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"Miss Holt's in JAIL?" Mildred
Krebs said into the telephone as she sat heavily on the bed behind
her. "But- what happened, Boss?"
"Lt. Jarvis found the weapon used to kill Rachel in Laura's
car," Remington said. "As well as a blood stained pair
of gloves that belong to Laura. The blood was a match to Rachel's."
"ANY one could have put those things in Miss Holt's car,"
Mildred insisted. "Have you checked into posting bail?"
"That's why I called, actually, Mildred," he told her.
"I need your help back here in Los Angeles."
"I'm on my way, Mr. Steele," Mildred assured him. "Poor
Miss Holt. When I think about her in that awful cell -"
"There, there, Mildred. I'm sure things will work out. Just
hurry back, okay?"
"Yes sir." Mildred hung up the telephone, picking it
up again to call for a reservation on the first commuter flight
back to LA, then tossed her clothes into the small case she'd
brought with her. She had to get back to help Miss Holt and Mr.
Steele. "That Jarvis is crazy if he thinks Miss Holt could
ever kill ANYONE," Mildred muttered. The telephone rang again,
and anxious to be gone, Mildred very nearly let it ring. It was
the fourth ring before she gave in and picked it up. "Hello?"
"Miss Krebs?"
"Yes."
"It's Edie. You remember, from the wedding chapel?"
"Sure." Mildred's cover had been blown when she'd been
pointed out to Edie's dealer friend as working for Mr. Steele
on a case. "What can I do for you?"
"Did you still want to talk to Reverend Martin?" Edie
asked.
"I thought he was still in a coma?"
"He woke up a little while ago," the woman explained.
"Can you come to the hospital now, Miss Krebs? When I told
him you were in Vegas, asking questions, he insisted that he had
to talk to you."
"I've got a flight back to LA in an hour," Mildred told
the woman. "I can stop on my way to the airport."
"I'll tell him. Maybe he'll rest a little easier if he knows
you're on your way."
Once Mildred hung up, she dialed another number, then frowned
as it began to ring. Where was Mr. Steele? Maybe he'd gone to
get Miss Holt out of jail, she decided. She wanted to tell him
about being able to talk to Martin, but decided it would be best
to wait until AFTER she had spoken to the minister from the Chapel
of Perpetual Happiness and found out what he had to say.
**********
"I TOLD you, Jarvis, that I didn't DO it!" Laura raged
as she faced the homicide detective in the interrogation room.
"Sit down," Jarvis said tiredly, glancing at the woman
across the room, her fingers at ready on the dictation machine.
"You sure you don't want to call a lawyer?"
"Mr. Steele is supposed to be finding one for me," Laura
pointed out. "Although WHY it's taking so long, I've no idea."
Since she'd been booked into the jail the previous evening, Laura
had only seen Remington for a total of ten minutes, during which
time he had reassured her that he was doing all he possibly could
to find their mystery man and to get her out of jail on bond.
Mildred had been out of pocket in Las Vegas, "Probably decided
to spend some time in the casino," he'd commented with a
concerned frown, so he hadn't been able to contact her. "But
don't worry," he added. "I'll contact her early tomorrow
morning- and I'll track down a lawyer as well - any preferences?"
"No. Just SOMEONE who can get me OUT of here," Laura
had said, wishing that he could make this nightmare vanish. "Have
you talked to Jarvis?"
"I tried. He's not very talkative all of a sudden. Refuses
to discuss anything about the case with me. Something about my
being a witness -"
"A WITNESS? For who? The prosecution? This is INSANE!"
"There, there, Laura," he had said soothingly as the
guard knocked on the door. "Time for me to go. I'll see you
later."
Later. That had been late last night. It was almost ten - and
there'd been no word from Mr. Steele- or a lawyer. "Jarvis,
I need to call Mr. Steele-"
"Sorry, but-"
"Then YOU call him. Find out what's going on. I'm going crazy
in here, not knowing."
Jarvis sighed. "Okay. I'll call." He went to the door
and spoke to the officer standing outside. "Take her back
to her cell, Travis."
**********
"Reverend Martin?" Mildred said softly as she stood
beside the hospital bed, looking at the battered occupant. "My
name is Mildred Krebs. I work for Remington Steele Investigations
-"
"Steele," Martin said, his eyes narrowed as he struggled
to think clearly. "Danger. He's in danger."
"Mr. Steele?" Mildred asked. "Who's in danger?
Mr. Steele?"
"He's crazy. Bargains with the devil never pay," he
muttered. "Has to be - stopped."
"WHO has to be stopped, Reverend? I need a name."
"Don't know his name. Always went by other names- usually-
usually Steele."
"Did you know he wasn't Remington Steele when you performed
that ceremony?"
"Paid me - good money."
"Then the license is a phoney? It wasn't real?"
"Shouldn't have done it. Greed. Greed, Miss Krebs. The downfall
of us all."
"How long have you known this man?" Mildred wanted to
know.
"Long- long time," Martin said. "Since he came
to America. Almost- five years, I think."
The nurse came forward. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you'll have
to go now. He needs to rest."
