Harry dropped Laura back at Century City, then had Fred drive directly back to Rossmore before he dismissed the chauffer for the evening. He entered the flat and dropped his jacket over the back of the sofa, only to stop as he realized that he wasn't alone.
Perhaps Laura had been right to check out the security of this building, Harry thought as he moved quietly toward the dining room. He'd speak to the doorman tomorrow about letting people up when he wasn't here. He caught a flash of blonde hair in one of the decorative mirrors in the dining room, and smiled.
Diverting his steps toward the kitchen, Harry found a bottle of wine in the rack, took down two glasses, and opened the bottle. He heard a sound behind him, and held up one of the glasses. "Care to join me in a glass of wine, Murphy?" he asked.
The lights came on, and Harry turned to find Murphy Michaels standing in the doorway, watching him. "No, thanks."
Harry shrugged, and lifted his own glass. "Chin chin," he said.
"How did you know I was here?" Murphy asked.
"It was either you or mice, and I'd hate to think that it was the latter, considering how much this place cost me."
"Guess you're used to looking over your shoulder, though, aren't you?"
Finishing the first glass of wine, Harry picked up the second and led the other man into the living room. He indicated one of the chairs before sitting down. "Well, someone in my position does have to be on guard for possible attempted kidnapping or the like. But why do I think you're referring to something else?"
"Because I am," Murphy said, tossing several papers onto the coffee table between them. "I did a little research this evening after you and Laura left the office."
Harry didn't move. "Oh, dear. I hope you finished that paperwork Laura was talking about. I'd hate to think that you ignored legitimate business to dig up dirt on me."
"Dirt's not the word for it. How much did your grandfather have to pay to clear up the arrest of pick pocketing when you were fourteen?" Murphy asked.
"I'm impressed that you were able to find that. My grandfather thought he'd gotten that totally expunged from record."
"You can clear legal records. But not memories. It so happens I know the cop in London who arrested you."
"Really?" Harry said, sitting forward now to scan over the documents that Murphy had thrown toward him. Nothing terribly incriminating, really. Thanks to the old man, there was precious little *too* find. "Grandfather was slipping," he commented. "I thought he'd gotten to the investigating officer on the car theft."
"Well, there are some people who still have scruples. Something you probably don't understand."
Harry straightened the papers into a neat pile, and then handed them back to Murphy. "I suppose you intend to show all of this to Laura if I don't voluntarily clear out of her life?" he asked, wanting to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible.
"You really think she'll be impressed that you tried to steal a car when you were sixteen? *After* you went to stay with your Grandfather," Murphy pointed out.
"Sit down, Murphy," Harry said in a quiet voice. When the other man didn't move, the volume rose slightly, and the tone brooked no denial. "Sit down." Murphy sat down across the way, watching him warily. "Suppose I tell you a little story, eh? About a poor little Irish lad who grew up tossed from relative to relative, thinking he was an orphan. One day, he stowed away on a boat, thinking it was bringing him to America, only to find himself in England instead. He wandered the streets for a while, until he was taken in by a charming con man who tried to instill a bit of culture into the lad- while teaching him the tricks of the trade. The two of them might have turned Europe on its ear, but for a few bad breaks. The lad was arrested for picking a pocket, and then he and his mentor were both arrested when a scam went sour. The mentor went to prison, but the lad wound up being rescued by the grandfather he'd never known he had- and found out that his mentor was in reality the father he'd long hated." Harry rose from the sofa and went to the window, unable to tell whether it was disbelief of sympathy he saw in Murphy's eyes. Truthfully, Harry would have preferred the former. "The grandfather wanted to make up for a great many mistakes in the past, and saw his chance to do that with the boy. But the boy fought his attempts to make amends at every step, insisting that he belonged with his father, not in a country estate being taught how to be an Earl. So, when he discovered that his father had been released, he convinced his father's childhood friend to drive him into town, and tried to steal another car to take him into London. He was caught, and the entire matter was covered up. His grandfather brought his father to see him, but something had changed in the boy. His father's offer to take him away, to 'turn Europe on its ear' no longer held the glitter that it once had. Because his grandfather told him the truth that he'd been kept hidden: That his father hadn't lost him because of a stint in prison, but had simply walked away, not wanting the responsibility of a child." He turned to look at Murphy.
"I don't know how you managed to defend Chalmers knowing that."
"He is my father, no matter what else he may have done. That's one thing I couldn't change. Anymore than I could change the fact that I was destined to become the Earl of Bensonhurst."
"I'm not sure I'd want him anywhere around if I were in your shoes."
