"Turn right! Jesus! This next street!"
Tires squealing, I made the turn. "I'd appreciate it if you gave me more warning."
Astonishingly, a faint smile appeared on his face. "You'd appreciate it, would you? I must try to do better."
I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm, then whipped the wheel around when he screamed, "Turn right! Now left! Take the driveway on your right."
The gates were open. Apparently Sven, whoever he was, had come through. The drive wound its way ever upward, until we crested the rise and came to a flat parking area. The house perched on the brink of the cliff, hanging on for dear life so it wouldn't slide over. It was an ungainly building, with a roof that looked like a big flat cap pulled down to shade its glass walls.
The view, however, was a bit of all right. My mum would have said it was more a vista, or maybe a panorama. Even with smog blurring the outlines of the tall buildings, I could see a spectacular view of downtown Los Angeles. At night the lights of the city spread out like a blanket would be worth a second look.
A bulky, crew-cut, blond bloke, with thigh muscles so over-developed he was forced to waddle, came out of the house and opened the passenger door. Jarrod Perkins got out. "Did you contact my attorney? Someone's responsible. I'll sue the pants off them, the bastards."
If I'd been holding out for thanks, or even an acknowledgment I'd gone out of my way to chauffeur him here, I would have been one disappointed dame. But I wasn't, and he didn't. Without one word to me, he left Sven holding the door, turned his back on us both, and stalked into the house.
Sven closed the door. I waited until he was my side of the car. Giving him a little farewell wave, I said, "And the pity of it is, I didn't even get an autograph."
He smirked. I drove off.
A few wrong turns later, I was on Hollywood Boulevard. I'd been studying the Thomas Guide, and thought I knew exactly where I was. My confidence was misplaced. Shortly I found myself heading in quite the wrong direction on a street I didn't recognize-which didn't mean much, since I didn't recognize most of them.
Being lost turned out to be a good thing, though, because I noticed a huge bookstore and turned into its parking lot with only a couple of near-collisions on the way. Inside I found the information desk, manned by a pimply boy with the first bad teeth I'd noticed since I hit LA. "Help you?" he asked without much interest. He brightened up at my reply.
"I'm thinking of becoming a private eye," I said. "Is there a book you'd recommend?"
"A private eye?" he sounded almost enthusiastic. "Come right this way."
As soon as I entered the reception area, Melodie latched onto me. "You've got to tell me every detail! Was Jarrod Perkins real upset? Did you see inside his house?"
"Crikey," I said. "How do you know I drove him home? Receptionist hotline?"
"Chantelle called and clued me in. And she said you were real nice to her."
An incoming call interrupted. "Hold, please. I'll see if she's available." Melodie made a face at me. "It's Fran's husband," she confided, "and I just know she won't want to talk to him."
Fran was married!. I contemplated what it must be like living with her thundercloud face. You wouldn't want to be a depressive or you'd slit your throat.
Apparently Fran did want to talk to him, so Melodie put the call through, then got back to business. "Did you hear the bang?"
"The whole place is soundproof, so you can't hear a thing. First anyone knew was when the doorman turned up to give Jarrod Perkins the bad news."
"You didn't hear the explosion?" Melodie was clearly disappointed in me.
I shook my head. "No explosion, but I was standing next to Jarrod Perkins when he learned his Hummer had blown up."
"No!" exclaimed Melodie, delighted. "Like, how did he take it?"
I visualized the director's bulging eyes and contorted face. "Not too well."
"They're saying it's a terrorist attack. It's on all the networks. Chantelle says the whole of Deerdoc is in an uproar. And when Dr. Deer called a few minutes ago, he sounded real shook up, know what I mean?"
"I'd better report to Ariana."
Before I'd left the reception area, Melodie was on the phone. "Tiffany? Oh, my God! You'll never guess what's happened…"
Ariana's unruffled persona was soothing, after the excitement I'd just been through. "Wouldn't it rot your socks?" I said, slumping into a chair. "No sooner do I get to Deerdoc, all keen to learn the ropes, when bam! A bomb goes off. It was a bomb, wasn't it?"
"Nothing's confirmed. I'll call a friend on the bomb squad later this afternoon and find out what they know."
"It could have been a fuel leak, or some electrical short."
"Could be, but there's no doubt Perkins has a knack for making enemies."
I slipped off my shoes and wriggled my feet. I couldn't imagine tottering around on really high heels all day, but maybe it was a matter of practice, like ballerinas standing on their toes.
Ariana said, "Dave Deer's just called. You're starting work at Deerdoc tomorrow. Nine sharp."
"Fair go, Noreen hasn't taken me through her duties yet. I wouldn't know what to do."
"It's your opportunity to be creative. Noreen's put in her resignation as of this afternoon. She says she's not going to be a victim of international terrorism."
I had a little smile at that, trying to come up with a scenario that'd have international terrorists blowing up an Aussie director's Hummer in Beverly Hills.
"Don't see how it's terrorism," I said, "unless Perkins is leading a double life as a spy."
"The attack's more likely to be tied to the theft of the therapy disks. If so, it's imperative you find who in the Deerdoc organization took them."
"Isn't 'imperative' a nice word?" I said. "Makes things sound important."
"It is important, Kylie."
Ariana hardly ever used my name, and I was caught unaware when I got a little thrill when she did.
"I've just found out Fran's married." A total change of subject would get my mind off the thrill before it developed into something more.
Ariana sat back in her chair and gave me her patented long, blue stare.
"You do a lot of that," I said.
"A lot of what?"
"Sitting back and giving me the hairy eyeball, like you really don't approve."
Ariana threw back her head and laughed, really laughed.
"What's funny?" I said, not joining in.
Still smiling, she shook her head. "I don't think I can put it into words."
"You could try."
Her face sobered, until she was her usual detached self. "We need to discuss your undercover role in detail. I'll bring Bob in on it too. He's an expert in this sort of thing. I'm booked for the rest of the day. Are you free for dinner?"
"Julia Roberts will be disappointed, but I think I can make it."
"Good. I'll speak to Bob and get back to you."
I beat a dignified retreat from her office. Okay, I'd managed to make her laugh at me. Laughing with me was next on the agenda.
When I went to the kitchen in search of a cuppa, I found Bob Verritt had been cornered by Melodie, who hovered at the door with one ear cocked to catch the phone in reception. Lonnie, grinning, provided an audience.
"Bob," she was saying, "this audition's super important for my career, or I wouldn't ask."
Bob, so much taller than all of us, had his narrow shoulders hunched and was sort of bent over, like a big question mark. "Look at it from my point of view, Melodie. I can't be in front and answer the phone. I've got too much work to do."
"I could switch it so every call rang through to your office…" She batted her eyelashes at him.
"I don't think so." He grinned at me. "Help me here, Kylie. This woman's implacable."
The implacable woman wasn't giving up. "I just can't miss this audition! Did you read The Hollywood Reporter this morning? It says the network's likely to pick up the show for an entire season. My agent says I've got a real good chance of getting the angel sidekick."