- Steele Can't Let Go
- Part 1
By Nancy Eddy
"Mmmmm," Laura Holt-Steele sighed contentedly as she
raised her arms over her head and stretched in the tropical sunlight.
"This is nice." Picking up the bottle of suntan lotion,
she held it out to the already tanned, dark haired man sitting
at her side, and then rolled over onto her stomach and unhooked
the top of her bathing suit. "I need a fresh application,"
she said, watching his response.
Smiling, Remington Steele opened the plastic bottle and squeezed
some of the oil it contained onto his palm. "You're really
getting into this, aren't you?" he asked as he began to
slowly spread the oil across Laura's bare back, letting his long
fingers work their magic.
When his fingertips brushed the sides of her breasts, Laura smiled,
but didn't open her eyes. "So are you. I'm sorry now that
I fought so long and hard against doing something like this.
Surf, sand, sun, and just the two of us."
"We'll have to remember to thank Mr. Jacobs when we return
to Los Angeles," Remington mused, his fingers slipped just
beneath the waistband of the bottom of the bikini that he'd been
surprised to see Laura wearing.
"I've already told Mildred to send him a thank you card,"
Laura stated.
"I still feel a trifle guilty about leaving Mildred behind,"
Remington noted, and at that, Laura looked up at him.
"You what? You do know that she would have been interrupting
us at the worst possible moments, showing up when we least needed
her or wanted her to."
"I know. But Mr. Jacobs' invitation was for the three of
us, if I recall correctly."
"And Mildred agreed to use hers when we got back from our
week in Paradise," she told him, lying down again. "After
all, as Mildred pointed out, we never *really* got that honeymoon,
remember?"
"I seem to recall something about that," Remington
agreed, his hands sliding further forward to grasp her breasts
as he bent to place his lips against the back of her neck. Hearing
the sound she made, Remington smiled and repeated the action,
with the same result.
"I'm glad this is a private beach area," Laura murmured,
rolling over in his arms, her top gone. "I could get used
to this," she declared.
"Why, Laura, you sound positively decadent," Remington
replied with a teasing grin.
"There's something about this place that makes me *feel*
decadent," she tried to explain. "I don't know if it's
the location, or the atmosphere, or what, but I - I've never
felt this- free before. As if you and I were the only two people
in the entire world."
"Maybe it's just the company?" Remington suggested,
his lips finding the curve of her shoulder.
"Oh, it couldn't be that," Laura replied, and grinned
uncertainly when Remington's blue eyes found hers, filled with
confusion. "I mean, we've been together for some time now,
and I've never really felt this way until now."
He nodded, resuming his exploration of her collarbone with his
finger. "Maybe we should consider chucking it all and moving
to the South Pacific," he suggested.
"Another few days of this and I might agree with you,"
Laura said with a sigh as his finger moved down her breastbone
to circle first one breast and then the other. Her back arched
toward him. "Mmmm. That feels wonderful."
"Wait," he admonished, lowering his head to trace with
his tongue the path his finger had just blazed
***
Remington ran his fingers through his dark hair to squeeze out
the excess water as he came from the surf and picked up his towel
and sarong as he slipped into the native made sandals that were
waiting for him. Wrapping the sarong around his hips and placing
the towel around his neck, he turned toward the path that would
take him back to the bungalow where he and Laura were staying.
She had gone ahead to shower and get ready for dinner while he
took a last dip in the crystal blue water of the lagoon.
His thoughts were on how wonderful the last few days had been,
ignoring the tiny niggle in his brain that wanted to substitute
"boring" for "wonderful". Maybe too much
of Laura had rubbed off on him while he was rubbing off onto
Laura.
"I don't care how you do it, I just want it done."
The sound of another voice brought Remington to a stop on the
path. There was another path, about ten feet away, which lead
from another section of beach to another bungalow. Remington
and Laura had caught glimpses of the middle-aged couple that
were their holiday neighbors, but hadn't spoken to them.
Now, Remington moved cautiously, trying to see through the dense
jungle undergrowth as the voice was answered by another masculine
voice, this one gruffer, with a gravelly undertone.
"You're sure you want it done here?"
"An accidental drowning won't raise too many eyebrows,"
the first man growled. "She's not a strong swimmer."
"You'll have to get her down to the beach alone," the
second man advised.
"After dinner tonight," the first man promised. "She'll
be there. Just make sure you are."
