Tony shook his head to clear his thoughts, then glanced
at his watch. Almost eight. Good. He was exhausted. Been too long
since he'd done something like this, he decided. The postal box
center was across the street, and Tony frowned. This had been
a stupid idea. Harvey Weems wasn't going to come anywhere NEAR
this place now that he thought they were onto him. At least it
was almost time for him to check in with Laura, and then she'd
have Mildred relieve him so he could go get some sleep.
He was concentrating on the building across the way when the passenger
door opened, and he jumped. Jessica got into the car, placing
a wicker picnic basket between them. "Good morning, Antony,"
she said brightly.
"What the hell are you DOING here? How'd you find me?"
"I simply hailed a cab last night and followed you,"
she explained. "I thought you might be ready for some breakfast."
She opened the lid of the basker. "I brought hot coffee,
and bagels-"
"Jess, I'm on a stake-out, not a picnic-" his eyes widened.
"BAGELS?"
She smiled again. "I know you how like them."
"I do, but- you shouldn't have-"
"Why not? Really, no one saw me do anything but get into
the car. And there wasn't anyone around to see me do that. I had
the taxi drop me off two blocks away and walked here." She
poured two cups of coffee into -CHINA cups, then gave him a still
warm bagel and scrambled eggs with cheese.
Tony gave up- and in. It WAS good, he thought, watching as the
old Rambler pulled to a stop across the way. Harvey Weems got
out and started inside. Tony put everything down. "Stay here,"
he ordered Jessica, getting out of the car.
Jessica watched him go, returning the food and dishes to the basket.
"Not on your life, Antony Roselli," she muttered, following
him at a distance.
Weems opened the box and was pulling out the mail when Tony
entered the building. "Harvey Weems?"
The little man dropped the envelope he had been holding as he
turned. "Yes?" he asked, obviously frightened.
Tony flashed an official looking ID. "Roselli. IRS."
He picked up the letter, glancing at the return address.
Weems went pale. "The IRS? Oh, no. I was afraid this would
happen."
"We need to talk to you, Mr. Weems."
Weems looked around, as if searching for an escape route. He might
have made a move for the door, but was stopped by Jessica entering.
She looked at Tony. "Is everything in order here?"
Tony thought quickly. "Special Agent Beecham, this is Harvey
Weems."
"The gentleman you've been waiting for?" she asked.
"Yeah. Let's go, Mr. Weems. My boss is waiting."
Weems frowned at Jessica. "I didn't know the IRS hired non-Americans,"
he commented.
"What?" Tony asked.
"She's English."
"I'm on a special program," Jessica explained. "On
loan from Great Britain to your country. One of Agent Roselli's
co-workers is in my country while I'm here. An- exhange of methods,
as it were."
"Oh," Weems said, as if that settled matters for him.
Jessica glanced over his head at Tony, smiling. "We really
should be going, Mr. Roselli," she said, opening the door.
"Why don't you call the office and let them know that Mr.
Weems is coming in voluntarily. Maybe they can stop that warrant."
Weems flinched at that comment. "I won't be a moment,"
Jessica said.
Mildred looked up at Laura. "They're on their way.
Miss Beecham's with them."
Steele looked surprised. "Jessica? How did she become involved
in this? Wasn't Antony supposed to be on a stake out?"
"He undoubtedly was, since he had Harvey Weems in 'custody',"
Laura pointed out. "I'm sure we'll find out everything later.
Right now, I suggest we get to the office, Mildred rented for
the day and take our positions."
"Weems thinks Miss Beecham's a British tax investigator on
special assignment," Mildred told them as they left.
Entering the elevator, Laura shook her head. "The accent.
Think you can find a way to lose yours, Remington? I mean, it
won't work to have two British exchange agents on the case."
He smiled. "I may not have to."
The office was located in an older building, and Harvey
Weems surveyed the anteroom's unusual anonimity with growing dread.
Tony tapped on the inner door one time. "It's Roselli,"
he announced.
"Come in," a woman's voice responded almost immediately.
Inside, there were three people - two women, and a man. One of
the women Weems recognized as Miss Krebbs. The other woman stood
beside the desk, and the man was seated behind the desk, his face
mostly in shadow in the room that was lit only by the single lamp
on the desk. "Mr. Weems," Miss Krebbs said briskly.
"This is Miss Lord, my supervisor, and Mr. Keach, section
cheif."
Laura smiled at Mr. Weems. "Thank you, Miss Krebbs. Mr. Keach
and I can handle this from here, I believe."
