A taxicab pulls up before Laura's loft, and Steele opens the door of the car and gets out, waiting for Laura as the driver comes around to the trunk. "Ugh," Laura groans. "Next time we get invited to a weekend wedding bash in New York, remind me not to eat everything in sight."
"Certainly took quite a bite out of the Big Apple," he agrees tiredly. "Ate everything except the worm, I'd say." To the driver, he says, "Just the lady's bags, thank you very much." He takes the bags. "Nothing personal, Laura, I just don't think I've got the energy to coax you into a romantic interlude."
They turn and head toward the front doors, him carrying her cases. "That's alright," she assures him, then adds, "I don't think I've got the energy to thwart your attempts anyway." She stops, looks back at him.
Steele grins. "Oh, well, on the other hand, I think I just got my second wind."
Laura comes down the steps and gives him a kiss. "See you in the morning," she tells him, taking her cases.
Steele looks resigned. "Yes, yes, of course. In the morning. Why break tradition, eh?"
"Exactly," Laura agrees, then goes on up the steps as Steele turns to the cab, smacking his lips.
The elevator opens on the fifth floor of Steele's building, and he pauses as he starts toward his door, as he sees yellow tape strung across the doorway, blocking it. The words "POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS" are emblazoned on the tape. Steele inspects the padlock on the door, then hears the telephone start to ring inside and digs for his pick kit, setting to work.
He opens the door and enters, finding the phone and picking it up just as whoever it is hangs up. Turning on the light, he sees the tape outlines of two bodies, bloodstains covering the carpet where their head would have been. Steele frowns.
He goes to the office, and finding the same yellow tape across the doors there, as well as a padlock on them, he digs out his pick, but the lock is already open. He pushes on the door, and finding it open, ducks beneath the tape to go into the dark office. When he opens his office door, someone leaps on him, and he struggles with his attacker, forcing the person to the floor.
He draws back a fist, and then freezes as he realizes who's under him. "Laura?!"
"What are you doing here?" he asks. "I thought you didn't have any energy?"
"I didn't until I was greeted by a police barricade at my front door," she tells him. "Just like they've got here!"
"It must be an epidemic. I've got the same decorations on my door. Come on," he says, rising to his feet and pulling her with him. "Shh, shh," he warns, hearing someone whistling in the corridor. "Come in here, quick," he says, pulling her into the doorway of his office, where they watch as a security guard notices the open padlock on the door.
"Why are we hiding?" Laura asks. "This is *our* office, remember?"
The man peers inside. "Uh-huh. It appears two people were murdered in my living room," Steele informs her, watching the guard.
"What?!" Laura exclaims.
The guard leaves, his movements determined. "Ahh, he's undoubtedly gonna summon the authorities," Steele tells Laura, and heads for the doors. "Come on."
"Why?" Laura wants to know, not moving. "We've done nothing wrong!"
"Yes, well, you and I know that. But given the circumstances, how can we be certain that anybody else does?" He looks at the doors again. "I'd like to find out who those bodies are before we compare notes with the police. Come on," he says again, and this time, Laura goes with him.
They carefully exit the office and take to the streets. "Does anybody besides me have a set of keys to your place?" Laura asks as they walk in front of a locked and darkened appliance store.
"Most of the people I know wouldn't need a set of keys to my place," Steele reminds her.
"This is hardly the time for jokes."
"Who's joking?" Steele asks. "I don't have a bloody clue who would have been in my apartment! Our main priority is to get in touch with Mildred."
"I already tried," Laura tells him. "She's not home. All I'm saying is that I don't know what we're going to accomplish out here on the streets. I still think we should call the po-" she stops in her tracks as the television sets inside the store, which are still on, reveal a picture of Steele, then Laura.
Steele, noticing that she's stopped, comes back to see what she's looking at. A reporter on the news is saying something, but they can't hear. "Don't just stand there," Laura orders. "Pick the lock!" She looks around, and then follows him to the doors. "Hurry up," she says nervously as he kneels to work the lower latch.
"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying," he tells her.
She keeps an eye out, and the alarm goes off as he opens the door. They go inside and find a big screen TV where a reporter is saying, "And in sports, the big story remains that missing Pick Six ticket, worth over one and a half million dollars." Steele and Laura strain to hear over the alarm bell. "It's been three days now, and track officials, not to mention the IRS, are wondering where that lucky person who picked all six winning horses is hiding."
Laura frowns, and Steele picks up the remote. "Here you go," he says, pointing it at the TV and changing the channel. An old western is playing, and Steele grins. "Oh. I've seen this one-"
"Give me that!" Laura says, grabbing the remote and flipping to another channel. Video of Lt. Jarvis leading a distraught Mildred out of a building is being shown as the reporter's voice says, "And Police still aren't saying whether they have any leads in the brutal murders of famed private investigator Remington Steele and his secretary, Laura Holt, both shot gunned to death earlier today in Mr. Steele's apartment." Steele grins nervously at Laura, who's listening closely. The tape ends, and the reporter continue. "Memorial services are scheduled for Wednesday at Cowan Mortuary . . . "
As the man continues, Steele tells Laura, "Well, at least we're newsworthy."
"Newsworthy? We've just been declared dead! And one of us a secretary," she muses, miffed.
"Really, Laura, this is no time to be petty," Steele says.
"And wrapping up our series on precious gems," the reporter says, "tonight we look at Royal Lavulite. The newest, rarest gemstone in the world of fine jewelry." A photo of the Lavulite is shown. "It's vibrant violet color makes it totally unique among natural gemstones."
Steele smiles. "How poetic. The story that brought us together follows the news of our deaths." He turns, hearing a police siren approaching. The car passes in front of the windows.