Remington ducked as he heard movement, as if the first man were
moving away.
"And when do I get paid?" the second man asked.
Remington thought that he heard the first man laugh softly. "Once
I get her money, of course. But she has to be dead for that happen.
And there can't be any hint that her death was anything other
than a tragic accident."
Remington remained still on his own path until he heard the footsteps
fade into the distance, and then hurried the remaining yards
to the bungalow. "Laura!" he said as he entered. "You're
not going to believe what I just overheard. He's going to kill
her. Or have her killed. To get her money-"
Laura came from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel, her hair
darkened and curling from the shower. She gave him an uncertain
look. "You got too much sun today. You're babbling."
"I'm not babbling," he insisted, grasping her shoulders
as though that might make her understand what he was saying.
Or trying to say. "I know what I heard."
"Just calm down," Laura said slowly, putting her hands
on his waist. "Take a deep breath." She took one herself,
watching as he followed her lead. "Now let it out."
Again, she demonstrated the action. "Okay. Try again."
"I was walking up the path when I heard two men talking.
One told the other to kill his wife for her money."
She looked doubtful. "Did you see who they were?"
"No. I couldn't see through the undergrowth. But they were
on the path to the - " he paused to get his bearings. "To
the left. Yes. That direction." He pointed. "And they
went back up the path toward the bungalow over there."
"Now I know you were hearing things," Laura told him.
"The maid told me yesterday that they're newlyweds and are
deliriously happy," she explained.
"I know what I heard, Laura."
She examined his face for a long moment, and then laughed.
"I don't see anything amusing, Laura," Remington pointed
out.
"I'm thinking about ditching the fast lane and it's driving
you crazy that there's not a case to be solved. How's that for
a role reversal?"
"You think I made it up?"
"I think you heard *something*," Laura agreed. "But
you didn't hear the entire conversation or got it - mixed up
somehow."
"Don't patronize me, Laura," he told her coldly. "I
heard two men plotting to kill of their wives to obtain an inheritance.
And I'm going to find out who it was I heard and stop it."
"Remington-" Laura began, but Remington could no longer
hear her after he closed the bathroom door firmly behind him.
***
Remington didn't say anything further about the conversation
that he'd overheard, so Laura dismissed it from her mind, thinking
that he'd decided she was right after all. They went to dinner
at a local restaurant that catered to the romantic atmosphere
of the island, danced, even laughed a little over their drinks.
It wasn't until near the end of the evening that Laura noticed
that his attention wasn't wholly fixed on her.
He was watching the other couples as they danced in the flickering
torchlight, scanning faces of the other dinner guests. Finally,
Laura sighed and picked up her purse. "I'm going to the
ladies' room," she told him. "We'll have another dance
when I get back and then we can go back to the bungalow and dance
some more," she said in a suggestive voice as she gave him
a kiss.
Remington nodded a bit absently Laura thought as he returned
the kiss.
After Laura had gone, Remington sat back in the booth, frustrated.
Whatever was going to happen was going to happen tonight. And
he still had no idea-
"Are you about ready to go, darling?"
Remington froze, much as he had earlier on the path. He recognized
that voice. The husband, the one who was going to have his wife
murdered.
"I think so," a woman replied.
"I have an idea. Why don't we go for a walk along the beach
this evening?" the man said, and Remington heard them getting
out of the booth that was beyond a divider of tropical flowers
and cane weaving.
Remington's blood ran cold as he motioned for the waitress to
bring his check.
"Sounds like a wonderful idea," the woman replied.
As the couple passed his table en route to the exit, Remington
tried to get a look at them, but the man was busy whispering
in the woman's ear, and she was giggling like a schoolgirl. "Oh,
you're terrible," she admonished before Remington lost sight
of them.
Laura returned to the table as he was scratching his signature
to the ticket. Before she had a chance to sit down, he rose and
grabbed her hand. "Let's go," he said, practically
pulling her toward the door.
"But, I thought we were going to have another dance first?"
Laura questioned.
"I changed my mind," he told her, looking around the
parking area as he gave the attendant the ticket for the rented
Jeep that he and Laura were using. The sound of a high- powered
engine drew his attention, and he watched the light coloured
Jaguar leave the parking lot.
The Jeep came to a stop before them, and Remington went around
to the driver's side as the young man, who gave Remington a curious
glance, assisted Laura into the passenger side.
