every last detail. I was well into a vivid depiction of Quip's beating and Brucie's bravery when I realized with dismay that Aunt Millie would rush to tell my mum about it, and in the process probably blow up the story into a full-scale battle. Major bummer! This was going to give Mum even more ammunition for her campaign to snatch me from the appalling dangers of Los Angeles and return me to the safety of outback Wollegudgerie.
I remembered to ask about Mum's crisis in the Wombat's kitchen. This started my aunt on a tirade.
'Jack O'Connell's a complete boofhead,' she declared. 'He lords it over the staff telling them how to do their jobs, when he's got no idea what he's talking about. Then he wonders why they get upset. I've told your mother, get rid of him. Jack's not worth the trouble. But will she?' Aunt Millie snorted. 'Says she likes a man around the house. Jack's a poor excuse for a man, I told her. You can do better.'
When I finally got Aunt Millie off the phone, I became aware that Brucie was scowling at me. 'I had to tell your mum how you saved Quip,' I said. 'She would have heard anyway. And besides, you really were terrific, coming to his rescue like you did.'
'It's not that,' he snapped. 'It's that I've had it with Brucie. The name's Bruce. Got it?'
'Got it. Sorry, but you've been Brucie all my life.' To lighten the mood, I added brightly, 'Did you know before he changed it, Quip's name was Bruce?'
'He went from Bruce to
'He's a writer. It was a marketing decision.'
'If I'd known,' said my cousin, 'I never would have saved him.'
'How are you going?'
Lonnie looked up from his computer screen. 'Your cousin Bruce is a great guy,' he said. 'Told me how he himself faints at the sight of a needle. Didn't feel quite such a fool, then.'
Hell's bells! Brucie-Bruce-was making favorable impressions left, right, and center. I couldn't possibly have been wrong about him all these years. Maybe he'd had a personality transplant.
'What's the latest on Quip?' Lonnie asked.
'Fran's going to call as soon as she knows.'
Lonnie shook his head. 'I can't help thinking he set himself up for this. Quip's idea of how to conduct surveillance is laughable.' Lonnie's expression became indignant. 'And he wouldn't take my advice, and I
'Did he tell you why he was following Norris Blainey?'
'Some cockamamie idea about writing a novel. A novel! You're a screenwriter, I said, but Quip insisted he wanted total creative control and only a novel would give him that.' Lonnie snorted. 'Half the screenwriters in town want to write a novel, and half the novelists want to write a screenplay. Stick to what you know, I say!'
For some reason, Lonnie was getting quite het up over the whole thing. To calm him down, I said, 'What advice about surveillance did you give Quip?'
'I said to him he didn't have to put himself in harm's way by getting so close to the subject. I even offered to set him up with a few basic things-a directional microphone to begin with, so he could pick up conversations at a distance. But would he? No. Quip had some idea he was like one of those old-time private eyes in a Raymond Chandler detective story.'
'A white knight walking the mean streets, fighting evil?'
'Something like that,' Lonnie said derisively.
'I've been talking to someone who works for Norris Blainey,' I said. 'The word is that in the past, Blainey has somehow been involved in mysterious deaths. Could you check it out?'
Lonnie frowned. 'I seem to remember something…I'll get back to you.'
The phone burped. Being Lonnie, an ordinary ring was too boring, so he'd set his up to sound as if the handset had a serious digestive problem.
'This will be Pauline,' he said. 'I told her to call before she saw you, so Julia Roberts could be safely locked away to protect Upton and Unity.'
The phone burped again. 'Before you answer that,' I said, 'I didn't agree to see her today. You just wanted to believe I had.'
Lonnie's face went an unbecoming shade of puce. 'Forgive me, Kylie. But you're not going to cancel, are you? Please, it means so much to me.'
'Right-oh, I'll see her, but I'm not locking Julia Roberts away. It's her home, not the poodles'. Tell Pauline to walk around the building and meet me in the back garden.' I added wickedly, 'You can provide refreshments for us, Lonnie. And no flavored tea!'
On my way to the back door, I looked into Ariana's room. 'Any word from Fran yet?'
Ariana glanced up from the folder she was reading. The blue of her eyes gave me a pleasant, familiar jolt. 'Nothing yet.'
'Pauline Feeney's in the backyard with Unity and Upton.'
Ariana raised an eyebrow.
'Her standard poodles. She claims Jules terrorized them on Tuesday, which is hardly fair. It is Jules's home, after all. If Pauline wants to see me, it's the backyard or nothing.'
Amused, Ariana said, 'I see you're toughening up.'
'I'm following your example,' I said. 'You're sort of a role model in toughness for me.'
I was inordinately pleased when that made her laugh.
'G'day,' I said to Pauline Feeney. She inclined her head in acknowledgement. 'G'day Unity,' I said to the black poodle. 'And g'day Upton,' I said to the white. He had shaved patches on his neck and back, no doubt from his run- in with Jules.
Pauline Feeney had seated herself at the redwood table I'd bought for the backyard. I'd referred to it as the back garden to Lonnie, but that was too grand a name for the area, which now, because of Fran's blasted disaster fixation, had a green shed housing all the office supplies displaced from the storage room.
Today Pauline's black hair had a blond streak. Her face, as before, was dead white, and her lips hectic red, her long fingernails the same shade. She wore a tight black jumpsuit with very high heels. Both she and Unity had matching jeweled collars, but because of Upton's injuries, his neck was bare.
'I've heard Quip Trent was in some sort of altercation,' she said in her high, soft voice.
'From your receptionist at Glowing Bodies?' I asked, sure of the answer.
'Perhaps. Was he badly hurt?'
'We're waiting to hear.'
She tilted her head reflectively. 'His wife's an odd woman.' Fran?
'She came to me saying she was acting as an agent for her husband. Offered his services to Glowing Bodies. Said he had contacts we could use.'
From her expression I gathered the offer had been unacceptable. 'You turned her down?'
Pauline shrugged. 'He knew lower-level celebrities only. No one we could use.'
The source of Fran's sudden animosity towards Pauline Feeney was now obvious.
Lonnie came out the back door. He beamed at Pauline, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. 'Coffee? Something to drink?'
She indicated Upton, who was peering nervously through the open door. 'Nothing for me, but iced water for Upton, please. His nerves are shot to pieces.'
'Be right back.'
'Upton has required psychological counseling,' Pauline said to me. 'Like most pure-bred poodles, he is exceptionally sensitive. The last thing he expected was an ambush by that cat of yours.'
'I've agreed to pay all Upton's vet bills,' I said.
'Intensive therapy is very expensive. And he's going to need it for some time.'
Stone the crows! How much was this going to cost?
