Remington came from the kitchen with a tray in time to hear Laura saying, "Thanks, Craig. I owe you one," into the phone. He saw the dimple appear on her cheek. "I don't think my husband would approve," she said, looking at Remington as he put the tray on the coffee table. "Thanks again." Hanging up, Laura took the cup of coffee that he held out toward her, and then looked behind her as Murphy came from the bedroom.
"How's she doing?" Laura asked, seeing Remington's blue gaze harden slightly. She had managed to avoid a private conversation about Murphy's sudden appearance during the trip from the office to the condo, but Laura knew that she couldn't put it off forever. Even when they had entered the apartment, Laura had suggested that Murphy help a still sobbing Bernice to the bedroom while she called in a favor from a friend with LAPD. That had left a very disconcerted Remington with nothing to do but play host- something that he was excellent at doing- Laura silently admitted as she watched him give Murphy the third cup on the tray.
"Thanks," Murphy said, sitting down on the sofa. "She's pretty out of it. Whatever that was Mildred gave her seemed to have done the trick."
"Poor Bernice," Laura said. "She was so happy. You should have seen her, Murph."
"Practically delirious," Remington agreed, leaning against the arm of the chair. "What did your friend have to say?"
"Which friend?" Murphy asked Laura.
"Craig Albie," she explained, then saw his brow furrow in thought. "I don't think you knew him. He joined the force after you left for Denver."
"Hmm," Remington mused. "Worked in the coroner's office for awhile. No doubt you and he would have a great deal in common, Murphy."
Murphy gave him a lopsided grin and lifted his cup. "To the good old days," he toasted.
Remington didn't really join the toast as he watched Laura touch her cup to Murphy's with a laugh. Instead, he sat down and asked, "The information?"
"Oh, yes," Laura said, and saw that Remington's blue gaze was fixed on the narrow space between her and Murphy's shoulders. Not really sure why, Laura picked up the note pad she'd been writing on and rose to her feet, pacing the room. "According to Craig's sources, Jarvis does consider Bernice the prime suspect."
"Do they have a time of death?"
"Nothing definite. But Johnny's brother told Jarvis that he was on the telephone with Johnny at two. According to him, Johnny and Bernice were arguing about something, and Johnny said he would call back as soon as Bernice left, which he said would be any minute."
"His brother have a name?" Murphy asked.
"Andrew Hopper," Remington supplied, and smiled at Laura's look of surprise. "Mildred and I weren't exactly idle while you were gone," he explained, and pulled the folded computer printout from inside his jacket to hand it to her.
"*The* Andrew Hopper?" Murphy questioned. "Of Hopper, Henderson and Harcourt?"
"The one and the same," Laura nodded, looking over the information on the print out. "You and Mildred did all of this?"
"I *can* do a little research on occasion, Laura," Remington pointed out, and Murphy grinned.
"Not just a front man anymore, hmm?"
Remington's blue eyes narrowed. "I haven't been 'just a front man' since you left, Murphy, have I, Laura?" he asked, picking up the note pad that Laura had put down to take the printout.
Laura looked from Remington to Murphy, and back again before turning her attention to the papers in her hand. "I think we have more pressing matters to attend to, don't you, gentlemen?"
Remington sat back as Murphy's grin widened, obviously taking Laura's refusal to answer as a negative. The grin faded as the blonde haired man's expression became more professional. "Did Bernice say when she'd left the hotel?"
"She told Jarvis that she'd been gone about an hour or a little longer."
"Who found the body?" Remington quizzed, determined not to be shut out the way he had been during that first year.
"A maid. Apparently Andrew Hopper tried to call Johnny, and when he didn't get an answer, became worried. He called the hotel and asked someone to check the room-"
"How did he die?" Murphy asked, beating Remington to the question.
"Gunshot to through the heart- the bullet lodged in the wall near a window."
"And the gun?" Remington asked.
Murphy spoke at the same time. "Did they find the gun?"
Laura sighed and looked toward the ceiling as she answered. "The only gun in the room was one that Johnny was carrying for protection. Bernice identified it, and told me on the way back to the office that she had taken it out of the suitcase and put it on the table beside Johnny. That he'd told her he would take care of it when he finished on the telephone."
