Entitled to be Steele 2
Episode Two

Ignoring Murphy's mumblings of dire consequences, Laura sent her partner off to question the list of Elliot Markham's friends. Laura and Harry followed a few minutes later with the intention of finding out if the gentleman was home or off on another "side trip".

As they came out of the building, Laura turned toward the car park to retrieve the Rabbit, and Harry turned toward the waiting limo. It was several seconds before either realized they were alone. "Where are you going?" Laura asked.

Harry indicated the limo, where Fred was holding the door open for them. "I thought we'd take-"

"Too conspicuous," Laura said with a shake of her head. "We'll take the Rabbit-" She turned away again, but Harry rushed to her side and grasped her arm, steering her in a tight circle back toward the limo. "Harry-"

"Laura, where is Elliot Markham's condo?"

"Malibu," she told him.

"An area virtually filled with motion picture stars and the rich and famous," he pointed out, stopping short of pushing her into the limo ahead of him. "Now, which car do you think would be more out of place? Your white Rabbit- or the limo? Eh?"

He took a half step back, giving her room to make the decision. When she ducked into the black car, Harry smiled. Another battle won. He was on a roll.

***

Elliot's Markham's condo was located on the beach, in a retirement community. Getting no answer at the front door, Laura began to dig into her purse for her lock picks, but Harry stopped her with a hand on her arm. "We have company," he cautioned, nodding over her shoulder with a smile.

Laura turned to find an elderly woman with blue tinted hair standing in the doorway of another condo, watching them. "Hello," Laura greeted, smiling as well.

"Are you looking for Elliot?" the woman asked.

"His daughter asked us to stop by," Laura informed her, moving closer to the woman and explain. "My friend here is a fan."

The woman's eyes moved to Harry, who continued to smile. "Aren't you that-" she paused, obviously trying to find a term. Harry glanced at Laura, wondering what he should say. Deny that he was Remington Steele? Admit that he was a fraud?

"Madam-" he began, only to stop as she continued.

"English guy," she said. "Lord something or other?"

Laura gave a nervous laugh as Harry looked surprised. "Heavens no. But you're not the first person to make that mistake."

"I'm not?" the woman questioned.

"No. Personally, I don't see the resemblance. Lord Bryce-Davies is shorter than I- and older, I believe."

"Then- who are you?" her tone was suspicious now.

Laura pulled out her identification. "I'm Laura Holt. I'm a private investigator that Mr. Markham's daughter hired to see if he needs some help. Are you and Mr. Markham good friends?"

"Neighbors. Have been for ten years. You say his daughter hired you?" the elderly woman asked with a suspicious look.

"Yes. Do you know his daughter, Mrs-?"

"Farley. Helena Farley. I've never met her. I've seen her coming and going, though. And I've certainly heard her during their arguments."

"Arguments?" Harry questioned, giving Laura a confused look.

"Those two couldn't be in the same room without arguing. Elliot confided in me once that he thought she was trying to prove him senile so she could ship him off to an old folks' home and get his money." She gave Harry another long look. "Who did you say you were again?"

"He's an- associate of mine," Laura told her. "He's helping me find Mr. Markham."

"Laura Holt, you said?" Then, her face took on a knowing expression. "Mr. Steele, right? You're the one that all the newspapers and tabloids have been looking for."

"Uh, well,-" Harry began, tugging his ear, but Laura quickly interrupted the conversation.

"Mrs. Farley, when was the last time you saw Mr. Markham?" Laura asked.

"Two days ago. Course, he comes and goes a lot. Especially lately. Never seen someone on the go as much as Elliot."

"Is he always alone?"

"Always. Real loner, that one."

"Other than his daughter, has he had another visitors that you remember during the last few weeks?" Laura wanted to know.

Mrs. Farley drew herself up to her full five feet two inches in indignation. "I don't spy on my neighbors, young lady."

"Of course not," Harry said in a soothing tone. "But we thought you might have- noticed something while tending to your garden," he said, indicating the small flower garden near the front door. "And a lovely garden it is, too. Glorious tulips."