"He usually stays away- the only contact we have really is the small allowance that my grandfather left him- which I have to administer."
"So- Chalmers has to come to you for money?"
"Precisely. Which explains why he usually finds other- less than lawful means by which to attain his own funds." Harry nodded toward the papers in Murphy's hands. "Are you still going to show that Laura?"
"Not unless I have to. There's an old saying- about the apple not falling far from the tree."
"And you're worried that Daniel's larcenous nature might have been passed down to his son, is that it?"
"Well, you did spend some time learning how to run cons," Murphy pointed out. "If I get a hint that you're running a con on Laura, I'll take this to her so fast-"
"You know, I could make all of that unnecessary," Harry suggested.
"How?" Murphy questioned, a hopeful look on his face. "By going back to London?"
"No. By telling Laura everything I've told you. I'm here for the duration, Murphy. So you might as well get used to me being around."
"That won't happen. I won't let Laura be hurt again."
Harry sat down again, running his hands over his face. He sat forward, his expression earnest. "Believe me, Murphy, the last thing I ever want to do is to hurt Laura. She's too special."
"Too special for you," Murphy said.
"I agree with you. Look, mate, it's been a long day. I've been up since before dawn London time. I'm not going to fight with you anymore. Go tell Laura whatever your conscience tells you to- but it's not going to be that easy to get rid of me." He glanced at his watch. "You're supposed to be meeting her, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Murphy said, standing up.
"I know she says she can take care of herself, but- "
"I worry about her too," Murphy admitted. "Laura tends to take more chances than she should to try and prove that she can handle the job as well as any man."
"Must make things rough on you, eh?" Harry asked with a slight grin.
"At times. But she's got a talent for this work that's like nothing I've ever seen before. It's a real gift. It took her a long time to make people recognize that."
"Something like that can't be overlooked for long, Murphy," Harry said. "Laura told me that she once considered inventing a male superior-"
Harry was rewarded by a look of surprise. "She told you about that?"
"Yes. I think that would have been one of the biggest mistakes she could have made. Someone as talented as Laura should never try to hide her light under a bushel. It's part of what makes her so special- so unique. I've never met anyone like her, Murphy. Is it so wrong of me to want to get to know her better?"
"I gotta go," Murphy said, not answering the question. "Laura's probably waiting for me at the office."
"Okay. You know the way out-"
"I think I can figure out," Murphy said. "Goodnight, your Lordship."
"Harry, Murphy. Just- Harry. Or are you afraid you might like Harry more than you like Lord Bryce-Davies?" he asked.
Murphy just shook his head and left, closing the door behind him.
Harry took a throw pillow and held it for a moment, his head back. God, but he was tired. Maybe he'd just catch a few winks right here before going to bed . . .
***
Laura, now wearing dark clothes, looked at her watch again, and frowned. Nine-fifteen, and no sign of Murphy. Maybe she'd been mistaken and they were supposed to meet at the warehouse. She got into her white Rabbit and started the engine, watching for Murphy's brown Ford as she pulled away from the curb.
She got to the warehouse, and seeing no sign of the Ford, she waited another few minutes. It wasn't like Murphy to be late for a stake out. Surely he wasn't still pouting over her decision to go out to dinner with Harry. After a little while, she took the key from her pocket, grabbed one of the two-way radios and a flashlight, and then got out of the car. The second radio she left in the seat, in case Murphy showed up and came looking for her car.
After locking it, she went to the back door and used the key to enter the building. Once inside, she waited, listening for any sounds that might indicate that she wasn't alone. Hearing nothing, she turned on the flashlight just long enough to get her bearings before dousing it again. Turning on the two-way, she pressed the button. "Murphy? Murphy, are you there?" There was no response, so she turned the volume down and made her way to the window that had caused Mr. Oliver concern. It was locked at the moment, in exactly the position that Mr. Oliver had said he would leave it, and so Laura moved to a position not far from there to watch. "Come on, Murph," she whispered. "Where are you?"
***
When he didn't see Laura's Rabbit in her parking space, he drive straight to the warehouse, parking down the street with a good view of the front of the building. He got out and reconnoitered the area, finding the Rabbit parked an alley. Using the spare key that Laura had given him, he opened the door, finding the second radio on the seat. Turning it on, he keyed down. "Laura. It's Murphy. Where are you?"
***
"It's about time," Laura muttered, and lifted the radio to respond, but a sound in the back of the warehouse made her turn the sound down all the way and freeze, waiting. When the sound came again, closer this time, she ducked behind an armoire. She needed a way to warn Murphy that something was going on, and held the radio up, keying it to capture any sounds in the warehouse.