Laura cleared her throat to get Remington's attention. Dragging
his eyes from the rapidly disappearing taillights of the Jag,
Remington shook his head and handed the young man a tip before
putting the Jeep into gear and tearing off down the road after
the Jag.
Laura gripped the dashboard and frowned. "What's the hurry?"
she asked.
"I thought we might- take a walk along the beach,"
he told her, unwilling to face her disbelief and mockery again.
He took the corner that led to their bungalow a bit faster than
he normally did, causing Laura to be thrown against him. "Sorry,"
he apologized.
Once he had parked the Jeep in front of the small building, he
got out and started for the path around the side of the house,
but Laura caught up to him. "Where are you going?"
"The beach?" he repeated, fidgeting as he waited for
her to join him.
"What's the hurry?" Laura questioned. "Why don't
we go inside and have some wine and - relax a little," she
suggested, taking his hand and pulling him toward the front door
of the cabin. "You seem a little - tense," she teased.
"But-" he glanced toward the path, then gave up and
followed Laura. "One glass. A small glass."
Laura entered the bungalow and put her purse in the bedroom,
expecting to find Remington waiting with wine in hand when she
came out. But he was standing just outside the doors that led
out onto the deck, looking down the path toward the beach.
Taking a deep breath, Laura poured two glasses of red wine, and
then joined him. "I don't think I've ever seen you so anxious
for physical exercise, Remington," she teased gently as
she sipped the liquid. "At least, not the walking kind,
anyway," she added, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
"I usually have to drag you into walking."
"It's a nice, calm evening," Remington pointed out.
"The moon's full," he seemed to be trying to look for
something else that would convince her. "And I thought we
might try to recreate the beach scene from 'From Here to Eternity',"
he finally said. "Deborah Kerr, Robert Mitchum, Columbia
Pictures, 1953."
"I know the scene," Laura confessed. "Very sexy."
She finished her wine and moved closer to him. "I like the
way you think, Remington," she whispered against his lips
as she pulled his head down for a long kiss. "Let's go."
Remington put his barely touched glass of wine on the table nearby
and took Laura's hand to set off down the path to the beach.
Once there, Laura removed her sandals, and Remington stepped
out of his shoes, toeing off his socks, all the while looking
down the beach to the left. When Laura came into his arms, his
attention wasn't wholly on her, and she drew back. "What
*are* you looking at?" she wanted to know, turning her head
to follow his gaze.
"I thought I saw something down that way," he told
her. "In the water's edge."
Laura turned to peer more closely. "I don't see anything,"
she told him, then sighed. "Is this about what you thought
you heard earlier today?" she asked.
"It's about what I *did* hear," he corrected her. "The
two men were planning to do the deed tonight. The husband was
supposed to get his wife down to the beach so the killer could
make it look like an accident."
"Remington," Laura said, then sighed again as he moved
away, heading down the beach, but keeping close to the tree line.
Laura followed. "Rem," she whispered. "What makes
you so certain it was the couple in the next bungalow? Anyone
could have-"
"I heard the man in the restaurant this evening," Remington
informed her, his eyes still on the tide line. "They were
talking about taking a stroll on the beach."
"So much for 'From Here to Eternity'," Laura sighed.
Remington glanced at her. "Really, Laura," he admonished,
also whispering. "A woman's life might be at stake and you're
concerned about - " he stopped suddenly, causing Laura to
almost run into him. "There *is* something lying in the
sand out there in the edge of the surf," he declared.
"It's probably just a seal," Laura suggested. "Or
a stingray. Or a jellyfish," she added, feeling a little
silly, especially when Remington moved away from the relative
anonymity of the trees and onto the brightly illuminated stretch
of white sand and Laura was left talking to a palm tree.
-
- Certain that he was just going to
embarrass himself, Laura followed, reminding herself not to laugh
out loud when she was confronted by the seal or stingray, or-
her mind shut down for a second when Remington reached the dark
form and turned it over. Or the man lying in the sand, Laura's
mind finished the thought. "I thought you said he was trying
to kill his *wife*?" she asked.
"Apparently someone else had other ideas," Remington
said with a concerned look as he touched the man's neck, checking
for a pulse. "He's dead."
To Be Continued---
- Home CaseBook
E-Mail Next
- Original Content © Nancy Eddy,
2002