Remington lay on the sofa, his left arm behind his dark head as he listened to Murphy snoring softly across the room. The other man had placed a couple of blankets on the soft, thick carpeting and had gone to sleep quickly. But at one a.m. Remington was still wide-awake. He missed having Laura beside him. Their bed was one of the few places where they were able to put everything else aside and be themselves. At least, that's what he'd been telling himself since they had finally crossed that final line back at Ashford.
The earlier conversation with Laura played itself out in Remington's mind once again. Somehow, he had forgotten to ask the question as to why she hadn't told him about Murphy's impending visit. Again, Remington wondered just how long the other man was going to be in Los Angeles. That thought brought another, and he frowned slightly as he turned his head to look at Murphy's back.
No one, not even Murphy Michaels traveled without at least a small case with a change of clothes. But Remington couldn't recall any case- and he'd told Laura that he had come directly to the office from the airport. Something didn't ring quite true in his story, Remington decided, recalling Murphy saying that he hadn't checked into a motel yet.
Murphy's sport coat was laying over the back of a chair, and Remington silently tossed the covers back and slipped off of the sofa, moving with all the stealth of his former profession to retrieve the off-the rack coat. Murphy's snore grew louder as he turned over, and Remington froze in place, trying to come up with an excuse in case the other man woke.
But the snoring returned to its former level, and Remington lifted the jacket, feeling for something in the pockets. When he felt something, he put a hand into the pocket and withdrew the plastic tag with a key attached. The tag was clearly marked "Cactus Blossom Motel Room 10".
Blue eyes narrowed as they moved from the key in Remington's hand to the man sleeping on the floor. So he hadn't checked into a motel, eh? Smiling tightly, Remington slipped the key into the pocket of his slacks and returned the jacket precisely where Murphy had placed it before returning to his own makeshift, lonely bed.
It was still a long time before he fell asleep.
***
Bernice sighed as the bed moved again and she heard Laura punch her pillows. "Laura," she whispered. "Are you going to be still or not?"
"Sorry," Laura apologized, turning onto her back to stare at the ceiling. "I guess I've gotten used to-"
"Yeah. I know. I think this is the first time that I've slept alone since I met Johnny," Bernice told her quietly in a voice that contained both sadness and happy memories.
"I'm sorry," Laura said. "I'm so busy feeling sorry for myself that I forgot that this must be even more difficult for you, Bernice."
"Don't apologize, Laura," Bernice said. "I have a lot of wonderful memories. Memories I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. I'm just glad you and Remington finally-"
"Loosened some teeth?" Laura asked, and turned to look at her friend with a smile.
Bernice groaned quietly. "I was really hoping he wouldn't tell you - Are you angry?"
"I was," Laura admitted. "But it doesn't really matter, does it? Besides," she admitted with a grin. "The teeth are defiantly loose these days."
"Good for you. Uh, Murphy told me about the- "marriage"," Bernice said, making air quote marks with her fingers. "Is it true?"
It was Laura's turn to sigh now as she put an arm under her head. "Yes. It's just a scam to fool Immigration so they won't deport him."
"And you're worried about what happens once they accept it."
"Two years," Laura said.
"Come again?"
"Two years. That's how long we have to pretend to be married for them to accept it."
"Ah. Well, that's a lot of dental appointments, isn't it?"
"I guess so," Laura's tone was defiantly uncertain.
Bernice looked at her. "Why do I hear that old Laura? The one who's not sure about something?"
"Because she's still here, Bernice. What happens at the end of those two years? What if he decides he doesn't want to play Remington Steele anymore?"
"Then he wouldn't still be here now," Bernice pointed out.
"You really think so?"
"Look Laura, you were afraid to let him close to you five years ago because you thought he'd take off the morning after, right?" Laura didn't answer. "Well, you and he have been close for what- two months?" Laura nodded sharply. "He's still here. Think about it." Bernice took a deep breath when Laura remained silent. "Good night."
Laura turned over on her side to stare at her darkened reflection in the mirrored closet doors. She hoped Bernice was right. She wanted to believe that Bernice was right.
