, "we can take her along to the bar with us. Show her a bit of the West Hollywood night life."

I gasped. "Take my Aunt Millie to a lesbian bar!"

"Why? What's the problem? Is she narrow-minded?"

"I don't think it's a very good idea."

"You said that before. How about I just ask her when we meet? Leave it for your aunt to decide if she wants to come with us or not."

"Chantelle, you can't ask my Aunt Millie to a lesbian bar. She'd feel out of place."

"She'll have plenty of company. You find lots of straight women there. It's curiosity brings them-taking a walk on the wild side."

I stifled a giggle. "When I was talking to Aunt Millie earlier, she did tell me she'd been wild in her day."

"There you go," said Chantelle. "Aunt Millie can relive her youth."

Friday morning I found Melodie in the kitchen reading Variety while her bagel toasted. From her cheerful demeanor I saw she had gotten over yesterday's audition trauma.

I glanced over her shoulder. I'd found that Variety and The Hollywood Reporter were the official newspapers of the entertainment industry and collectively were called the "trades." They both used odd jargon, understood by the in-crowd. I figured as a private eye I'd be having lots to do with entertainment types, so I was learning the language.

So far I'd established that people who "ankled" had actually left a company or a movie cast, and that every reference to "Mouse House" was actually the Walt Disney organization, but some word usage still puzzled me.

"What's 'Laffer Skein Preems' mean?" I asked, pointing to a headline.

"Comedy series has its premiere. It's show biz talk."

"I know that, Melodie."

My tone was a little tart. Having Aunt Millie around was wearing on my nerves. I'd tried to find out how long she intended to stay in Los Angeles, working on the principle that a finite end to the agony would help me cope, but my aunt had been vague, saying she had an open-ended return ticket on Qantas, and she'd leave when she was good and ready.

"Oh, look," said Melodie, on full alert. "There's something here about the Oz Mob."

"Where?"

"Lamb White's making a series of Oz Mob movies!" Melodie turned sparkling eyes to me. "Kylie! I'll be Penny Platypus in a series !" She thrust the paper at me, and assumed the stance of one leaning over a microphone. "Fair dinkum, Penny Platypus here. G'day. How yer goin' mate, orright?" She looked at me, pleased. "What do you think of my Australian accent? My voice coach says I've got the ear."

"Needs work." That was an understatement. It was hard to say what Melodie's accent sounded like, but it certainly was nothing like an Aussie.

"You could give me a few pointers, Kylie, so I could fine-tune my accent. Meryl said the Australian accent was one of the most challenging she'd tried." She added with a satisfied smile, "Funny, isn't it, because I haven't found it very difficult."

"You're comparing yourself to Meryl Streep?"

"Of course not. Meryl's an established star, near the end of her career. I'm just at the beginning of mine." She snatched Variety back from me and read the paragraph again. "It's fate that Chicka and I met. It's like I was meant to interpret Penny Platypus."

"Don't count your platypuses until they're hatched." Crikey, I was in a sour mood this morning. "What I mean is, Melodie, it's just a proposal. Lamb White isn't committed yet."

Melodie was feverishly slapping cream cheese on her bagel. "Tiffany will just die when she hears the news," she said, ankling the kitchen with bagel, coffee, and Variety under her arm.

I took my tea back to my office. Lonnie came wandering in, for once not eating, to tell me Ron Udell had visited Australia along with Brother Owen. He'd traced Brother Owen's movements with ease, as the leader of the Church of Possibilities was clearly drumming up as much publicity as possible about setting up a branch of COP in Queensland. This made sense. Queensland was a bonzer state, but the place did seem to attract more than its fair share of way-out religions.

Brother Owen had flown into Sydney with Udell, and then they'd apparently separated, with Brother Owen courting the media in the capital cities of Melbourne, Sydney, and Brisbane, and Ron Udell going off on his own. Lonnie hadn't found out where.

I felt quite smug when I told Lonnie I'd done a bit of detecting of my own, and knew the answer to that question.

After Lonnie had wandered back out again, I checked my take action! list, deciding to eliminate two items with one call. First, I needed the contract Alf and Chicka had with Lamb White faxed to our office. Second, I had to persuade the Hartnidges to initiate a full audit of their company in both Australia and here in the States.