"Does she know who he was calling?"
"No," Laura said in answer to Murphy's question. "She doesn't. She's pretty sure the first call he made was to his brother, because he became angry and hung up just before she left for the office to see me. But he was dialing another number as she left."
"And she has no idea what kind of trouble he might have been in?" Remington asked.
"None. Apparently Johnny was a very private man when it came to his family and his life back here in LA before he met and married Bernice."
Remington reached out to tap the printout. "That would tend to bear you out on that point. Very little about John Maxwell Hopper after his graduated from UCLA law school in the top ten percent of his class. Might as well as dropped of the face of the planet."
Laura nodded. "Bernice was about to explain that I think when we arrived at the penthouse and found Jarvis and the boys from homicide waiting."
"Sounds like a visit to Andrew Hopper might be in order, eh?" Remington suggested, thinking that it might also give him the opportunity to quiz Laura about her spotty memory when it came to impending visits by former associates. He rose to his feet, but Laura shook her head.
"Why don't you stay here and keep an eye on Bernice?" she said, standing up, taking charge as she was wont to do. "Murphy and I can handle Andrew Hopper."
"But-"
Murphy picked up his sport coat as he started toward the door. "Good idea, Laura," he agreed.
"We won't be long," Laura promised, and Remington took the opportunity of Laura passing him to grab her elbow so that she had to look at him.
Knowing that Murphy was watching, Remington lowered his head to give Laura a kiss befitting a husband saying goodbye to his wife. "I'll miss you."
Laura's cheeks reddened, but he wasn't sure whether it was with anger- or embarrassment as she turned to join Murphy. "Let's go, Murphy."
Remington gave Murphy a triumphant smile as the other man followed Laura from the apartment. Picking up the printout, he slapped it against his open palm, then picked up the telephone and dialed the number for the office. "Mildred?" he said, cutting her off halfway through "Remington Steele-". "Yes, she's fine. Sleeping, I think-. . . .No, Laura and Murphy went to talk to Andrew Hopper- . . . Listen, Mildred, I have a favor to ask . . . And I don't want you to mention anything to Laura- . . . No, Mildred. I just want you to run a check on Murphy Michaels . . . I know, I know," he said, trying to mollify the woman as she objected to the idea. "But I'm fighting a battle here, Mildred. And I need all the ammunition I can get." He smiled as her tone changed and she agreed. "Thanks. You're a doll." Hanging up, Remington froze upon hearing a noise from the bedroom. Sounded like- someone crying.
Cautiously, he made his way to the partially open bedroom door and peered inside. Bernice was laying on the bed, her back to him, but he could see her shoulders shaking as she sobbed quietly.
Moving to the side of the bed, he considered going back out and letting the woman have a good cry- she certainly deserved it, after all, her husband had been murdered and she was the main suspect in the crime. But before he could retreat, Bernice turned over and saw him standing there.
"I - heard you crying," Remington said haltingly. "I can go-"
"No," Bernice said quickly, as if the idea of being alone bothered her. She sniffed, wiping her damp cheek with the back of her hand. "You don't have to go."
Ever the gentleman, Remington pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her. "Here."
Bernice managed a tiny smile. "Thanks." She wiped her cheeks, then blew her nose into the linen square, making Remington wince. "Where's Laura and - did I see Murphy earlier? Everything's just- jumbled together."
"Laura and Murphy left on an errand. And it's understandable you'd be a bit dazed, after what's happened." Remington looked down at the carpet for a moment. "I'm sorry about your husband, Bernice."
"Thank you." Tears filled her eyes again, and Remington regretted having mentioned her loss. "I-I still can't believe he's gone. Johnny was- he was so full of life. That's why he dropped out and started playing the sax, you know? He said that spending his days in that law office, playing fat cat lawyer to huge corporations, would have killed him."
"He dropped out, then?"
She nodded, not noticing as Remington sat down on the edge of the bed. "Right after he finished law school. He was good playing the sax," she told Remington, sighing deeply. "I can still remember the first time I heard him play. Sent chills down my spine. You know how sometimes you just- *look* at someone and you know right away that they're the one?"
