Harry stirred the sauce, and then went to the oven to check on the progress of the duck. Taking the baster in hand, he applied some juice to the already cracking skin. It was coming along nicely, he decided, closing the door. He picked up a glass of wine and took a sip. Once everything was done, he intended to place it into containers and take it over to Laura's house. After his little masquerade, he owed her dinner- and he had an idea that she would be most surprised by his culinary skills.
When the doorbell rang, he frowned, wondering whom it could be. He wasn't expecting anyone. Wiping his hands, he removed his apron and tossed it onto the counter before going to answer the summons.
He was surprised to find Laura standing in the hallway. "Laura. This is a surprise."
"We have a slight problem," she began, and then stopped, sniffing. "What's that smell?"
"Dinner, actually," he confessed, watching her closely.
"It's burning," she noted, nodding toward the kitchen.
"Ohh," he groaned, rushing back into that room, aware that Laura was right behind him as he opened the oven to baste the duck again.
"You cook too?"
"My grandfather had one of the best cooks in Europe on his staff. Madame du Curier taught me everything she knew."
"You cook," she said again, amazement plain on her face. "You're expecting company?" she asked, sounding wary, and- did he dare hope? - disappointed.
"No, I was going to bring it over to your house and surprise you," he told her. "Surprised?" he asked.
"Oh, oh, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "This is terrible."
"It's duck a la orange, actually, and you might at least taste it before passing judgment-"
"No, I mean that- the duck may have to have to wait."
"Wait? Laura, I don't think you understand. You can't just let duck a la orange *wait*-"
"No, *you* don't understand," she said, looking up at him. "You know that drop that Pedro and the fourth man are supposed to make at the warehouse tonight?"
"Yes," he said, not certain where she was heading.
"I neglected to mention it to the police when Murphy and I turned Jerry over to them. I was so worried about Murphy's condition, and trying to keep Mr. *Steele* out of things, that I guess it slipped my mind."
"Understandable." He pointed to the telephone. "You're welcome to call them from here, however," he offered.
"It's not that simple. Mr. Oliver is a bit- shaken by his visit from the police earlier, and is determined that they not be any further involved. Since Pedro and his friend have seen Murphy, I can't very well take him- and Mr. Oliver is insisting that I bring Remington Steele in as a consultant on the case."
"Oh. I see. What's the problem?" he asked, turning to look at the sauce again.
"I need you to go with me this evening and help me capture Pedro and the other man. I can't promise you that it might not be dangerous-"
"What time do we have to be there?" he asked, smiling at her surprised look. "Unless- you'd rather I not go? I can understand your concern, but- I thought I proved myself this morning-"
"No, it's not that. I just- well, I'm not sure continuing this little game is a good idea."
"Just this time," he told her. "After that, I promise never to go by any name except my own. Now. What time?"
"Uh, nine at the latest. But I need to stop by the Agency to pick up a few things."
"Such as?"
"The agency's gun, for one thing. And a tape recorder and camera so we can record what happens."
"So we have to leave here by-" he glanced at his watch before continuing. "By seven thirty at the latest?"
"Something like that, yes," she agreed.
"And dinner will be ready soon- which gives us ample time to enjoy our repast before going out to risk out lives, eh?" he asked, giving her a coaxing smile.
"I- suppose," she admitted slowly.
"After all, it could be our last meal- might as well enjoy it, don't you agree?" He took a second glass and filled it with some of the wine that he'd opened. "Dinner will be ready soon."
***
After dinner, Harry had Fred drive them to the Agency office, over Laura's objections. "I don't have my license to drive here yet," he reminded her. "And if you're worried about the limo being too conspicuous, I'll have Fred drive it into an alleyway to hide it."
Laura couldn't object to that. She unlocked the agency doors, and entered, going directly to her office and grabbing a step stool. "What are you doing?" Harry asked, watching her.
"We keep the gun up here," she told him, pointing to a door above the bar.
"Ah."
"Like I said earlier, we don't use it very often-" she retrieved the gun, then examined it, frowning. "Bullets."
"I beg your pardon?"
"They're here somewhere," she told him, opening several drawers of her desk. "Maybe they're in Bernice's desk. Harry followed her back into the reception area. Laura tossed him a set of keys. "Look in the top right hand file cabinet in Murphy's office. There should be a tape recorder and camera in there."
"Murphy's office?" he questioned, then pointed to the correct door before nodding. "One camera and recorder coming up."
