 | ||||||||||
 |  | |||||||||
 |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | |||
| ||||||||||
| | |||||||||
| | | | | | | | |||
"Have you found anything?"
Laura asked Remington as she opened yet another dresser drawer
in Rachel's bedroom.
He was rifling through the closet, having already searched the
rest of the small bungalow. "Maybe," he said, pulling
out a man's jacket. Eyeing it critically, he held it before him.
"Good tailor, anyway," he commented.
"Is there a label?" Laura asked. "If there is-"
Remington looked inside, finally locating the small label. "Maxmillian
of Beverly Hills," he said. "Not top of the line, but
they're adequate."
"This doesn't help us at all. All right, we found one of
his jackets here. We need HIM," she insisted as Remington
wandered toward the bathroom and began searching the room. "This
is a dead end, Mr. Steele," she decided. "Why don't
we go and pay a call on Mr. Reed?"
Remington nodded, closing the cabinet. "You're right. If
there WAS anything here that would incriminate him, he's already
been back to remove it."
**********
Lt. Jarvis entered apartment 5A, his eyes scanning the room for
a long moment before he moved to the desk across the room. The
expensive writing set lay near the edge, with places for the matching
pen and pencil- and a third place for a letter opener. The pen
and pencil were there- the opener wasn't. Picking up the pen,
he examined it closely, his frown deepening. Things had just gotten
MUCH worse.
**********
There was no answer when Remington and Laura knocked on the door
of the small house in the hills overlooking the city. "He's
an old man," Laura reminded him. "He might not have
heard us - or he could be ill."
Nodding, Remington pulled out his lock pick and set to work as
Laura kept watch. He grasped the knob and turned it, nodding at
her. "Mr. Reed?" he called out, sticking his head inside.
"Hello?" He and Laura entered the house, closing the
door quietly behind them. The house as a neat as pin, Remington
noted. Nothing out of place.
Laura looked around. "Do you notice something?'
"What?"
"No pictures. Not one. You'd think an old man would at least
have SOME pictures of his family- himself as a young man. It's
almost as if no one lives here."
"I get the same impression," Remington said. "Maude
said that he had a bedroom down the hall -" he told her,
leading her through the living room. When Laura would have reached
for the doorknob to the first room, Remington shook his head.
"It's the room at the end of the hall."
"It's locked anyway," Laura told him, rattling the door
to prove her words. She looked thoughtful. "Why would Mr.
Green keep a room locked?"
"Perhaps he's got something of value in there," Remington
suggested, steering her toward Mr. Reed's bedroom. He tapped on
the door lightly, not wanting to alarm the elderly gentleman.
"Mr. Reed?" Silence. Opening the door, he looked inside
to find the bed empty.
"Mr. Reed?" Laura tried. "Where could he be? I
thought Maude told you that he never left the house -"
"She did. Perhaps he fell ill and was taken to the hospital,"
Remington theorized.
"I don't think so, Mr. Steele," Laura said, moving toward
the bed. "It's not rumpled as though he were removed from
it physically. It's as if he simply got up and walked away. And
look at the clothes," she pointed out, touching the neatly
folded pajamas at the foot of the bed.
"Then were is he?"
"I don't know. But I have a -feeling - I'm going to search
the house - see if we can find anything that will link him to
all of this."
Remington noticed a scrapbook laying on the nightstand and picked
it up to look inside. "Well, this is one thing that Maude
was right about."
"What's that?" Laura asked, looking in the closet.
"The scrapbook. He's got articles from every interview I've
ever done- every case I've been associated with as Remington Steele.
Even the articles from British papers last year." He flipped
though the pages.
Laura moved to search the bathroom. "It would be a lot of
help, Mr. Steele," she said, "If you would -"
Remington looked up at her sudden silence. "Laura?"
"I think I just found Mr. Reed," she said, reappearing
carrying a white wig and mustache. "A disguise?"
"It would explain his not being here," Remington agreed.
"But we'll need more proof than a wig and mustache to take
to Jarvis."
"And I think I know where we can find it," Laura said,
moving past him toward the hall again. She stopped at the locked
door. "Care to do the honors, Mr. Steele?"
Remington took out the pick again and easily opened the door.
The room was dark, and Laura felt on the wall for a light switch
to illuminate the area. When she found it, Remington found himself
shaking his head. "Good Lord, Laura."
"Yes. No wonder he kept the door locked," she said,
moving to examine the photographs on the walls - some of Remington,
some of them both, a few of Rachel. "He's been watching you
for years."
"Apparently," he agreed, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
"Come on, Laura. Let's call Jarvis -"
"There are still no pictures of HIM," Laura reminded
him. "If we bring Jarvis in now, he'll vanish." She
opened a second door and found herself in a small bath. "What
have we here?" she said, holding up the plastic case as Remington
joined her.
