"Everything okay, Chief?" Mildred asked as she and Remington watched Detective Jarvis leave the office.
"For the moment, Mildred," Remington said in a grim tone. "He's convinced himself that Bernice killed Johnny and the only thing that's going to change is mind is for us to find the *real* killer."
Mildred jerked her head toward Remington's office door. "How's Bernice holding up?"
"She wanted a few minutes alone," Remington replied. "How's that search on Andrew Hopper's background going?"
"Slow," she answered, the picked up a folder from her desk. "Here's the report you asked for."
Remington took the folder without thinking and started to open it. "Report?"
"About Murphy?" she said.
He froze and dropped the file back onto the top of her desk. "Oh."
Mildred frowned. "Something wrong, Chief?"
"I- uh, promised Laura that I wouldn't look at it," he explained.
"But- I really think-"
"Thanks, Mildred, but- just get rid of it, okay? I don't care what you do with it-"
"You really should-" Mildred began, but the printer behind her began sputtering to life, and Mildred turned to her computer screen. "Hmm."
"What?" Remington asked, delighted that there was something to take his mind off of the report lying there between them. He moved to look at the screen over her shoulder.
"Bank records of Amos Hopper."
"Johnny's father."
"I set it to search for similar payments that seemed to be paid regularly," Mildred explained, turning to tear the paper from the printer as it fell silent. "Had it toss out the usual things, utilities and the like. This is what it came up with."
Remington was studying the printout when Laura and Murphy came through the doors. Murphy's face was glowing with enthusiasm. "I really enjoyed it," he was saying. "You and me, together again. Just like the old days."
Remington moved to lean against the edge of the desk, his arms folded across his chest. "I take it you were successful?" he asked Laura, ignoring the other man.
"You should have seen her," Murphy told Remington and Mildred. "She had that Hotel manager eating out of the palm of her hand."
"Laura tends to have that effect on people," Remington noted.
Sighing, Laura handed some notes to Mildred. "Here are the numbers that Johnny called from his hotel room. We also talked to some of the staff that was there at the time of the murder. None of them recalls seeing anyone matching Andrew Hopper's description in the hotel." She looked around the reception area, frowning. "Where's Bernice?"
Nodding toward his office, Remington answered. "In there, trying to recover from a visit by our favorite Homicide Detective."
"Jarvis was here?" Laura asked. "What did he say?"
"Oh, that a maid at the hotel claims to have seen Bernice- or someone who looked just like her- coming from the Penthouse thirty minutes after Bernice claims she left the hotel to come here."
"Damn," Murphy groaned.
"Oh, there's more," Remington continued. "The only fingerprints on the murder weapon - were Bernice's. He was -" Remington held up his right hand, index finger and thumb close together. "This close to arresting her. Unless we come up with something concrete soon . . ." he left the words to hang in the air, the sentence unfinished.
Murphy ran a hand through his hair. "Why don't you go in and see if you can't cheer her up, Murph?" Laura suggested.
"Yeah," Murphy agreed, and went into the other room.
"Got those numbers traced, Mrs. Steele," Mildred announced, printing out the report as she explained, "The first one was for Mr. Andrew Hopper. The second one belongs to a Homer Haywood in Park Hills." While Laura studied the printout, Mildred frowned. "That name's familiar. Where have I heard it?" Her eyes widened as memory returned. Turning back to the computer, she returned to the window with the bank records and started another search.
As Remington was about to show Laura the first printout, she picked up the unmarked folder on Mildred's desk. "What's this?" she asked.
"Uh, nothing," Remington said quickly, attempting to take the folder from her hands. "Mildred was about to toss it into the waste bin if I'm not mistaken."
But Laura was too quick and began to read the first page of the report. Glancing up, she said, "This is the report you asked her to do on Murphy."
"He really did tell me to get rid of it, Mrs. Steele," Mildred confirmed. "But I think you should take a look at it-"
"I'm not interested," Laura insisted, dropping the file into the trashcan beside Mildred's desk.