"I suggest we conduct our post-mortems elsewhere," Laura says.
"Yes," Steele agrees, and follows her toward the rear of the building.
In a dingy, run-down motel, the clerk imprints Steele's credit card as Steele finishes filling out the register. Laura stands nearby, looking very unhappy.
The clerk runs Steele's card, and it comes up as stolen and instructs him to call in. He looks at Steele, and then gives him the receipt and card, watching him carefully the entire time.
Steele tears up the carbon, and takes the key, "Thank you," he says before leaving with Laura.
The clerk picks up the telephone and dials a number.
Steele and Laura enter the tiny room with its worn chair and peeling wallpaper. "What makes them think *we* were the ones that were murdered?" Laura wonders. "And who were the actual victims?" she asks.
Steele peels off his jacket. "Well, if we are dead," he tells her, going to the tiny, dirty bathroom and turning on the light, "this must be hell."
Laura sits on the bed, and then picks up the phone as Steele turns on the water. He looks at her and turns off the water. "What are you doing?"
"Calling my sister," she says. Steele grabs the phone and hangs it up. "What are you doing?"
"Saving our hides, along with your sister's," he says.
"I just want her to know I'm alive," she tells him, reaching for the phone again.
He stops her again. "Laura, we can't let anyone know we're alive until we find out who wanted us dead. Somebody out there thinks they've murdered us. If they find out they made a mistake, we're sitting ducks," he tells her as he unfastens his shirt cuffs.
"So in the meantime, we're supposed to play possum?" Laura asks. She's alarmed by the sound of a car squealing to a stop, and lights flashing outside.
Steele looks out of the dirty window. "They couldn't have followed us here from the TV store, could they?"
"Perhaps they want to find out who's using a dead man's credit card," Laura clarifies.
He grabs his coat and heads toward the back window. "Let's not stick around and explain. Come on."
"Where are we gonna go?" Laura asks as he raises the window and steps back for her to go out first.
"Someplace nice and warm, and cozy," he assures her, following her out.
The next morning, Steele and Laura come out of a movie house. The marquee reveals that the title of the movie is "Hot Lips Holly" and that it's rated XXX. Steele stretches, as Laura frowns. "Nothing quite like a good night's sleep, eh?"
"I can't believe I spent the entire night in a porno movie house," she frets.
"Yeah, well, I'll admit, it's not exactly the Ritz Carlton," he says. "But-"
"I don't understand how you could get any sleep with all that moaning and groaning going on."
"No need to apologize, Laura," he teases. "I could hardly hear you," he finishes with a grin. Laura gives him a look. "Hey, besides, where else could you spend the night on ten dollars, eh?"
"If you'd carry more cash, we wouldn't have had to find out."
"I never carry cash," Steele reminds her. "Too bulky."
"Hopefully the police will have lifted the barricade by now and we can catch up with Mildred at the office and find out what's going on."
They take the stairs to the eleventh floor, and peer out of the doorway to see Mildred, dressed in black, standing before a reception area filled with wreaths and flowers. There's a photo of Laura and Steele on an easel, with a black line of mourning across it.
"Poor Mildred," Steele notes. "It appears she's preparing a wake in our memory."
Laura nods, and they start out, only to stop and close the door as a short little man wearing a black armband comes around the corner and enters the office. "Ex-client?" Steele wonders, looking down at Laura.
"Not that I remember," Laura confirms, frowning.
The man approaches Mildred, a sad expression on his face. "You must be in terrible pain," he commiserates.
"They were very special to me," Mildred agrees.
"Yeah. Well, anyway, uh, Steele was supposed to be holding a package for me. Do you happen to know anything about it?"
"Who are you?" Mildred wants to know.
As Laura and Steele watch from the stairway door, a short man, dressed in a black suit, black shirt and white tie, flanked by two men, walk down the corridor, and into the office. "Must be from your side," Laura decides. Steele looks down at her with a frown.
The black clad man approaches Mildred, placing a hand to his chest. "My most heart-felt condolences, Miss Krebs. I'm Phil. Most know me as Pittsburgh Phil. I was curious as to whether or not Mr. Steele left me an- envelope or something'?"
"Not that I'm aware of," Mildred tells him, starting to smell something fishy.
Phil looks at his men.
A nun moves down the corridor and enters the office. Steele tells Laura, "Must be from your side," which causes her to roll her eyes up to look at him.
The nun goes up to Mildred. "Hello. I'm Sister Natalie. I just wanted to express my deepest sympathies to you."
"Thank you, Sister. Did you know them well?"
"Actually, I never met them. However, I was wondering if Mr. Steele might have left a little- something for the Church?"
"I don't think Mr. Steele was much of a religious man," Mildred informs her.
A group of five very short, well-dressed men come down the corridor. Steele tells Laura, "Well, they're short enough, but I think they're too old to be your sister's kids."
The first of the men pushes past the nun and takes Mildred's arm. "Excuse me, Sister. Devastating loss," he says to Mildred.
She gasps in recognition. "Aren't you Alejandro Pascal, the jockey?"
"Oh, you're a horse racing fan?" he asks.
"Oh, not as much as the Boss was," Mildred says sadly. "Oh, how he used to love the ponies," she says with a smile. "Is that where you knew him from?"
"More or less," Alejandro says. "My fellow jockeys and myself are under the impression that Mr. Steele might have left us a-"
Mildred holds up her hands to stop him and continues. "Let me guess: an envelope? A package or something?"
Alejandro smiles, nodding. "Yes."
"No," she tells him, then goes over and grabs a glass.
Another, heavyset, red haired man enters the office. "Well," Remington muses, "it's heartwarming to realize how well loved we are, isn't it?"
