I told Ariana about Quip's novel, I, Developer, and the money problems Fran claimed had forced her to take desperate measures, and how even Quip didn't know about Fran's deal with Maximum Spanish.
Ariana's expression was severe. "Fran has no excuse for this. Her job's on the line. I hope you told her that."
Feeling embarrassed, I said, "Fact is, Fran played me for a mug. I found myself feeling sorry for her, instead of concentrating on what she'd done wrong."
"I'll deal with Fran tomorrow," said Ariana in a steely tone.
Not wanting her to dwell on my abject failure at managing the Fran situation, I skipped onto seeing Dingo O'Rourke at Bellina Studios that morning, and how on the way out I'd managed, quite by chance, to snag the part of Olive, Timmy's long-lost Aussie sister.
That got a soft laugh from Ariana. She shook her head. "It's extraordinary the things that happen to you." Her smile faded. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Melodie auditioning for that very part?"
"Unfortunately, yes." I detailed how I'd prevaricated too long, so the receptionists' network had swung into action and given Melodie the bad news before I could. "She was furious, and I could cope with that, but when she started crying, I felt a bit grim." I described the deep freeze that followed, which was not helped by the fact that, thanks to Harriet, I now had an entertainment lawyer of some repute.
Ariana said with cool logic, "Melodie has no right to blame you. She missed out simply because she wasn't the best one for the role. The director made the judgment that you were. End of story."
"Melodie makes it clear she thinks I'm going to fizzle as Olive, and she could very well be right."
Ariana warmed me by saying, "I wouldn't be so sure."
"You think I'll ace it, and be discovered as the new great talent from Down Under. Not bloody likely!"
I went on to tell her how Cousin Brucie was in town, and dead set on helping me investigate what was going on with Dingo O'Rourke. That reminded me of the call from Phyllis Blake about the two odd blokes who'd been hanging around Dingo's apartment building. Ariana suggested one possibility was that Dingo was reneging on a gambling debt and these were enforcers, sent to persuade him to pay up. As she pointed out, fear of the consequences of non-payment would explain why Dingo was holed up in the safety of the studio lot.
I deliberately didn't mention my mum's latest crisis at the Wombat. Why tell Ariana how Mum had implored me for the zillionth time to come back home, and run the risk that Ariana would break my heart by saying that she now agreed I should return to Oz and leave the running Kendall & Creeling to her? As my mum would say, let sleeping dogs lie.
The final event of the day worth mentioning was how Lonnie had intercepted me in the car park and somehow managed to get the idea that I'd be willing to talk to Pauline Feeney about how she might achieve her ambition to be the star wrangler who wrangled the reclusive Earl Garfield.
"I wasn't being a pushover," I said hastily, in case she thought it was another example of me being a soft touch. "Lonnie just mistook what I said, and he left before I could set him straight."
With a sardonic smile, Ariana said, "I imagine Lonnie knew exactly what you said, and deliberately misunderstood you."
I drooped a bit at that. "I haven't got a rep for being a softy at home, but I seem to have become a gutless wonder since I came to Los Angeles."
Ariana started to say something, but a blast of Grenada startled us both.
"What's that?" she asked.
"It's our new door chime. Fran had it installed this afternoon while I was out."
Grenada sounded again. Ariana said something under her breath and strode towards the front door, with me hurrying to keep up with her. Whoever it was had given up on Grenada and was now loudly knocking.
"It's Norris Blainey," he bellowed through the door. "I know you're in there, and I'm not leaving until I speak with you both."
Because I'd been living here by myself, Lonnie had recently installed a security camera. Ariana checked the screen. "It is Blainey. He's alone."
A red rage swept through me. How dare this bloke come pounding on our door. I turned the lock and flung the door open. "Stop that!"
Norris Blainey had his fist raised, about to renew his knocking. For a weedy bloke, he made quite a racket. He was wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and red tie. An unpleasant grin spread over his face. "Good evening, ladies. Let's have a nice little chat about the offer for your property I arranged to be delivered this afternoon. As you can see, I've been generous-probably too generous, if truth be told-so I imagine it's an opportunity you'll be keen to take. I must warn you, my offer is time-sensitive, so you'll need to act decisively while it's on the table."
"Shove off." I was so furious, my voice was shaking.
In a tone as cool as her face, Ariana said, "Kenneth Smithson is our attorney. Any communications between you and Kendall & Creeling will go through his office. Now, Mr. Blainey, I must ask you to leave. You're trespassing on our property."
Blainey kept right on smiling. "Surely we can talk this over without involving lawyers. They cost an arm and a leg, and you'll get no better deal than you had at the beginning."
"Goodnight, Mr. Blainey," Ariana said, beginning to close the door in his face.
He moved quickly to shove it open again. "I haven't been successful in business by taking no for an answer," he said, stepping through the doorway.
I completely lost it. Blainey's grin disappeared as I grabbed him by his red silk tie, yanked him towards me, spun him around, and shoved his arm up his back until he squeaked. With a skill born of dealing with obstreperous drunks at The Wombat's Retreat-I only tried it with little blokes like Blainey-I marched him across the courtyard to his car, a big, showy Jaguar.
"You bitch," he said. "You'll pay for this."
I didn't say a word. Ariana joined me and we waited until he drove off.
We walked in silence back across the courtyard. Once inside, I said, "Sorry I did my nana…lost my temper. Do you think he'll have me for assault?"
Ariana gave me a small smile. "He refuses to leave when asked to, tries to force his way inside, and as a result is frog marched by a woman back to his car. I don't think Norris Blainey will be mentioning this to anyone, anytime soon."
Nine
Ariana was exhausted, and on top of that had had three glasses of wine. I didn't even try to persuade her to stay the night with me, but pointed out she was in no condition to get behind a wheel, so I would drive her home. After a token resistance she agreed to be chauffeured.
For security reasons the courtyard and parking area were brightly lit at night, so it would be impossible for Norris Blainey to lurk there undetected. Although I was sure he was long gone, he was a nasty piece of work, so I wouldn't put it past him to plot some form of revenge for his humiliation.
Ariana obviously had the same thought. As we walked to my car, I noticed her checking everything out, her hand in her pocket of her jacket.
"You carrying?" I said.
She grinned. "Great command of private-eye lingo. And yes, I am."
I knew that, having been a cop, Ariana hadn't found it too difficult to get a license to carry a concealed weapon. I had Buckley's chance, I reckoned, of being able to swing such a license, not that I was any good with handguns anyway. I'd grown up with rifles and shotguns and was a fair shot with both, but the law in Australia restricted the possession of handguns to law enforcement and a small number of private citizens with exceptional reasons to have such weapons.