A Steele To Remember
Laura's Story
Part 3
It was dark when Laura and Mildred left Stanley Grayson's house. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Grayson," she said, her voice carrying in the still air. "I don't think we'll have to bother you again. Let's go, Mildred." She and Mildred turned toward the Rabbit. At the car, she said, "Don't worry. I'm sure it was just an honest mistake on the part of our client. We'll work it out," she told him, her hand reaching for the door handle as a shot rang out.

Laura and Mildred both fell to the pavement, waiting for a few moments to see if there would be any more shots before Laura rose slowly to her knees. "Mr. Grayson?" she called, noticing the dark, still figure lying on the grass near the small porch. Rising, she ran over to him, Mildred right behind her.

"I'll go back inside and call an ambulance," the woman offered as Laura knelt to feel for a pulse.

"Make it the coroner's office, Mildred. He's dead." Mildred disappeared for a moment, and Laura heard her inside the house, talking. When she returned, Laura rose. "You say here and wait. I have something to take care of."

Mildred's eyes widened in fear and worry. "Miss Holt?" she called as Laura got into the car and started the engine before putting it into reverse.

= < @ > =



She was waiting near the doors of the Hilton when Larry Davis came out of the building, carrying his suitcase- and a briefcase that wasn't the one she'd seen earlier in his room. "Hello, Mr. Davis," she said as he opened the door of a waiting taxi." He turned, smiling at her. "Going somewhere?"

He smiled. "Miss Holt. As a matter of fact, I left a message with your service a few minutes ago. It seems my employers have decided that Grayson's not the right man for the job after all. So I'm going home. I need to talk to my wife, tell her what happened. I don't want to lie to her."

"How thoughtful of you," Laura commented dryly. "And are you also going to tell her what you REALLY do for a living?" she asked, her dark eyes meeting his without flinching.

Davis frowned. "I'm not sure I know what you mean, Miss Holt. Is something wrong?"

"I don't like being used, Mr. Davis- or whatever your name is. Especially not to find a poor little computer expert who's never seriously heart a soul just so you can shoot him."

"Shoot who? Oh, my. You don't mean- Stanley Grayson? Someone shot him? It must have something to do with that young woman, don't you agree? Is he all right?"

"He'd dead, Mr. Davis. You're very good at what you do." She continued to meet his gaze. "I think we need to talk."

Davis' eyes narrowed, then he said, "Not here."

"What about my office?" Laura suggested.

"Hey, Mister, do you need a cab or not?" the driver demanded to know. "I got other people-."

Davis stepped back, ushering Laura into the vehicle ahead of him, then followed her, giving the driver the address for Remington Steele Investigations.



Laura unlocked the front doors to the office, leading him directly to Mr. Steele's office. Once the door was closed, she didn't waste any time.

"I know you killed Stanley Grayson, Davis. And very likely Rachel as well. What happened? Did she ask for more money? Try to shake you down?"

"She got greedy," Davis admitted. "A mistake that I wouldn't recommend that you repeat."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the police and turn you in," Laura asked.

"I could give you several," he said. "Including the fact that your death could be blamed on any number of former cases."

"I don't think so. I dictated a tape on the way back to town. I mailed it to a friend from the hotel. If anything happens to me, he has instructions to take it to the police."

"Then suppose you give me the number of reasons that you'd accept not to turn me in."

"I'm not greedy. I just need some help to get my own agency started. I'm tired of always being in Steele's shadow. I'm a better detective than he'll ever be- but I need money to set myself up."

"How much?"

"Fifty thousand. In cash."

"And what guarantee do I have that you won't come back later for more? Or turn me in anyway?"

Laura shrugged. "There aren't a lot of guarantees in life, Davis. Why did you kill Stanley Grayson? What did he ever do to you?"

"To me? Nothing. He was just a job. Just one more in a long line. Just like you will be," he said, grabbing her without warning and turning her back toward him, his left arm around her arms and waist, his right hand around her neck. "It's a pity, Miss Holt. Wish we had time to get to know each other better." He sighed as his fingers began to tighten. "But I can't risk your double crossing me."

The tape," she croaked.

"By the time they find your body, I'll be long gone."

Laura managed to free an arm, swinging it to knock the lamp from Mr. Steele's desk with a crash. Davis' fingers tightened, then stilled as the door leading to Laura's office burst open and Fiske led several other agents into the room.

"Let her go, Devon."

Devon's hold on Laura tightened. "I can break her neck before you kill me," he said.

Laura met Agent Fiske's eyes as he spoke. "You don't want to do that, Devon."