"Yes." Remington answered quietly. He knew that feeling very well. He'd had it when he'd first walked into the offices of Remington Steele and met a very capable young lady by the name of-
"Yes," Bernice was saying, looking at him fully now. "I guess you do. I could see right off the bat that you were taken with Laura- that's why I-" she stopped, looking a bit embarrassed.
"Why you what, Bernice?" Remington prodded gently.
"Why I never made another play for you after that first day- when you came to the office as Ben Pearson?"
"Ah, yes," Remington recalled with a fond smile. "The freshly brewed water."
"You know, I once told Laura to chuck it all and have a blazing affair with you. Said she needed to get her teeth rattled, I think," Bernice admitted with a grin as she recalled the conversation.
"You did? When was this?"
"Oh, right after you showed up and stepped into her life. We were working late one evening and I came into the office with our dinner to find her looking at a picture of you."
"Really? How interesting."
"And if you tell her that I told you that, I'll deny it," Bernice added, then smiled. "You know, I never really understood what her hang up was. I mean, she *said* it was because she wouldn't be able to control you at all if you and she-"
"Got our teeth rattled?" Remington finished.
"Yeah. But if *I* had been her- " Bernice gave a deep, regretful sigh. "The only reason I didn't keep up what I started that first day was that I saw the way Laura reacted to you," Bernice confided."
"Oh?"
"I'd known Laura for years, and I'd *never* seen her look at a man the way she looked when she talked about you. And after you became Remington Steele- I figured it would just be a matter of time before -"
"Before she was making a dentist's appointment?"
Bernice gave him a look. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Trying to make me forget about- what's happened," she explained.
Remington shook his head to dismiss her gratitude. "Don't mention it. You know, things would have been much simpler during that year if we'd just talked then."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Ms. Wolfe-Hooper," he said deliberately, "that the only reason I baited you was to keep you angry so that you *wouldn't* try to come between Laura and me."
"And here I thought it was because you had a lousy memory."
"Oh, my memory is quite all right, I assure you."
Bernice touched his hand. "Thank you anyway. You know, you're not half bad now. I'm glad you finally managed to get past Laura's defenses."
"It's a never ending battle, Bernice," Remington said with a long-suffering sigh. "But the rewards are worth it." He rose from the bed. "How does a glass of wine sound?"
"Wonderful. Drinking myself into oblivion is just what the doctor ordered."
"I wouldn't go that far," Remington cautioned. "But I could use some assistance in the kitchen preparing a repast for when Laura and Murphy decide to return." He hesitated. "You can cook, can't you?"
"Well enough," Bernice told him, watching his uncertain reaction. "Better than Laura, at any rate."
Remington extended an arm toward her. "Then the kitchen awaits, Madame."
Bernice took his arm. "Where did you say that Laura and Murphy went?"
***
Laura pressed the doorbell of Andrew Hopper's house in Brentwood and waited for someone to answer. She glanced up at the façade of the building with a sour expression. "The house that greed built," she muttered.
"What was that?" Murphy asked.
"Hopper, Henderson and Harcourt was the law firm for Wellington Industries," Laura recalled. "A group of students who were protesting one of Wellington's projects back when I was in college was gassed by Mr. Wellington. When some of them tried to sue, Hopper managed to 'convince' them to settle out of court for a lot less than they would have gotten otherwise."
Having heard about Laura's tangle with big business and protest in college, Murphy nodded knowingly. "He was just doing his job, Laura," he pointed out.
"Didn't have to do it so well," she mumbled, pressing the bell again with an angry gesture.
"Maybe he's at the police station," Murphy suggested. "Or the coroner's identifying the body."
"Bernice already did that," Laura said, shaking her head. "The gate was open. That means he's home." She lifted her hand toward the door to ring the doorbell again, only to freeze as the door opened and she was confronted by a tall, overweight man with dark hair that was visibly thinning on top.
"May I help you?" Andrew Hopper asked, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously as he looked from Laura to Murphy.
"Mr. Andrew Hopper?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
"My name is Laura Holt-Steele, and this is my associate, Murphy Michaels-"
"Steele?" Hopper questioned, looking at her closely. "As in Remington Steele, the detective?"