"They're my pride and joy," Mrs. Farley told him, smiling at him again. "You look enough like that English Lord to be his twin," she insisted.

"Long lost, perhaps," Harry said, grinning. "Now, tell me, did you see someone at Mr. Markham's flat while you were out here in the early morning, pruning roses and pulling the stray weed that dared encroach on your territory? Hmm?" he asked with a winning smile.

"Well," Mrs. Farley told them, "I did see one man, well dressed. Hair all slicked back. Smoked an awful smelling cigar." She shuddered at the memory. "He came to visit a couple of times. But he always left alone, and I don't recall ever hearing them argue."

Laura returned her identification to her purse. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Farley. We'll try again later. Come along, Mr. Steele."

Harry let Laura pull him away by the arm to the corner of the walkway, noticing that Laura occasionally glanced behind them. When he looked back once, he saw Mrs. Farley's dyed-blue hair as she leaned forward, watching them. "What now?" he asked, only to have Laura jerk him around the corner against a hedgerow that blocked them from the nosey neighbor's view.

"We get into Elliot Markham's house," she told him.

"With that watchdog out there?" Harry asked. "Laura-"

"There's got to be a back way in," she told him, looking down the hedge. "Any back yard should be just over this hedge. Maybe there's an alley or something-"

"Why not wait until Mrs. Farley goes back inside her house, then simply go to the gate in the fence?" Harry asked, causing Laura to stop in her tracks and look at him.

"Gate? What gate?"

"In the privacy fence on the other side of the hedge beside the house," he explained. "You didn't see it?"

Laura simply turned and went back to the end of the hedge. When Harry would have peered around it, she pulled him back against the branches, and he winced as a couple of them stabbed at his back. "Wait." She turned and slowly peeked out. "Come on," she told him.

Keeping to the shadows of various other hedges, they scurried across the grass toward the gate. Harry lifted the latch, and waited for Laura to enter before following her into the fenced back yard.

Harry watched, examining the sliding glass door as Laura took out her picks again. When she started to put one of them into the lock, he grasped her hand. "I wouldn't," he warned.

Laura looked up at him. "Why not?"

Harry pointed to a thin wire in the door. "There's an alarm system."

Laura looked at it. "Great. Guess we'll just have to-"

"Looks rather simple, though," Harry muttered, and he stepped back, examining the rear of the small house until he found the small black box hidden behind a hydrangea bush. He pushed behind the bush to access it.

"Harry- what are you doing?"

"You want into this house, don't you?" he asked, looking at the simple padlock that secured the cover of the box.

"Yes, but-"

"If it's simple enough, I might be able to temporarily disable the alarm so we can get inside. Lock pick-" he said, holding out his hand. Laura sighed and opened the leatherette pouch, watching as he withdrew what he needed. "You know, Laura, I have to ask myself why our client-"

"*My* client," Laura corrected.

"Why Miss Markham neglected to tell us about the alarm system in her father's house-"

"That's one thing I intend to find out, Harry," Laura said, watching him pull the padlock from the box. He held it out toward her. Grimacing, Laura pulled the handkerchief from Harry's jacket to take the object. "Fingerprints," she reminded him, wiping the lock and placing it into her purse.

"Ah," Harry nodded, feeling silly as he realized what he'd done. Then, he turned his attention to the contents of the box. "Let's see. Yes, I think-" he gingerly removed a wire and replaced it in another location, then unplugged the telephone line into the box as well. "There we go. Should be safe enough now." He extended a hand toward the glass doors.

Laura followed him to the doors, where he picked the lock. "And another thing. Didn't Miss Markham say that she and her father never argued?"

"That she did," Laura agreed, narrowing her eyes in concern as he slid the door to the right, as if expecting to be greeted by the alarm announcing their presence.

Harry paused as well, not at all sure that his memory had served him well on the alarm box. But when the silence continued unabated, he pulled the door open more fully. "After you, Miss Holt."

"Mr. Markham?" Laura called softly, just in case the owner of the house was on the premises. When there was no answer, she stepped inside. Harry slid the door closed behind them and followed her into the house.