Laura felt Devon's hand move from her waist, but she was still held immobile by his hand at her throat. She took a chance, bringing her foot down hard on his. He released her and she rolled behind the desk as he pulled a gun from his coat pocket. Taking aim at Fiske, he ignored Fiske's order to drop the weapon, firing one shot in the direction of the FBI agent before the others opened fire.

Devon fell to the floor, unmoving.

Fiske came over to extend a hand to help Laura to her feet. "Are you okay, Miss Holt?"

She nodded, then frowned at the darkening stain on his left arm. "You've been shot."

"Flesh wound," he assured her with a grin. "I've had worse," he was saying as Mildred came into the office, leading the police past the FBI agents. She hurried up to Laura.

"Oh, Miss Holt. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mildred." Laura looked at Fiske. "What happens to Stanley now?"

"He's already been moved- given another identity. Just remember how you agreed to write this up in your report."

She shook her head. "I don't like the idea of falsifying records that could cost me my license," she told him.

"What falsification?" he asked. "You're just not going to mention the fact that you found Stanley Grayson, that's all. You discovered that Davis killed a local working girl when SHE discovered that he was really a hit man for the mob. You contacted us, agreed to confront Davis. End of story."

"Not quite," another voice said, and Laura and Mildred both winced as they saw the short, rumpled looking man with curling brown hair enter the office. "I've got a dead body here, and Feds all over the place." He nodded in the direction of the women. "Miss Holt. Mildred."

"Detective Jarvis. What are you doing here?" Laura asked.

"I was in the neighborhood and heard the call about a shooting at this address." He looked around, as if searching for someone in particular. "Where's Mr. Steele?"

Laura exchanged a glance with Mildred before answering. "He's out of town. Personal business. Do you know Agent Fiske, Lieutenant?" she asked, to get his attention away from more questions about Mr. Steele's whereabouts.

"We've met," Jarvis confirmed, frowning at the government agent. "Someone want to explain what's going on?"

"Gladly, Lt. Jarvis," Fiske said, putting an arm around the smaller man's shoulders to lead him back out of Steele's office.

"Why don't we go into my office?" Laura suggested to Mildred as the coroner's men entered the room.

"That's a good idea, Miss Holt," Mildred agreed, opening the door. "We need to talk." Once they were in the other room, Mildred said, "You took a hell of a chance, Miss Holt. He could have killed you."

"I only did what I had to do, Mildred," Laura insisted. "It was my a fault all this happened. I was so eager to prove to myself that I could handle this case without Mr. Steele that I didn't stop, didn't thing thinks out as well as I should."

"If Mr. Steele had been here," Mildred began, but Laura turned on her.

"But he's NOT here. And even if he was, this is still MY agency, and it was MY decision. Besides," she added quietly. "He won't ever know about it."

"They DO have newspapers in- wherever he is," Mildred reminded her.

"Newspapers? What makes you think this will be in the papers? I'm sure that Agent Fiske will want it kept as quiet as possible." She paused as there was a knock on the door, and Fiske's head appeared. "Miss Holt. Excuse me, but there's a reporter out here who wants to interview you about how you helped capture Devon."

Laura ignored Mildred's `I told you so' look. "But- I didn't do anything."

"Nonsense," he insisted, coming further into the room to take her arm. "You know, you really need to blow your own horn a little more often. Com'on, Miss Krebs. You, too."

Laura tried her best to downplay her part in the capture of a hit man that the FBI had been after for years. But Fiske insisted that she take credit for finding Devon, for luring him into the trap they had set. The reporter even took a picture of Laura standing between Jarvis and Fiske as they congradulated her on a job well done.

It was late when she got back to the loft, and she fell into bed, exhausted. She'd made it through one day. Only a hundred and twenty or so to go.

But it was a long time before she fell asleep.

= < @ > =



Mildred was on the telephone when Laura entered the office the next morning, and she grimaced, handing her employer a stack of messages- and the morning paper, open to show the headline, Associate of Remington Steele Captures Hit Man. Laura shook her head as she read the caption under the photograph, realizing that they had finally gotten her name and occupation correct for the first time.

"I have an opening at two," Mildred was saying into the telephone. She nodded as Laura pointed to her own office.

Inside, Laura sat down at her desk, sorting through the messages before finally glancing at the article. She's solved important cases BEFORE Remington Steele had become a real person, but the credit had always gone to her unseen boss. She was in the spotlight at last- but for some reason it didn't seem as important to her as it once had.

The door opened, and Mildred came in with a cup of coffee. "Agent Fiske is on line one."

"Thanks, Mildred," she said, running a finger around the rim of the mug.