The man approaches Mildred with a handkerchief to his eyes. "Such a sad occasion," he tells her as she eyes him suspiciously. "By the way, do you know if Mr. Steele was holding a particular item for me?"
"Talk to the short guy," she tells him bitterly. The jockeys all turn to look at her.
As yet another mourner enters the corridor, Laura and Steele draw back into the stairwell. It's Lt. Jimmy Jarvis, and he enters the office as well. "Detective Jarvis," Laura says. "Finally a friendly face."
"You mean a familiar face," Steele corrects her. "If he sees us, we're dead." Laura looks up at him, and he shrugs. "Well, you know what I mean."
"How are we going to contact Mildred?" Laura wonders.
Steele looks thoughtful.
Jarvis goes over to Mildred, who's holding a glass of wine at the buffet. "It's an interesting array of people," he comments.
"Greedy, too," Mildred tells him quietly. "From the looks of them, I guess most of them must have known Mr. Steele. All but the nun, of course."
Jarvis looks around. "You seem to be bearing up fairly well, Mildred."
"I don't have much choice, Detective Jarvis. I lost the only two shoulders I *could* cry on."
"I realize it's not a good time to get into it, but uh, have you had any other thoughts at all as to who might have wanted to kill them?"
"Who knows? It could have been any one of those low-lifes they put away over the years."
"So you're saying revenge was the motive?" Jarvis asks.
"What else could it be? So, do you have any suspects?"
"I'm still waiting for a lead to pan out. But I- have narrowed the list considerably."
The phone starts to ring, and Mildred goes to answer it. "Remington Steele-" She stops. "Hello?"
From a phone on the street, Laura says, "Mildred? It's me, Laura!"
Mildred is horrified. "You sick perverted pig!" she declares, hanging up.
On the street, Laura lowers the phone. "What did she say?" Steele wants to know.
"That I'm a sick, perverted pig," she tells him.
Jarvis comes over to Mildred, who's staring at the telephone, frightened. "Mildred, they're just crank calls," he assures her. "It happens all the time with celebrities. That's what brings these people out. Try not to let them get to you."
The phone rings again, and Jarvis answers. "Detective Jarvis here."
Steele looks put out, then holds the phone to his chest as he thinks quickly. Putting the phone back to his ear, he fakes an Australian accent. "Goodday, yes, hello. Is Miss Krebs there, please?"
"Who's calling?" Jarvis wants to know.
"Uh, Cowan Mortuary," Steele replies.
Jarvis indicates that Mildred answer on the other phone. "Hello?"
"Uh, yes, Mildred Krebs, this is Cowan Mortuary. It seems we- well, it seems we misplaced Laura Holt's urn."
"Her urn?" Mildred questions. "She wasn't supposed to be cremated!"
"Uh, yes, well, that's what we'd like t'see you about straightaway."
"I'm on my way," Mildred assures the man on the phone, hanging up and grabbing her purse before rushing out of the office.
"Misplaced my *urn*?" Laura questions Steele.
He grins. "Yes, well, don't worry, Laura. I'm sure it will show up. Shall we?"
They move away together.
At Cowan Mortuary, Mildred enters the chapel. "Hello?" she calls out. "Anybody home?" she calls again, moving toward the front of the room. "Hello?"
A door opens and Steele and Laura appear. "Long time no see, Mildred," Steele says, smiling.
"Mildred?" Laura asks.
Mildred stands there, mouth open, and then slides to the floor in a faint. Laura and Steele rush toward her. "Oh, Mildred," Steele mutters. "There you go, girl," he says as he and Laura lift the unconscious woman to sit between them on a pew. "Don't take it to heart. There you go. That's it."
Mildred opens her eyes and looks frightened. "That's it," Steele says. "Breathe. Breathe," as Laura fans her with a purse. Steele pats her cheek gently. "Everything's okay."
"Am I dead?" Mildred wants to know.
"No," Steele says.
"No, Mildred. No. We're alive," Laura tells her.
Mildred's not sure. She reaches for Laura's hand. "You're- alive?" When she touches Laura's hand and Steele's leg, she smiles, delighted. "You *are* alive!" she cries, hugging first Steele, then Laura. "But- I don't understand. How?"
"Death Takes a Holiday," Steele tells her. "Frederick March, Eva Venable, Paramount, 1934."
"Mr. Steele, please," Laura sighs.
"But I saw you both," Mildred insists. "Lying in the Boss's apartment. Dead!"
"How could you identify those two people as us?" Laura wonders.
"There wasn't much to identify. Their faces were all but -gone. He was wearing your monogrammed robe," she tells Steele. "And she was in a negligee."
"She was in a negligee and you still thought it was Miss Holt?" Steele questions in surprise.
"Well, it *was* your apartment," Mildred reminds him.
"The question is," Laura says, "who were they and what were they doing at his apartment?"
"Yeah," Mildred agrees. "And what do five jockeys, a guy named Pittsburgh Phil and a nun have to do with it?"
"Alright, I'll bite," Steele tells her warily. "What do five jockeys, a fella by the name of Pittsburgh Phil, and a nun have to do with it?"
"No, I'm askin'," Mildred clarifies. "I mean, them and some other shady characters were all at your wake."
"We saw them," Laura tells Steele.
"They all seemed to think you had something for them. An envelope, a package. I figured you knew them."
Steele looks thoughtful. "No, no, but perhaps they knew the victims."
"Who had the envelope or package they all wanted."
"Which everybody now thinks I have because of where the victims died."
Mildred watches as they bounce ideas off each other. "Which means that we may not have been the intended targets after all," Laura reasons.
