In the shadows many people silently watched as Earl Garfield marched up and down, chucking a mental. Fair dinkum, these artistic types were self-indulgent.
I stepped into the light in front of him. He halted and glared at me. 'What in the hell do you want?'
'Message from Dustin. He's getting a hot drink, but will be here soon.'
'That little S.O.B.!'
'There was a murmur of agreement from the shadows.
Earl Garfield's face was puce. He opened his mouth, perhaps to fire me for being the bearer of bad tidings, but Dustin chose this moment to saunter onto the set, a steaming mug in one hand.
'Dustin Jaeger is ready,' he said.
Thirteen
I expected people to be leaving for the day when I got back to Kendall & Creeling, but the car park was almost full. I saw with a twinge of disappointment that Ariana's BMW was missing. A gleaming black limousine sat in one of the extra spots, a stream of cigarette smoke wafting through a half-open window indicating someone was in the driver's seat.
The angst I'd caused Melodie was apparently forgotten, as she flashed a brilliant smile at me the moment I walked through the door. 'Kylie, guess what! Fran's going to be honored with an award from Homeland Security!'
'Homeland Security gives awards?'
'Well they must, because Fran's getting one. The Homeland Security people are here now, inspecting her selection of disaster supplies.'
Bob Verritt appeared, shaking his head. 'Jeez, talk about a waste of taxpayers' money.'
He folded his long, thin body into one of the new visitors' chairs-faux Spanish, thanks to Fran-and stretched his skinny legs out in front of him. 'It's hard to believe, but apparently our Fran has shown superior civilian response to government catastrophe-preparedness guidelines. It seems that she's a glowing example of American get-up-and- go in the face of terrorist threats.'
The black limo outside had reminded me of Phyllis Blake's run-in with the blokes at Dingo's apartment building. 'How many are here from Homeland Security?'
'Two guys,' said Melodie.
'Names?'
Melodie looked disconcerted, then irritated. 'I didn't need to know who they were. Fran was the one they wanted.'
Bob sat up. 'So you didn't see any ID?'
Melodie, who'd clearly learned from Fran that attack was often the best defense, snapped, 'I didn't need to. Why would they lie about being from Homeland Security?'
Bob and I looked at each other. 'Why indeed?' Bob said.
'Is Lonnie with them?' I asked.
'No, he's in his office. He took a call there a few minutes ago.' She scowled at me. Obviously I was back in her bad books again.
'Would you get Lonnie on the phone for me, please?'
After he'd had a sneezing fit-I gathered from Lonnie's muffled curses that Julia Roberts was somewhere in his room again-I asked Lonnie if he could photograph the two Homeland Security blokes without them knowing. 'Consider it done,' he said.
Bob and I walked casually down the hall, discovering Fran outside the storage room detailing the disaster preparedness items she'd amassed, while Harriet and two blokes wearing dark suits and white shirts looked on admiringly.
'I had an even more comprehensive supply of sterile field dressings,' Fran was saying, 'but there was an unfortunate contamination problem with a cat, and then dressings were required for a genuine emergency last Friday, when my husband was badly injured outside in the parking area.'
'G'day,' I interrupted, putting out my hand to the closest one, a beefy bloke with thick white skin that apparently burnt easily, as his nose was peeling. He had his hair cut so short it was a reddish stubble on his skull. 'I'm Kylie Kendall.'
He shook hands without enthusiasm and mumbled something. 'Sorry,' I said, 'I didn't get the name.'
'Morgan.'
'Mr. Morgan, g'day.' I thrust my hand at the other dark suit. 'Kylie Kendall. And you are…?'
He touched my fingers very briefly. 'We're from Homeland Security. That's all you need to know.' His voice was very soft and had a slippery, just-between-us tone. He had a long, mournful face and very deep-set eyes that seemed to be peering at the world from the back of his head.
'We're private investigators,' Bob declared with his engagingly crooked grin, 'so we have this need to put a name to a face.'
'Unwin,' whispered the bloke.
Lonnie came wandering along, a bag of jelly beans in his hand. 'Want some?' he asked in a general invitation. 'The black ones are the best, though I'm quite partial to the red.' There were no takers.
Harriet had a quizzical, what-the-hell-is-going-on expression. She said to the blokes, 'Just for the record, do you have any official identification?'
'Oh, for heaven's sake!' Fran glowered as only she could. 'These gentlemen are kind enough to be considering us for official recognition for the steps we've taken to prepare for the worst.' She forced a smile. 'I believe mention was made of a Homeland Security Golden Plaque Award.'
'I'm sure I can speak for my colleague when I say we're impressed enough to consider awarding a Platinum Plaque,' murmured Unwin.
Fran's gratified expression vanished when Harriet persisted. 'I'd still like to see something to prove you're who you say you are.'
'It's not customary for Homeland Security to show identification,' said the one who claimed to be Morgan. 'It only aids terrorists who hate America because of our freedoms.'
'That doesn't make sense,' I said.
Morgan and Unwin began to edge away from us. 'We'll be in touch,' Morgan said to Fran.
'Wait! There's much more to show you.' Fran gazed forlornly after Homeland Security's rapidly departing representatives, then turned savagely on us, her diminutive form trembling with rage. 'Now see what you've done!'
When I compared the notes I'd taken of Phyllis Blake's detailed descriptions of the two strange men at Dingo's apartment building, it was no surprise to find Morgan and Unwin were dead ringers.
With Ariana absent-I presumed she was with Natalie-I decided that Bob, Lonnie, and I should discuss the whole matter and decide what, if anything, to do about it. Lonnie insisted that we meet in his messy office.
He was clearing bits and pieces off two chairs so Bob and I could sit down, when Julia Roberts, yawning, appeared from behind a pile of electronic equipment. I expected the usual fireworks from Lonnie, but he merely opened the door, said, 'Goodbye, cat,' and closed it behind her after she had leisurely exited.
'That's the way to treat Jules,' I said approvingly. 'Play it cool, and she'll lose interest in teasing you.'
'There's something a lot more important to worry about than that damn cat,' said Lonnie. 'I'm sure this room is clear, as I only said hello to those guys, and then came back here to work, but I want to sweep the rest of the building for bugs.'
'Would they have had any chance to plant listening devices?' Bob asked. 'Fran stuck to them like glue the moment she realized a Homeland Security award was in the air.'
'Trust me, the whole place could be bugged. The latest surveillance devices are so small you could be looking