Mildred, Tony, and Jessica filed out of the office. Steele handed
the folder on his desk to Laura, then sat back, deeper in the
shadows, waiting as Laura indicated the straight backed chair
beside the man. "Please be seated, Mr. Weems. We're hoping
this won't take too long." She opened the file, then put
it back on the desk where she and "Mr. Keach" could
see it. "We need some further information concerning account
number 61961. You ARE in charge of that account, aren't you?"
"I-I invest the money, post the income-"
"Do you know the name of the account owner?"
"No," he said, shaking his head and then pulling out
a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. "No one does, except
for the computer, and- Mr. Nash, of course."
"Phillip Nash knows what name the account is listed under?"
Laura asked for clarification.
"He has the security codes for ALL of the ac-accounts."
"Then, he is aware that YOU are the recipient for account
61961," Laura said, her tone quite matter of fact.
Weems grew even more ashen than before. "ME? I-No. That's-
absurd." He wiped at his forehead again. "I'm not-"
"Then why do the records WE retrieved state that you are
the owner of that account, Mr. Weems?" Laura asked, giving
him a copy of the report that Mildred had gotten from the firm's
computer.
Steele sat forward, still watching the man as he read the paper.
He tapped the folder, to gain Laura's attention to some fact.
"That account's been active for six years," Weems said.
"I only took it over six MONTHS ago."
"From who, Mr. Weems?" Laura wanted to know.
"Mr. Nash. When he was promoted to accounts manager, he turned
61961 over to me."
"Did you receive all of his accounts?"
"No. Just-just that one. He said- He said it was too important
to trust to anyone else."
Laura saw Steele point to the notation about the postal box, then
lift his brows in silent question.
"Is the post office box yours, Mr. Weems?"
"No," he said, frowning. "I don't - need one."
He wasn't breathing well, and then winced as if he were in pain.
"They why were you there this morning?" Laura pressed
on, ignoring Steele's frown.
"As a-favor for -Mr. Nash. He gave me the-key--last night.
Asked me to pick up--" he started fumbling in his pockets
before he found a small vial of pills. "My-heart. Could I
get some- water?" he asked, putting the tablet into his mouth.
"Of course," Laura said, suddenly realizing that the
man wasn't faking his attack. Going to the door, she opened it
and told Mildred to please get Mr. Weems a glass of water. "And
hurry." She turned back to the little man. "Are you
going to be all right? Should we call a doctor?"
He shook his head. "Pill should start-working soon."
But it didn't, and a moment later, Harvey Weems clutched at his
chest and would have fallen onto the floor if Laura and Steele
hadn't caught him to lower him gently. "Call an ambulance,
Jessica," he called out, beginning CPR.
"On the way," Jessica responded, dialing the number.
Laura picked up the vial of pills, shaking them. "Mildred,
I want these analysed. And quickly."
"Sure thing," Mildred said, taking the pills and leaving.
Tony took over for Steele, and Steele kept a hand on the man's
neck. "His pulse is faint, but it's there. Come on, Harvey,
old boy. Don't let the man beat you."
The doctor spoke to Steele, shaking his head before moving
away. Laura watched him approach the emergency room waiting area
where she, Jessica, and Tony were waiting. He pulled her into
his arms as he said, " Harvey Weems died ten minutes ago.
The doctor said his heart just- refused to beat any longer."
"That poor little man, "Jessica said, near tears.
"He was set up," Tony said. "Nash used him to cover
his own embezzling."
"I think we're all agreed on that, Antony. Unfortunately,
we need proof. And that appears to have died with Harvey."
Mildred rushed in. "Sorry it took me so long, but-"
she noted the long faces. "He didn't make it, did he?"
"No, Mildred," Laura told her. "What did you find
out?"
"I took the pills to the pharmacy where Mr. Weems got them.
The pharmacist swears he put the right medicine in that bottle
- but THESE aren't digitalis. They're something else. If a person
having a heart attack took one of these, it would kill him."
"When did he last have the prescription filled?" Steele
asked.
"THAT'S the interesting part," Mildred said. "You're
not gonna believe-"
"MILDRED!" four exhasperated voices joined in unison.
"It was filled last night- but not by Harvey Weems. A supposed
friend picked them up to take them to him."
"I don't suppose the 'friend's' description matches-"
"Matches Phillip Nash to a tee," Mildred confirmed.
Steele gave her a hug. "Mildred you're wonderful. Go to the
police and tell them what we know-"
"Where will you be?"
"That's an excellent question," Laura agreed.
"Paying a visit to our client, of course. He DID ask to be
kept up to date on the progress of the investigation, I believe."
Agreeing that the appearance of Remington Steele, famous
private investigator would violate their agreement with Nash that
Steele would stay in the background, the group started trying
to decide who would pay this visit. "How about me?"