"Yes, however, if the murderer thinks we have what he's after-"
"We've got to find out who the victims are and what everybody is looking for."
Mildred finally speaks. "Jarvis gave me the personal effects off your- I mean, the victims' bodies. They're at the office."
They all get up.
At the office, Mildred knocks on the door to the stairway to signal that the coast is clear, and then motion for Steele and Laura to follow her. They go into Steele's office, where Laura and Steele collapse onto the sofa.
"If we don't solve this case soon, I'm going to have to have these clothes surgically removed," Laura tells them.
"You both are getting a little ripe," Mildred admits, sitting down as well.
"Speaking of ripe," Steele says, "We could use a hot meal. How much money you got Mildred?"
"Let's see," she says, opening her purse. " I've only got three bucks," she says, pulling it out.
"How could you only have three dollars?" Laura asks.
"Tomorrow's payday, remember?"
"What about credit cards?" Steele asks.
"Here, take my bank card," she says, handing it to him, then grabbing it back. "I'm over my limit on that one. Here, try this one." She pulls it away as well. "No, no, that one, too."
Laura and Steele are frustrated. Steele grabs the three dollars. "Not exactly a bonanza, is it?"
"Give me a couple of hours," Mildred tells them. "I'll see what I can rustle up."
"As soon as we're finished here, Mildred, we'll rendezvous at your place," Laura suggests.
Mildred nods, standing up. "Oh!" She goes to Steele's desk. "Here are the belongings." She slides a manila envelope across to Steele. "I couldn't open them."
Steele pulls out two plastic bags and hands one to Laura. Laura opens hers and looks inside. "Not much here," she declares as Steele takes something out of his bag and inspects it.
He frowns, looking sad. "Oh, poor Freddy," he sighs. He looks at Laura and Mildred. "An old friend of mine. I suspect the girl he was with was his lady friend."
"How in the world could you know all that?" Laura wants to know.
Steele hands her the ring he is holding. It's got a diamond filled horseshoe on it. "The word inscribed on the inside?" Laura turns the ring over to reveal the word. "CANON? It means master pickpocket," Steele tells her. Mildred's eyes widen. "That was Freddy," he says, taking the ring back. "This ring meant a lot to him. I know."
From the reception area, Jarvis calls, "Mildred?" Mildred's eyes widen in alarm. "Mildred, are you here? It's Detective Jarvis."
Mildred takes off for the door, meeting Jarvis in the doorway. "Ah, there you are." Mildred is ready to explain, but when she turns around, there's no sign of Steele or Laura. "Ah, listen. I just came to tell you that that lead I was hoping for- panned out." Mildred listens stiffly.
"Uh huh?" she says, not really listening to him as she looks around for Steele and Laura.
"It proves that the murderer had to be someone close to Mr. Steele and Miss Holt. Someone that they would recognize when they opened the door that- fateful night."
"Oh," Mildred says, moving to the desk. She sees Steele and Laura there. They motion for her to get rid of Jarvis. Mildred grabs her purse from the desk. "Ah ha," she says in a brighter voice.
"It also though, narrows down the motive, which you feel is- revenge?" he says as she grabs his arm to lead him toward the reception area. "Yes?" She nods. "But, you see, all of the criminals that Mr. Steele's put away are still behind bars, Mildred, so it couldn't be revenge," he says. She almost pushes him out of Steele's office. "Money had to be the motive. Then the question became, who would gain the most financially from their deaths?" he's saying as she closes the door behind them.
"Uh, huh," Mildred says.
Steele sighs. "Pity. I was curious to hear who he thinks murdered us." Laura nods in agreement.
"We'll just wait here until Mildred tells us the coast is clear," she tells him.
In the reception area, Jarvis tells Mildred, "It had to be someone who was- familiar with their personal affairs," he speculates. "Someone who stood to benefit from their corporate life insurance policies to the tune of one million dollars apiece-." He pauses, waiting.
"Uh huh," Mildred says, and then stops as what he's saying finally hits her. "Wait a minute!" she says, holding out her hand to point at him. "You-"
He clamps a handcuff onto her wrist. "That's right." He fastens her wrists together. "You are the beneficiary, Mildred. And- you're under arrest for the murders of Remington Steele and Laura Holt." He pulls out a notebook.
"I couldn't. I mean, they're not even really-"
He turns her toward the door, reading. "You have the right to remain silent." Mildred looks toward Steele's office, wanting to tell him the truth, but afraid to do so. "If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present "
Steele and Laura get off of a city bus. "I never thought I'd miss Fred and the limo so much," he tells her.
"What I'd give for a nice, long, hot shower right now," Laura frets as the bus pulls away to reveal that they're back across the street from the movie house again.
"Well, if you had to give more than a dollar, I'm afraid you'd be out of luck," he tells her, studying the change in his hand. "Still don't understand where Mildred disappeared to, but wherever she went, she'd better have cash in hand when we meet her at her place."
"Tell me a little bit more about this friend of yours we're meeting," Laura says. "What's her connection to Freddy?"
Steele grins and crooks his finger at someone else down the sidewalk. As they watch, a thin blonde passes a man, bumping him. "Hey! Watch where you're goin', will ya?" she says. The man glares and continues on his way. The woman pulls a wallet from her jacket and frowns as she joins Steele and Laura. "Oh, damn. Doesn't anybody carry cash anymore?"
Laura is frowning. "Freddy and Candy are both pickpockets," Steele tells her. "That's the connection. Meet my partner in reincarnation, Laura Holt," he says to Candy.
Laura shakes Candy's hand. "Nice to meet you. I think."
"So, Harry," Candy begins, "What's going on? Is this another one of your scams or did some poor sap take your bullet by accident?"
Steele sighs and hands her the ring.