Laura smiled as she continued her search. She found the bullets in the bottom drawer of the file cabinet near the desk as Harry returned with the requested items. "Thank you." She loaded the gun and placed it into the small black purse that she had over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said, taking the keys from him before checking the camera and recorder.
"Laura, how are we going to do this?" Harry asked.
She glanced up at him, then back to the camera as she made sure that it was loaded. "Do you think you could play a convincing drug dealer?" she asked him.
"Drug dealer? Me?" He considered her idea for a moment. "How about Jerry and Larry's boss? The man that *they* had been purchasing the drugs for?" he suggested. "Since they're both out of commission, I had no choice but to accept delivery in person."
"Oh," Laura said, as a thought struck her. "We're going to need money. Pedro gets paid on the spot."
After looking thoughtful, Harry asked, "Do you have a briefcase about?"
Laura looked up at him, curious.
***
The warehouse was deserted, as Laura had expected. She looked around the room, trying to find a good place from which she could take pictures. "Set the tape recorder up in that secretary's desk," she told Harry. "And leave the drawer open slightly. If they show up, we'll have enough time to turn it on." She pointed to a catwalk high on the wall, accessed by a metal ladder. "I'll take pictures from up there. Remember to keep your face turned away from my direction. I'm still not sure how I'll explain how you became involved in all this if anyone recognizes you."
"A faceless, mysterious Remington Steele?" Harry asked, smiling as he finished with the recorder.
"Something like that. I'm almost hoping that Pedro heard about Jerry's arrest and doesn't show up." Her words were punctuated by the sound of pebbles hitting the frosted window glass. "So much for hoping," she said, shining her flashlight at Harry. "You know what to do?" she asked.
"I think so. Go on. I'll keep them busy to give you time to get into place."
"Don't do anything foolish, okay?" she whispered, then, "Tape recorder."
"I've got it," Harry said, reaching into the drawer to press the button. "Go on." The pebbles hit the window again as Laura scampered up the ladder and onto the catwalk with her camera. She opened the clasp on her purse, putting her hand on the gun, then rested the camera on the rail to steady it, zooming in on the window that Harry was just raising.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said in a pleasant, yet somehow menacing tone.
"Hey," Pedro said, "You're not Larry." Laura snapped a picture of Pedro through the open window, aware that it wasn't good enough. She needed all three of them inside the warehouse.
"No. Nor am I Jerry. My- subordinates have been unfortunately detained."
"Subordinates?" the fourth man, a tall, thin Caucasian questioned. Laura snapped his picture for good measure.
"I didn't know Jerry was working for someone," Pedro told Harry with suspicion. "He always told me that he was independent."
"He liked to think so. But where you think he got the money to buy your deliveries, hmm?" Harry asked.
"Where are they?"
"Well, in Larry's case, it seems that he overdosed on his own product. He's on a slab down at the city morgue."
"Larry's dead?" the tall man asked. "Oh, man."
"And Jerry?"
"He was apprehended by Laura Holt while attempting to kill her associate. I believe that he's going to be a guest of the state for several years."
"I knew it was a mistake to make this drop tonight," the other man fretted.
"Shut up, Frankie," Pedro told him, keeping his eyes on Harry. "So, why're you here?"
"I refuse to continue this conversation through a window, gentlemen," Harry said. "Why don't you come inside?" He stepped back, away from the window, into the darkness.
*Come into my parlour*, Laura recited silently as Pedro climbed through the window, then took a package from his partner before Frankie entered the room as well.
"Close the window, please. No sense in any passersby overhearing our little chat, eh?"
Pedro signaled for Frankie to close the window as Harry placed the flashlight on the desk with the recorder, shining it fully on Pedro and Frankie, remaining just on the edges of the light himself.
"That's better," Harry said. "Now. You wanted to know why I'm here. Since there was no one else to accept the delivery, I had no choice."
"You got the money?" Pedro asked.
Harry lifted the briefcase at his side. "Of course. I take it that's the shipment?" he asked, indicating the bundle in Frankie's hands.
"Yeah. Real prime stuff. Best we've been able to get in a long time. I was- gonna tell Jerry that it was gonna cost a little more this time-"
"You'll take the agreed price," Harry said firmly, and Laura felt a chill of fear at his tone.
"My deal was with Jerry. I got a right to-"
"Your deal was with me. Jerry was simply an intermediary, nothing more. Someone to keep my hands clean."