"Yes," Laura admitted. "You've heard of-"
"I'm aware that my late brother's murderer used to work for your husband," Hopper said. "If you've come to ask me to defend her, I'm sure that Bernice will tell you herself that you're wasting your breath- and my time." He started to close the door.
But Laura was too quick for him. "Mr. Hopper, we're here to ask you some questions about your brother's murder."
"Why are you so certain that Bernice killed him?" Murphy asked as Hopper's hand stayed on the door.
"They were arguing," Hopper explained.
"Bernice and Johnny?" Laura clarified.
"Yes. I heard them while I was on the telephone with John. He told me that he would call me right back after he got rid of her. I'm sure he came back to Los Angeles to get my help to end that mistake of a marriage. The woman just wouldn't let go of him. After he hung up, she must have taken his gun and shot him, then left to establish her alibi with you."
He was well informed, Laura thought. "Why did your brother decide not to work in your father's law firm?"
Andrew hesitated for a moment- such a brief moment that Murphy might have thought he imagined it, if it hadn't been for the glance that Laura sent his way. "John was burned out when he graduated. He was brilliant. Our father understood his decision, thought John would come back once he'd gotten the music out of his system. I think he was ready to do that when he met her."
"Bernice?" Laura questioned.
"Yes."
"She didn't kill him, Mr. Hopper," Laura declared.
"You'll have to prove that."
"Where were *you* when Johnny died, Mr. Hopper?"
Hopper looked at Laura, and smiled. "I was here. With witnesses, Mrs. Steele. As an attorney, I understand how important it is to be aware of where you are and who you're with at all times."
"I'm sure you do," Laura agreed snidely, and Murphy chose that moment to move between his ex-partner and the older man.
"Mr. Hopper, do you know if anyone else that might have wanted to see your brother dead?"
"No, Mr. Michaels. I do not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have funeral arrangements to complete."
"When is the funeral?" Laura asked. "Bernice would like to-"
"It will be a private service," Hopper informed them. "Immediate family only."
"Bernice was his wife, Mr. Hopper," Murphy reminded him.
"And quite possibly killed him," Hopper replied. "Good day, Mrs. Steele. Mr. Michaels." The door closed.
Laura picked up a potted plant, and eyed the closed door speculatively- until Murphy deftly lifted the pot from her hands, rescuing it- and them- from trouble. "Not a good idea, partner."
"You're right, Murphy," she agreed, but moved toward the plant to rip the heads from the bright yellow flowers that it contained. Those she threw harmlessly at the door before turning on her heel to return to the Rabbit.
"Feel better now?" Murphy asked upon getting into the passenger seat.
"Not as good as I'll feel when we prove that Bernice didn't kill Johnny and Andrew Hopper has to admit that he was wrong." She left rubber halfway down the drive, throwing Murphy back in the bucket seat.
"Uh, Laura, can we talk?" Murphy asked at length, once she seemed to have gotten her frustrations out by short stopping a few stop signs and peeling out when she was forced to stop for a red light.
"What about?"
"You didn't tell Steele that I was coming for a visit, did you?"
"I just- haven't had the opportunity," Laura told him without looking at him. "We've been busy, trying to catch up since we got back from Ireland. You wouldn't believe how much work piled up while we were gone. And the publicity from the sudden marriage and everything just increased the demand for the Agency's services-"
"Hey," Murphy said quietly, reaching over to touch her hand. Laura, having stopped the Rabbit at a light, glanced up at him. "This is me you're talking to, remember? Good old, dependable Murphy? The guy who saw you through that mess with Wilson? And the one who kept saying that you were making a mistake when you got the idea to invent Remington Steele?"
Laura grinned. "Still think I made a mistake?"
"Are we talking professionally or personally here?" he asked.
"Either."
"Are you happy, Laura?"
"Most of the time. It's complicated, Murphy."
"Why? You married the guy -"
"Sort of," she admitted, and Murphy frowned. "Look, we don't have time for this-"
Murphy reached over and turned off the key. "We'll make time. I want an explanation."
To Be Continued---