She looks at it. "Freddy. Oh, God, Jennifer too."
"Do you have any idea what they were doing at Mr. St- At Harry's apartment in the first place?" Laura asks as Steele retrieves the ring from Candy.
"Freddy and I were both workin' the track last week, and I don't know what got into his head, but he saw the local loan shark headin' toward the betting window and picked his pocket. I mean, he just walked up to him and picked him clean. I couldn't believe he even tried it."
"Uh, by chance the loan shark's name wouldn't be Pittsburgh Phil, would it?" Steele asks, scratching his ear.
Candy nods. "Freddy didn't tell me what the take was, but the way he was actin', I knew it was big. And I mean, big. For some reason, though, he thought he needed your help, Harry. He went over to your place, but you weren't home. I remember because he called up lookin' for Jennifer to come party with him until you got back. God, he should never have messed with Phil," she sighs regretfully. "He knew better than that, the jerk."
"Apparently he didn't," Laura comments.
"Well," Steele says, clearing his throat. "It seems a trip to the track is in order, doesn't it? Uh, Candy, you wouldn't by chance have any spare change we could borrow?" he asks.
Candy looks at him.
At the police station, Mildred is on the telephone. "No, no, no, Teresa, I want to know is Senor Steele or Senora Holt en mi casa, por favor?" she asks hopefully. Jarvis comes to the window in the door and looks inside. "What do you mean no?" Mildred ask, sounding desperate as Jarvis opens the door to enter. "Where the hell are they?!" She sees Jarvis and smiles. "Never mind. I'll try somewhere else." She hangs up and then starts to dial another number. Jarvis stops her. "I gotta make another call!" she tells him.
"You only get one phone call, Mildred."
"But that was my housekeeper," she tells him.
"Strange call to make. Most people call their lawyers." She looks at the phone. "Mildred?" She stands, still hesitant. "Mildred," he warns. She leaves with him.
At the track, Steele looks around as Laura frets, "I can't believe I had to hock my necklace just so we could get in this place."
"It was either that or hock your body. And given our current hygienic state, I suspect your necklace was the best move," he tells her with a slight smile.
Laura's not happy. "If we would have taken the bus instead of a cab, I wouldn't have had to make this choice!" she declares quietly as Steele looks her over. "Now what are we going to hock for food? I'm not going to get anything for these earrings."
Steele spies Phil and his henchmen across the room. "Pittsburgh Phil, I presume," he says, drawing Laura's attention to them. "If he's really the one that killed Freddy and Jennifer, then why was he at our wake?"
"He still must be looking for whatever it was that Freddy lifted from him," Laura guesses.
"So. How do we get close enough to find out what 'it' was?"
"Why not ask him for a loan?" Laura suggests.
"That's a-" Steele stops and looks at her with one of his smiles. "That's what I love about you, Laura. You're always willing to stick my neck out."
"I've got nothing else working hocking, remember?" she replies.
Steele stuffs his handkerchief deeper into his pocket, then moves off toward Phil as Laura watches. He approaches the loan shark, apologizes for interrupting, but he really needs to talk. Phil leads him toward the men's room. His henchmen stay on guard at the entrance.
Inside, Phil checks the stalls, then approaches a man at the sinks who's combing his hair. "You look beautiful," he tells the young man before taking his comb and pushing him toward the door. "Now beat it." The man takes off. Phil wets the comb in the sink as he looks into the mirror. He lifts the comb to his head.
"Uh, I need a hundred," Steele says nervously.
"Uh, a friend of mine died. I need to bury him."
"Touching." Phil faces him. "How do I know you're good for it?"
"Hey, I'm good for it. Do you think Candy would have sent me to you if I wasn't? Hmm?"
Phil pulls out a hundred. "The minute I give this to you," he says, holding it back, "you owe me twenty five more."
Steele takes the bill. "Now I can bury Freddy Lazenby, eh?" he says softly.
"Freddy Lazenby?" Phil repeats.
Steele jumps him, pressing him onto the counter. "You remember Freddy! He's the guy you splattered all over my living room carpet along with his girlfriend, eh?! "
Phil's eyes widen in shock. "Freddy's dead? What a minute! You're-you're Steele!"
"That's right!" Steele admits.
"Jake!" Phil yells for his men.
Steele releases Phil and kicks over the trashcan to slow the men up, but Phil kicks him in the back, giving Jake and the other man a chance to grab him. Steele ends up on the counter, gasping and groaning. Phil pushes the men away, grabbing the money from Steele. "I don't know what kind of game you and Freddy are playing, but I want that ticket he lifted from me and I want it back now!"
"What- what are you talking about? What ticket?" Steele asks.
To his men, Phil says, "Take this slime ball someplace quiet. And if he doesn't cough up that Pick Six ticket, put a bullet between his eyes."
The two men pull Steele to his feet and "escort" him out of the men's room as Phil repairs the damage to his hair.
Laura sees the two men with Steele and knows that something's gone wrong. She follows them to the stables; where the two men toss Steele against a stall wall, then start beating him up.
Quietly, Laura releases a string of horses, sending them toward the three men. Steele jumps out of the way as the two henchmen run for their lives. "Are you all right?" she asks Steele as he straightens the handkerchief in his pocket.
"Ah, yes, couldn't be better. Couldn't be better," he assures her pulling the handkerchief back up so it can be seen. They take off back toward the clubhouse.
Inside, Phil sees them just as his men return, and they take off again. This time, the first little man from their wake sees Phil and his men running, and thinking they're after him, he takes off too. The little man ducks under the turnstile. Steele and Laura jump over it, watching the man.
"Wasn't he at our wake?" Laura questions.