"I wanna see the money."
*Uh-oh,* Laura thought. Trouble.
"Not until I see the goods."
"It's right here, man," Pedro told him, indicating the package.
"For all I know, that's powdered sugar that you're trying to pass."
Pedro pulled out a long, deadly looking knife and slit a tiny hole in the package, dipping a small portion of the white powder it contained onto the edge of the blade. He held the knife out to Harry.
Laura held her breath as Harry licked a finger and dipped it into the powder before bringing it to his lips. "Not bad."
"You don't look like you got a thing for nose candy," Pedro said.
"I don't. I just sell it to those who do."
"We got a deal?" Frankie asked.
"I think this discussion is ended, yes," Harry agreed, bringing the briefcase up as if to hand it to Pedro. Instead, he shoved it into Pedro's stomach, sending the man back against a table. Laura winced, knowing that Mr. Oliver wasn't going to be happy if the table were damaged. Frankie tried to throw a punch at Harry, but Harry easily blocked it and swung his fist into the man's jaw, throwing him against the wall, where he slid to the floor, unconscious.
Harry grabbed the knife as Laura came down the ladder to join him. "Good work, Mr. Steele," she said with a grin. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"You forget," he told her, wincing as he flexed his hand, "I grew up on the streets. If you want to survive, you either learn to fight or your die." He grabbed Pedro and tossed him beside Frankie, tying their hands to their feet with a length of rope that Laura had brought with them for that purpose.
Once finished, he watched as Laura began to examine the table that Pedro had fallen against. "Any damage?" Harry asked.
Laura ran her hand along the edge of the fragile looking piece, and grimaced. "I think it's broken," she said, indicating a spot where the wood beneath the table seemed to have splintered.
Harry took the flashlight from her to examine the spot more closely. "No," he said, running his fingers over the wood. "It's too even to be a break. I think-" he pressed the spot and Laura's eyes widened as she head the soft "click" as something released. "It's a secret compartment. A good many older pieces had them for various reasons." He opened the compartment. "Good Lord."
"What is it?" she asked, looking over his arm for herself. Harry reached in and pulled out a handful of glittering objects. "Are those-?"
"Diamonds," Harry confirmed, keeping one to examine it in the light. "Round cut, looks like from a quarter caret to one and a half." Laura looked at him and he shrugged. "I know gemstones." He replaced the diamond as Laura examined one. "Why would Mr. Oliver have diamonds hidden in an antique table?" he wondered.
"Of course," Laura said. "No wonder he didn't want the police in here. If one of them had banged against this table, then *they* would have found the diamonds. You said that there were usually secret compartments in these things. Could you find them?"
Harry looked around, finally setting his sights on the secretary's desk. Taking the flashlight in hand, he went to it, running his hands over it. "My grandfather had one like this. My grandmother had used it for her correspondence." Another "click". "There we go."
"Anything in it?" Laura asked, joining him.
"Just this," he said, holding up another handful of diamonds.
Laura began to pace the crowded floor. "Try this," she said. "Wealthy people often want to hide money, right? Just in case the stock market goes bad, or something else happens, am I right?"
"Sometimes," Harry confirmed. "But not everyone-"
"I didn't mean you," she assured him. "What if- Mr. Oliver's clients are all wealthy people who want to buy diamonds- but can't get their hands on them without the IRS finding out?"
"So they arrange for Mr. Oliver to redecorate their home, giving him enough funds to purchase their diamonds overseas."
"Where they're placed into priceless antiques and shipped to the United States, with no one being the wiser as to how *really* priceless they are," Laura finished.
"It's possible," Harry agreed. "The question is, what are we going to do about it?"
"Allow me to answer that question- Mr. Steele," Mr. Oliver said, coming from the shadowy darkness. "I was afraid this would happen," he told them with a sad expression. "I should never have retained the best detective agency in Los Angeles to solve my problem, I suppose."
Laura's hand moved toward her purse, but stopped as Mr. Oliver's hand appeared, holding a gun.
"I wouldn't, Miss Holt. Remove the purse and lay it on the table, if you please. And I'll take those," he told Harry, extending his hand to take the diamonds. Harry dropped the gems into that hand, quickly withdrawing his own. "thank you. Now move away. Toward the window, please." He motioned in that direction with the gun as he stepped closer to the table.