"Looks like the kind of case people store contact lenses
in," he said.
"That's exactly what it is, Mr. Steele." She looked
inside the cabinet. "Cleaning solution,- all the things a
person needs when they wear contact lenses." Laura carefully
opened the case, revealing two blue lenses. "Blue lenses."
She frowned. "According to his description, he's GOT blue
eyes," Laura pointed out.
"Maybe they're not - without some help," he said, holding
up one of the lenses as Laura looked around the room.
"Aha," she said, holding up a box of hair color. "Dark
brown," she told him, glancing at the trash. "And recently
used, I think. He's changed his appearance."
"Hmm," he agreed, "To avoid detection, no doubt."
She paused, sniffing the air. "Do you smell something?"
He nodded toward the box in her hand. "Residue from that,
no doubt."
"No. I smell gas," she said, starting to cough slightly,
covering her mouth. "We have to get out of here."
They left the room, heading for the front door, but as they neared
it, Remington told her, "You go on. Call Jarvis, and I'll
see if I can't locate the source of the leak and stop it."
"Mr. Steele-" Laura began in protest, only to have him
shove her out the door.
"Laura, if this place goes up, we lose every scrap of evidence
we have. Now go summon Jarvis. Use the telephone in the limo."
Laura watched him disappear back inside before making a dash for
the limo that was parked across the street. Picking up the telephone,
she dialed the number, her eyes never leaving Felix Reed's house.
"Detective Jarvis, please. . . Where is he? Yes. Laura Holt.
It's VITALLY important that I speak to him-"
Laura jumped as there was an explosion inside the house, turning
the structure into a raging inferno. The telephone dropped to
the seat. "Oh my GOD," Laura breathed. "Mr. Steele-"
Picking up the phone again, she told the officer on the other
end, "Call the fire department," she said. "4691
Laurel Canyon Drive. There's been an explosion!" She barely
managed to hang the telephone in its cradle as she exited the
car, intending to go to the house. "Mr. Steele!" she
yelled, her eyes searching the flames.
But Fred held her back. "It's too dangerous, Miss Holt,"
he insisted.
"Mr. Steele!" Laura cried out again, looking for a sign-
any thing that might tell her that he was still alive.
**********
An hour later, Laura stood beside the limo as a fireman approached
her, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. We haven't found
him yet. Do you know where he might have been?"
"No," Laura said quietly, moving toward the still smoking
rubble at his side. "He said something about trying to stop
the leak."
"You smelled gas then?"
"Yes. He sent me out here to call the police - " Her
eyes scanned the area. He couldn't be gone. There was still so
much they had to say to each other-
"*Thump! Thump!*"
Laura's head came up. "Wait a minute. Listen. Do you hear
that?"
The fireman paused as the sound came again. "Yeah."
"Sounds like - someone banging on a door."
"The only door left in the house is the one that leads to
the basement," the fireman said. "We didn't search down
there," he told her. "Jake! Mike! With me!" He
turned and went back into the remains of the burned out building.
Laura's mind screamed that something was wrong. That the pattern
of the blast seemed strange. A gas leak SHOULD have taken out
the kitchen- yet that room was virtually intact, just smoke and
water damage. The worst of the fire had occured in the bedroom
area. That end of the house was gone.
"It's coming from the basement, Captain!" Jake yelled
out, and Laura moved to the burned out wall that would give her
a view of the area.
"Hello, Miss Holt," Jarvis said, appearing at her side.
"Have they found Mr. Steele yet?"
"No," she said.
"I got a message that you called- sorry it took me so long
to get here. I was- tied up at the district attorney's office."
Laura wasn't listening to him. Her entire attention was fixed
on the rubble that was being cleared from before the metal basement
door. When they opened that door, Remington was there, leaning
heavily against the doorframe. "Thank God," Laura breathed,
moving as close to the house as she dared, watching as he came
toward her. He had a bad bruise on his forehead, she noted, and
was favoring his right leg, but other than that he looked fine.
Laura threw her arms around his neck as soon as he cleared the
rubble. "Are you okay? What happened? How did you end up
in that basement?" she asked, not really expecting any answers.
She was just delighted that he'd survived that fire.
"I- don't really recall," he told her, flinching away
from the paramedic as the man gently probed his head. "Ouch.
Easy, mate."
"Sorry, Mr. Steele. You've had a pretty hard blow to the
head," he said. "Probably need to go to the hospital-"
"Nonsense," Remington said dismissively. "I'll
be fine." Touching his head, he grinned. "Hard head.
Runs in the family."
"Okay, but I do need to examine you before I can leave."
