The Dingo Dilemma

right at them and not notice they were there. The safest thing is to act as if every word outside this room can be overheard.'

'But why would anyone bug our building?' I asked.

'Why would Homeland Security be interested in giving Fran an award?' countered Lonnie. 'And were these guys even from Homeland Security?'

Lonnie had printed out several copies of the photographs of Morgan and Unwin he'd taken with one of his tiny concealed cameras. The quality was excellent. I told Bob and Lonnie how these blokes were almost certainly the ones who'd been snooping around Dingo O'Rourke's place.

While Lonnie got ready to sweep the building for hidden microphones, I went off to make sure that Melodie, Fran, and Harriet had gone, as we'd agreed it was better to keep the possibility of bugging to ourselves for the moment.

There was a crowd at the front desk. With sinking heart I saw my cousin Brucie. He'd be wanting to know all about Dingo, and would probably suggest we should have dinner together. When I got closer I became conscious of something different about him. As a rule I didn't pay much attention to men's fashions, but even I could see Brucie was wearing some really nice clothes. And his hair had the latest slightly tousled style.

I hadn't realized Quip was there, too, until I heard him say, 'Since this morning I've got literary agents knocking at the door, fighting over I, Developer. Even had a call from a New York publisher. It was almost worthwhile being beaten up to get this level of interest.'

Quip's voice was his usual light baritone, but his eyes were just slits and his face was so swollen and discolored it was difficult to believe it was really him. He was sitting on one of the new Spanish-themed chairs with Fran standing protectively by his side.

'You can thank Lonnie's blog for that interest,' Harriet declared. 'In some circles, he's a must-read every day. Haven't any of you seen it?'

Lonnie wrote a blog? Because of his job, of necessity he spent a lot of time on the Internet, but somehow I'd never thought of him being a blogger, freely sharing his thoughts and opinions online to a potentially huge audience.

'I'd write a blog,' declared Melodie, 'if only I had the time. Like, I have a real interesting life.'

'What name does Lonnie use?' Quip asked.

Harriet made a face. 'Bonnie Lonnie.'

Several people groaned. I did, myself.

'Cheesy name or not,' Harriet said, 'Lonnie can really write effectively. Today's blog was a wonderfully satiric piece on how, inexplicably, over the years violent events occurred to individuals or companies who were unwise enough to oppose Norris Blainey in some way. Lonnie coined a term for it-the Blainey Inadvertent Kiss of Death, BIKOD for short. Quip, as the latest victim to be bikodded, was highlighted, with lots of detail about how his book is a thinly disguised expose of a certain real estate mogul's activities.'

Brucie caught sight of me. With a guilty smile, he said, 'Sorry, Kylie, I know I've been neglecting you, but I have no idea where the time goes. Every day is just packed with things to do.'

Hallelujah! 'I quite understand,' I said with a faint, brave smile. 'Don't give it a thought.'

'Bonzer,' said Brucie. 'You don't mind, then?'

'Of course not. Los Angeles is an exciting city. You do have a lot to cover before your tourist visa expires.'

'No worries on that score,' Brucie said. 'I'm working on getting a green card. I might be here for good.'

****

Once Fran announced she was taking Quip home before he fell off the chair from exhaustion, there was a general move to leave.

'I didn't know you had a blog,' I said to Lonnie when I went back to announce the coast was clear and that he could carry out his electronic sweep for bugs.

He gave me his best boyish smile. 'Lots of things you don't know about me, Kylie.' His grin faded. 'Pauline's made a big difference to my life.'

'I'm sure she has,' I said diplomatically.

'I'm serious about her. In fact, I love her. Deeply.'

I blinked at him. Lonnie deeply in love with Pauline Feeney? 'What does she feel about you?' I inquired.

Anguish filled his chubby face. 'I don't know.'

'You could ask.'

Lonnie shook his head. 'No, I can't,' he said. 'I've tried, and I can't. Kylie, this might be the biggest favor I'll ever ask of you.'

Crikey, I had a fair idea what was coming. I wasn't wrong.

'I must know. I can't go on with this uncertainty. Woman to woman, would you ask Pauline if she loves me?'

'Lonnie, I can't just come out with a question like that and expect her to answer it.'

'Please, Kylie. You'll find a way. I'm dying a little each day, not knowing. You're the only person I can trust to do this.'

He looked so hopefully at me, I felt myself weakening. I knew very well what it was like to love someone and not be sure if the love was returned.

'Right-oh,' I said, 'I'll give it a go, but don't keep badgering me about it. If an opportunity presents itself, I'll ask. If it doesn't, I won't. Fair enough?'

Lonnie nodded, sighed, then started lugging the bug detection equipment out of his room. 'It's hell,' he said, 'this loving someone and not knowing. Hell.'

Ariana came in after Lonnie had established that we were, indeed, bugged. He and Bob were in the process of finding each device and neutralizing it. I put my finger to my lips and mouthed, 'We're bugged.'

She raised one elegant eyebrow. I grabbed a notepad and scrawled: Lots to tell you. I'm taking you to dinner, Musso & Frank's. Pick you up at seven. OK?

I held my breath. This was as close as I'd ever been to taking her on a date.

Ariana gave me a long blue look, then took the pen from me and wrote: OK.

Fourteen

Musso & Frank Grill on Hollywood Boulevard first opened its doors, the menu proudly proclaimed, in 1919 and since that date had served generations of celebrities and Hollywood shakers and movers.

Ariana and I were seated in one of the many dimly lit red leather booths. The place was crowded and red- jacketed waiters with grim expressions moved without much urgency to take orders.

'They pride themselves on their surly attitude,' said Ariana after one gruff waiter had taken our drink order. 'It's part of the tradition.'

I looked at the menu, an unpretentious white card packed with comfort food items-no complicated gourmet dishes here. 'What are you going to have?' I asked, daunted by the choices available.

'Their macaroni and cheese always tempts me,' Ariana said.

'Sounds good,' I said. And when our brusque waiter finally delivered our food, I found it was better than good- it was addictive.

I'd already asked Ariana about Natalie. She'd been moved to a rehabilitation facility, and although her physical condition remained the same, Ariana said that she was calmer.

We discussed the bugging of our building. Lonnie had said that the devices were state-of-the-art. Tiny as a small pea, they were self-adhesive, so it was simple to unobtrusively deposit them under the edge of a desk, in the pot of an indoor plant, on the lintel above a doorway, and so on.

But who was doing the bugging, and why? It was intriguing that the same two blokes had also been snooping