The Dingo Dilemma

After a token resistance she agreed to be chauffeured.

For security reasons the courtyard and parking area were brightly lit at night, so it would be impossible for Norris Blainey to lurk there undetected. Although I was sure he was long gone, he was a nasty piece of work, so I wouldn't put it past him to plot some form of revenge for his humiliation.

Ariana obviously had the same thought. As we walked to my car, I noticed her checking everything out, her hand in her pocket of her jacket.

'You carrying?' I said.

She grinned. 'Great command of private-eye lingo. And yes, I am.'

I knew that, having been a cop, Ariana hadn't found it too difficult to get a license to carry a concealed weapon. I had Buckley's chance, I reckoned, of being able to swing such a license, not that I was any good with handguns anyway. I'd grown up with rifles and shotguns and was a fair shot with both, but the law in Australia restricted the possession of handguns to law enforcement and a small number of private citizens with exceptional reasons to have such weapons.

Assured that no one was lurking and that nothing had been done to my car, we pulled out into Thursday night traffic. Sunset Boulevard was always busy, but starting from Thursday evening and going through to the early hours of Monday morning, the closer one got to the Sunset Strip nightlife, the more frantic it became.

We left the frenetic activity and drove up winding roads into the Hollywood Hills. Ariana sat silent beside me. I wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but of all people I was the one who couldn't. I would never say it aloud, but in a sense, Natalie was my rival, although she would never know I even existed. I'd compromise, gladly share Ariana with her, but that wasn't my decision to make.

I gave myself a sharp mental slap. While I was whinging to myself about the circumstances that made my relationship with Ariana problematic, she was grieving. In Ariana's memories Natalie lived, vibrant and alive, but in the reality of the here and now, she was a tragic figure, stricken in mind and body. How would I be coping if Ariana was the one lying in a hospital bed physically present, but with her intelligence and passion melted away, leaving only a husk behind?

Not recognizing the sound of my car, Ariana's German shepherd barked a warning when I pulled into the parking area behind Ariana's house. Poor Gussie had been left alone for one night already, and even though I knew a professional dog walker took her out every weekday, she must have been fretting for Ariana's presence.

Ariana called out Gussie's name, and the barking stopped immediately. We both got out of the car. Ariana looked at me. So there'd be no confusion between us, I said, 'I'll see you inside, then I'll go. As your car's still at the office, what time do you want me to pick you up in the morning?'

'Eight? Would that be OK?'

'Right-oh. Eight it is.'

She put a hand on my arm. 'Kylie, thank you.'

I felt awkward and a bit embarrassed. If Ariana could read my mind she'd know how much I wanted to come inside, to make love with her, to banish, if only for a few moments, every thought of grief and loss from her thoughts.

****

As instructed by Ariana, when I got back to Kendall & Creeling I double-checked the area before getting out of my car. No one was lying in wait for me. I expected, after everything that had happened, that I wouldn't sleep well, but as soon as my head touched the pillow I was unconscious, and didn't stir until the sound of the industrial-strength vacuum woke me up.

First impressions can be indelible, I'd found, particularly with our cleaner, Luis. He had never quite got over our initial meeting, when I'd appeared waving a golf club to defend myself against a supposed intruder, not knowing that he came very early several times a week to clean the offices.

For that reason I was always very circumspect with Luis. I tried to avoid walking up behind him and I kept a good bit of personal space between us when we spoke. Even with this care, he continued to treat me like an unpredictable and possibly deranged individual.

I showered and dressed, then headed for the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before I picked up Ariana. Turning a corner, I almost ran into Luis, who started violently, then murmured something in Spanish, possibly an appeal to a saint for protection.

How ridiculous was this? A cleaner terrified of me, of all people? 'G'day, Luis,' I said in as friendly a tone as possible. 'Nice weather we're having, don't you think?'

He nodded slowly, all the while looking at me warily.

'Look,' I said, showing him my hands. 'No golf club.' He took a step back. I took a step forward. 'Trust me,' I said sincerely, 'no weapons of any kind.'

I'd been trying to pick up a little Spanish from a traveler's phrase book, since so many people spoke the language in LA. I gave Luis my version of: 'Hello, my name is Kylie. How are you today?'

Perhaps my accent needed work, as Luis said, 'I go,' and rapidly went.

I was in the kitchen bolting down the last of my porridge when Lonnie appeared holding a McDonald's bag containing his customary fast-food breakfast. 'Catch the news this morning?' he asked.

'Not yet. What's up?'

'The Collie Coalition has gone public. Threatened Darleen in particular and Bellina Studios in general, if their demands that Darleen be replaced with a pure-bred collie are not met.'

He turned on the kitchen TV and flicked around stations until he found a local morning show. The story was top of the news.

'Beloved dingo Darleen of Darleen Come Home finds herself in peril this morning, Rod!' an anorexic, white-blond young woman exclaimed to a sleek bloke with blow-dried hair, a deep tan, and very white teeth.

His smile disappeared, replaced with a grave demeanor. 'Peril indeed, Delia! A previously unknown group, calling themselves the Collie Coalition, using untraceable e-mails, have made grave but unspecified threats against Darleen and the studios where Darleen Come Home is produced. Their demands include the immediate replacement of Darleen with a collie dog.'

'So sad!' exclaimed the blond. 'Let's cross to Gloria on location.'

The screen changed to show a rather windblown brunet clutching a microphone and looking intense. In the background I recognized the industrial street fronting the studios I'd visited the day before.

Gloria had the same breathless, hyper-enthusiastic delivery as the anchors at the station. 'Delia, Rod, I'm at the fabled Bellina Studios, home of so many award-winning shows. Now a pall of fear and confusion lies over every soundstage. An atmosphere of pending peril is in the air. Earlier this morning, I spoke with renowned director Earl Garfield…'

The picture switched to a shot of a black limo drawing up to the entrance. As it slowed, Gloria galloped forward, microphone at the ready. She tapped on the window, calling out, 'Mr. Garfield! Mr. Garfield! What are your feelings about these ominous threats to Darken, the star of your show?'

The window slid partly down and Gloria shoved her microphone into the opening. Earl Garfield's face was barely discernible, and the two words he said were impossible to make out. Reading his lips, it appeared he had told her to get lost, using a more basic term.

Now Gloria was back on camera in the present. Shaking her head, she said, 'Reclusive director Earl Garfield was far too upset to make a statement at this time, but it seems he has every confidence that the authorities will track and bring to justice the perpetrators. This is Gloria Soames, reporting from Bellina Studios. Back to you, Rod and Delia.'

Rod and Delia has been joined at their elaborate desk by a solemn bloke with a crew cut and a badly fitting gray suit. Delia smiled at him with every evidence of deep delight. 'And here with us this morning is our terrorism expert, Hadley Charles, author of the best-selling book on domestic terrorism, Not If, But When.'

Rod chimed in with, 'From your wide intelligence experience, Hadley, what can you tell viewers about the Collie Coalition?'

'They're an intensely secret organization, Rod, thought by some to have ties to terrorist groups outside the