Claire McNab - Kookaburra Gambit

I got Alf Hartnidge on the line. "Kylie, love! Marty-O's been chatting with me and Chicka at an early morning brekkie. He's a good bloke, you know. Wants the best for us." He added with a reverent tone, "Did you see we made Variety this morning? Variety !"

"I read the item, Alf. Now, Marty-O, what's he been saying?"

Alf and Chicka might be big, strapping Aussies, but even I could see that in L.A. they were babes in the wood.

"Marty-O explained how lucky we are that Brother Owen's so keen to use our Oz Mob in those Bible movies. Chicka's still dragging his feet, but I'm gung ho."

"Has Marty-O suggested you sign any new contracts with Lamb White?"

"He's drawing them up as we speak. Says we need to pin Brother Owen down quick smart, before he changes his mind."

The Hartnidges weren't babes in the wood. They were lambs to the slaughter. "Don't sign any contracts, Alf. Not until a lawyer looks them over."

"Why drag a lawyer into it? Marty-O knows what he's doing."

"He certainly does," I said. "That's your problem right there."

It took some fast talking, but I finally managed to get Alf to promise neither he nor Chicka would sign any documents without having them checked out. "I'll get Harriet to call you," I said. "She can give you the names of the best entertainment lawyers."

"If you really think it's necessary…"

"I do, Alf." I added, "And Marty-O will respect you for it." A good thing Alf couldn't see my cynical smile.

There was no problem getting Alf to agree to fax over the current contract he and Chicka had with Lamb White. The problem came with the audit. "But, mate, Ira Jacobs will be asking why we want an audit. It's like we don't trust him, isn't it?"

"You don't trust him."

"Yeah, but…"

I was beginning to wonder whether Alf might not have some other reason not to offend Jacobs. "Alf, level with me. Do you fancy Ira Jacobs?"

"I might."

"It's not a good idea to let personal feelings get in the way of business matters."

Crikey, I was sounding like my mother. And I was such a hypocrite. If Ariana ever said the word, I'd be in her arms like a shot, business or no business.

"It's not easy being bi," Alf complained. "If you think about it, you get double the temptations everywhere you go. It's bloody hard to say no."

Normally, Alf's sex life would be none of my business, but Ira Jacobs was a different matter. It was my professional duty, I decided, to find out if Alf was sleeping with the enemy. "I can see how Ira could be very enticing," I lied, "but have you resisted temptation so far?"

"Of course," said Alf with a touch of indignation. "I mean, he's staff. But still…" I was alarmed to hear yearning in his voice.

"Could I speak to Chicka, please?"

Chicka was much more resolute than his brother. He agreed a lawyer was an excellent idea and that an audit was essential. "No worries. I'll straighten Alf out. He tends to let people bamboozle him."

The iron had clearly entered Chicka's soul. I started to say, "You sound much more-"

"Tough? I am. Yesterday when we were getting pushed around by that Bible-basher, I said to myself, 'So what's ten bloody minutes?'"

"Pardon?"

"Ten minutes. Alf thinks being ten minutes older makes him top dog. That he can make all the decisions and I'll go along like a good little younger brother. No more!"

"What does Alf say to this?"

"He keeps on looking at me sideways, like he doesn't know what to make of it. I tell you, Kylie, I should have done this long ago. I'm bloody enjoying myself!"

Harriet said she'd look out for the fax from the Oz Mob offices and would discuss the contract with a lawyer friend who was in the entertainment business. She could also supply the twins with a list of reputable attorneys.

Bob wasn't in yet, so I went direct to Ariana with my news about Ron Udell being in Wollegudgerie the week before the opal heist. I sat in her office talking it over with her and trying not to look too pleased with myself, which was hard, because she told me I'd done well.

She sat across from me, so remote yet so desirable. I was careful not to act in any way other than a junior colleague would when speaking with a senior colleague. There was no way Ariana had any idea what I felt about her. And yet…

With a jolt it occurred to me that if a beginning private eye like me could learn how to detect lying, someone like Ariana should be able to do it without breaking a sweat. Not that we were talking about anything I'd lie about, such as whether I was in love with her. That wasn't a conversation we were likely to have.

But I was trying to hide something-the disturbing fact that, as far as she was concerned, I was besotted. Well, maybe not besotted. That was too close to infatuation. What I felt was more profound. I supposed it was love, though not like any love I'd felt before.

"Kylie?"

"Oh, sorry. I was thinking about-" I could hardly say what I was thinking about. "Thinking about things."

There went that elegant eyebrow again. "What things?"

My thoughts shot round in my head like startled chooks. I came up with, "How Alf and Chicka are going to be swindled out of their Oz Mob rights. I reckon that's what's going on with the smuggled opals."

"How do you see the scenario playing out?"

I looked at her mouth. We'd kissed, twice. Three times lucky? Jeez, I had to concentrate. "How do I see the scenario playing out?"

Whoops, I was repeating the question. I made a mental note not to do that again. I hurried to continue, before she noticed. "Harriet's going to have someone look at the fine print in the contract the Hartnidges have with Lamb White, but I'm sure it's the morals clause that's the key. I believe it will go like this: The opals will be discovered, Lamb White will be shocked, just shocked, that the Hartnidge twins are criminals. I'm guessing here, but I wonder if when the morals clause is activated, there isn't an option to take over the project completely. Something like that, to give Lamb White and the Church of Possibilities total control over the Oz Mob characters."

While I was talking, I ran a systems check. Points from the lying chapter scrolled in my head. Was I touching my mouth or nose? Smiling too much? Explaining too much? I'd only skimmed the last part of that particular chapter in my Complete Handbook. It covered how liars gave themselves away not so much by what they were saying but how they said it. I wished devoutly I could remember all of the details.

"I think you're right," said Ariana. "But proving it will be difficult."

Bob came in and I gave him a rundown of the situation so far, then I bolted back to my office to check my Handbook. It had proved itself a font of essential PI information. It was fate I'd found this particular volume in a bookshop. I grinned. Now I was sounding like Melodie.

Checking the last section of the lying chapter, I noted the characteristics a liar shows when speaking. They included long-winded explanations; using I , me, and mine much less frequently than truth tellers; a lack of contractions, so a liar says do not instead of don't; and last, because lying takes mental work, the interesting point that liars tend to speak more slowly while their brains race to get their stories straight.

I ran over my conversation with Ariana. I was pretty sure I hadn't fallen into any of these dead giveaways. A sudden thought occurred to me. What if it didn't matter? What if Ariana didn't care what I felt about her?

I told myself I'd just get on with my life and stop obsessing over someone I could never have anything but a business relationship with.

In the early evening I picked up Chantelle before collecting Aunt Millie at her hotel. As we drove through heavy-what else?-traffic, I said to her, "Do you think I have moxie? Be honest now."