"Follow that mourner!" Steele tells her.
Phil and his men come out of the turnstiles and don't see any sign of Steele or Laura. Angry, Phil slaps one of them on the back of the head, and starts to repeat the motion with the other, but draws back instead.
The little man runs into a church. Steele and Laura follow, but when they go inside, there's no sign of him. Sister Natalie stops their headlong dash into the sanctuary. "Children please! This is the Lord's home!"
"Sorry," Steele apologizes.
Out of breath, Laura explains, "My name is Laura Holt. This is Remington Steele- you were at our wake yesterday!" she realizes. "So was the man who came in here!"
"Laura Holt?" Sister Natalie asks. "Remington Steele?"
"Uh huh," Steele confirms.
She crosses herself. "Oh, thank God you're both alive!"
"Thank you very much, sister, but two people are dead," Steele tells her. "And if we don't find out who's responsible soon, you might find yourself at our funeral yet."
Sister Natalie sits down, troubled. "I know my brother has lost his way, but I also know that he *couldn't* be involved in a murder."
"Is your brother the man we followed in here?" Laura asks.
"Yes. He thought he was being chased by a loan shark."
"Why were the two of you at our wake?" Steele wants to know.
"We were hoping to find the missing ticket," the nun tells them.
"What ticket?" Laura asks.
But it's Steele who answers. "The unclaimed one-point-five million dollar Pick Six ticket, if I'm not mistaken."
"You mean the one we heard about on the news at-?" Laura recalls.
"That's what Freddy took from Pittsburgh Phil's pocket," Steele tells her.
"And Pittsburgh Phil took it from my brother who owed him money," Sister Natalie says.
"How did your brother get it?" Laura wants to know.
"Went through my purse looking for money and found it there," she tells them.
Steele gives the nun a surprised look. "Doesn't the Church frown on- nuns playing Pick Six?"
"Oh, no," she says, laughing. "I was only holding the ticket for Michael Harrigan."
"This ticket has seen more hands than a palm reader," Laura comments.
Sister Natalie smiles in agreement. "Michael Harrigan's in the AA program that I run here at the Church. Well, you see, he placed the bet for some friends, but then, when it came up a winner, he was tempted to cash it in for himself. I talked him into giving it to me for safekeeping. I just can't believe that this has all somehow led to murder," she says sadly.
"Sister, do you have any idea where we might be able to find this Michael Harrigan?" Steele asks.
In the dark of evening, Laura and Steele are shivering in a line, waiting for a free meal at a soup kitchen. "Well, if the nun is right, Harrigan should be doing his penance by dishing out food inside," Steele says.
Laura holds her tray to her. "I don't think I've ever been this cold and hungry before."
"I have," Steele says. "And I swore I never would be again."
"How much money do we have left?"
"Two, three dollars. After we eat, we'll get in touch with Mildred, and see what she has for us."
"Remember, first the food, then the questions."
Steele nods. An old man gets into the line between them. "Hey!" Laura says, pushing him out. "No cuts, you bum!"
"Easy, Laura. Easy, Laura. I'm sure there's enough gruel for everyone," Steele tells her.
"You're certain Pittsburgh Phil was surprised when he saw you were alive?"
Steele grimaces. "So surprised that if he ever sees me again, he'll probably kill me."
"We just have to trace the path of the ticket backwards until we find out who does have it."
"Which leads us right back to Michael Harrigan," Steele says.
"And more importantly- *food*."
They're at the door, ready to go in, when a man comes out and announces, "Outa grub!"
"Wh-wh-what do you mean?" Laura demands.
"What're you deaf? Get here earlier next time!"
"Do you realize how long we've been standing in this line?!" Laura demands to know. "Do you think we're doing this just for *fun*?!"
Steele speaks over her. "Do you know where we can find Michael Harrigan?"
"He didn't show up tonight, alright?" the man tells him.
"Now you listen to me!" Laura says, angry and not thinking clearly as a result of being hungry, "you oversize, stone hearted ape!"
"Do you know where we could find him?" Steele asks, his voice still calm.
"We're not leaving here until we get a meal!" Steele smiles nervously.
"Probably getting smashed at the track club!" the man tells Steele as Laura continues her tirade while an embarrassed Steele stands there, letting her have a go at it.
"I don't mean a scrawny piece of bread. I mean a full course, well-balanced, gut stuffing-" the man slams the door in her face. Laura's furious. She slams her metal tray against the door in frustration.
"Feel better?" Steele asks.
She grabs his tray and slams it against the door as well before stalking off. Steele smiles nervously at the others still behind them in the line before following her.
Neither of them notices Sister Natalie's brother watching nearby. He follows them.
He's having a smoke beside a phone booth as he watches the doorway of a building with a hand written sign, "Cots, $2.00 a nite."
Inside, Steele and Laura are sharing one of the narrow cots in the room. "Unconscionable, Mildred not home. Where is that woman?" he wonders.
"Probably out to dinner," Laura says, then moans softly.
"If we ever find that ticket, what do you say we cash it in and stay down in the Bahamas for the rest of our lives, just you and me, eh?"
"Is that your foot on my leg?" Laura asks.
"Nope," Steele says.
Laura sits up, slapping her leg. "Something crawling . . ." She stands up. "That's it. I'm going to the police. I'm going to tell them I'm alive. Then, I'm going to go home. I'm going to take a hot shower, and then I'm going to eat something. And then I'm going to climb into my bed, in my loft, and go to sleep. For a week."
Steele sits up and says seriously, "Okay. That's exactly what you should do, Laura. But I owe it to Freddy to find out who killed him. And I can't do that if I announce I'm alive. Freddy was my friend and this is my problem. Not yours. It's unfair that I asked you to stay here anyway, so-"
Laura takes a deep breath. "Okay."