"But,-"
"End of conversation, Mildred. We'll discuss this after the current crisis is resolved. I want to talk to you about the ethics of running checks on - "
Mildred's computer beeped for attention, ending Laura's lecture. "Aha. I *knew* I'd seen that name here," she explained, and pointed to the screen. "Amos Hopper paid Homer Haywood fifty thousand dollars ten years ago."
Laura studied the monitor screen as Mildred started printing the information. "Does it say what the payment was for?"
"No."
"Ten years," Remington mused. "Wasn't that about the time that Johnny left his father's law firm and dropped out?"
Laura looked up at him. "Might be worth finding out," she agreed. "Mildred?"
Mildred pressed another button. "Yeah. Johnny Hopper's trail in LA stops cold ten years ago, right after he graduated from law school. Haywood was paid around that time."
"Find out if Homer Haywood has a current address in Park Hills, Mildred."
It didn't take Mildred long. "Bingo."
"I think we should pay the gentleman a visit," Laura told Remington.
He nodded toward the office. "Sure you wouldn't' rather take Murphy along? Re-live a few more- 'old times'?"
"I think you and I can handle this one."
"Should I tell them where you went if they ask?" Mildred questioned as she wrote down the address for Homer Haywood in Park Hills.
"Good idea. Bernice might recall hearing Johnny mention the name," Laura speculated. "We should be back in about an hour."
As soon as her employers disappeared, Mildred rescued the file folder containing her report about Murphy from the trashcan and slipped it under the blotter on her desk. Whether she realized it or not, Mrs. Steele would thank her for doing it.
***
Homer Haywood lived in a small house in an older neighborhood. An older model Buick was parked in the drive. Remington knocked once on the wood framed screen door, then looked at Laura as they waited for someone to respond.
The interior door opened, and a middle-aged man with white hair brushed to cover a bald spot stood there, squinting at them. "Can I help you?"
"Mr. Homer Haywood?" Laura asked him.
"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.
"Remington Steele and Laura Holt-Steele," Remington told the man. "We'd like to talk to you about Amos Hopper."
"Never met the man," Haywood snarled.
"He knew you," Laura pointed out. "Well enough to pay you fifty thousand dollars ten years ago."
Remington held the computer printout up to the screen for Haywood to look at.
Haywood's thin lips became even thinner as he pushed the door open for them. "Come in. No sense in the neighbors hearing this."
Once they were in the living room, Laura asked, "What was the money for, Mr. Haywood?"
"I was in- construction. Building a house for Hopper. Big place in Brentwood. There was an accident and I was -" he put a hand to his back, "- injured. Couldn't work anymore. Mr. Hopper felt responsible and gave me the money to take care of me. Guess he hoped I wouldn't sue him."
"Wise man," Remington noted as Laura picked up a framed photograph of a blonde haired young woman.
"Your daughter?" she asked Haywood.
Haywood practically grabbed the photo from her hands and used a handkerchief to clean any smudges from the silver frame. "Yeah. She's - back east. Going to school. What's this about?" he asked them. "Why the interest in a check old man Hopper gave me ten years ago?"
"One of his sons was murdered yesterday," Laura told Haywood.
"Yeah. I heard about that on the news. Police think his wife shot him."
"We don't think she did," Remington told the man.
Haywood's eyes narrowed. "That's right. News said that his wife used to work for Remington Steele."
"Did you know Andrew or Johnny Hopper, Mr. Haywood?" Remington asked.
"Never met either one of them." He carefully returned the photograph of his daughter to the table. "I didn't kill him. I was here. My neighbors can verify that my car was in the drive all day." He turned toward the door. "If that's all-"
As they went out of the door, Remington asked, "What's her name?"
"Lindsay," Haywood answered, obviously caught off guard by the question.
"She's very lovely."
"Good-bye, Mr. Steele. Mrs. Steele." He closed the door firmly behind them, but Laura could feel him standing there, watching them through the curtain over the diamond shaped window.
"Good job," Laura murmured as they got into the limo. "Getting the daughter's name."
"I just have a feeling that she's somehow involved in all of this. Not so much what he said, but what he *didn't* say."
"The office, Fred," Laura told the chauffer. "I got the same feeling. But I also got a feeling of- sadness. Did you notice all of the photos of the girl? Everywhere you looked. It felt like- "
"Like a shrine?" Remington suggested, finishing her thought.
