"Ow! That hurt."
"Good," she snapped.
"I never realized Fran had ambitions to be an actor," I remarked.
Lonnie, nursing his ear, hooted. "Sweetheart, half of L.A. is writing a screenplay. The other half has ambitions to be an actor. It's that kind of town."
"The betrayal," announced Melodie, "is what hurts. Larry-my-agent says I have to roll with the punches, but as I said to Larry, it pierces your heart when a friend is disloyal."
"Disloyal?" Fran said from the doorway. "Oh, please! All I did was audition for a part."
"All you did," said Melodie in a cutting tone, "was to totally ruin the chances of someone with real acting ability to play a part she was born to play."
"Real acting ability?" said Fran with an acid smile on her china-doll face. "And who would that be?"
"Whoops," said Lonnie, "I'm outta here." He winked at me. "Battle of the Titans. And you've got a front-row seat."
"If Quip wasn't your husband, no way would you have a chance of getting that part." Melodie was all icy scorn. "Like, you've never even taken an acting class."
"You leave Quip out of this!"
"Besides," said Melodie with a sneer. "You're so short. No stage presence at all."
Crikey, Fran in full rage mode was a disturbing sight. "Short, am I?" she snarled, bouncing on her toes.
"Tiny, insignificant," snapped Melodie back at her.
"That's enough," I said. They both looked at me. I went on, as cool as Ariana, "Argue in your own time, not Kendall & Creeling's."
I held my breath. Calling their bluff was a dangerous strategy. If it didn't work, it would leave me looking weak.
Melodie was the first to speak. "This is all your fault, Fran," she said with dignity, before sweeping out of the room, her chin in the air.
Not letting my relief show, I said to Fran, "I've looked at the stuff you gave me on garden sheds. I can't see any are really suitable. We need something better, more substantial. There must be companies who'll supply and erect prefabricated structures that will better meet our needs."
"It'll cost more," said Fran.
"That's OK as long as we end up with something we can use."
We spent the next few minutes discussing the specifications, then Fran went off looking pleased, having been given the go-ahead to negotiate a deal on behalf of our company.
Ariana's coffee mug was missing, so I used my detecting skills to deduce she was probably in her office. She was, looking svelte in black. I described how I'd found Diana Niptucker's Web site last night, and sent her an e-mail requesting any information she had. Then I told Ariana I'd given Fran authority to purchase a storage structure, pending our final approval.
Ariana raised an eyebrow. "Tell me again why we need this extra space. Is it just because of Fran's disaster supplies?"
"Well, that's part of it, of course, but I did have an idea for some minor alterations."
"Why am I not surprised?"
I grinned at her sardonic tone, then told her my plan for taking over the present storage area for my sitting room, getting a bit carried away and waving my hands around. I finished with, "It'll be terrif to have more space."
"So you're here for the long haul?"
I frowned. "You mean am I staying? You know I'm not going home to Oz."
"You haven't thought of moving into something larger?"
"This suits me and Jules."
"Well," said Ariana, "we'd better work on finding somewhere to store the disaster supplies."
"I'm on it full bore," I said. "To the max."
Ariana cast a proprietary look around her black-and-white office. "But my room is off-limits, OK?"
" 'Strewth," I said, "that's put a spoke in my wheel. I was planning to knock down a wall or two here."
Ariana laughed, then sobered. "You are joking, right?"
"I may be," I said over my shoulder as I skipped out the door.
Driving along Sunset Boulevard to the campus, I had a sudden, jolting thought. I shook my head to unscramble my brains. When Ariana had mentioned me moving to something larger, she couldn't have met moving in with her, could she?
It was a lovely idea, and it buoyed me through two sets of red traffic lights and three SUV drivers rudely cutting in front of me. Then reality came crashing down. Ariana didn't want my love, so why would she desire my company? What she'd really been hinting at was that I should get out of Kendall & Creeling's building and into an apartment.
I arrived at the biology department in a bleak mood-not the state of mind required for my main task today, which was to win Erin Fogarty's friendship. Still, dissembling was a private eye's stock in trade, so I plastered a pleasant expression over my inner angst and headed for Georgia Tapp's office.
On Friday everyone had received a memo advising that in the last days before the symposium, Georgia Tapp would be coordinating all administrative matters. From now on, first thing every morning, all staff concerned with the event were to report to her office for instructions. Because I'd slept in and stopped to talk with Ariana, I was running late, so I got my apologies ready.
Outside Georgia's office I ran into Zoran Pestle, who headed the committee set up by Yarrow to handle the organizational details of the symposium. He was the dark, intense sort at the best of times, but today he looked positively sinister. Gesturing toward Georgia's door, he hissed, "She's a fat spider sitting in the middle of her sticky web, pulling strings and railroading everyone who gets in her way."
For a moment I admired Zoran's mastery of mixed metaphor. "Georgia, you mean?"
His dark eyes narrowed until I wondered if he could see more than a narrow strip of light. "Yes, Georgia Tapp," he spat out. "What is she but a mere administrative assistant? I ask you, does she have a higher degree? Any degree? Has she the right, the knowledge, the experience to tell someone like me what to do?"
"Must be upsetting."
Zoran peered at me suspiciously. "You're only a graduate student," he said, "so you can't possibly appreciate the mores of the upper stratum of academia."
"Too true," I said.
As I spoke, Georgia's head popped out of her office door, giving us both quite a start. "What are you wasting time standing out there for?" she demanded. "Professor Yarrow has called an urgent meeting to discuss the tragic events of Saturday evening. You should be there now at this moment."
Zoran nodded. Obviously, he knew about Oscar Braithwaite's death. I hadn't had time to read the paper this morning, but guessed there would have been an item about a visiting academic's body being found on UCLA grounds.
As Zoran and I scooted off to join the meeting, he gave me the benefit of his advice. "Georgia can seem very sweet, but she's pure poison. You're inexperienced. You could be fooled."
"I'll do my best not to cross to the dark side," I said cheerfully.
Zoran shot me a puzzled look, as though he found it almost impossible to believe that I might be treating a warning from a man with a higher degree so lightly.
"We're here," I said, pushing the metal bar that opened one side of the lecture hall double-door. The room had raked seating, and we'd come in at the top row, so I reckoned we had a good chance of sneaking in unnoticed.
No such luck. Yarrow, standing at the front with a microphone stand, stopped in mid sentence to say sarcastically, "So nice of you to make it."
"G'day, Prof."
Someone laughed. Yarrow was not amused. His thin-lipped mouth turned sour, and his prominent eyes bulged a little more.
He cleared his throat. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Dr. Oscar Braithwaite's tragic demise must not be allowed to impact upon the Global Marsupial Symposium. Yes, it's true he was to deliver a keynote address, but I, myself, will step into the breech with my own original contribution to the quokka debate."
While he'd been talking, I'd been checking out the audience, looking for the future target of my charm, Erin Fogarty. I expected to find her in the front row, gazing adoringly at her hero, but finally spotted her skinny figure at the end of the second back row. It would be simple to manage things so I'd meet up with her as we were leaving the lecture hall.