"Don't talk. Unless you want to join your daughter."
"If you want to stay alive, stop telling everyone that she was murdered. It was an accident."
Laura shivered. Her brief conversation with the coroner's attendants had given her a last name for the dead woman: Davenport. Marge Davenport. Grace Davenport. Why had Mrs. Davenport thought that Edward Holt had killed Grace? And why had he called the woman to threaten her into silence? The fact that Mrs. Davenport and her daughter had died from the same kind of accident was deeply troubling.
And confusing. There had been no reason for Laura to question her father's statement about Grace's tragic death. No reason to believe that he might have been lying. But now, finding her father was on the top of her list. Even if it was painful, she HAD to know the truth.
Even if it meant losing her father all over again.
***
By the time Remington and Jarvis got onto the freeway, Laura's Rabbit was nowhere to be found. "Where's Holt staying?" Jarvis asked a visibly worried Steele.
"Damned if I know. Laura hasn't mentioned it. He's been looking for a house in the area, according to her, but he hasn't found anything to his liking yet."
"Well, when we get back to the station, you can call Miss Krebs and see if she knows anything. Meanwhile, I'll see what I can do from my end." He picked up his radio and told the dispatcher, "I need an APB put out on an Edward Holt."
"Description?" the dispatcher inquired.
Jarvis' eyes narrowed for a moment. "Five foot ten inches tall, dark brown, graying hair, brown eyes. Fifty eight years old."
"Any distinguishing marks?"
"No. But he might be with his daughter, Laura Holt."
"Reason for the APB?"
"I need to talk to him about a possible murder."
Remington looked at the homicide detective with surprise. "How did you know what Holt looks like?" he asked.
Jarvis held up the file. "From this. The description is there in the report."
"Amazing," Remington said. "Absolutely amazing."
***
Mildred grabbed the telephone the moment it rang. "Remington Steele Investigations."
"Mildred, is Laura there?"
"No. She went to find you. Mr. Steele, what's going on?"
"Later, Mildred. How did Laura find out where I was?"
"Oh, Vinnie called. Your car's ready. What happened to the brakes, Chief?" she asked, and was frustrated once more by his response.
"I promise to explain everything later, Mildred. If Laura comes in, tell her to stay put till I get there. And if you see or hear from Edward Holt, let Lt. Jarvis know immediately. Okay?"
"Lt. Jarvis? Mr. Steele-"
"I'll be at the office in half an hour, Mildred," Remington told her. "Try to curb your curiosity for just a little longer."
"Is Miss Holt in some kind of danger?"
"She could be. Half an hour," he promised again, then hung up. Mildred hung up as well, worry furrowing her brow.
***
Laura entered the small hotel where her father had taken a room, and too the elevator up to the second floor. Knocking on Room 24, she waited for a response.
The door across the hall opened, and woman appeared. "He's not there," she told Laura.
"He's not?"
"Left awhile ago- came in just after lunch, then left again."
"Thanks. I'm sure he'll be back soon," Laura said. "I'll wait."
"Up here?" the woman asked, looking up and down the hall.
"Like I said, it won't be long. We were supposed to meet at four." She held up her arm to show the woman that it was nearly that time.
"Whatever, hon," she shrugged, and went toward the elevator. Laura waved as the doors closed, then turned to the locked door.
If there was a logical explanation for all of this, then her father would forgive her. But Laura needed to know the truth. Pulling out her lock-picks, Laura chose what she needed and went to work. Within moments, the doorknob turned in her hand. Glancing up and down the corridor, she slipped inside.
"Daddy?" she called softly, thinking that he might have come back and laid down after meeting with the realtor about the house. But the bed was empty, still unmade. Evidently the maid service here wasn't very good.
Laura started to go through the suitcase she found on the stand at the end of the bed, then stopped. It would be better to talk to him first, before doing an all out search of the room, to talk to him, listen to his side of the story. He deserved that much, anyway.
She sat down in a chair facing the door to wait…
***
Mildred picked up the phone on the first ring again. "Remington Steele Investigations."
"This is Officer McCurdy. I'm looking for a Mildred Krebs."
This is Mildred Krebs."
"Do you own a tan Buick? License number-"
Mildred listened. "Yes, that's my car. Why?"
"There's been a little accident down here in the parking lot, Miss Krebs. Could you come down here for a moment?"
"My car?" Mildred said. "I'll be right there," she told the officer, barely hanging up the phone before heading toward the glass doors.
The elevator doors closed as the second car's door opened to deposit Remington Steele on the eleventh floor. He went to the glass doors, and frowned as he realized that Mildred wasn't at her post. Before he could push the door open, he sensed someone else's presence and turned as a gun was pressed into his side.
"You're not an easy man to get rid of, are you? That little brake job was supposed to send you a message."
"Sorry. Someone trying to kill me tends to make me angry," Remington told Edward Holt. "The police are anxious to talk to you- about Marge Davenport's murder."
"Poor woman. She just couldn't accept that her daughter had an accident."
"The same type of accident that she had?"
"Like daughter like mother," Holt said with a lopsided smile. "Let's go."
"Where?" Remington wanted to know.
"Up." When Remington headed back toward the elevator, Holt shook his head. "The stairs. Too much chance of running into Miss Krebs returning from the goose chase I sent her on."
Remington hesitated for a moment in the doorway as Edward held it open, then went into the stairwell. The door closed behind the two men. "After you, Steele," Holt said firmly, indicating that they should climb.
***
Laura hesitated before answering the telephone when it began to ring. "Hello?" she said into the receiver.
"Mr. Holt?"
"No, this is his daughter. He's not here right now-"
"Oh. This is Janice Wyndam. The real estate agent-?"
"Of course, Miss Wyndam. What can I do for you?"
