Remington saw the police cars and ambulance before the taxi stopped. Slapping a twenty into the driver's hand, he exited the vehicle and moved quickly toward the bungalow. Attendants wheeled a gurney past him on the sidewalk, and he paused. "What happened?" he asked.
"Bought a bullet," one of them said. "Coroner said he probably died instantly."
"He," Remington repeated with relief. "Then it wasn't a woman?"
"Nah." He consulted his paperwork. "Some artist type, I think. Philip Camden."
Remington was already turning back toward the bungalow. In the doorway, he heard familiar voices.
"You're sure you didn't touch anything, Miss Holt?"
"Other than the doorknob, Detective Jarvis?" Laura asked archly.
"Speaking of which, how'd you manage to get in here? If Camden was dead before you arrived-"
Laura glanced up and saw Remington standing there as she answered. "I guess the murderer left the door unlocked," she said.
"It's an automatic latch," Jarvis pointed out, turning to see Remington as well. "Steele."
"Hello, Jimmy. What's going on here?"
"Apparently your associate stumbled onto a murder."
"Any leads?" Remington asked the boyish homicide detective.
"Not yet. And Miss Holt hasn't been very forthcoming about why she just happened by."
"I TOLD you, Jarvis, it concerns a case. And you and I BOTH know that you can't make me tell you-"
Remington lifted a hand to still her tirade. "Have you identified the victim, Jimmy?"
"Yeah. He was checked in as Philip Camden. From London, England. Your neck of the woods, isn't it?"
"A long time ago," Remington reminded his friend. He had never been certain exactly how much Jarvis knew about his past before he had chosen to become Remington Steele. "I think you'll find that Camden was in reality Philip Carson and that he was planning, along with an accomplice, to steal the Black Star Diamond."
"You- uh- wouldn't happen to know who that accomplice might be, would you?"
"Well," Laura began, but Remington took her arm and spoke quickly.
"I believe she's on her way back to London at this moment. I had Fred drop her at the airport to catch a flight that was due to leave-" he consulted his watch. "Ten minutes ago."
"You did?" Laura asked. Remington nodded.
"Is it possible that she might have had a disagreement with the dead man?"
"Possible, I suppose. But she didn't have time to see him after I made the arrangements for her to leave Los Angeles."
"Mr. Steele," Laura interjected, "according to the coroner, Carson could have been dead for two hours."
"I might have misjudged her motives on more personal matters, Miss Holt," he replied, aware that Jarvis was watching their exchange closely, "but she's not a murderer."
Laura lifted her shoulders as if to say, "Whatever," and turned to Jarvis. "Can I go now, Detective? I have some things to take care of at the office-"
"I'll call if I need anymore information," Jarvis told her. "Steele, you're sure that your friend isn't involved in this murder?"
"I said she didn't KILL him- not that she wasn't involved," Remington corrected. "I'll give her a call as soon as she gets back to London, ask her if she knows anything. No reason to involve her if she doesn't, is there?"
Jarvis looked for a long moment at Steele. "Is this the same old friend that the paper said you were with last night?" he asked.
"Yes. Trust me, Jimmy. She's basically harmless. Just a bit- misguided."
"Umm," Jarvis muttered doubtfully. "Let me know what you find out."
"I will. If you'll excuse me, I need to catch a lift from Miss Holt."
Laura was already sitting behind the steering wheel of the Rabbit when he reached the car. "Need a ride?" she asked. "I don't see the limo."
"I sent Fred to the airport, remember?" he said, opening the passenger door. "We need to talk-"
"About what, exactly?" she asked.
"Over dinner," he suggested. "Since I suddenly find myself with out a dinner companion this evening-"
"I DO have plans," Laura reminded him, apparently not ready to drop her charade of a relationship with Daniel.
"I'm sure Daniel would understand, and step aside," he insisted gently. "Please?"
"Let me talk to Daniel," she said, then started the engine. "You really sent Felicia back to London?"
"On the first flight I could arrange," he assured her.
"You know that she had time to have come here and kill Carson-"
"She had the time, yes. But Felicia isn't a murderer," he repeated.
Laura put the car into gear. "I wish I shared your confidence, Mr. Steele."
***
"I don't suppose my son or Laura is about?" Daniel asked Mildred.
Mildred looked at Murphy before answering. "No. Mr. Steele took off out of here a little while ago. I haven't heard a word from Miss Holt."
"What's going on, Chalmers?" Murphy asked. "Laura seems to think that Felicia's planning to steal the Black Star Diamond with Philip Carson's help."
"She very well could be. That's why Harry sent her packing back to London."
"He did?" Mildred asked, her eyes wide.
"Last I saw of Laura, she was on her way to meet Carson."
"Damn," Murphy muttered. "Someone needs to put that woman on a leash."
"I wouldn't try that if I were you, Murphy," Laura warned as she and Remington entered.
"I was a bit worried, Harry," Daniel began.
"Did you find Carson, Laura?" Murphy asked.
"I found him, alright," she announced grimly. "Dead."
"Dead?" three voices asked in unison.
"Good Lord," Daniel sighed. "I'm truly sorry, Harry-"
"It's alright, Daniel. Your intentions were good, anyway."
"What happened to him?" Murphy asked.
"He was shot once from close range by a small caliber bullet. Right through the heart."
"Which means that he probably knew and trusted whoever killed him."