Jessica asked. When her brother started to speak, she stopped
him cold. "I know that I'm not technically part of the agency,
Remington, but I chose to involve myself in this and help lure
that poor little man-" she paused. "Every time I think
about what Phillip Nash did to him -"
Laura glanced at Steele, who glanced at Tony. Tony shrugged. "I
think she's earned it."
Steele took a deep breath. "I don't like this, but- you're
on, Jessica."
Jessica Beecham placed her briefcase on the on the edge
of the the desk. "Excuse me?"
The secretary looked up. "May I help you?"
"I'd like to see Philip Nash, please."
The woman frowned. "You couldn't have an appointment-"
Janet Dayton said, flipping through the book before her. "I
cancelled all of them-"
Jessica gave her a business card. "I'm here about Harvey
Weems, Miss Dayton. It's very urgent that I speak to Mr. Nash."
Miss Dayton read the card. "A lawyer? Mr. Weems isn't in
any trouble, is he? He's such a sweet little man-"
"I'm afraid Mr. Weems died this morning," Jessica said
slowly.
"Died? Oh, no. Mr. Nash will be terribly upset. He liked
Mr. Weems."
"That is why I have to see Mr. Nash. Mr. Weems requested
that I speak to his- friend as soon after his death as possible.
As his attorney, it's my duty to see that his wishes are carried
out."
"Oh, my. Mr. Nash- isn't here," Miss Dayton confided
in a whisper.
"Perhaps I can wait?"
"You don't understand. He won't be here. He called this morning
and said that he had to go to New York on business." She
reached for the telephone. "I can call him-"
"No," Jessica said quickly. "I think it would be
best if I give him the news in person. A telephone call is so-
impersonal, don't you agree?" She smiled. "Now, if you
will just give me Mr. Nash's home address-"
Miss Dayton frowned, hesitating. "Well, I don't-"
"Mr. Weems' final message shouldn't be delayed, Miss Dayton.
If Mr. Nash leaves town before I see him, and he later discovers
that you could have prevented the delay-"
Janet Dayton had seen her employer angry only once. She had no
great desire to be the target of that anger, so she wrote the
address on a paper. "Here you go. His flight leaves in two
hours."
Jessica took the paper with a smile. "Thank you, Miss Dayton."
Outside of the building, Jessica moved quickly toward the
limo. As she got inside, she said, "He wasn't there. He lives
at the Coventry Apartments, on Healy. We haven't much time."
She sat back as Fred put the limo into motion. "Nash is leaving
for New York in two hours," she told her companions. "His
secretary also informed me that he drives a burgandy Mercedes."
"Excellent work, Jessica," Steele said approvingly.
"When we arrive, Tony, you go up to Nash' s apartment and
follow him down to the garage. Laura and I will wait at his car."
"What about me?" Jessica asked.
"You'll wait in the limo, with Fred."
"You're not going to push me out of this now, Remington,"
she objected. "Antony- Laura," she appealed.
"She DID get the information we needed," Laura reminded
her husband.
"Yes, but-"
"She can go with me, Steele," Tony offered. "She'll
be all right."
"It would appear that I'm outnumbered. Very well. But if
anything happens to her, Antony -"
Fred was posted at the garage exit with orders not to allow
Nash's Mercedes to leave, while Laura and Steele went to locate
the vehicle. Inside the building, Tony and Jessica made their
way to the sixth floor and hid behind a potted plant with a view
of the elevator. Nash came from his apartment carrying a large
suitcase, a suit bag, and a carryall. Once the elevator doors
closed, Tony quickly punched the summons for the second elevator.
"For a man going on a brief business trip, he's taking a
lot of luggage," he commented. "Come on, come on,"
he said to the elevator. When it didn't arrive, Tony pulled her
toward a nearby door. "We'll have to take the stairs."
"It's SIX floors, Antony," she protested.
He turned to look at her with a grin. "So? Consider it training
for the stairs at your place. After you."
Laura and Steele huddled behind a car. Laura heard the elevator
deposit someone, then peered out. "He's coming," Laura
told him.
Steele nodded. "As we agreed," he reminded her, moving
silently to lean against a pillar near the car's trunk. He waited
until Nash unlocked the trunk and put the suitcase inside. "Going
on a trip, Mr. Nash?|
Nash turned, surprised. "Mr. Steele. What are you doing here?"
"You retained my agency to clear up a problem. I thought
you might like to know that we've finished the job."
"Really? You have proof that Harvey Weems is an embezzler?"
"On the contrary. We know that he was framed."
"Framed?"
"Most cleverly, too. The real thief has been setting him
up for six months, planting false trails, sending him to the account's
post office box, exchanging his heart medication for medicine
that would ultimately guarantee his death."
