The Dingo Dilemma

sterile field dressings.'

'Fran! Fran! Come quick!' Breathless, Melodie ricocheted into the kitchen.

Fran scowled. 'What the hell is the matter with you?'

'It's not me,' Melodie gasped. 'It's Quip. He's hurt. There's blood everywhere!'

Ten

'It was nothing,' said Brucie modestly, leaning with a nonchalant air against Melodie's fake-Spanish desk. 'I came upon two yobbos beating the living daylights out of a bloke, so of course I waded in.'

Melodie gazed at him with something approaching adoration. 'Oh, Bruce, that was so brave of you.'

He gave her an unassuming smile. 'Thanks, but anyone would have done the same.'

I recalled that Brucie had played on the Wollegudgerie footie team and had never been afraid of a bit of biffo. This was fortunate for Quip, who'd been ambushed in our parking area. But for Brucie's intervention, he would have sustained even more damage than he had.

The ambulance had left with Fran accompanying a semi-conscious Quip. He had a broken nose, eyes swollen almost shut, and a split lip, and possibly a couple of cracked ribs. The hospital ER would ascertain if he had any more serious injuries.

The cops had been called, of course, and Ariana had dealt with them. They'd interviewed Brucie, who hadn't been able to give much more than a vague description of the two thugs because they'd bolted the moment it was clear Brucie was more than they could handle.

The phone rang and Melodie picked up. 'Lexus, hi! Can't talk. Call you back, OK?'

'That Lexus,' Brucie said with a reminiscent grin, 'she sure knows how to party.'

Lexus-actually Cathy, but she'd changed her name to something she considered more upmarket-shared an apartment with Melodie.

'So Lexus joined you and Melodie painting the town red last night, did she?'

'Bright red! Lexus is a bit of all right, I can tell you.'

Melodie frowned, obviously not too happy to hear this glowing description of her flatmate. She opened her mouth to say something, but the phone rang again. 'Taylor? Hi! Yes, awesome. And the blood!' She looked at Brucie. 'He's right here. An Aussie. Can't talk now. Call you back. Bye.'

Another call came through. 'Mandy, hi! Like, just outside the door. His face? Mask of blood. But can't talk now. Call you back.'

It was clear that the news of Quip's bashing and Brucie's intervention was already burning the lines of the receptionists' network.

Almost immediately, the phone rang again. 'Yancy, hi! Yes, you heard right. Ambulance just left. No, I can't talk now'-she looked meaningfully at me and Brucie-'because I'm not alone…'

'Come on,' I said, taking Brucie's arm, 'Melodie has some serious networking to do.' I'd only taken a few steps down the hall before it struck me. 'Hang on for a mo, Brucie.'

'Bruce!'

'Sorry. Bruce. I have to ask Melodie something…'

I went back to the reception desk. 'Melodie?'

'Hold for a sec, Yancy.' She looked at me impatiently. 'Yes?'

'Yancy's a man's name.'

'So? Yancy's a man.'

'And Yancy's a receptionist?'

She gave an irritated sigh. 'There's a sprinkling of male receptionists around town. A couple are quite good.'

'Yancy wouldn't work for Norris Blainey's company, would he?'

Now Melodie was seriously peeved with me. 'Receptionists shouldn't be judged by the companies they work for,' she said sharply.

'I wasn't judging Yancy. I want to talk to him. Will you put him through to my office, please?'

The question of why I wanted to talk to Yancy trembled on Melodie's lips, but wisely she didn't put it into words.

'I have to take a call,' I said to Brucie. 'Why don't you check on Lonnie?'

When Melodie had appeared with the news that Quip had been hurt, Lonnie had hurried up to reception with everyone else. Big mistake. He'd taken one look at Quip slumped in a chair, his face covered with blood, had gone weak-kneed and had to be helped to a chair himself.

When Lonnie had recovered enough to wobble his way to his office, Bob had kindly escorted him to his door and seen him safely settled at his computer. Since then, there'd been no sign of Lonnie at all.

I expected Brucie to say something disparaging about Lonnie, along the lines that he was a sook for nearly fainting at the sight of blood, but Brucie was surprisingly sympathetic. 'One look at a hypodermic and everything goes gray and I fall over. Just have to see a doc's white coat, and I feel woozy. It's embarrassing, but I can't help it. So I get what the bloke's been through.'

With Brucie safely dispatched in Lonnie's direction, I zipped into my office to take the call. Julia Roberts, who'd obviously been seriously inconvenienced by all the activity this morning, was curled up in my chair. She was quite put out when I gently tipped her onto the floor.

'Yancy? This is Kylie Kendall.'

'Hi, Kylie. Quip's spoken about you,' he said with professional receptionist enthusiasm. With a note of real concern, he added, 'Melodie says he's been badly hurt.'

I visualized Yancy as Quip had described him-blond and good-looking. His voice didn't match my mental picture, though, as I always associated deep bass tones like his with dark hair.

I described Quip's injuries. 'Fran's with him. We'll know more later, when she calls from the hospital.'

'I warned him, you know. I said Blainey could be ruthless.'

'Can you be overheard?' I asked, thinking it wouldn't help Yancy's job security to be badmouthing his boss.

'It's OK. I'm on my cell and I've ducked out of the building.'

'So you're sure Norris Blainey is behind this?' I asked.

'Of course. Aren't you?'

'I can't think of anyone else who would harm Quip.'

'Quip's such a rank amateur, as far as surveillance is concerned,' Yancy said. 'It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Of course, it could've been worse. He could be dead. That would shut him up for good.'

Bashing was one thing, murder quite another. 'Are you fair dinkum? Norris Blainey would actually be involved in killing Quip just because Quip's writing a novel about him?'

'Blainey's been involved in mysterious deaths before. Why not again?'

Crikey, this was getting really hairy. 'Yancy, you need to speak to the cops investigating Quip's bashing.'

'No way! No cops. And I'll deny I said anything to you at all, if you give my name to them.'

'But why?' Then I realized I was talking to myself. Yancy had hung up.

Brucie, hands in pockets, strolled into my room. 'Hey, Lonnie has some seriously cool stuff,' he said. 'He could set himself up as a spy, no worries.'

My phone rang. Maybe it was Yancy, calling back to say he'd had second thoughts about the cops.

'Oh, hello, Aunt Millie.'

Brucie took his hands out of his pockets quick smart, and made frantic gestures to catch my attention. 'Don't tell Mum I'm here,' he mouthed.

'Brucie?' I said. 'Yes, I've seen him. He's looking good. Actually, Aunt Millie, you'll be pleased to hear your son's a hero. Saved someone being viciously attacked.'

Being a proud mother, albeit a pessimistic one-'Brucie could have been killed, maimed!'-my aunt demanded