"Harry, you don't think that Felicia-?" Daniel asked, and Remington noticed Laura's triumphant smile.
"No. I don't, Daniel. She MIGHT know something, though, so I'm going to call her later."
"Speaking of calls, Mr. Steele," Mildred said, handing him a slip, "Fred's been trying to reach you since right after you left the last time."
"Fred?" Remington questioned, picking up the telephone on Mildred's desk to return the driver's call. "Fred?…Steele here…You're certain?…Yes, yes, I understand…" He smiled at something Fred was telling him. "You did?…Good man, Fred." He wrote down an address. "Yes. We'll check it out. Could you meet us downstairs, please?…Thank you."
He hung up as Laura read the address over his shoulder. "The warehouse district?"
"What's going on, Steele?" Murphy wanted to know.
"Seems that after Fred dropped Felicia off at the airport, she went inside as if she were going to catch her flight. But as he moved off, he glanced in the mirror to see her coming back out and flagging down a taxi." He ignored Laura's "I told you so" smile to continue. "Fred managed to tail them to this warehouse."
"So she didn't leave LA after all," Laura mused. "I wonder if that means she's still going to steal the diamond?"
"Without a partner? It would be suicide. You know that security set up as well as I do, Laura," Remington pointed out. "It would take at least two people to breach that system. Perhaps three."
"Who's to say that there wasn't a THIRD partner?" Mildred suggested, causing four pair of eyes to turn her way. "Did I say something important?"
"Of COURSE!" Laura exclaimed. "Carson was just the one who was going to case the gallery, get them the information to get inside. You said yourself, Daniel, that he wasn't smart enough to pull anything on his own. And I found THIS-" she withdrew the slip of paper from Philip Carson's desk from her pocket, "in Carson's room."
Remington and the others examined it. "Notes on the security system."
"He might have wanted more of a cut for his trouble," she suggested. "And Felicia and the third player in their little game weren't willing to let him up the ante."
"So he was killed?" Mildred said.
"Exactly, Mildred."
"What are you going to do, Chief?" Mildred asked Remington.
"Care to join me in a stake out this evening, Miss Holt?" he asked.
Laura smiled. "I thought you'd never ask, Mr. Steele," she replied. "Oh, Daniel, about dinner --"
Daniel nodded. "I understand. Preventing a robbery and catching a murderer comes first. Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.
***
"You're sure she went into that building, Fred?" Remington asked as the chauffeur brought the limo to a stop down the road.
"Well, she went into the alley beside it, and I waited several minutes. She never came out."
Remington clapped a hand on the man's shoulder. "Good work. We're going to have to talk about raise." Turning to his companions, he said, "Ready?"
Murphy got out, as did Laura and Remington. "Why would she have come down here?" Murphy wondered as they moved toward the apparently abandoned warehouse. "Reminds me of the last time we saw her. That crazy guy-"
"Gutman," Laura reminded him. "Wanted the Five Nudes."
"Yeah. You don't think that he's involved-?"
Remington shook his head. "Gutman's still in prison," he told them. At the entrance to the alley, he paused. "Pretty dark in there."
"Yeah. All kinds of things could be waiting for some unsuspecting person to walk past."
"We'll be right behind you, Murphy," Remington assured him.
"Thanks," Murphy said with a scowl. "Nice to know." He drew a deep breath. "Well, here goes nothing."
Remington and Laura watched as Murphy started into the alley, then followed some distance behind, watching. Murphy found a window, and wiped the grimy glass to see inside, only to find an arm around his neck from behind.
"Looking for something buddy?"
Laura picked up a glass bottle from a pile of trash and showed it to Steele, who nodded. She rushed forward and jabbed Murphy's attacker in the back with the top. "Let him go."
"Hey, lady," the man said, lifting his hands and releasing Murphy. "I'm just trying to protect my territory, you know? Can't let someone else come in here and-"
"Territory?" Remington questioned, and the man shook his head.
"Damn convention in here."
"What are you doing back here?" Murphy asked.
"This is my place," he told them proudly, indicating the packing crates leaning against the brick wall. He winced as Laura prodded him with the bottle, not quite ready to buy that he was on the up and up. "What ARE you guys looking for?"
"You didn't by chance see an over dressed bleach blonde go into that building today, did you?" Laura asked, ignoring Remington's reaction to her description of Felicia. Murphy managed- just barely- to hide a smile.
The man laughed shortly. "THAT building? Ain't no one been in that place for years. Insides falling apart. Last person who tried fell three stories through the floorboards. Check the padlock on the door if you don't believe me."
Murphy did as the man suggested. "Rusted over. Only thing that will open this door is a hacksaw."
Laura held out the bottle to the man and looked down the alley. "Where does this go?"
"Over to 12th Street, eventually. Winds behind a couple of buildings before it comes out," he informed her. "But I didn't see no blonde come through here. Course, I was out collecting stuff earlier. Might've missed her."
"Thank you," Remington said. "Sorry to have disturbed you."
He, Murphy and Laura moved off, following the alley through turns and twists, passing a couple of drunks sleeping en route before finding themselves on the sidewalk. "She could be anywhere," Murphy pointed out as they surveyed the myriad of buildings confronting them.
"Hmm," Remington agreed. "Seems that there's only one thing left for us to, then."
"What's that?" Laura asked.
He took her arm. "Stake out the gallery. Let's go find Fred, shall we and then see what Daniel and Mildred have come up with."
To Be Continued…