Steele lies back down, and Laura starts for the door. She turns and looks at Steele, thinks for a moment, then smiles before going back to the bed. Sitting down on it, she waits for him to pull the blanket away. "Stop hogging the bed," she tells him. He grins widely and makes room for her, noticing the nun's brother entering with Phil and his henchmen.
"Don't get too comfortable," he warns Laura softly. "It appears the nun's brother has sold his soul to the Devil." He pulls the blanket over their heads.
Phil looks at several of the people on the cots. When they reach the one where Steele and Laura are, Steele sucker punches Phil, pushes another man aside as Laura shoves a suitcase at the second henchman and the nun's brother. They take off, making their escape.
Cars and trucks drive across a bridge as homeless people sleep beneath it in cardboard boxes and other makeshift dwellings. In a metal pipe, Laura and Steele are sleeping as well, using a piece of cardboard as a blanket. When a truck's air horn blares, Laura screams, startling Steele awake as well
"What- what is it? What's wrong?" Steele asks.
"I'm okay," Laura says, still half asleep, her head on his shoulder. "I'm okay."
"What is it?" he asks again.
"It was just a horrible nightmare," she tells him.
"I dreamed someone was chasing us and we had no place to go, so we had to spend the night-" Steele puts his head onto her shoulder now, going back to sleep. "We had to spend the night-" she looks around. "Under a freeway." She realizes it really happened.
"Okay," Steele mutters. "Okay. Just- perhaps if we go back to sleep-we'll wake up in our own bedrooms next time."
"There's only one way we're going to wake up in our own bedrooms. And that's to get to the bottom of this elusive Pick Six ticket once and for all."
"Yes, well," Steele says, his head still on her shoulder, his eyes still closed, "your good friend in the food line said that Harrigan's a regular at the track club." Laura rolls her eyes. "Perhaps if we go back to sleep-" Laura jumps up. "Laura, where are you going?" he says, groaning as he moves his head and his neck protests. "Oh, my neck. Laura, please-" he says, getting up as well.
At the police station, Jarvis closes the door on an interrogation room where Mildred sits at a table and a stenographer waits. "I want to confess everything," Mildred tells him. "I can't handle another night in that cell."
"Are you all set, Sally?" he asks the stenographer. She nods. "I'm all ears, Mildred."
"Okay. Here goes. I know you're not gonna believe this, but Mr. Steele and Miss Holt aren't really dead," she tells him, smiling
Jarvis looks surprised. "They're not?"
"No. It was a pickpocket and his girlfriend that were murdered. Not them."
"Pickpocket. His girlfriend."
"I didn't know that Mr. Steele and Miss Holt were really still alive until they lured me down to the mortuary. It was Mr. Steele who called me on the phone in the office."
"Mr. Steele misplaced Laura Holt's urn," Jarvis says.
"Yes. I mean no. No, no. The point is, that Mr. Steele thinks that the nun, the loan shark and the five jockeys and all those other guys are somehow connected to the pickpocket." The stenographer giggles.
Jarvis takes a deep breath. "It won't work, Mildred."
"What do you mean? What won't work?"
"Claiming insanity. I am officially booking you right now on two counts of first degree murder!"
Mildred's ready to cry.
At the track club, Michael Harrigan, the red haired man from the wake, is at a table, a bottle before him, his head on the table. Steele and Laura approach him. "All right, Mr. Harrigan. Snap out of it," Laura tells him, slapping in on the back. Steele sits down. "Come on," she continues, sitting as well. "Wake up."
"It appears our deaths were more than he could handle," Steele comments.
"What do you want?" Harrigan asks in a slurred voice.
"We want to know what you know what you know about that Pick Six ticket you purchased last week. Whom did you buy it for?" Laura asks.
"They trusted me," Harrigan sighs, refilling his glass. "Everybody used to trust me. I was a big shot around here and they all looked up to me."
"Skip the sob story, Harrigan," Steele says. "Who'd you place the bet for?"
"I should've done what they asked me to. I shouldn't have given it to that sister. They were all my buddies and they trusted me," he says, his head falling to the table again.
"Great, great, great," Steele says in frustration. "We're not gonna get much more out of him, are we?"
Laura gets up, and Steele joins her. They stop, looking back at Harrigan. "No wonder he lost all his stables," he comments
"Hardly a man capable of killing anyone," Laura notes.
"Which leaves us our five jockeys in mourning," Steele says.
Laura gets an idea. "What are the odds that those five jockeys alternated riding the winning horse on all six picks?" she asks him.
"The exact same odds that those five jockeys are guilty of murder," he tells her. They leave.
In the paddock, they come up on Alejandro. "Hello," he says.
"Hi," Steele says.
"Hey, haven't I seen you two somewhere before?"
"Maybe at the wake yesterday?" Laura suggests.
"Oh, that's right, you two were-" he stops. "Dead."
Steele grabs him, lifting him on the wall. "That's right. The name's Steele. Remington Steele. And we know you fixed the races by getting Harrigan to place the bet for you. Only Harrigan gave up the winning ticket."
"Which ultimately forced you and your cohorts to murder two people to get that ticket back," Laura continues.
The other four jockeys come from a building and see their friend in trouble.
"Murder?!" Alejandro cries out. "No way!" The four jockeys rush Steele, freeing Alejandro, and taking Steele down. Alejandro finally whistles to stop them. "Leave him alone. Back off, guys." Laura goes to help Steele to his feet. "I don't know why you two are pretending to be dead, and I don't know who it was you say was murdered, but we didn't kill anybody."
"Then what were you doing at the wake?" Laura asks.
