The Dingo Dilemma

country. Al Qaeda has been mentioned.'

Delia raised her eyebrows. 'Really, Hadley? But there's been no statement this morning from the White House.'

'My sources,' snapped Hadley, obviously irritated to have his statement questioned, 'tell me that the threat the Collie Coalition poses is, as we speak, being discussed at the highest levels of national security. The highest levels.'

As the station went into one of its interminable commercial breaks, Lonnie said to me, 'I told you, didn't I? Homeland Security are on the case, pity help us. Most of them wouldn't know if their pants were on fire.'

****

I picked Ariana up at eight sharp. She was somber, but seemed rested. As I drove down from the Hills, she said, 'I'll tell Bob about Natalie, and of course my sister will have told Fran this morning, but I'd rather no one else knows. Lanette said she'd ask Fran not to discuss it in the office.'

'Right-oh.' I broke the silence that followed by saying, 'Darken Come Home was in the news this morning.'

'I heard it on the radio.'

'The intelligence expert I saw on television said there might be an Al Qaeda connection.'

'It's highly unlikely. Here's a group whose stated aim is to have a collie replace a dingo on a TV show. It seems quite a stretch to paint them as linked to international terrorism.'

'Lonnie says he's heard that Homeland Security is involved.'

'That'll please Fran,' said Ariana with an acerbic smile.

As I parked the car, I automatically checked the vehicles already there. I'd put Dad's Mustang away in the garage accessed by a lane at the back of the building, so it wasn't in view. Ariana's dark blue BMW was, of course, and Lonnie's nondescript Nissan was parked in his usual slapdash manner. Harriet's black VW Beetle was missing. Neither Fran's bulky SUV nor Melodie's red sports car had yet arrived, but Bob Verritt, who'd recently purchased a silver Lexus-his pride and joy-drove in behind us.

'Well, what do you think of our Kylie?' he said to Ariana as he got out of his car. 'Trainee private eye, amateur architect, media star…the girl's got talent coming out her ears.'

'Architect?' said Ariana, eyeing me. 'You don't have some new plan, do you?'

'Nothing new,' I said. 'Just the sitting room I've mentioned before.'

'Don't trust her,' said Bob, grinning. 'Turn your back for five minutes, and she'll have a wall down.'

He walked with us into the building, still chuckling. Ariana said to me that we should speak to Fran about her underhanded deal with the furniture later today, after Ariana had caught up with the work that had piled up while she'd been absent.

She disappeared into her office and I went along to my room, deep in thought about Dingo O'Rourke. Now that the news was out about the Collie Coalition, maybe he could relax a bit, as surely all this publicity would make an attempted dingo-napping much more unlikely.

I opened my office door, and was astonished to see Quip lounging in a chair waiting for me. As usual, he was wearing a tight T-shirt to highlight the impressive physique he'd achieved with regular sessions at the gym.

'Quip? Is Fran here? I didn't see the SUV.'

'I'm driving a rental. I left it on the street.'

I remembered Ariana's remark that she thought she'd seen Quip sitting in a parked car near our gates. 'You were there last night, weren't you?' I said.

His handsome face flushed with chagrin. 'I didn't think anyone saw me.'

'Ariana did. What were you doing?'

'Did Fran tell you I'm writing a novel?'

'Titled J, Developer, featuring Morris Rainey, a barely disguised portrait of Norris Blainey,' I said.

'So you understand why I've been shadowing Blainey, hence the rental car. I'm gathering material for my book. I follow him everywhere he goes.'

'Crikey, Quip, isn't that dangerous? He's got a rep as a mega-ruthless bloke.'

Quip flexed a muscle or two. 'You think he'd be any match for me?'

'I reckon he'd pay someone else to deal with you. He wouldn't get his hands dirty himself.'

'I can handle it,' said Quip, jutting his manly jaw. 'Besides, I've got a contact in Blainey's office, so I'd get some warning if he was up to anything like that.'

'The contact wouldn't be a receptionist, would it?'

I felt quite chuffed when Quip gazed at me with open admiration. 'I can see you've got a handle on this detecting routine already,' he said. Then his expression changed to one of concern. 'Kylie, it's vital you don't mention my receptionist contact to Fran. Promise me you won't. She wouldn't understand.'

I understood why he was worried. Fran was notably possessive. 'Good-looking is she?' I asked. 'And blond, I bet.'

'Blond, yes. Good-looking, yes. But it isn't a she-it's a he.'

I didn't comment. Fran and Quip's marriage was a mystery to me. Angels would possibly fear to tread in this area-I certainly did.

To fill the moment of awkward silence, I said, 'Have you got any useful material, with all this lurking around?'

'Have I ever! Sensational stuff! Corruption, kickbacks, politicians in his pocket…' Quip gave me a brilliant smile. 'Help me out here, Kylie. Give me word for word what Blainey said to you and Ariana last night. I heard him pounding on the door. I couldn't see clearly from behind the fence, but after a short time I did see you walk him to his car.'

Obviously Quip hadn't realized I'd had Norris Blainey's arm up between his shoulder blades, and I wasn't going to admit to losing my temper, so I said vaguely, 'He didn't say much. He mentioned how generous the offer he was proposing was, we basically said we weren't interested and asked him to leave.'

Disappointed, Quip asked, 'No swearing? No threats? I need the raw immediacy of the real-life interactions to make my protagonist, Morris Rainey, live and breathe.'

'Can't say there were, not really.' As I said this I remembered the venom in Blainey's voice when he'd choked out the words, You bitch. You'll pay for this.

****

After Quip left, clearly dissatisfied with the quality of information on Blainey I could supply, I spent an hour answering e-mails and getting my files up to date. Then I decided a cup of tea would hit the spot, so I headed for the kitchen. I came through the door to find Fran, Harriet, and Lonnie already there.

'Someone shut Julia Roberts in the storage room holding the disaster supplies,' Fran was saying in a militant tone. 'Melodie says it wasn't her, so which one of you was it?'

'Not me,' said Lonnie far too quickly. We all looked at him.

Fran fixed Lonnie with a basilisk stare. 'Why did you do that, Lonnie?'

'What makes you think it was me? You know I'm allergic. I do everything I can to keep away from that cat.'

Harriet said helpfully, 'Earlier, I saw Julia Roberts pawing at the door. Perhaps she managed to open it herself.'

Fran didn't shift her gaze from Lonnie. 'You let that cat into the storage area, didn't you?'

Lonnie shot out a mutinous lower lip. 'So what if I did? What was the harm? I figured if Julia Roberts was in the disaster supplies, that meant she wasn't trying to get into my room.'

'The harm,' snapped Fran, 'was that she managed to open a container and make herself a nest in what were previously sterile field dressings. Dressings, I might remind you, that are essential in the treatment of the seriously wounded.'

'Cats love boxes,' I said. 'It's natural she'd want to get in one. And Jules wouldn't have known they were