Ten minutes later, they left the house with little more information than they had before. Harry reset the alarm box, using his handkerchief to wipe it and the lock before putting the square of cloth back into his pocket. "That was a waste of time," Laura said as she stood nearby.

"Not really. We have a few more questions for our-" he paused as Laura cleared her throat. "For Miss Markham. And we discovered that Elliot Markham's personal bank account is running precariously low due to several large withdrawals over the last month."

"Hmm. All made out to cash," Laura recalled as they moved to the corner of the house and turned toward the gate, only to be pulled back. "What-?"

"Mrs. Farley is out in her garden," Harry explained. "No mistaking that blue hair," he commented.

"Great," Laura fretted, then looked around the yard. At the back, she made out what looked like hardware on the wood. "Over there. Looks to be another gate."

Harry glanced at the front of the house again, then followed Laura toward the back fence, where there was indeed another gate. Laura stood on tiptoe, trying to see over it. "Can you tell where it leads?"

Harry slipped the latch and pulled the gate open just enough to peer through. "It appears to be an alley, just as you suspected."

"Anyone around?" she asked, ducking beneath him to verify his words and answer her own question. "Let's go."

In the limo, Laura referred to the motel receipts. "Might as well check these out," she said, and gave Fred the address of the nearest one, then sat back, thoughtful.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's just that this case isn't making any sense. Miss Markham said that her father never spoke to her in anger, yet Mrs. Farley overheard them arguing on several occasions. And then there's these," she said, indicating the receipts, which Harry took to examine. "She said that she 'got into' her father's house while he was gone and took them. I have a key to my mother's house in Connecticut, I'm sure Eileen Markham has one to her father's house. But even with a key, she'd have to get around the alarm. Even if she knew how to disable it, why didn't she didn't tell us about it?"

"Laura- these receipts-"

"What about them?"

"The names Elliot Markham used. Stanley Grainger, Leon McCall, Henry Davenport- they're all characters he played in his movies."

Laura sat up. "You're certain?"

"Really, Laura. Are you questioning my cinematic expertise?"

"Never, Harry." She took the receipts. "I need to call Bernice, see if she's come up with anything about that accident that made Elliot Markham vanish almost thirty five years ago."

He picked up the telephone. "Be my guest."

Laura dialed the Agency number. "Bernice, it's Laura. Anything yet? . . . " She listened. "Really? . . . Yes, very interesting . . . I need you to do a check on Miss Markham . . . That's right. Our client. See if she has any skeletons in *her* closet . . . We're on our way to a motel . . . " Harry noted her embarrassed look at him before she continued. "No, Bernice. Business. I'll call later. If I'm not back before five, go on home. We'll finish this tomorrow morning . . . I will." She hung up. "She said to say hello."

"What did she find out about the accident?"

"You'd think that Eileen would know some of the details about the accident that took her own mother's life."

"His *wife* was killed?"

"It was all a big scandal that was quickly buried and forgotten. Rumor has it that Elliot Markham was drunk and insisted on driving the two of them home from a party at which they had argued violently about another woman." Harry winced. "Markham's car was seen weaving all over the road by another driver, who reported that the two occupants seemed to be fighting for control of the steering wheel before the vehicle careened through a barricade and into one of the canyons. Markham was thrown from the car, but his wife was killed when it exploded."

"It seems we have another question for our client, Miss Holt."

"Hmm," Laura replied, and Harry smiled when she didn't correct him again.

He glanced at his watch. "What time is your appointment this evening?" he asked.

"My-" she blinked. "What?"

"Your dinner with a client?" he reminded her. "I just want to make certain you're not late."

"Oh- that. It can- wait," she said. "I'm sure once I explain-"

"There is no client, is there?" Harry questioned.

"Of course there is," Laura declared, but her gaze slid from his to fall to her hands.

"You simply didn't want to go out with me, isn't that it?" Harry asked. When there was no response, he placed a finger under her chin to lift her face. "Laura, what's wrong?"

To Be Continued . . .


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Original Material © 2001 by Nancy Eddy