Why couldn't she make *herself* believe it?
***
Remington finally gave up trying to sleep around six and tiptoed through the bedroom past Laura and Bernice to gather a few clothes before going into the bathroom. Not wanting to risk waking them with the shower, he washed up and changed, using a razor to shave instead of the electric model that Laura had gotten for him.
Then he went back out to the other room, folded his blankets and was heading toward to the kitchen when he heard the shower running. Peeking into the bedroom, he made out Bernice's dark head still resting on the white sheets. Laura would be wanting her morning cup of coffee when she came out, so he went into the kitchen to put some on.
****
Murphy woke the next morning and blinked, trying to get his bearings. The plush carpet beneath him, the art deco feel of the room- he sighed, memory returning quickly. The condo. His blue eyes darted toward the sofa, and was surprised to find that Mr. "I don't get up before ten" wasn't there. In fact, the blankets that Steele had used were neatly folded and laying on the back of the sofa, waiting to be returned to their place.
Sitting up, Murphy ran a hand through his blonde hair, trying to straighten it, and wondered if he could sneak past Laura and Bernice into the bathroom. He smiled as the bedroom door opened and Laura came out. "Morning," he said.
"Good morning, Murphy," she replied, and he thought he saw her smile upon seeing him.
He stood up and took a step closer, only to stop as Remington appeared from the kitchen with three cups on a tray. "Coffee, anyone?" Remington asked.
"Thank you," Laura said gratefully, grabbing a cup and taking a drink. She sighed deeply.
"Better?" Remington asked, and gave her an indulgent smile as she nodded. Looking over Laura's head, he explained to Murphy, "She's impossible before she'd had that first cup in the morning. I usually bring it to her in bed, but-"
"Laura, could I borrow the bathroom to freshen up?" Murphy asked, cutting Remington's crowing off in midstream.
"Hmm," Laura said, nodding, the cup to her lips again. "Bernice is in there. She went in while I was getting dressed after my shower. She should be right out. Without a change of clothes-"
"I *am* out," Bernice announced, appearing in the doorway, somehow managing to look very little the worse for wear after the harrowing events of the previous day. Murphy was about to ask her how she was doing when Remington beat him to it.
"Better today, Bernice?" he asked, placing the tray on the coffee table.
"One day at time," Bernice answered.
"Excuse me," Murphy said, slipping into the bedroom past Bernice.
"There's some coffee," Remington offered. "And I have some tea as well-"
Bernice laughed softly. "I'll bet you even brewed fresh water."
"Just for you," Remington said. He saw the look on Laura's face. "Tea or coffee?"
"Coffee, I think. I wouldn't want you to go to any bother," Bernice told him, picking up one of the cups.
"Oh, it wouldn't be. I made myself a cup of tea earlier." The three of them sipped their coffee in comfortable silence until Remington asked, "Anyone want breakfast?" as Murphy returned from freshening up to take the third cup from the tray. "I'm sure I could throw something together."
"Breakfast can wait," Laura announced, taking charge now that she'd had her cup of caffeine. "We need to get started on finding out who killed Johnny."
"Preferably *before* the police decide that it's time to toss me in jail," Bernice pointed out.
"That won't happen, Bernice. All they have right now is circumstantial evidence. If we can find someone at the hotel that *saw* you leave before Johnny was killed, you'll be in the clear."
"And if you can't?" Bernice asked.
"We will." Laura moved toward the credenza where she usually left her purse. It wasn't there, and she recalled having taken it into the bedroom last night. "Ready to go, Murphy?" she asked.
"Yeah," Murphy replied.
"Let me get my purse and a jacket," Laura said.
Bernice picked up the tray with the now empty cups. "I'll take these into the kitchen."
Remington watched Murphy pick up the sports coat and put it on, then place a hand in the pocket. Seeing the other man frown, Remington asked, "Loose something, Murphy?"
Murphy looked around the chair that the coat had been laying on, searching the cushions when he saw nothing on the floor. "Uh, no."
"Are you certain?" Remington questioned, and pulled his own hand out of his pants pocket to hold up the motel key. "This, perhaps?"