"It's your father that can do something," Janice Wyndam declared. "I'm a very busy woman, Miss Holt, and I don't appreciate being stood up when I've made an appointment to show a house."
"He stood you up?"
"He most certainly did. I just wanted to call and find out
if he had a good reason or just decided that he wasn't interested
in the house in Encino after all. I had to drive out there and
back-The least he might have done was call me and let me know
that he wouldn't be there. I could have shown another house -"
"I'll let him know that you're upset, Miss Wyndam," Laura assured the woman. "And I'm sure he'll have a good reason for why he wasn't there." Like he was too busy killing Marge Davenport, Laura said to herself. She hung up and happened to look down into the metal trashcan beside the bedside table.
The charred contents caused her to frown. She reached inside and drew out the remains of what looked to be envelopes- and the corner of one of her father's monogrammed handkerchiefs. But it was the corner of one of the envelopes that garnered her immediate attention. It hadn't burned, and Laura gasped as she read the return address. "Grace Davenport..." She carefully removed some of the partially intact envelopes and found one that still contained a readable letter inside.
The beginning and end of the letter was gone, but the center was still damning. "…I'm terrified. I keep all of my doors and windows locked, I've even thought about getting a gun for protection. I don't know what happened to the kind, wonderful, caring man that I fell in love with, Mother, but he's changed. He's manipulative and frightening. I can't get the police to do anything except tell me that if he violates the restraining order to call them. By that time, I'm afraid it will be too late…"
Laura shivered, suddenly cold in the warm room. She lifted the scrap of white linen and examined it. There was a reddish fluid on the handkerchief, and Laura sniffed at it, trying to identify the scent. Suddenly the answer came to her. The brakes on the Auburn had been rigged by someone. The fluid on the handkerchief COULD be brake fluid. He had tried to kill Mr. Steele. And she had a feeling that he wouldn't stop at just trying.
Picking up the phone, she dialed the number for the office. When it wasn't answered, Laura frowned. As she was about to hang up, she heard a voice on the other end.
"Remington…Steele…Investigations…"
"Mildred?" she asked the out of breath woman. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
"I will be once I get my hands on the prankster who got me down to the parking lot for no reason, Miss Holt."
"What?"
"Someone called, said that my car had been hit. But when I got there, no police, no accident. Nada. Zip. So I came back up to the office-Did Mr. Steele find you?"
"No. Isn't he there?"
"He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago," Mildred told her. "Miss Holt, what's going on?"
"I'll explain later, Mildred. Has my father called this afternoon?"
"No."
"Call Vinnie's Garage, Mildred. Find out if Mr. Steele picked up the Auburn. I'll be right there."
"That's what the Boss said," Mildred replied to a dead line as Laura hung up. She found the number for the garage and dialed it.
***
Mildred looked up as Laura entered the office. "Oh, Miss Holt! There you are! Mr. Steele picked up his car over half an hour ago-"
"I know, Mildred," Laura replied grimly. "The Auburn is in the parking garage."
Mildred gasped. "That means he's in the building. But why isn't he here, Miss Holt?"
"What should I do?"
"See if anyone else has seen Mr. Steele- or my father."
"What does your father have to do with-?"
"I'll explain later, Mildred. Right now, Mr. Steele's life could very well depend on how quickly we locate him."
Laura was waiting at the elevators as Mildred started down the hallway. The receptionist was passing the door to the stairs when she stopped and looked down, frowning. "What's this?"
"Mildred-"
"I stepped on something, Miss Holt-" she bent down and picked something up. "Miss Holt!" she exclaimed excitedly. "It's Mr. Steele's ring!"
Laura joined her to take the small circle of gold to inspect it. "His signet ring," she agreed. Glancing at the door, she felt that shiver of fear down her back once more. Grace and Marge's deaths had been set up to look like accidents. Was Mr. Steele's fate to become a suicide? "Mildred, call Lt. Jarvis, tell him that Edward Holt has taken Mr. Steele to the roof of the building, and I'm going up to keep an eye on things. And tell him to hurry."
Mildred nodded as the door closed behind Laura. "Hurry," Mildred repeated, rushing back to the office and dialing Jarvis' number.
***
"You can't possibly believe that you'll get away with this, Holt," Remington said as he looked over the edge of the building to the street below. "No one is going to believe that I killed myself. Especially Laura."
"I can handle my daughter, Steele. As for the rest, they don't matter."
"You're forgetting Marge Davenport's murder, aren't you? The police want to question you-"
"I'm sure once I tell them that you went to see Mrs. Davenport earlier today-while Laura and I were at lunch, and that when she refused to back your insane story up that I'd killed Grace, you pushed her down those stairs--"
"And then contacted the police to help me locate a woman that I'd already killed?"
"Trying to cover your tracks," Holt responded. "They'll believe it. People always believe what I tell them." He motioned toward the ledge around the building. "Up."
Laura came onto the rooftop just in time to see Mr. Steele climb onto the ledge. Her father was holding a gun in his hand, the barrel trained on Mr. Steele. "I don't think you're giving Laura enough credit, Holt," Mr. Steele was saying. "She's not going to simply accept my death without question. Or that I was responsible for Mrs. Davenport's death."
"Laura will accept whatever I tell her to accept, Steele," her father said, then laughed softly. "You just don't get it, do you? I guess someone like you, someone with no background, no ties to anyone else, just can't understand the relationship that my daughter and I have."
"I can understand that you've got a deep seated need to control others," Steele said. "Especially Laura."
"I don't need to control Laura. She loves me. Laura will do whatever I ask. She'll do anything for me. She's the only one who cares about me anymore. Grace-"
"What about Grace, Daddy?" Laura asked, her voice softly carrying across the rooftop. "What happened to her?"
To Be Continued…