"One more question," Mildred begged. Turning back to
the man in the bed, she asked, "Does he REALLY look like
Mr. Steele?"
Martin nodded sharply. "Could be his-twin brother. Not -identical.
Kept his hair dyed- lighter to keep people from confusing them
at first. That- and the eyes. They're- not blue."
"I guess the only real difference is the Irish accent,"
Mildred realized, resisting the nurse's attempt to pull her away.
The laugh Martin gave ended in a cough. "Not real. None of
it's real, Miss Krebs. Remember - that." He fell back on
the pillow, exhausted, his eyes closing. "Thought - accent-
would throw everyone off."
Mildred frowned, wanting to stay and talk, but the nurse hustled
her from the room. Glancing at her watch, Mildred gasped. "My
plane!"
**********
During the flight, Mildred considered what the injured man had
tried to tell her. Between that conversation and her worry about
Miss Holt, Mildred found herself with one heck of a headache and
asked the stewardess to get her some water so she could take some
aspirin. She was handing the empty glass back when she heard the
voices from the seat in front. "Well, I say she did it,"
the man said. "I mean, look at the evidence. The murder weapon
and gloves were found in her car. And even her boss says that
he can't verify that she was at her apartment that night."
"But- if he was asleep on her couch," the woman insisted,
"And doesn't she live in a converted warehouse? I lived in
one of those for a while. Most of the apartments had big, noisy
metal doors. I can't see how anyone could sleep through all of
that." There was the rustle of paper as she examined something.
"And she would have had to leave, THEN come back without
disturbing him. NO one is that sound a sleeper, Larry."
"Look, she was afraid this woman was going to take advantage
of her boss-"
"That's no reason to kill someone," the woman insisted.
"Excuse me," Mildred said, standing up behind them,
causing them to look up at her. "Could I see that newspaper?"
"Sure," the woman said. "Not much in it, really."
Mildred took the paper and sat down. "ASSOCIATE OF REMINGTON
STEELE CHARGED WITH MURDER, 'No comment' says famed detective,"
read the headline. Mildred dug in her purse for another aspirin
as the pain behind her eyes returned full force.
**********
As soon as her flight landed, Mildred took a cab directly to the
jail, asking to see Miss Holt. Instead, she was shown into Lt.
Jarvis' office. The man rose upon her entry, watching her uncertainly.
"Hello, Mildred."
"MISS KREBS," she corrected him. "How could arrest
Miss Holt for that murder?" Mildred asked. "You know
she couldn't kill anyone in cold blood like that."
"People do strange things when they feel threatened, Mildred.
Mr. Steele seems to think that Miss Holt was afraid that they
wouldn't be able to disprove the marriage claim, and that the
agency would have ended up suffering- probably putting Miss Holt
out of a job."
"And THAT'S a motive?"
"I said it was HIS, Mildred," Jarvis told her. "Not
mine."
"And I can't believe that Mr. Steele would have said something
like that. You make it sound as if he believe she's guilty."
"He does, Mildred."
"No. Mr. Steele and Miss Holt are - he would never -"
Mildred's face tightened. "Are you gonna let me see Miss
Holt, Jarvis?"
The detective rose. "I'll take you down there," he said.
"How long before we can post bail?" Mildred asked as
they walked.
"It's been denied.."
"What?"
"When Mr. Steele was asked if he considered her a flight
risk, he said that he felt she MIGHT take off to avoid prosecution."
Mildred's chin dropped. Something was VERY wrong here. "I'll
vouch for her," Mildred said. "What do I have to do
to get bail set?"
"You could talk to the judge," Jarvis told her, "But
I don't think it would do much good. You might talk to Mr. Steele
about finding the lawyer he promised her. She's going to need
one. A good one."
The headache was back again.
**********
Laura heard someone coming and went to the bars at the front of
her cell. "Mildred? Oh, thank goodness. I was beginning to
think that everyone had forgotten about me."
"Oh, Miss Holt," Mildred said, grasping the bars. "Are
you okay? I mean, I KNOW you're not okay, but -"
"I'm fine, Mildred," Laura quickly assured her. "Have
you spoken to Mr. Steele yet?"
Mildred glared at Jarvis, who lifted his hands. "I'll wait
down here," he told her. "Don't try anything, okay,
ladies?"
Once he was down the hall, Mildred turned back to Laura. "No,
I came straight here from the airport. They've denied bail, Miss
Holt."
"They WHAT?" she said, causing others in the block to
turn and look in their direction. "Why? Didn't Mr. Steele-"
"Oh, Mr. Steele was too busy telling them that he as afraid
you might run," Mildred said, looking worriedly at Laura
as she did so.
"He said that I-. Mildred, what's going ON here?"
"I don't know, Miss Holt. But whatever it is, it's WEIRD!
I mean, look at this newspaper-" she said, holding up the
paper she'd gotten on the plane. "Have you EVER known our
Mr. Steele to say 'No Comment'?"
"No, Mildred. Never. Mr. Steele doesn't pass up the opportunity
to take the spotlight. Which can only mean one thing, Mildred."