Blue eyes locked with blue eyes as Murphy went still. "You went through my coat pockets," he accused in a quiet voice.
Remington was unrepentant. "I was curious as to why you didn't have a suitcase with you when you arrived at the office directly from the airport yesterday."
Murphy held out his hand, but Remington shook his head, closing his fingers around the plastic disk and the key. "I think I'll retain this for a bit longer."
"Look, Steele-" Murphy began, only to stop as Laura returned and looked from one man to the other.
"Is something wrong?"
"No," Murphy said quickly.
"Not at all," Remington said, smoothly returning the key to his pocket. "Just getting a few things straight with my old mate here. Isn't that right, Murphy?"
"Right," Murphy ground out, clearly unhappy at the turn of events.
"Oh, please," Laura sighed. "Can the competition, okay?"
"For you, anything, Mrs. Steele," Remington said, taking her arm to pull her close for a good-bye kiss.
Laura returned the kiss, and then moved toward the door. She paused after opening it to look back to where Murphy was still standing, his blue eyes on Remington. "You coming, Murph?"
"Yeah," Murphy answered, his look assuring Remington that the battle was far from over.
"I'll be at the office if you need me," Remington told Laura. The door closed, and Remington took the key from his pocket to look at it.
"What's that?" Bernice asked.
"Oh, nothing," Remington assured her, putting back into his pocket. "Just the key to my security. Shall we go?"
***
Mildred was just sitting down at her desk when the doors opened to admit Remington and Bernice. "Good morning, Chief. Mrs. Hopper."
"I thought we agreed you would call me Bernice, Mildred?" the brunette asked.
"How are you this morning?"
"Ready to find out who killed my husband," Bernice said.
"Speaking of which, Mildred," Remington began, "any success on that chore Laura gave you last night?"
"Oh, yeah," Mildred said, picking up a paper and handing it to him. "Sorry I didn't call back last night, but all my sources were already gone. I wasn't able to get anything concrete until this morning. The funeral's scheduled for one this afternoon at Jennings Funeral Parlor."
"Wonderful, Mildred. Anything more on Andrew Hopper?"
"Not much more than we got yesterday, Chief," Mildred told him, giving him an apologetic look.
"Keep digging. I want to know where he was yesterday. From the time he woke up until he went to bed last night."
"Okay, Chief," Mildred said, then frowned as she looked past him toward the glass doors. "Uh-oh. Trouble at twelve o'clock."
"Great," Bernice muttered, her gaze following Mildred's.
Remington turned as LAPD Homicide Detective James Jarvis pushed the door open and came into the office. "Ah, Lt. Jarvis. What a surprise," he said, giving the policeman his warmest smile. "To what do we owe the pleasure? Los Angeles finest stumped on an important case and need the assistance of Remington Steele, perhaps?"
"Not quite, Steele," Jarvis replied, nodding at Mildred before he looked at Bernice. "Mrs. Hopper, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you about your husband's murder."
"I wasn't there, Lieutenant," Bernice stated. "I can't tell you anything."
"And you can't question her without an attorney," Mildred reminded Jarvis. "Or weren't you going to tell her about that?"
"I didn't have the chance, Mildred," Jarvis replied.
"Miss Krebs," Mildred said.
"It's okay, Mildred," Bernice told the older woman. "I don't have anything to hide. I'll answer whatever questions you have, Lt. Jarvis."
"Why don't we move into my office?" Remington suggested. "Far more comfortable for an inquisition, don't you think?"
Bernice gave him a grateful smile as he ushered she and Jarvis toward the door and opened it for them.
"Keep searching, Mildred," Remington said as he moved back to the desk. "And do a more thorough check on Johnny's background as well."
"I'm not sure why you're here, Steele," Jarvis began the moment that Remington entered the office. "You're not involved in this-"
"Ah, but Bernice is a former employee, and a friend. She's retained the agency to find out who killed her husband. Part of the agency's service is offering moral support to our clients." He moved to lean against the front of his desk, arms folded across his chest. "I won't say a word. You won't even know I'm here. Please. Ask your questions."
