Wombat Strategy

'I hope not on Saturday night.'

'No, Friday. Why?'

'You mentioned you'd like to see my sister's work. The gallery has a private showing of Janette's new exhibition this Saturday night.'

Now, this wasn't a date, not really, but I still felt a tingle of excitement. 'That'd be great, Ariana.'

Crikey, I was even getting a charge out of saying Ariana's name. I mentally tried Chantelle. Bit of a jolt, but not as much. I frowned to myself. This was rebound stuff. I couldn't say, or even think, Raylene's name without a pang. Overcompensating, that's what it was. I was trying to fill the void she'd left with other women. Maybe I needed some Slap! Slap! Get On With It therapy. Or maybe I just needed some good, healthy, uncomplicated sex.

'What in the world are you thinking about?' Ariana asked.

'Nothing in particular. Why?'

She shook her head, smiled at me, said, 'Again, Kylie, you find me lost for words.'

She went off, still shaking her head, bemused. I consoled myself with the thought that I had some effect on Ariana, even if it wasn't quite the one I would have hoped.

My mobile rang again. This time it was Melodic 'Kylie, I've got a favor to ask, and you'll probably be gone before I get to work.'

'I can't look after the phone.'

'It's not the phone. It's something else…a big favor, actually. I'll understand if you say no.'

She wouldn't, of course. 'What is it?'

'In the top drawer of my desk there's an envelope with head and shoulders.'

'Yes?' I said doubtfully.

'You know what I mean. My publicity shots. I want you to take one to Deerdoc with you.'

'Why?'

'Chantelle called and said Lorelei Stevens has an appointment with Dr. Deer this morning. I'm sure you'll be seeing her. I'm only asking a little thing. All I want you to do is ask her to autograph my photo.'

I didn't bother inquiring how she knew about the appointment. The world of spies could learn a lot from receptionists. 'Let me get this straight. You want me to ask Lorelei Stevens to put her autograph on your photo?'

'If it isn't too much trouble. It's the recognition factor, you see. When Lorelei and I meet in the future, my face will be familiar to her.'

'And are you likely to meet Lorelei Stevens in the future?'

'Oh, yes,' said Melodic 'I've got an audition. It's a movie where she's the lead, Heart of Pain. Larry says I'm just made for the role…'

Fair dinkum, I was astonished. My mum would say gobsmacked. Lorelei Stevens signed Melodie's photo! She didn't even blink or ask who the hell this dame was. She just scrawled her signature right across Melodie's face. And she smiled while she did it.

Of course, she'd been smiling since she came out of the therapy room, both cheeks a bit pink and eyes a bit watery.

A couple of minutes later Dave Deer appeared, his white medical coat so starched it practically crackled. He purred, 'Lorelei, we've achieved so much today. You've been very brave. Very brave. But a wise soul like yours knows pleasure comes through pain.'

This sounded like S/M to me, but I reckoned neither of them would thank me for sharing that thought, so I didn't. Instead I'd whipped out Melodie's photo and asked the film star to sign it.

This particular celebrity was the exception to the blond rule. She was a sultry brunet with aquamarine eyes-I suspected tinted contact lenses-and an astonishing cleavage.

'Alert Ms. Stevens's limo driver she's on the way down,' commanded Dave. I called Jim, the doorman, who would signal the limousine driver. If all went according to plan, her luxury transport would draw up just as Dr. Deer and his famous patient exited the building through a special side entrance reserved for celebrities.

Another dazzling smile from Lorelei, and she was gone in a swirl of perfume and stardom. I'd been brushed by fame.

As soon as I'd arrived this morning I'd been taken through the session routine. Before each patient arrived, Oscar Sherwood double-checked the recording equipment. The moment the session ended, the therapist removed the disk and placed it in the patient's file. The normal procedure was to leave files in the therapist's office. At the end of the day there'd be a pile of them waiting for me to take to the walk-in safe, where I'd put each one in the appropriate drawer.

This wasn't really good enough, having files hanging around all day, where they'd be even less secure than in the open safe. It would be extra work, but I intended to put away each patient's folder as soon as the session ended. If Dave Deer wanted to review something, I'd go and retrieve the file.

Lorelei Stevens had been the first patient of the day, so I hopped up and went to get her file from Dave Deer's desk. It was gone!

I heard a faint click as the door to the therapy room closed. I flew over to open it, only to see the other door of therapy room swinging closed. I had to see who had the file. I bounded across to the second door and cracked it enough to look out.

Disappearing down the private corridor was Randy Romaine, anonymous accountant, a large manila folder casually tucked under one arm. In it, I had no doubt, was the missing file. He disappeared through another door leading to the main office.

Okay, I had to catch Randy red-handed. But if I nabbed him now, he was sure to come up with some convincing story about how he needed the file for accounting purposes. What I had to do was observe him and see what he did. If Randy hid the file, that might be enough. It would be better, though, if he tried to take it out of the building.

I meandered in the direction of Randy Romaine's cubicle. He was behind his desk, stuffing the manila folder into a battered brown briefcase. It looked like this time he was taking everything, not just therapy disks. I slipped into the cubicle next to his-fortunately empty at the moment-and waited for him to make a move.

'Chantelle?' He was on the phone. 'Forward all my calls to Gloria. I'll be out for the rest of the day.' He left his cubicle and headed ever so casually in the direction of the lift.

Holy cow! It was time for the little lady to holler. I tried Fred's extension. No answer. I dialed his mobile phone. Got voice-mail. As a last resort, I called the doorman. 'Jim? This is Kylie Kendall. Is Fred Mills there?'

'Fred's just stepped outside for a smoke. Want me to get him for you?'

'I can't stay on the line. Promise me you'll give him a message. It's mega important.'

'Sure. What is it?'

'Tell Fred it's vital he meets me right now in the parking structure, level three. It's really urgent, Jim. Really, really urgent.'

'Will do. Parking, level three. You've got it.'

Then I ran like a mad thing through the office, shot past Chantelle, who gave me a startled look, then dramatically slowed when I saw Randy getting into the lift.

He looked surprised, but not alarmed, when I joined him. He hadn't put the briefcase down but was clutching it so hard his knuckles showed white. He'd already pressed the button for the level three parking, and when I didn't punch a button for another floor, he said, 'You're leaving early?'

'Dentist.'

'A problem?'

'Wisdom tooth.'

He nodded. 'They can be nasty.'

I looked at him sideways. Randy Romaine looked the same as yesterday. A mild, inoffensive accountant. I felt a shiver of alarm. He'd been an amateur stalker, and there were no reports of any harm coming to the objects of his obsession. But maybe he'd done more than stalk and not been caught. A physical confrontation with him would not be a good idea. Fortunately I could leave that to Fred.

With a pinging sound the door opened at level three parking. Randy got out briskly and set off at a good pace. I looked around for Fred, but he wasn't there.