"Watch it, man," a male voice warned. "You mess with this stuff, that old man will know for sure we've been in here."
"You think he knows we've been using this place?" his partner asked.
"Nah. That old man's too worried about his precious antique furniture to notice anything we do."
***
Murphy listened to the strange, echoing voices, and knew that Laura was telling him that she wasn't alone in there. He locked the Rabbit and went around the building, keeping to the dark shadows until he reached the other side, where the window was located. He heard something hit the windowpane, and realized it was tiny pebbles. Wouldn't do any damage, but they would let whoever was inside know someone was there.
His eyes picked out the man, and Murphy slipped behind him, grabbing him around the neck. "End of the line, pal," he said quietly.
"Not quite," the man said.
The last thing Murphy remembered was a blinding pain in his
head, and then darkness . . .
***
Laura had been forced to duck back into her hiding place when she heard something spatter against the window glass. "Open it," one of the men said.
The window was opened, and Laura peeked around the armoire as the dim light from the alley lighted a small section of warehouse, revealing the two men inside and another beyond the window. "Whatcha got?"
"Prime Columbian," the man in the alley said. "And another package."
Laura saw the two men take delivery of the drugs, and then look out into the alley. "Who is he?" one of them asked.
"His ID says he's a private cop. Works for Laura Holt Investigations."
They had Murphy! Laura tamped down her concern for him and ducked back behind the armoire, listening. "Is he still alive?"
"Yeah. Pedro just hit him in the head."
"What should we do with him?"
"Lift him up here. We'll tie him up and put him in the tunnel."
Tunnel? Laura repeated silently. That would explain where the two men inside had come from.
"No one is supposed to get hurt," one of the men said.
"Get real, Larry," the man that Laura thought of as the ringleader said. "We're dealing in drugs. You don't think people will get hurt?"
The men in the alley- Laura now realized that there was two of them- grunted as they lifted Murphy's unconscious body over the window frame. "Get him, Larry. Watch that chair, you idiot," he admonished.
"You got our money?" Pedro asked once Murphy was inside.
Laura peered at the men again, watching as the leader handed Pedro a briefcase. "Tomorrow night?"
"Can you get me another delivery that soon?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe we should cool it, Jerry," Larry said. "For awhile. I mean, if this guy goes missing, Laura Holt's liable to turn this place upside down trying to find him."
"You may be scared of the lady, but I'm not. Without her muscle," Jerry said, shoving his foot into Murphy, "She's helpless. Better get out of here, Pedro." Once the window was closed again, the darkness of the warehouse was complete, and Laura waited for her eyes to adjust. "Grab him, Larry. I got the stuff. And don't knock anything over, okay?"
Larry grunted as he apparently lifted Murphy over his shoulder. "Got- him," he said.
The beam of a flashlight illuminated a path toward the back of the warehouse, imprinting it on Laura's mind before Jerry turned the light out again. "Let's go."
Laura followed them as best she could, being careful not to knock into any of the furniture and alert the two men to her presence. "Let me go first and put down the package," Jerry told Larry. "Then I'll help you lift him down."
Laura stopped, getting her bearings. There was a Victorian settee to her right, covered with soft, furry fabric- velvet, with an ornately carved wood frame. Larry and Jerry were directly ahead of her location. She ducked quickly behind a credenza as the light came on - this time from beneath the floor. "Okay, let me have him." He grunted as well. "Come on, and close the door behind you. No sense in sticking around in case Holt decides to check up on this guy."
Laura rose again to watch as a square door in the floor closed, sealing off the light. She stayed where she was for several minutes, giving Larry and Jerry time to get away. Then, she turned on the flashlight and went to the area where the trapdoor was- but there was no handhold, no way to open the door from above. Getting onto her knees, she called softly, "Murphy? Murphy, can you hear me?"
She thought she heard something, maybe a groan, but she couldn't be sure. "Don't worry, Murphy. I'll be back to get you out. I have to get something to open this with. Hang on."
Laura left the warehouse and hurried back to the Rabbit. Unlocking the trunk, she found the tire iron and rushed back to the warehouse. Putting the end of the iron bar into the tiny crack in the flooring that outlined the trapdoor, Laura tried to lift it, but it wouldn't budge. There had to be a lock or latch on the other side holding it securely closed. "I'm going to get help, Murphy!" she called out through the wood. "Hang on!"
***
Murphy woke in darkness, and looked around. The movement was a mistake as his head throbbed. Somewhere far away, he thought he heard Laura trying to tell him something, but her words were garbled, faint, growing fainter still as consciousness faded once more . . .
To Be Continued . . .