"There is a way," said Harriet. "You could marry Bruce. Then he could apply for a green card as the spouse of an American citizen."
"No!" burst involuntarily from my lips. Harriet and Melodie turned to look at me. I said hastily, "I mean, I've heard the authorities are cracking down on marriages of convenience."
Melodie scowled. "It would not be a marriage of convenience. It would be one of mutual love."
"Stone the crows," I said, "Brucie's a fast worker. He's been here only a few days, and already you're engaged."
Harriet chortled. Melodie said with dignity, "We're talking hypothetical scenarios here, Kylie."
"Besides," said Harriet cheerfully, "there's always Lexus. She might be keen enough to marry him, too."
"Wouldn't that be bigamy?" I asked. Harriet chortled some more.
"Can I do something for you?" said Melodie pointedly.
I couldn't help grinning. "Don't marry Brucie."
Melodie put up her chin. "No one's going to tell me who I can or can't marry," she announced. "If it happens to be Bruce, it's no business of yours."
"If you marry Brucie, Aunt Millie becomes your mother-in-law."
"Oh," said Melodie.
I was still grinning when I ran into Ariana on my way back to my office. We stopped outside her door.
"You're very cheerful," she said.
I told her about the unlikely-I hoped!-union of my cousin and Melodie, and how the mention of Aunt Millie as a future mother-in-law had thrown a romantic spanner into the works. "Melodie went quite ashen."
Ariana smiled, then sobered. "Kylie, about Saturday night… again, thank you for your company. And thank you for listening."
"Any time," I said. "I really mean that." Impulsively, I put a hand on her arm. "I wish I could do more."
"Just be there." Abruptly, she seemed embarrassed. "I don't know why I said that. I've no right to make demands."
"Demand away," I said lightly.
Lonnie, chomping on a pastry, came ambling along from the direction of the kitchen. "Have you brought Ariana up to speed on Blainey?" he asked me. To Ariana he said, "Dangerous SOB. Involved in suspicious deaths. Owns a piece of Darken Come Home, so I told Kylie to look out for herself."
I checked my watch. Blimey, I was running out of time, and I prided myself on never being late for appointments. "Lonnie will tell you all about it, Ariana. I've got to get a move on."
On my way out I said to Melodie. "If you want me urgently, you can get me on my cell. I'll be at Bellina Studios."
Melodie's green eyes did their narrowing act. "You'll be at Bellina Studios?" she ground out. "Bellina Studios!"
"That's what I just said."
"I hope you don't break a leg."
As I knew in entertainment circles 'break a leg' was actually an oddly expressed wish for someone to have good fortune, it followed that Melodie had just expressed the hope I'd come a gutser in the acting area.
I summoned up my Pollyanna persona, practically guaranteed to sicken. "How typical of you to always be thinking of others, Melodie," I said in sugary tones. "Thank you so much. I do appreciate it."
"I didn't mean-"
"Oh, don't be so modest!"
I skipped out the front door in good spirits. By the time I made it across the courtyard my mood had gone into full reverse. Odds were Melodie's assessment was right. I would make a fool of myself. I had the depressing image of people all over the soundstage sniggering to themselves.
Driving along, I thought about Norris Blainey's financial interest in Darken Come Home. Lonnie had explained to me how a huge concern like Bellina Studios would provide accommodation on the lot for selected independent production companies, with the understanding that Bellina would have first right of refusal for projects that seemed likely to be successful.
Blainey had invested heavily in Darken Productions, owned by writer-director Earl Garfield. When the show became a major hit, Blainey seemed to be on a sure-fire winner. Things hadn't been so rosy recently. Ratings had been falling, and the principal cast members had been demanding renegotiated contracts for considerably more money.
I made surprisingly good time to the studios, so arrived early. This was fortunate, because there was kafuffle going on outside Bellina's main entrance. Helicopters circled overhead and a considerable crowd of onlookers waited to be entertained. People were milling around waving placards and shouting slogans. Strangely, most of them seemed to be young and very good-looking. I wondered why. Perhaps LA provided a better standard of demonstrator?
There seemed to be two distinct groups-the pro-dingo set and the pro-collie set. The cops were there in force, trying hard to keep them apart and at the same time make sure the entrance to Bellina remained open.
"Collie! Collie! Collie!" shouted one side.
"Dingo! Dingo! Dingo!" shouted the other.
Apart from the helicopters egg-beatering overhead, there were media trucks disgorging reporters and camera operators. This story was going to make the news tonight in a big way.
I found myself in a queue of cars waiting to get into Bellina Studios. Remembering that the Collie Coalition was supposed to have links to Al Qaeda, I scanned the crowd of onlookers for Secret Service types, who could be expected to be observing a demo like this. There were several who could fit the image I had of such an agent-a solemn-faced, dark-suited individual with a watchful manner. I thought they'd probably work in pairs and would talk without looking at each other, as their attention would be on the potential enemies of the country.
The head of Bellina security, Eppie Longworth, was at the boom gate with a mob of guards, who were giving each vehicle a complete going over, including using mirrors on long metal arms to check for bombs underneath each car.
"A fair bit of excitement," I said to her as I handed over my new ID card that had been in the package of stuff Howie had sent me.
Eppie used a handheld device to read the barcode on my card. "Rent-a-crowd," she said.
"Sorry?"
"Rent-a-crowd," she repeated. "Most of them are out-of-work actors. They get paid by the hour to demonstrate."
I looked back at the turmoil outside the studio gates. "Bonzer publicity," I said.
Her quick grin illuminated her face. "You'd pay millions to get this much exposure, but the media are obligingly doing it for free."
"So the media people don't realize it's a set up?"
"Oh, they know," said Eppie. "They don't care."
"No! No! No! Try it again: Ow-ah-ya-mate?"
"It's mite" I said. "Mate is pronounced mite if you're speaking broad Australian."
Felicity Frobisher drew herself to her full height-not very much-and glared at me. Her masses of black, curly hair seemed to expand with her rage. "I've been a dialogue and voice coach for many years," she said in an icy tone, "and in all those years I have never, never had an actor correct me in this fashion."
"Sorry," I said, "but I am an Aussie, so of course I know how they speak."
Felicity Frobisher sighed dramatically. Spreading her hands, she asked the ceiling, "Why? Why me?"
I remained respectfully silent.
After gusting another sigh, she said, "Let me try to explain it simply enough for you to grasp the concept. You will be speaking an artistically modified version of the Australian accent, suitable for American ears. Otherwise, the dialogue would require explanatory subtitles running across the bottom of the screen."
"Crikey," I said, "You're not giving the audience much credit."
Felicity Frobisher folded her arms. "We're a happy little family here on the Darken set. We don't make waves, we get along together. That means we don't argue with professionals who are, after all, the experts in each field, be it technical or artistic. My profession is particularly demanding, as it requires me to master both the technical and the artistic."