"Just like everybody else, hoping to find the ticket. Word on the street was the pickpocket came to Mr. Steele to get him to cash the ticket. When we found out that you were dead, we figured your pickpocket friend would come to pay his last respects."
"Are you saying you don't have the ticket?" Steele asks.
"It wouldn't do us any good anyway," Alejandro says. "None of us could cash it in. Not with all the publicity that the track gives its Pick Six winners. That's why we went to Harrigan in the first place."
Laura pulls Steele aside. "You realize what this means?"
"Yes," he says, still out of breath from the beating he got from the jockeys. "It means we were murdered for no good reason."
"We've made contact with everybody even remotely related to that ticket, and no one seems to *have* it!"
Steele looks thoughtful. "Unless- Unless somebody actually does have the ticket. What better way not to be considered a suspect than to pretend not to have the ticket?"
"With all the anticipated publicity, the ticket holder would have to find some clever way of cashing it in without letting everybody know about it."
"The question still remains, who's got the bloody ticket?"
"Or better yet, who's no longer looking for it?"
Suddenly she looks at him, and he at her as inspiration strikes. They turn and take off.
Running back into the club, they find that while the bottle and glass are still on Harrigan's table, Harrigan himself is nowhere to be seen. "No one that drunk could have crawled out of here that fast!" Laura declares.
"Unless Harrigan wasn't that drunk to begin with," Steele notes, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig. "That's water," he tells her as Phil and his men come in, drawing their guns.
"Which means he's going to try to cash the ticket," Laura says finding herself bracketed by Phil and his men.
"Been lookin' all over for you, Mr. Steele," Phil says. "Now. Where is that ticket?"
"How can I get it through your thick skull that I don't *have* the-"
"POLICE!" Jarvis says from the doorway. His gun is pointed at Phil and his men, and two track guards flank him, their guns at ready as well. "Drop the gun."
"I never thought I'd be glad to see you, Jarvis," Steele says, smiling as he and Laura move around Phil. "Thank you."
Mildred joins Jarvis as the guards arrest Phil and his men. "You can thank Mildred not me. To prove you were both alive, she had me expedite the fingerprinting of the real murder victims."
Mildred frowns. "You two look terrible!" she exclaims.
"It's great to see you, too, Mildred," Laura replies. "Where have you *been*?"
"Well, I-" she stops as she looks past them. "Hey! Wasn't that guy at the wake?" she asks, pointing to Michael Harrigan as he walks behind the ticket line.
"There he is!" Laura tells Steele, and they're off again.
Harrigan comes out of a door with another man who's carrying a briefcase. Seeing Laura and Steele heading in his direction, Harrigan grabs the case and takes off. "Stop him!" the man yells. "He's getting away with a million and a half dollars!"
Laura and Steele follow Harrigan down the escalator. "Excuse me, mind your back, mind your back," Steele warns as they push past. "Make way, make way!"
At the doors, Laura goes around the crowd trying to get out, while Steele barrels through. "Mind your back, make way. Sorry, sir," he apologizes as the pushes through a door as others try to come in. He finally catches up with Laura.
In the stables, they find Harrigan, dead, a bullet hole in his chest. Kneeling, Laura says, "He's dead. And the money's gone."
"How can that be?" Steele asks. "He's the bad guy. We've already decided that!"
"He's apparently not the only one." She takes off and Steele follows her.
Back inside the building, Laura sees a nun on the escalator carrying the case that Harrigan was carrying. "Stop that nun!" Laura yells. The nun turns, then starts climbing the escalator as Steele starts up the down one to cut her off.
At the top, Steele makes a flying tackle "All right, Sister," he says, ripping off her veil. He's shocked when he sees who it is. "Candy?!" She pulls a gun, but Laura kicks it out of her hand. She drags Candy to her feet.
"I think you've killed enough friends for one week, Candy."
"Wait a minute," Mildred tells them. "She wasn't at the wake. How come she wound up with the loot?"
"Check her," the man from the track tells Steele. "She should have the ticket, too."
As he searches her, Steele mutters, "Ah, Candy, Candy. Come here." He finds the ticket and hands it to the man.
"Yeah. Harrigan told me that a nun had won the Pick Six. But he convinced me that if the media ever got hold of that, the Church would suffer. So I got the money together, and I was gonna follow him to the nun so we could quietly exchange it for the ticket."
"Freddy was your friend," Steele tells Candy. "You know that, don't you?" She starts to speak, but Steele cuts her off. "Don't say a word. Don't say anything. Go on, get out of here. Take her away," he tells Jarvis. Mildred follows everyone else, leaving Laura alone with Steele.
"Look on the bright side, Mr. Steele. We're alive again."
He nods, placing an arm around her shoulders. "That's true. That's true."
Later, at Steele's apartment, they're lying on the floor before a roaring fire. Steele says, "All Candy had to do was to follow Freddy's girlfriend to wherever Freddy was and get the ticket herself."
"She didn't strike me as the murdering kind, though," Laura muses.
"No. No, I don't understand that myself. I guess greed got the better of her."
"Candy sent us to Pittsburgh Phil knowing full well how he'd react to seeing us alive."
"Uh hmm. While she had ample time to bribe poor old Harrigan into using his track connections to help her to cash the ticket in without undue publicity."
"Unfortunately for Harrigan, greed got the better of her again."
"Umm. Ironic, isn't it? We spent the past two days with hardly a penny in our pocket, and all because of a ticket worth well over a million dollars."
"It's amazing how little we can survive on if we really have-" Steele rests his glass on her back. "Is that your foot on my leg?" she asks.
He lifts his brows and grins devilishly. "Um hmm."
Laura smiles, and they kiss.