"Are you saying that Harvey Weems is dead, Mr. Steele?"
"He collapsed while we were questioning him this morning
- he even took a pill from the new bottle of digitalis - which
you so thoughtfully provided for him last night," Steele
accused, backing him against the car as he spoke. "He couldn't
accept that you had set him up, Nash. He's dead. A poor little
man who though you were his only friend."
"Back off, Steele," Nash ordered, brandishing a small
pistol that he had drawn from his pocket. "NOW. I'm not going
to let you stop me, Steele. I've put six years into this little
plan, and I won't let anything stop me. Not when it's finally
going to pay off."
Steele backed away, hands in the air as Laura spoke from behind
the car. "Are you going to kill us both, Mr. Nash?"
Nash didn't flinch. "I thought you might be here, Mrs. Steele.
Come around here where I can see you- or you're going to become
a young widow." When she didn't appear, Nash frowned. "I
mean it, Mrs. Steele- NOW." He sighted Steele with the pistol.
"Or your husband dies."
"You don't want to make that mistake, Nash," Laura said,
her voice nearer. "Murder-"
"What difference would another one make? Weems is dead. They
can only hang me once." The stair door opened, distracting
Nash long enough for Laura to leap toward him. The gun went off,
and Tony ran to help Laura subdue the man.
When Tony was standing over Nash, holding the gun on him, Laura
took a deep breath. "Thanks. You did pretty well, Tony. Right,
Remington?"
There was no answer, and Laura turned - only to find Jessica kneeling
beside Remington, his head in her lap. "Remington!"
Laura cried out, joining her. "Remington?"
"He's unconcious," Jessica said. "I'll go out and
use the car phone to call the ambulance and the police."
She touched Laura's hand. "He'll be all right, Laura."
Laura found the wound in his chest, realized that he must have
hit his head when he fell. "Don't die on me, Remington,"
she whispered, applying pressure to the wound to staunch the flow
of blood. "Don't you dare die on me."
Mildred met them at the hospital, and for once even she
was quiet as they waited for news. Jessica had called Katherine,
and she arrived just as the doctor came down the hall, asking
to speak to Laura. "He's a lucky man, Mrs. Steele. The bullet
managed to miss any vital organs."
"Then he's going to be all right?" she asked, allowing
herself to breath for the first time since that awful moment in
the garage.
"I think so. He's lost a lot of blood, and he has a concussion,
but I think he'll be out of here in a week at most. Like I said,
he's very lucky."
"He always has been," Laura told her. "Is he awake?
Can I see him?"
"Give us a few minutes to get him into a room. I'll send
someone for you when we're ready."
"Thank you." She returned to find four anxious faces.
"He's going to be fine," she told them, greatful when
Tony kept her from collapsing onto the floor as her legs gave
out.
"You look like bloody hell," Remington said as
he looked at her.
She glanced down at the blood on her suit, smiling. "I guess
I do. How do you feel?"
"Not much better than you look. What happened?"
"Nash planned all along for Weems to die of a heart attack
while we were pursuing the case. Then the money would vanish,
and Nash would claim that Weems had squirrelled it away somewhere
before his death."
"And with his death, no one would be able to find the money,"
Steele reasoned. "Then, after a suitable time, Nash would
decide to retire, and vanish-along with two million dollars."
"And it might have worked, if Weems hadn't been so certain
that Nash was his friend."
Laura took his hand, carefully avoiding the various lines surrounding
him. "Don't ever do that to me again, Remington. For a minute,
I was afraid-"
"Afraid? You, Laura?" He pulled her down so he could
touch his lips to hers. "I was terrified. I thought I'd never
be able to tell you how much I love you."
"Katherine and Jessica are outside. They want to see you."
"In a moment," he said, moving slowly to avoid the pain
in his chest, he drew her closer. Sensing what he wanted, Laura
carefully got into the bed at his side, wincing as he grinaced
in pain.
"I'm sorry," she apologized.
"Don't. The pain means I'm still alive," he told her,
waiting until she settled against him. "There. That's much
better. Don't you agree, Mrs. Steele?"
"Hmm. Much, Mr. Steele."
"Do me one favor, Laura," he said.
"What's that?"
"Find me some pajamas. I refuse to wear this air conditioned
hospital gown during my enforced vacation."
She smiled. "I'll see what I can do."
"And keep Nurse Ratchet away from me, will you?" She
smiled, knowing that he was becoming a bit groggy from the pain
medication they were giving him. "Oh, and Laura?"
"Yes?"
"Don't ever let me go."
"That's a promise, Mr. Steele," she whispered, watching
as his eyes closed as the pain medication began to take effect.
"Good night, Remington."
-Finis-