Laura turned over, reaching out
her hand, expecting to find Remington. When she encountered an
empty space, she opened her eyes. He wasn't there. "Remington?"
she called softly, listening for his voice. When he didn't answer,
Laura got out of bed and drew on her robe. She went to the window
and looked outside just as the light went off in the gallery.
Deciding that Remington must have gone down to check it again,
Laura left the room, thinking to meet him on his way upstairs.
But she didn't see him, and her detective's senses were suddenly
on full alert. Something was wrong. She went to the door of the
gallery-arriving just in time to see the light change from steady
green to a flashing red. The passive system had kicked in. Remington
had designed it so that if the doors were closed but the code
not entered, the system would arm itself after five minutes. If
Remington had set this earlier, and the back up was now working,
then he had disarmed it. But why? And where was he? "Remington?"
she called softly.
A low moan came from inside the gallery. "Laura-?"
"Don't move a muscle," she called out. "The alarms
system's armed." She began pressing numbers on the keypad.
He sounded ill- and if he set off the alarm- the light went to
green, and she opened the door. The lights came up, revealing
Remington lying on the floor, his hand to the back of his head.
"Remington." She knelt beside him. "What happened?"
"Someone hit me," he told her. "Something woke
me- and I saw a light down here. When I disarmed the system and
opened the door, someone hit me in the head."
Laura glanced at the wall directly before her. "And I think
I know who that someone is," she said between clenched teeth.
"The Monet's gone," she told him.
Remington sat up slowly, his gaze on the blank spot on the wall.
"Damn."
"That tears it," Laura said, rising to her feet and
leaving the room.
"Laura-" Remington called, wincing as the volume of
his own voice sent a pain through his head. He got to his feet,
quickly surveying the room to make certain nothing else was missing,
then followed Laura into the kitchen. She was holding the telephone,
dialing a number. "You can't do that, Laura," he told
her, taking the telephone from her hand and returning it, sitting
down heavily at the table.
"Why not? We know who did it, Remington," she said,
automatically getting a dishtowel from a drawer and then taking
some ice from the freezer to put in the center. Twisting the cloth,
she placed it against the bump on the back of his head.
"Ouch. Careful. We don't know any such thing, Laura. It could
have been anyone-"
"Why are you taking up for her? She admired the Monet earlier-"
"It's a big leap from admiration to theft, Laura. Besides,
I know that Felicia didn't steal it."
She put his hand over the ice pack to move around him. "How
can you -"
"Bashing people in the head isn't her style."
"We still have to call the police-"
"And have the papers discover that we've been robbed? Can
you imagine the kind of publicity that would generate for the
agency?"
"Then what are we supposed to do? Pretend that never happened?"
"Of course not. But I think it would be best if the agency
were to find the thief- and the painting."
"I already know who the thief is. And she's probably already
on her way to the airport."
He shook his head, wincing at the movement. "I doubt it.
Let's go back to bed, shall we? I have to get to the office early
so I can put Antony to work on this."
Laura still thought he was wrong, that he should be sending the
police after Felicia, but she also knew that the blonde would
be just as likely to reveal Remington's less than pure past if
they caught her. "Shouldn't you see a doctor about that bump?
You've probably got a concussion. And if you do, then you shouldn't
go to sleep-"
"You'll just have to find some way of keeping me awake, then,
Mrs. Steele," he said, smiling.
She smiled in return. "I think I might be able to arrange
something, Mr. Steele," she assured him, turning off the
kitchen light as they left the room. She watched as he reset the
alarm, making sure the light went to a steady red before climbing
the stairs at his side.
The day dawned dark and cloudy, with the promise of rain, and
Laura's mood matched the weather. She listened at breakfast as
Remington asked Mrs. Hobbs about the extra help for the party.
She'd never met them before, she admitted, but the agency who
had sent them was highly respected and known to carefully screen
all of their employees.
"No luck there," Laura told him as they got into the
limo.
