I grinned. "Made that last one up," I said. "No one even mentioned Sodom and Gomorrah."
"And how did Alf and Chicka take all this?" Ariana asked.
"Not well at first, but Marty-O painted a rosy picture, telling them the movie budgets would be bigger, the special effects enhanced, the sales of Oz Mob toys astronomical. They were wavering. The turning point came when he said, 'Trust me, I'm your agent.'"
"And they trusted him?" said Bob. "Marty O. Ziema?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Jeez," said Bob.
There was a moment's silence while we all contemplated Alf and Chicka's trusting natures.
"While I'm thinking about it," I said, "Tami criticized Kelvin Kookaburra because he didn't have moxie. What's moxie?"
"Pluck, courage," said Ariana.
"Guts?"
"Guts."
Then I told them about the invitation to the Church of Possibilities charity gala for cancer-stricken kids.
"I'll see you there," said Ariana.
Crikey, and I wasn't aiming to go. "You will? How come?"
"I'm Nanette Poynter's guest. Her husband has no idea I'm a private investigator. I'll be passed off as a dear friend of Nanette's who has just returned to Los Angeles."
"Actually, Ariana, I wasn't planning on attending."
"No?"
"It's because of Aunt Millie."
"Oh, hey, I'll look after her for you," said Bob. "You go ahead and enjoy yourself."
"The fact is," I said, "when Brother Owen heard my Aunt Millie was in town, he invited her to the gala too. I'm not that keen on taking my aunt to something like that. She'll find a zillion things to criticize."
"Simple solution," said Bob. "Don't tell her anything about it. She won't miss what she doesn't know."
"I can't do that," I said. "She's been given an official invite. I have to pass it on."
"So what if she accepts? Then you're in trouble."
"I'll try persuading her it's not her cup of tea." I couldn't stop a sigh. "If Aunt Millie senses I don't want her to do something, she'll do it-she's very contrary."
Ariana grinned. "Another thing that runs in the family."
"Anything else to report?" Bob asked.
"Brother Owen said he had something important to tell me, but he never got around to telling me what it was."
"I'd watch out for those holy types," said Bob. "He'll suck you into his phony church."
"There's nothing else, except the sexual harassment." That got their attention. I described Tami's interest in unarmed combat, and how she'd played kneezies with me under the table. All this amused Bob exceedingly.
"You think it's funny to have a pint-size, mega-fit, metallic-haired sheila make a blatant play for you?" I said heatedly. "Because if you do, Bob, you're dead wrong. It's downright alarming."
"I'd back you any day against the Eckholdt woman," said Bob, still grinning. "Think how much information you could get from her. You could string her along, be a regular Mata Hari."
"Mata Hari came to no good," I pointed out. "She was executed by a French firing squad."
"You know the damnedest things," said Bob.
"If it gets too difficult," said Ariana, "have Alf Hartnidge tell Tami Eckholdt he's broken up with you, and won't be seeing you anymore."
"But then I don't have an in at Lamb White. I suppose it's worth the danger…I hope."
Fran was packing up for the day when I found her. She'd been on the reception desk most of the afternoon, because, in a gesture I'd never have credited her with, she'd offered to take the broken-hearted Melodie's place so Melodie could go home early.
"You really are terrific, Fran," I said. "It was sweet of you to fill in for Melodie."
She eyed me distrustfully. "You want something?"
"I don't want anything. Well, maybe, yes."
"Ah-ha! I knew it!" Fran was always pleased to have her worst suspicions confirmed.
"Just a little information. I ran into Quip at Lamb White this afternoon. I was surprised to see him."
"Didn't Chicka Hartnidge tell you?"
"Chicka had something to do with Quip being there?"
"I may have mentioned to Melodie that Quip would love to work on the Oz Mob screenplay. And Melodie may have mentioned this to Chicka. And Chicka may have mentioned Quip's name to Tami Eckholdt."
"May have? Did you mention it to Melodie?"
"It's the way things work in this town. It's who you know, Kylie. You cultivate the people who can pull strings for you."
"What happened to talent? Doesn't that count anymore?"
Fran narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying Quip isn't talented?" she asked in a menacing tone.
"Of course not, Fran." Her dangerous expression was fading, until I added, "Although, in all honesty, I don't have any way of knowing one way or the other."
"Quip is brilliant," she snarled, eyes down to slits again. "You can take my word for it."
"Right-oh."
"It's purely bad luck he hasn't had any of his screenplays picked up. It'll happen. Soon."
I suddenly wished I had someone who believed in me the way Fran believed in Quip. "I'm sure you're absolutely right. I mean, what would I know?"
"Exactly. What would you know?"
Harriet, on her way out, stopped to say good night. "I see Melodie collected her pound of flesh," she said to Fran.
Fran made an indeterminate sound that could have meant anything.
I must have looked puzzled, because Harriet said to me, "You didn't know Melodie got Chicka to persuade Lamb White to hire Quip?"
"I've just heard."
"Of course that means Fran owes Melodie a big favor in return." She grinned at Fran. "Hope it was worth it."
I was disappointed. "So that's how Melodie got to go home early? She called in a favor?"
Fran tossed off a derisive laugh. "You thought I'd do this for Melodie from the goodness of my heart?"
"Well, yes, I did."
"More fool you," said Fran. I thought she looked a bit embarrassed.
Harriet passed the delivery bloke on her way out the front door. He and I didn't get on too well. He was the pushy, too-friendly sort with a nasty streak to go with it.
Dumping several packages on the desk, he said to me, "And how's little Nancy Drew this afternoon?"
Ever since he'd sprung me reading Private Investigation: The Complete Handbook, the delivery bloke had given me a hard time.
"Detecting my little heart out," I said. "Thank you for asking."
He grinned knowingly at Fran. Jerking his head in my direction, he said, "Hey, Fran, watch your back. Before you know it, the girl detective here will be running the whole show."
Fran shot me a cold look. Fair dinkum, this woman could hold grudges. "What makes you think she isn't already?" she snapped.
I was all set to have dinner with Aunt Millie but got a merciful reprieve when she called to say Disneyland had exhausted her so she wanted an early night.
"What did you think of Disneyland?" I dutifully inquired.
"Far too happy," she said. "All that joy and gladness. It's not natural."
"About tomorrow," I said, "Friday's always a busy day for me-
"Universal."
"Pardon, Aunt Millie?"
"Universal Studios. I'm booked on a tour. I'll see you tomorrow night."
Who would have thought my aunt would take such an interest in the cultural icons of L.A.? I took a deep breath. I had to bite the bullet. "Aunt Millie, you've been invited to a charity gala, but I don't know if you'd be interested. You probably won't be. It's fine if you're not."
"I'll go. When is it?"
I felt myself droop. "But, Aunt, you don't know anything about it."
Aunt Millie snorted. "I imagine you're about to give me all the details. Go on, then." I went on. Aunt Millie asked searching questions. I answered them as best I could.
"This Church of Possibilities," she said, "is it a satanic cult?"
I found myself grinning. "Quite possibly. Even probably."
"Should be an interesting evening." She sounded pleased, which in itself was unsettling.
"I have to admit, Aunt Millie, I'm surprised. I didn't think a charity gala like this would be the sort of thing you'd like."