The mayor dismissed the gathering moments later, and Remington quickly said his goodbyes before heading toward the exit, pausing only briefly to shake a hand or return a greeting en route. Laura was meeting with a client at one. If he hurried, he might still make it in time.
"Excuse me, Mr. Steele, have you got a minute?"
"Just," Remington said, turning to face Councilman James Maxwell. "What can I do for you, Councilman?"
Maxwell glanced around the room, then led him to a relatively quiet corner near the doors. "I need your help. But it's a rather- sensitive matter."
"Discretion is a watchword of the Remington Steele Agency, Councilman," Remington assured him.
Another furtive glance around the room. "I need to meet with you someplace where we can't be seen or overheard. I don't want it to get out that I need the services of a private detective, Mr. Steele. I'm running for re-election," he explained. "I'm desperate…"
***
"And he didn't say anything about WHY he need the agency's
help?" Laura questioned as he drove the Rabbit toward Manhattan
Beach.
"No. Only that he was in trouble," Remington replied, barely glancing at the house numbers for the beachfront homes. "Here we go." He turned into a gated entry, and Laura noticed the "For Sale" sign affixed to the fence.
Laura glanced around the area, ending up at the house. "I don't see Councilman Maxwell."
"He's coming up the beach," Remington explained. "He lives four houses down."
"Oh." As they approached the house, Laura asked, "How did you know this place was for sale?"
"I looked at it the other day," he told her, taking the key from his pocket.
Laura was surprised. "I didn't know you were thinking about moving."
"I've been considering it," he said, placing the
key into the lock.
"Getting restless, Mr. Steele?" she asked, causing him
to pause momentarily before turning the key.
He turned the key and looked at her. "Not at all. Would I be looking for a place here if I were?" he countered. With a flick of the wrist, he opened the door. "After you."
A thought struck Laura as she entered the house. "How did you get the key?"
"Told the agent that I wanted to show it to a friend," he explained as she moved through the empty room toward the glass wall the separated the raised redwood deck from the rest of the house.
"It's a nice view," she commented, watching the waves climb onto shore and then retreat. Even through the glass, she could hear the sound of the water.
Remington joined her, nodding. "First thing I noticed," he told her. "There are three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a full kitchen, double garage beneath the house- and a workroom that could be converted into a study. Add to that easy access to the beach, and considering what they're asking, it's a steal." Laura grimaced at his play on words, then smiled.
"You really like this place, don't you?
"Don't get me wrong," he said quickly, his gaze still on the view, "I love the condo. I have some wonderful memories of the place. But- I just- I feel that it's time to put down some roots. A house has so much more- permanence, don't you agree?"
Laura examined his profile. "Buying a house is a big- commitment, Mr. Steele," she reminded him. "Not something that you can just- walk away from that easily."
His blue eyes met hers as he pulled her close. "And who said that I WANT to walk away?" he asked. "I'm not the same man I was when you met me, Laura," he said, his lips almost on hers. "Not at all." Their lips touched as they heard a tapping sound farther down on the glass. Remington lifted his head and sighed. "Interrupted again." He released her to unlock the sliding glass door.
***
I'm sorry for all the secrecy, Mr. Steele," James Maxwell
said as they stood in the darkening room. "But if this ever
got out, my career would be finished. My political enemies would
use it to destroy me."
"Use what, Councilman?" Laura asked. Maxwell had never been one of her favorite people. His ideas ran counter to her own on too many issues. But she reminded herself that she was a professional, and he was a potential client.
"This," he said, holding out a plastic bag with a
powdery residue inside.
"Cocaine?" Laura asked, watching as Remington examined
the bag and its contents using a small flashlight.
"More likely heroin," Maxwell told them. He ran a shaking hand through his blonde hair. "A week ago, my wife and I returned from a second honeymoon in Hawaii. Two days later, while we were attending a party to kick off my campaign, our house was broken into."
"I don't recall seeing anything about it in the newspaper," Laura commented.
"Because I didn't report it. I was going to- but there wasn't anything missing. And then Mary- my wife- found that powder in the carpet in her clothes closet. I gathered what I could into a bag and vacuumed the rest up. That's when Mary noticed that someone had moved her clothes around."
"Moved her clothes around?" Remington questioned.
"Mary's a bit of a- neatness nut. Organizes everything. Even her closet. Everything has a certain place- and she NEVER puts something where it doesn't belong. Probably sounds a little obsessive-"
Laura saw Remington's smile in her direction. "Not at all, Councilman," he said. "Some of my best friends do the same thing. Things were out of place?" he prompted.
"Yes. Specifically the clothes she's brought back from our trip. I started checking, and found that most of them were on hangers with those rolled cardboard tubes. And one of those tubes had some more of that powder inside. Evidently one of them tore or something, and whoever retrieved it didn't notice."
Blue eyes met brown. "Acapulco," the both said at the same time.
"I beg your pardon? We were in Hawaii," Maxwell reminded them.
"So you were, Councilman," Remington agreed. "Miss Holt and I had a case a few years ago in Acapulco. Someone was using the cardboard rolls on clothes hangers to illegally transport diamonds into this country."
"Have you had the powder analyzed?" Laura asked Maxwell.