"Exactly. We'll have Mildred run a check on Lindsay Haywood when we get back to the office. And I didn't buy his reason for Amos Hopper giving him that fifty thousand."
"Didn't sound much in character for someone with Hopper's reputation," Remington agreed. He reached over and took her hand in his. "This is nice, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Working together. The way we've learned over the years to finish each other's thoughts, to pick up on the same things when talking to people. I want to apologize for being so jealous of Murphy, Laura. I-"
Her fingers over his lips stopped him from continuing. "This isn't the time," she told him. "But I'm sorry I didn't tell you that Murphy was coming for a visit. I'm not really sure why I didn't."
He smiled, touching his lips to her fingertips. "It seems we still have some communication issues to deal with," he noted.
"One step at a time, Mr. Steele," she replied with an answering smile. "One step at a time."
****
"Well?" Murphy asked as they entered the office. Bernice was sitting on the edge of Mildred's desk, and Mildred was bent over her computer screen, working. "Did you find out anything?"
"Homer Haywood claims that Amos Hopper gave him the money as payment for a construction accident during the building of the elder Hopper's house in Brentwood," Laura explained.
"Not likely," Mildred said, drawing their attention.
"What have you got, Mildred?" Remington asked.
"I dug a little deeper into Homer Haywood's background," the older woman announced. "He wasn't in construction. He was an electrician. Retired ten years ago. No mention of an injury."
"What about family?" Laura asked.
"His wife died twenty years ago. One daughter, Lindsay."
"Anything about her?"
"I'll check," Mildred told them, turning back to her computer.
"Does the name Homer or Lindsay Haywood mean anything to you, Bernice?" Laura asked.
Bernice shook her head negatively. "No. I've never heard of either one."
"I think we need to check some of these other payments that Mildred found as well," Remington decided, showing Laura the list.
"There's one here to a Sunny Acres Rest Home," Laura noted. "The payments began ten years ago as well. Every month since, there's been a check sent to the Home."
"We could go over there," Murphy suggested eagerly.
"Murphy," Bernice said. "I thought you were going with me to get my things from the hotel." She looked at Laura. "Lt. Jarvis told us earlier that they've cleared the room- but I can't go back there alone-"
"I thought you said that Steele had offered-?" Murphy began, obviously thrown by Bernice's request.
"If Bernice would prefer your company, Murphy," Remington said quickly, "I'll gladly step aside- besides which, Laura and I have to pay a visit to "Sunny Acres."
"Take the limo," Laura told Murphy and Bernice. "We'll take the Rabbit."
"What about the manager?" Murphy asked. "He'll recognize me-"
"Nonsense, Murphy," Remington insisted. "You've just got 'that kind of face', remember?"
"Right," Murphy said in a dark tone.
"I'm sure you'll thing of something, Murphy," Laura said gently.
"Thank you, Laura," Bernice said.
"Oh, no," Remington responded before Laura could do so. "Thank *you*, Bernice."
"Anytime," Bernice said as she and a still reluctant Murphy left the office.
Laura turned to look at her husband. "What was that all about?"
"I think Bernice decided to keep Murphy occupied."
"I got the information on Haywood's daughter," Mildred announced.
Laura sent Remington a look that promised the discussion was far from over, and then turned to Mildred. "And?"
"Lindsay Haywood was a classmate of Johnny Hopper at UCLA. They were both studying law."
"Where is she now?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. She dropped out of sight ten years ago. Just after graduation. The trail goes ice cold."
"Her father said that she was back East going to school," Laura commented. "Keep digging, Mildred. I can't believe she just vanished. We'll be at Sunny Acres Rest Home."
"Johnny's funeral is at one," she reminded them.
"We'll be back in plenty of time," Remington promised. "I gave Bernice my word that we'd be with her for moral support," he told Laura as they left the office again.
***
"You're lucky that Jarvis wanted one of his men to let you in here," Murphy told Bernice as the uniformed LAPD officer let them into the penthouse suite.
Once the door opened, Bernice held back, uncertain. "I don't know if I can-"
Murphy peered into the room. "I think it's clear." He caught sight of a dark stain on the carpet, and made sure to steer Bernice away from it and toward the bedroom doorway.
