Harry reluctantly agreed to let Laura handle Elliot Markham's bail hearing that morning without Remington Steele's "assistance". After her quiet, thoughtful reaction to the bare minimum of facts about his past scrapes with the authorities, he thought she needed some solitary time to sort things out. So he left alone, having called Fred to pick him up at Laura's house.
"I was worried, sir," Fred began, and Harry smiled at the admonition in the chauffeur's voice. "When you and Miss Holt didn't show up last night-"
"Yes, well, unexpected occurrences, Fred," Harry said apologetically, picking up the telephone. "I'll try to give you fair warning next time."
"Where to, sir?" Fred asked as they stopped at an intersection. "Back to Rossmore?"
"Let me check something first." He dialed the number for his flat, fully expecting Felicia to answer. When she didn't, Harry decided that perhaps Laura was right, that the blonde had realized she was fighting a lost cause and jetted back to London- or Monaco. That's where she usually went to lick her wounds. Felicia adored the glittering crowds, the Casino- the endless round of parties with what she termed the "beautiful people".
"Home, Fred," he agreed, hanging up the telephone. And if Felicia *were* there, he'd make her leave this time, even if it meant dragging her to the airport by her hair . . .
***
Murphy was waiting for Laura at the courthouse, a distraught Eileen Markham at his side. "Oh, Miss Holt," Eileen cried, sobbing softly into her handkerchief. "They won't let him go," she said.
Laura noticed Murphy's glance behind her, but said nothing as she tried to talk to the client, leading her toward a bench. "They wouldn't set bail for him?"
"The Assistant DA convinced the judge that Markham was a flight risk," Murphy explained. "Markham's lawyer tried to show that his bank accounts are almost empty, but the ADA suggested that he might have some money holed up somewhere just in case."
"Where is Mr. Steele?" Eileen asked, dabbing at her eyes. "Perhaps he could speak to the judge, convince him to release Father into his custody," she suggested.
"Mr. Steele had some - other business to attend to," Laura said, ignoring the look Murphy sent her way. "He'll meet up with us later at the office."
"Oh. Poor Father. He's- he's given up. I can't believe that he killed her. I didn't believe it the first time, either," she recalled. "And he didn't, did he?"
"Miss Markham, you had *no* idea that your mother has been alive all this these years?"
"Why, no. Of course not. All I knew was that she was killed in that awful accident--" she began to sob softly again.
Laura looked at Murphy as she caught sight of Lt. Halloran in the corridor. "Murphy, why don't you take Miss Markham home and then meet me-" she smiled at Eileen, "Mr. Steele and me," she corrected, "at the office? We'll regroup - figure out our next step."
Murphy nodded. "I'll see you there," he agreed, placing a hand under Eileen's elbow to lead her toward a rear door to avoid the reporters that were stationed on the front steps.
Laura started toward another door, only to hear a familiar voice hailing her. "Holt! Wait up!"
She took a deep breath and turned, smiling brightly. "Lt. Halloran. What a surprise to see you here."
"I have a court appearance this morning," he explained. "Guess you heard that your client's been charged with the murder of his wife."
"Technically, Elliot Markham isn't our client," Laura told him. "His daughter hired us."
Halloran nodded, then tossed the empty Styrofoam cup he'd been holding into a nearby trash can. "What happened last night, Holt?"
"Last night, Lieutenant?" Laura questioned, feigning ignorance.
"That little disappearing act that you and *Steele* pulled."
"Oh. We had to follow a lead."
"A lead?"
"On the case," she finished, glancing at her watch. "As a matter of fact, I'm late for an appointment, so if you'll excuse me-"
"Tell Steele that I want to talk to him, Holt," Halloran told her. "Soon."
"I'll relay the message," Laura promised, waving airily as she moved away.
***
Harry was surprised to find that the flat was empty. Even Felicia's retinue of suitcases was nowhere to be found. In fact, the only thing that remained to prove that she'd been there was the heavy, cloying scent of the perfume she doused herself with. Harry went to the balcony window and opened it, letting fresh air into the room. The bloody scent clung to everything the woman touched, he mused, considering the advisability of hiring a fumigator to clear the flat of the stench. Even the sheets on his bed reeked of Felicia, he discovered, entering the bedroom as he loosened his tie and shrugged off his jacket.
It certainly *looked* as if she'd given it up and gone back to London, Harry decided, smiling as he turned on the shower. Things might be looking up after all.
***
Bernice was about to hang up the telephone when Laura entered the offices. "Just a minute. She just walked in." She held out the phone. "Line one's for you. She's called twice already."
"I'll take it in my office," Laura told her as she went in that direction. "Let me know when Murphy and Harry get here."
"Will do," the receptionist agreed.
Laura hung her hat and purse on the coat rack behind the door, then went to pick up the telephone. "Laura Holt here."
"Miss Holt. I was beginning to think you'd slept in- considering that Harry didn't come back to his flat last night and probably spent the night in *your* bed- I can't say I blame you."