"Are you kidding? I did manage to ask a few questions, though, about any reports of break-ins during the last few months. Being a city councilman has advantages as well, Mr. Steele. The police told me that there have been four break-ins in which nothing was apparently taken- only some clothing in a closet disturbed. All four of the others had just returned from a vacation in Hawaii. And my aides discovered that all of them stayed a the Royal Hawaiian, just as Mary and I did."
"Could we talk to your wife, Councilman? Perhaps she might remember something-"
"No. Mary was afraid to stay in the house until this is cleared up. I put her on an airplane last night to visit her mother back east. Do you think you can help me, Mr. Steele? Money's no object. I just want whoever did this stopped. It's bad enough that they used me to bring heroin into Los Angeles. But the idea of those drugs being out there on the streets is worse."
Remington looked inquisitively at Laura, who nodded once. "We'll do our best, Councilman," he assured the man. "Make a few inquiries."
"Thank you. Just remember- if this gets out, -"
Remington led him toward the door. "Don't worry about a thing, Mr. Maxwell. Miss Holt and I are the very souls of discretion. We'll be in touch." He closed the sliding glass door and turned to face Laura, who was still holding the bag. "What now?"
"FIRST thing- we get rid of this. The last thing we need is for the police to find it on either of us. And we'd better wipe it to remove any prints on the plastic."
Remington pulled out his handkerchief and opened the glass door again, leading her out onto the deck of the house. Placing the bag on the railing, he wiped it clean, then went down the steps. "What are you doing?" she asked, following him.
"There are trash cans down here," he told her. "I'll put it in there, and there won't be any way-" he lifted one of the lids depositing the bag inside, 'For it to be traced to us. Since anyone can access these cans, anyone could have put it there." He replaced the lid, swiped at it with the handkerchief, then indicated the steps again. "Shall we, Miss Holt?"
She watched as he secured the glass door once again, then as he locked the front door. "It's not a bad house, I suppose. If you like the beach."
He gave her a thoughtful look as he opened the car door for her. "Well, if you don't like this one, I've a couple more you could look at."
"A couple more?" Laura asked as he got into the car. "Where are they?"
"One's in Topanga Canyon," he told her.
"I'm almost afraid to ask about the other one," she said, wincing.
He grinned as he answered. "Well, I looked at a place in Bel Air-" Laura winced, and he laughed. "But I found one I liked better in Villa Park."
Laura covered her face with her hand and shook her head. Whatever happened to cute little bungalows, she wondered. Although, if she was honest with herself, she couldn't quite see Mr. Steele in anything less than the kind of places that he had been looking at. He wasn't the bungalow type. "Too bad we're on a case, or I'd suggest driving out to have a look at them," she told him.
"Well, we can't do much on the case tonight," Remington pointed out. "Why not drive up to Topanga, anyway?"
"But- you don't have a key," she pointed out.
His teeth were white against the dark interior of the car. "Who needs a key?" he asked.
"I think I'd rather wait and see it during the day, Mr. Steele," she decided. "Maybe after the case is finished."
"Okay, fair enough. Speaking about the case, though. What's our next move? A trip to Hawaii, perhaps?"
"I don't think that will be necessary, Mr. Steele," she told him. "We'll question the others who reported having their houses broken into after their trip, see if they can give us some leads."
"Ah, but Laura. Hawaii. Just think of it…"
Laura sighed.
***
Laura was already on the telephone the next morning when Remington wandered into the office. She heard his cheery "Good morning!" to Mildred, but forced herself to concentrate on what her contact at the police station was telling her. She could hear them talking quietly, and wondered momentarily what they might be up to.
"I'm sorry, Leo...Yes, I have it. Are there anymore?" she asked, hearing Mildred tell Remington that she was in her office. He appeared in the doorway, smiling. "Okay, thanks, Leo…Yeah, I owe you another one. Bye." Hanging up, she glanced at the list of names on the paper before her. "Decided to finally show up, Mr. Steele?"
"Had to drop the key at the realtor's office," he explained. "I also picked up the ones for the other two houses while I was there." He held them up.
"Mr. Steele, we have a CASE to solve, remember?" she said, getting up to go into the other office. "Mildred, -"
"Yes, Miss Holt?" the receptionist asked, coming from Remington's office, where she had no doubt just carried his coffee and morning paper.
"Anything on the Royal Hawaiian Hotel yet?"
"Nothing that will help," Mildred told her. "They've
got a spotless reputation."
"I need you to run a check on these names," Laura told her.
"Sure," she said, sitting down at the computer.
Laura went into her office and picked up her coat, returning to the reception area to look around. "Where is Mr. Steele, Mildred?"
"His office," Mildred said, not looking up from her work.
Remington was just picking up his coffee when Laura spoke. "Would you care to join me, Mr. Steele?"
"Join you?" he asked, frowning. "But, I haven't had my coffee-"
"If you had gotten here on time that wouldn't be a problem, would it?" she asked, taking his coat from the rack and holding it out to him. "We have four people to interview about the Maxwell case. Unless you'd rather I do it alone," she said, turning back toward the door as if to leave.
Remington put the coffee cup back onto the saucer and rose quickly. "Nonsense. We're a team." He took the coat she still held. "Would you have really gone without me?"
"I guess we'll never know, will we?" she countered, smiling at him. "We'll be in the limo if you need us, Mildred," she said as they crossed the reception area.