They moved toward the ambulance as Jarvis followed, asking, "What
happened, Mr. Steele?"
"Ah, Lt. Jarvis. I seem to recall that Laura and I were searching
the house-" he began, wincing as the man began to clean the
abraision on his face.
"Why?" Jarvis asked. "Who lives-" he looked
up at what was left of the house. "I mean, who LIVED here?"
"According to Mr. Steele's housekeeper," Laura answered,
"A man by the name of Felix Reed. He's one of her clients.
A shut in, supposedly. He's apparently a fan of Mr. Steele, so
Mr. Steele decided to call on him," she said.
"Was he in there?" Jarvis asked, frowning.
"No, and I don't think he ever was." Seeing the police
detective's frown, she explained. "I don't think he ever
existed. It was a disguise-"
"The mystery man again," Jarvis surmised.
"Yes. There was no sign of Mr. Reed in that house, but we
found a white wig and mustache in the bedroom- and in another,
locked, room there were hundreds of photographs of Mr. Steele,
and me, and- Rachel Parker. In the bath off of that room, we found
a recently used box of hair dye and blue contact lenses."
"Blue lenses?" Jarvis asked, then looked at Steele.
"Can you corroborate any of this, Mr. Steele?"
"Some of it," he confirmed. "Things are a bit-
hazy at the moment, I'm afraid."
Laura placed a hand on his arm, her concern apparent. "Maybe
you SHOULD go to the hospital. Let a doctor look you over-"
"I said I'm fine, Laura," Remington insisted. He looked
toward the house.
"Then maybe you can answer a couple of questions for me,
Mr. Steele?" Jarvis asked.
"Really, Lieutenant," Laura began. "He's just been
through -"
Remington placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Laura.
What do you need to know, Detective?" he asked.
"You've got a pretty expensive desk set on your desk at your
apartment. Gold trimmed-"
"Ah, yes. A gift from Laura. Last Christmas, I believe -
wasn't it?"
"Actually it was TWO Christmases ago," Laura reminded
him.
"What about it, Lt. Jarvis?"
"I was just wondering when the last time was that you used
the letter opener that goes with the set."
"Saturday, I believe. The mail- why?"
"We found the weapon that was used to kill Rachel Parker,"
Jarvis said.
"Let me guess," Laura said. "The letter opener,
right?"
"Yes, Miss Holt. Mr. Steele's letter opener. Apparently the
murderer decided it was close at hand and used it."
"Where did you find it, Lieutenant?" Laura asked, a
sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"In a moment, Miss Holt. Mr. Steele, I asked Miss Holt earlier
if you could have gotten out of her apartment last night without
her hearing you-"
"And I said he couldn't have," Laura reminded Jarvis.
"It's the truth -"
"Now, I have to ask you the same question, Mr. Steele. Is
it possible for Miss Holt to have left her loft during the night
and you not know anything about it?" Remington hesitated.
"Mr. Steele?" Laura said, uncertainly. "Tell him-"
"Please, Miss Holt -" Jarvis said. "I want the
truth, Mr. Steele. Is it possible?"
"Well," Remington said, looking as if he would rather
say ANYTHING than what he was about to say, "I suppose it's
- possible, Detective," he admitted. "I was a bit on
the exhausted side last night after all that happened with Rachel-
slept like a baby. But I'm sure that Laura would never-"
Jarvis pulled a plastic evidence bag from his overcoat pocket.
"Do you recognize these gloves, Miss Holt?"
Laura took the bag with shaking hands, seeing the elegantly embroidered
initials on the blood stained kid gloves. "They're mine.
At least, they LOOK like a pair that I own," she amended
quickly.
Remington frowned. "What's going on here, Jarvis?" he
asked. "One would almost think that you're accusing Laura
of-"
"I am," Jarvis said shortly. "These gloves and
the murder weapon were both found in the trunk of your car, Miss
Holt."
"MY car?"
"And we have a witness who says he saw a car that looked
like yours around the Rossmore building just before the murder
occurred."
"I never left the loft last night!" Laura insisted.
"I was home all night. Mr. Steele-"
"I'm sorry, Laura," Jarvis said, pulling out his handcuffs.
"I'm going to have to arrest you for the murder of Rachel
Parker."
"Now see here, Jarvis," Remington said. "You can't
seriously believe that Laura would -"
"No, I don't. But the evidence says otherwise."
"You don't need the handcuffs, Jarvis," Laura told him.
Turning to Remington, she said, "Find Mildred, and the two
of you find the REAL murderer."
"I'll see about arranging bail," Remington assured her,
following them to Jarvis' car. "Don't worry, Laura. Everything
is going to work out. I give you my word."
To Be Continued ---