She paused before leaving the room. "You okay, hon?"

"I'm fine," Laura assured her, picking up the telephone. "Agent Fiske. I thought you'd be back in Washington by now," she said as the door closed behind Mildred.

"Well, I to finish some paperwork- and I've been offered a spot in the LA office."

"Really?"

"Anyway, I was just wondering if you'd like to have dinner this evening."

"Dinner?" Laura questioned, finding herself uncertain.

"Spend some time with an out of towner who's considering moving to your fair city?"

Laura sat back. "Uh- dinner. Umm."

Fiske's voice took on a disappointed note. "Guess the research was right. Don't worry about it. Wouldn't want to step on Steele's toes."

"Research?" Laura questioned, sitting forward again as the door opened and Mildred came into the room, carrying more messages.

"Standard procedure. Anytime we deal with an outside agency, we do a check." He hesitated a moment. "I'd be more than glad to discuss it over dinner."

"What time?" Laura asked, telling herself that it was only that she wanted to find out what he'd dug up. If he knew the truth- if he'd discovered her little ruse, there could be trouble.

"Seven?"

"Seven," Laura confirmed, ignoring Mildred's disapproving glare. "My address is-."

"I know it," he told her, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "See you then."

"Good bye," Laura wished, hanging up. She picked up a file that Mildred had placed on her desk with the messages. When Mildred didn't leave, she looked up. "Yes?"

"You're having dinner with Fiske?"

"He's thinking about moving to Los Angeles," Laura explained. "He wants me to show him around."

"It's going to be hard to do that at your sister's," Mildred pointed out.

"My sister's?"

Mildred nodded slowly. "You and Mr. Steele were supposed to have dinner over there this evening."

"Oh no. That's right. We were. You'd better call Frances. Tell her we won't be there."

"Me? She's your sister, Miss Holt. She's going to want to talk to you." She tapped the newspaper that lay on Laura's desk. "In fact, I'm surprised she hasn't called already," Mildred told her as the telephone rang. Picking it up, she said, "Remington Steele Investigations. . . Mrs. Piper. . . Yes, she is," she said, ignoring Laura's attempt to get her to lie. "Just a moment." She pushed the "Hold" button on the phone. "Speak of the devil. Our first client's due in ten minutes. I'll get you some more coffee," she offered, picking up the cup and leaving.

Laura glared after her before pressing another button. "Hello, Frances," she said sweetly.

"Are you all right, Laura? Donald just showed me the paper."

"I'm fine, Frances," Laura said, getting tired of having to reassure everyone as to that fact. "All in a day's work. I was about to call you anyway," she began, but as usual, her older sister refused to let her talk.

"What's this in the article about Remington being out of town, Laura?" she asked.

Laura still had no idea when her "Mr. Steele" had become "Remington" to Frances and Donald. "Just some personal business he had to attend to, Frances," she said.

"It's very strange that he didn't mention it when I talked to him the other day."

"He called you?"

"Yes. To ask what kind of wine he should bring to dinner. You know, Laura, if you don't tie that man up somewhere, you're going to lose him to someone who will. He's just too good to be true. If I were you," she said, only to go silent for a moment as Laura responded.

"You're not me, Frances. Mr. Steele's business came up suddenly."

"Well, you can tell us all about it at dinner," she said.

"About dinner, Frances," Laura said, wincing.

"Oh, you're NOT going to cancel, are you, Laura?"

"Well, with Mr. Steele out of town, I have more work to do. I'm swamped. I doubt I'll get away from the office before midnight," Laura lied.

"Tomorrow night, then?" Frances suggested, then sighed. "Oh, wait. Danny has a scout meeting." Laura could just imagine her sister consulting her schedule of scout meetings and music lessons, and little league. "Next week. Will Remington be back then?"

"I doubt it," Laura answered. "You know, Frances, I feel as if seeing Mr. Steele is the only reason you invite me over at all these days."

"Nonsense, Laura. You know you're welcome anytime." Frances paused for a moment. "You sound like you need to talk, Laura. I'm free for lunch today."

"All right. Lunch. I'll meet you at The Trellis at noon."

"You'd better book a table. You know how hard it is to get in there at noon."

"I will, Frances," Laura assured her as Mildred knocked lightly on the door. "I have to go. A client."

"All right, Laura."

Laura hung up the telephone as Mildred led a middle aged man into the office. "Mr. Henried, Laura Holt."

Laura smiled at the little man and held out her hand. "What can we do for you, Mr. Henried?"

To Be Continued . . .

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Original content © 1999 by Nancy Eddy