"I've been working on a *case*, Felicia," Laura told her. "Why are you calling?"
"Because I think you and I need to have a little chat, darling."
"A chat? I don't think we have anything to *chat* about."
"How about the only thing we have in common?" Felicia suggested. "Harry."
"Look, Felicia-"
"I give you my word that once we've had our talk, I'll go back to London like a good girl and wait for Harry to come home."
"What makes you so certain that he'll- 'come home', as you put it?"
"Because he always does. I've been through this *so* many times," Felicia sighed, and Laura's fingers tightened on the telephone as she considered simply hanging up in response to the woman's self-assured tone. "I've taken a suite at the Belvedere."
"The Belvedere?"
"Well, I didn't want to anger Harry further. He has a truly Irish temper when he's riled. So I decided a strategic retreat was in order. Will you meet me, Miss Holt? I feel I owe it to you to - warn you about Harry."
"Where?" Laura asked, her eyes on the door, as if expecting Harry to open it at any moment.
"I'm in room thirty five," Felicia told her. "Say around- eleven?"
Laura glanced at the calendar on her desk. "I'll be there."
"You won't regret it, I promise."
"I doubt that," Laura responded. "Good bye." She hung up and tapped the plastic of the telephone before going back out to Bernice.
"They're not here yet," Bernice said.
"Good. I have an appointment at eleven that I need you to pencil in."
Bernice picked up her pen. "Eleven- with who?" she asked.
"Uh, new client. I'll be at the Belvedere Hotel, Room Thirty -five." She watched as the brunette wrote the information down. "And I need you to run a check for me."
"On who? I've already finished the current cases-"
"I want you to find out who Harry's been - linked with in the tabloids over the last few years." If Harry's old girlfriends were going to come popping up, she wanted to be forewarned if possible.
"Linked with? As in romantically?" Bernice asked. When Laura didn't immediately answer, she smiled knowingly. "Worried about old girl friends, hmm?"
"About one in particular," Laura confirmed darkly. "See what you can dig up on someone named 'Felicia'."
Bernice wrote the name, then waited. "That's it? What about a last name?"
"I've no idea. Do your best." She noticed Harry in the corridor. "And it's for my eyes only, okay?"
The brunette followed Laura's gaze, then nodded. "Gotcha." She quickly slipped the paper she'd been writing on under another one as Harry pushed the glass doors open.
"Good morning, ladies," he said brightly.
"I hear that you're the Agency's new apprentice," Bernice commented with a smile.
"Good news travels fast, eh?" Harry asked, returning the smile.
"Murphy couldn't *wait* to share the news this morning," Bernice told him, grinning now.
"Oh, I imagine he was bursting at the seams," Harry replied. He noticed that Laura hadn't looked in his direction- *really* looked in his direction since he'd entered. "Good morning, Laura."
"Morning," she said, her smile tight. Apparently she hadn't yet forgiven him for his youthful follies.
"I heard on the radio that Elliot Markham's been held without bond for the murder of his wife."
"That's right. Murphy was taking Miss Markham home. She's pretty upset about all of this."
"Of course she is," Harry commiserated. "Poor woman. Losing her mother all over again, her father being charged with the same murder that he was accused of over thirty years ago," he clicked his tongue. "I'd be surprised if she wasn't upset."
"Bernice, do you know if Murphy got the information I asked for?"
"I think it's on his desk," Bernice told her. "He said that he could talk to you about it when you and he finished at the courthouse." Harry saw that Bernice was confused by Laura's non-responsiveness as well. Laura turned to enter Murphy's office, and Bernice mouthed, "What did you do?"
Harry lifted his shoulders as if to say that he wasn't sure, then followed Laura into her office as she read the reports she'd gotten from Murphy's desk. "Laura-" he began, closing the door behind them. "You're still upset, aren't you?"
She looked up from the report, blinking. "Upset?"
"About last night- about what I told you-"
"Oh, that," she said, shaking her head dismissively. "No. You were young- and under the influence of a modern day Fagin who was also your long lost father- I never expected that your hands would be completely clean, Harry," she said, then turned her attention back to the report. "This is interesting."
"Then what-?" Harry began, intending to ask what she *was* upset about, but she misunderstood his question- deliberately, he thought.
"There was no official identification of the woman who was killed in Elliot Markham's car that night in 1949," she informed him.
Harry forgot all about Laura's ambivalent attitude. "There wasn't?"
"No. It seems that someone had stored a container of gasoline
in the trunk of the car. When it crashed at the bottom of that
ravine, the resulting fire left very little *to* identify. Since
it was Markham's car, and he'd been seen driving away in it with
his wife-
and they found her wedding ring in what remains there were- they
just assumed that it was Helen Markham."
"Then, if Helen Markham didn't die that night, whose body did they find?"
"That's the question," Laura said, beginning to pace around the office.
"I see you started without me," Murphy said from the door leading to his office.