Bernice opened the closet door and gasped. "What's wrong?" Murphy questioned, looking around from the bed, where he'd placed the suitcase that Bernice had pointed out to him.
"Johnny's things aren't here." She went to the dresser, pulling open a drawer, only to find it empty as well. "Damn Andrew Hopper!" she ranted, and Murphy winced.
"Bernice," he said, aware of the policeman who no doubt had orders to report everything he heard back to his boss. "let's just get your things and get out of here, okay?"
But Bernice dropped onto the edge of the bed, tears filling her dark eyes. "I miss him, Murphy. I don't know what I'm going to do now."
Murphy sat beside her, pulling her into his arms, letting her head rest against his shoulder. "You'll do what all of us do, Bernice. You'll go on. Because it's what he would have wanted. Hey," he said, lifting her face to look at it. "You're one strong lady."
"I don't feel very strong at the moment," Bernice said through her tears. "Right now, I just want to curl up into a ball and hide."
"And let Andrew Hopper win?" Murphy asked. "Is this the same girl I used to believe was the original Ice Princess?" he teased gently.
"Only because I wouldn't give *you* the time of day," Bernice responded.
Long ago, when Murphy had been interning at Havenhurst, and Bernice had been just another secretary in the steno pool there, he had developed a mad crush on the tall brunette. But she had refused every advance he'd made, leading Murphy to decide that she had a heart that was surely encased in ice.
"I was wrong," he told her. "You're one of the best people I've ever known, Bernice. Don't let this get you down." He reached behind her for a tissue from the nightstand and held it out. "Now let's get your things together and get out of here, okay?"
Bernice dabbed at her eyes, blew her nose and nodded. "Okay."
***
"I'm sorry, but that's privileged information," the clerk told Laura.
"I just want to know why Amos Hopper and his heirs have been sending checks to this institution for the past ten years," Laura insisted.
"Look, Miss-"
"Holt," Laura answered, then saw the look Remington gave her. "Holt-Steele. *Mrs.* Holt-Steele," she corrected.
Remington decided that it was time that he tried his patented charm on the young woman. Giving her his best smile, he said, "Please forgive my associate, Miss-" he deftly glanced at the woman's nametag. "Paula. What a lovely name. Paula. Flows off the tongue so-"
"And who are *you*?" Paula asked, her voice slipping toward the enthralled side of the spectrum.
Remington turned the smile up a notch as he extended his hand across the counter. "Everett Howard Montague," he explained. "Accountant. My firm has just undertaken the formidable task of untangling the estate of the late Mr. Amos Hopper."
"But- he died five years ago, didn't he?" Paula questioned.
"Yes, he did. My firm's intervention was unneeded until Mr. John Hopper's unfortunate passing yesterday afternoon. That's when Mr. Andrew Hopper asked us to begin our work. There are a few items in Mr. Amos Hopper's ledgers don't have an entry. Now, I'm certain that we could have our employer go through proper channels and request the information in writing, but the poor man's simply devastated by his brother's death. I would be- ever so grateful if you could see your way clear to, um, give us a peek at the file?" he suggested, moving subtly closer the petite redhead.
"How- grateful?" she asked breathlessly.
"Oh, dinner, in the appropriate setting. Champagne, caviar. Perhaps a drive up the coast to a secluded stretch of beach-" the woman was definitely on the hook, Laura decided, lifting her eyes toward the ceiling. All he had to do now was reel her in. And he was a master when it came to that, she had to admit.
Paula pressed a hidden buzzer and lifted the gate in the desk for them. "This way."
She turned, and with a distinct sway of her hips, - for Remington's sake, Laura was certain - lead them into a room filled with filing cabinets. Paula went to the computer sitting on a desk and typed in a few commands. "That was Hopper, right?"
"Amos Hopper," Remington nodded, his attention still focused wholly on the woman. He glanced up at Laura while Paula was occupied with the computer and gave her a conspiratorial wink, to which Laura replied with a grimace. "Here we go," Paula said. "Mr. Hopper was paying for us to take care of Miss Lindsay Haywood."
To Be Continued---