Jarvis took a deep breath and turned to look at Bernice, who was sitting in the chair. "Yes. Well, Mrs. Hopper, where were you and your husband living?"
"New Orleans," Bernice answered. "Johnny played the sax in a little club there."
"And why did you come to Los Angeles?"
"Johnny was in some kind of trouble," Bernice answered truthfully. "I didn't know what kind of trouble. But he'd been getting threatening letters and telephone calls for the last six weeks."
"Letters?" Jarvis asked. "Do you have any of them?"
"No. Johnny burned them as soon as he read them. And he always made sure he got the mail before I did. He- he didn't want me involved, so he said."
"Did he think the resolution to his problem might be here in Los Angeles?"
"I don't know. I thought at first that maybe he was going to ask his brother Andrew for help, but then he asked me about Laura and Remington- if they might be able to help and be discreet about it."
Jarvis nodded thoughtfully. "You and Johnny Hopper were married for almost- four years?"
"That's right."
"How did you meet?"
"He was playing at a club that I went to a lot back when I was working here. We started talking and one thing led to another-"
"Must have been pretty heady for a nine to five receptionist, marrying into that kind of money," Jarvis noted.
Remington lowered his hands to grip the edge of the desk tightly, preparing to come to Bernice's defense, but she shook her head. "I didn't know that he was John Maxwell Hopper until we'd been married six months, Lieutenant," she said. "And I wouldn't have found out then if his brother Andrew hadn't come to New Orleans to get him to sign some papers for their father."
"You knew Andrew Hopper, though, didn't you?"
"Yes. We dated for about three weeks a lifetime ago. Neither of us wanted anything serious. It was just two people having a good time."
"Did your husband know about this previous relationship before your marriage?"
"No. How could he? *I* didn't even know they were brothers. The Johnny Hopper I knew wasn't a lawyer, Lt. Jarvis. He was a saxophonist. A musician, dedicated to his art."
"Did you tell him about it after you discovered that he and Andrew were brothers?"
"Yes."
"Immediately?"
Bernice hesitated. "No. I didn't really have a chance. Andrew threatened to tell Johnny about it if I didn't leave Johnny. So I told Johnny everything- and you know what? He didn't care. In fact, I think he got a kick out of the fact that he'd had enough sense to hang onto me and Andrew hadn't been able to see what was right in front of him because he was so afraid of trusting anyone."
"You never contacted Andrew Hopper and told him that you'd leave his brother if he would pay you ten thousand dollars?" Jarvis asked.
"That lying sack of -" Bernice ground out, rising from her chair. "No, I did not. Look, Lt. Jarvis, I loved Johnny." Her voice caught, and Remington was there immediately, offering her his handkerchief. "Thank you."
Remington placed a comforting hand on Bernice's shoulder as he stood behind the tearful woman. "Lt. Jarvis, do you have a point to this?"
"Did you and your husband argue yesterday, Mrs. Hopper?" Jarvis asked, ignoring Remington's question.
"No. I know that Andrew claims that we did, but-" Bernice stopped as Remington squeezed her shoulder in warning.
"Don't worry, Steele," Jarvis said. "Mr. Hopper called me as soon as your wife and her friend left his house. He wants me to keep your agency and Mrs. Hopper away from him."
"I didn't kill Johnny, Lt. Jarvis," Bernice insisted.
"Mrs. Hopper," Jarvis responded, taking a deep breath, "your fingerprints were on the murder weapon."
*****
Laura gave Murphy another curious look as they entered the lobby of the hotel. He'd been strangely silent and uncommunicative during the drive over. She had a feeling that something had happened between Murphy and Remington during those few minutes that she'd been in the bedroom retrieving her purse.
"So," she said at last, "how do you think we should do this?"
"Um?" Murphy questioned, then noticed her wave toward the front desk. "Oh. Good cop, bad cop?" he suggested.
"Which do you want to play?" Laura asked.
"I'd never deny you the chance to cut loose, Laura," Murphy replied, smiling at last.
She smiled. "Let's go, then, partner."
To Be Continued---