"You won't risk shooting us, Mr. Oliver," Laura said. "The police will be all over this place-"
"Once the two of you are dead, I'll remove the diamonds to a safe place before calling them. Most likely into the tunnel which you and your friend Mr. Michaels found. I should thank you for that. I hesitated to make that move before."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, eh, Mr. Oliver?" Harry questioned.
The man gave Harry a regretful sigh. "It's going to be a pity-- such a waste-- to kill you. But- I'm afraid I have no choice. The people I do business with would be quite upset if they were to discover that you had stumbled onto this operation."
"You can't possibly get away with this," Laura said quickly.
"Indeed? Imagine my horror when I come down here to check things out, only to discover four dead bodies."
"Four?" Harry repeated.
Keeping his eyes and the gun on Laura and Harry, Mr. Oliver opened Laura's purse to pull out the Agency gun. "He's going to use my gun to kill Pedro and Frankie," Laura realized.
"Quite right, Miss Holt. The two of you confronted them, a gunfight ensued. They shot both of you- but not before you mortally wounded them. Unfortunate for you- but it will rid the streets of two more criminals."
"What makes you any better than they, Mr. Oliver?" Harry wondered. "From what I see, you're just as much of a criminal as they are."
"With one major exception," Mr. Oliver clarified. "My crimes don't hurt innocent people."
"What about the gun?" Laura asked, nodding toward the pistol that he had in his hand. "Won't it look a bit strange for them to have killed us with *your* gun?"
Mr. Oliver smiled. "It's not mine. I don't own a gun. I dislike them intensely. But that doesn't mean that I can't use one. I purchased this from a rather- shady character down the street- quite anonymously. From what I understand, people like those two purchase such guns in that fashion all the time. Now. Enough talk. Au revoir, Mr. Steele," he said, pointing his gun at Harry.
Suddenly from out of the darkness, someone flew at Mr. Oliver, sending him crashing into the table, shattering it. Diamonds rattled across the floor, and the gun skittered out of reach. But Laura's purse was laying hear Mr. Oliver's hand.
Shaking off the surprise of Murphy's rescue, Laura deftly plucked the purse and gun out of Mr. Oliver's grasp. "Murphy! How did you get in here?" Laura asked her partner, watching as he held a hand to his pained ribs.
"The tunnel," he explained.
"Thank goodness you did," Harry said. "Thank you, Murphy," he said, offering his hand.
Murphy took it. "Consider us even," he said. "I couldn't very well let you get to play hero alone, could I?" he asked with a challenging grin.
***
Over an hour later, Laura joined Harry in the limo that was parked a block away. "Where's Murphy?" he asked, looking behind her.
"He said he'd take a taxi. That's how he got down here."
"Ah. Home, Fred," he told the driver, then sat back. "Everything taken care of?"
"The police took them all away," she confirmed.
"And the diamonds?"
"They've sealed the warehouse, and impounded the contents until they have a chance to through every stick of furniture inside it."
"And- did they ask about the mysterious Mr. Steele?" Harry wondered.
"They asked," she said. "I told them that you preferred not to be directly involved. I think that with the photos and the tape recording- which, by the way, was still on when Mr. Oliver was confessing- there should be enough to convict them all of smuggling."
"Good show. The Agency could make quite a bit from this, I suppose," Harry said.
"I doubt it. "Our *client* is on his way to jail. I seriously doubt that he'll be in any position to pay us."
"I meant the finder's fee for the diamonds," Harry clarified.
Laura sat up, looking at him. "I hadn't thought of that," she admitted. "How much do you think could be involved?"
He shrugged. "Depends on how much in diamonds Oliver had secreted away. Just the ones we saw were worth close to a quarter of a million American dollars, I should think. And finders fees are usually ten percent of the total-"
Laura shook her head. "Ten percent of two hundred and fifty thousand is- twenty five thousand." She saw back. "Wow!"
Harry slipped an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. "How about a nightcap?" he suggested. "To celebrate the first- and last - case of Remington Steele?"
Laura didn't answer, but smiled. "You know, I probably shouldn't admit this- but you made a very good Remington Steele- all things considered."
"I wouldn't mind continuing the charade," Harry admitted. "His life is certainly far more exciting than that of Lord Bryce-Davies, Earl of Bensonhurst."
"I think it's best that we just let Remington Steele fade back into the shadows from whence he came," Laura said. "I doubt that anyone will even remember his name in a week."
"Fair enough," Harry agreed, then moved even closer. "Now, about that nightcap-?"
The End