"What's that, Miss Holt?"
"That he's not OUR Mr. Steele."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that - somehow, the impostor has taken Mr. Steele's
place. But when? He and I were together -" Laura's eyes widened.
"The fire."
Mildred frowned. "What fire, Miss Holt?"
"He stayed in the house, I went out to the limo to call-
the impostor MUST have traded places with him then. He was in
the house the entire time, just waiting for us to come in, so
he could set off that explosion," Laura said, thinking aloud.
"But the descriptions say that he has an Irish accent. The
Mr. Steele I saw come out of the basement sounding JUST like OUR
Mr. Steele."
"He doesn't. At least, I don't think he does," Mildred said. "I finally got a chance to talk to that minister who was in the accident. He's known this creep for years. Says that he and the boss look almost exactly alike- but that the creep doesn't have blue eyes- and he implied that the accent was a red herring. He also said this guy is crazy. A real nut case."
"Jarvis!" Laura yelled.
"Yes, Miss Holt?" he asked, returning.
"Did your men search Mr. Reed's house?"
"There wasn't much left of it," he reminded her. "They
say that the explosion was caused by a leaky valve on the hot
water heater in the bedroom end of the house. That's why only
the bedrooms were involved."
"Effectively destroying all the evidence that Mr. Steele
and I found," Laura pointed out. "But leaving the basement
door from the kitchen in the clear so that he could hide down
there-"
"So WHO could hide down there?" Jarvis asked, eyeing
her warily. "The only person down there was Mr. Steele -"
"I don't think he was ALONE down there," Laura insisted.
"I think the impostor was hiding down there. That he set
off the explosion and then waited to grab Mr. Steele -"
"But he couldn't have known that Mr. Steele would stay in
the house, Miss Holt," Mildred pointed out.
"He's studied Mr. Steele, Mildred. Staying inside that house
to prevent us from losing that evidence is EXACTLY something he
would do."
"Wait a minute," Jarvis said. "Are you trying to
say that Mr. Steele ISN'T Mr. Steele? That he's an impostor?"
"He HAS to be," Laura said. "Jimmy, the Remington
Steele I know would NEVER have said 'No comment' to a reporter.
And he would never have helped deny my bail. And we won't even
go into the lawyer bit."
"I will. OUR Mr. Steele would have had a lawyer here when
Miss Holt arrived at the jail," Mildred insisted.
"I'll have the basement searched," Jarvis said. "But
they won't find anything," he said. "Because I'm still
not buying this, Miss Holt. Even if there IS an impostor, it was
YOUR car that letter opener and the gloves were found in. You
have motive-"
"WHAT motive?" Laura demanded to know.
"Jealousy. It's one of the oldest ones in the book. Come
on, Mildred."
"MISS K-"
"I know. Miss Krebs. Let's go. Visiting time is over."
"Oh, Miss Holt-" Mildred said as Jarvis pulled her along.
"Be careful, Mildred. Don't let on that you know what's happened!"
Laura warned. The door clanged shut and Laura sat down on the
narrow cot. She had to find SOME way to make Jarvis believe her
and let her out of here to prove it. Before it was too late for
Mr. Steele. She hoped that it wasn't too late already.
**********
Mildred thought about going to the office, but instead had the
taxi take her to retrieve her car, then drove out to the house
on Laurel Canyon Drive. Jarvis had been right, she decided, there
wasn't much left- over half of the house was a pile of smoking
rubble. The other half was seriously damaged, the walls filled
with holes and cracks, but Mildred ignored all of that to make
her way to the metal door the led down to the basement. Opening
the door, she turned on the flashlight in her hand, shining it
down the metal steps into the darkness below. "Hello?"
she called out. "Anyone down there?" The only reply
was an echo of her own voice, and Mildred began to descend the
steps carefully, keeping one hand on the railing and the other
on the light. "Mr. Steele?" she called. "Are you
down here?" There was something at the bottom of the stairs,
and Mildred swallowed heavily as she realized that it was a shoe.
Reaching down, she touched it, terrified in case it was more than
just a shoe. It wasn't. But she examined the shoe carefully. The
size was right- and the leather was expensive. Definitely one
of Mr. Steele's she decided. She shone the light into the corners
of the small room, realizing that the basement was only under
the kitchen and living area of the house, not the bedrooms. It
was concrete reinforced, and had no doubt been designed originally
as a bomb shelter. She was about to give up when the light glinted
on something on the floor, right against the wall.
Mildred picked it up, and her heart nearly stopped as she recognized
one of the cufflinks she'd given Mr. Steele on his last birthday-
well, the birth date in his file, anyway. They were made in the
shape of a little magnifying glass, with a diamond as the lens.
He seldom wore them- but he'd had them on Monday - the last time
she'd seen him. He HAD to have been down here, Mildred realized.
But he wasn't here now. The impostor had moved him somewhere else
- or even- killed him.
That thought sent Mildred back upstairs, the shoe and cufflink
in hand, back to her car. She had to find out. And that was going
to mean confronting the bogus Mr. Steele.
To Be Continued ---