"Oh, Murphy. Did you get Miss Markham settled okay?"
"She took something for her nerves and was going to lay down," he answered, giving Harry a look of disgust. "She asked me to see if you'd come over and hold her hand," Murphy told him.
"And what did you tell her?" Harry asked warily.
"That you'd be over as soon as possible," Murphy responded with a decidedly evil grin.
"Laura?" Harry said, looking at her.
"Murphy's joking. Right, Murphy?" she said with a warning glare.
"A neighbor's with her," Murphy confirmed. "Yeah, I'm joking." He turned his attention back to Laura. "The argument that Elliot and Helen had that night at the party was about another woman that she accused him of being in love with. She told him in front of everyone that there was no way she would ever leave him quietly, that he'd have to kill her to get her out of the way so he could marry his little 'Mexican side dish'," he said.
Laura's eyes widened. "Mexican side dish? Maria Santera, possibly?"
"It wouldn't be the first time a man went nuts over his kid's babysitter," Murphy said.
"And Maria vanished the same night as the accident. Buy why would she have been in that car?" Laura wondered.
"Perhaps she was already dead?" Harry suggested, causing two sets of eyes to turn in his direction. "I mean, if Helen Markham wanted to stage her death, she'd need a body-"
"And what better body than that of the woman your husband wants to leave you for?" Laura finished.
"I didn't get a chance to mention this earlier, Laura," Murphy interjected, "but the insurance company that paid out on Helen Markham's 'death' in '49 is threatening to file charges against Elliot Markham for fraud. They seem to think that he and Helen staged the accident and her 'death' to get the money."
"We need to talk to Elliot Markham," Laura decided, "Come on, Harry," she said, grabbing her purse and hat. "Murphy, I want you talk to Miss Markham again- see if she remembers the last time she saw Maria alive," Laura was saying as she started through the reception area.
"Uh, Laura-" Bernice said, "Your eleven o'clock?"
Laura stopped in mid-stride. "Oh."
"Eleven o'clock?" Murphy questioned.
"Possible client," Laura lied. "Asked me to meet her at her hotel."
"Can't you reschedule?" Harry asked.
"I'm afraid not. She has to leave town right after the meeting. Murphy, why don't you and Harry go and talk to Markham? I'll stop by his daughter's on my way back."
Harry and Murphy exchanged a look of distaste at the prospect of being thrown together on a case. "I can handle it alone, Laura. Putting him in the same station house as Greg Halloran-"
"I think I can handle the Lieutenant, Murphy," Harry reassured him.
"I'm not so sure," Laura said. "Just try to keep as far away from Halloran as you can, Harry. I'll check to see if you're still there when I finish with the- uh- client. It shouldn't take too long." *I hope* Laura finished silently. "You two behave yourselves, okay? No fighting in public. Looks bad for the agency. And Harry-"
"Yes?" he said.
"Follow Murphy's lead."
"Goes without saying, Miss Holt."
She tugged on her hat, then left the office, and it struck Harry that she looked like a woman about to do battle. But he smiled at Murphy, knowing that it would make the other man furious. "Please, Murphy. Lead on."
Murphy raised his eyes toward the ceiling. "Bernice, if you hear anything about a homicide at the police station-"
"I'll get you a good lawyer," she promised, but smiled at Harry. "Have fun."
"Hmm," Murphy replied glumly. "Let's go, Lord Harry."
"Please, Murphy," Harry begged as they left the office. "Steele. When we're in public-"
"Yeah," Murphy agreed, savagely punching the call button for the elevator. "Steele." The doors opened and he entered the car, followed by Harry, who pushed the button for the parking garage. "I knew it was a mistake to take that case," he muttered.
"What case? Miss Markham's?" Harry questioned as the doors opened again.
"No," Murphy answered, glancing at him. "Yours."
"Ah." Harry followed, a wry smile on his face as they approached a beat up brown Ford LTD that had seen better days. "Why don't we take-" he started to say, but Murphy's response was too quick.
"No. No limos. Let's go." Harry grabbed the passenger door handle, and found that it wouldn't move. Murphy grinned. "It sticks. Gotta pull pretty hard-" His grin faded as Harry simply went to the back door and opened it, then reached inside the front door to pull the lock. "Get in," he said as Harry easily opened the door on his second try.
***
Laura knocked on the door to Room 35 at the Belvedere. The hotel was one of LA's best and most exclusive, catering to people who had money and weren't afraid to spend it for luxury. She spared a moment to wonder who was paying the bill for Felicia's room- the blonde- or Harry?
Then the door opened, and Felicia was there, smiling. The smile reminded Laura of a panther watching its prey for the right time to pounce. She fought back a shudder and concentrated on what the blonde was saying. "Ah, Miss Holt. Right on time. But of course, I expected that you would be. I suppose that's one of the things that appeals to Harry." She stepped back. "Do come in. We have quite a lot to talk about."
To Be Continued ---