"I'm still going to have Antony check the place out."
He sat back, then winced as the back of his head came in contact
with the seat.
"I still think you need to see a doctor about that."
"Nonsense. You know I've a hard head."
"Tell me about it," she muttered. "How long are
you going to play this little game, Remington?"
"Until I find out who took the painting and why. Whoever
it was, they knew the system had only one flaw- and if they could
get into the house-"
"How DID they get in?" Laura asked. "All of the
doors were locked, the downstairs windows as well-"
"The bedroom on the other side of the house," Remington
supplied. "Remember the latch on one of the windows is loose?
I'll have to check it, but I think the thief used a grappling
hook to climb to that window and entered there. Then he-"
"Or SHE," Laura corrected, not willing to give up.
"Or she, made just enough noise to wake me, then shone a
flashlight on the outside of the gallery windows, making it appear
that someone was INSIDE the gallery. I went down to check things
out, and- "
"And she waited in the shadows, waiting for you to disarm
the system and open the door before striking. Now the question
is: How did she know that particular window had a broken latch?"
"Everyone was here for some time before I opened the gallery,
Laura. IF the thief WAS among our guests, then he-OR she, had
ample time to look around."
"Promise me that you won't go to see her, Remington,"
Laura said suddenly.
"Laura,- Love," Remington said, reaching over to take
her hand.
"I don't trust her. She's - I wouldn't have put it past her
to have stolen the painting just to have something to hold over
your head, to force you to dance to her tune."
He brought her hand to his lips. "That won't happen, Laura,"
he said, his blue eyes serious as they met hers. "There's
nothing Felicia could possibly offer me that would ever make me
leave you." He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled
her closer. "I happen to love you, Mrs. Steele."
Laura rested her head on his shoulder. She hoped he was right,
but she had a very bad feeling about all of this. A VERY bad feeling.
Mildred looked up as they entered the office, a guarded smile
on her face. "Good morning, Chief. Mrs. Steele."
"Any messages, Mildred?" Remington asked, noticing that
she was holding something behind her back. "What have you
got there?"
"Oh, this?" Mildred asked, crumpling the pink slip of
paper in her hand. "Nothing. A mistake- I was just about
to throw it away," she said, tossing the ball toward the
wastebasket.
Remington deftly caught the paper, aware that the woman looked
nervous. He opened it, smoothing it. "A mistake, Mildred?"
"Okay, so I wasn't going to give it to you. I didn't think
you would WANT to know she'd called," she said defensively.
Laura frowned. "What is it?"
"Apparently Felicia called looking for me. She left a number."
He looked at her. "So much for her taking the first flight
out of town, eh, Laura?"
Laura turned and stalked into her office. Remington crushed the
paper once again, and this time it finished in the trash. "Where
is Antony, Mildred?"
"Not in yet. He's due any minute."
"I need you to run a check on the Domestic Temps, Mildred."
"The agency who provided the help for last night? Why?"
"Because around three this morning, someone broke into the
house and stole the Monet."
Mildred's eyes were huge. "They got past that system? How?"
"It was quite easy, considering that I disarmed it for them."
He saw her start to ask another question. "I'll answer it
later, Mildred. Start working on that, please. And let me know
when the applicant for the nanny position shows up. What is this
one's name, by the way?"
Mildred glanced at the appointments calendar. "Agatha Brierly,"
she supplied.
"Agatha? Probably a grizzled old harridian," he commented,
bringing a smile to her face. "I'll be in Laura's office."
She was sitting behind her desk, and when he entered, she pretended
to be reading a file. "I threw it away, Laura," he told
her. "You can go check the waste basket if you want to. I've
started Mildred checking out the temporary agency. And when Antony
comes in, I'll send him over to check out Harwood Electronics."
"You can't think that Charles Harwood could be behind this,
Remington. He's a respected member of the community-"
"Then how does he come to know someone with Felicia's background?"
he asked. "I'm checking on everything, Laura."
"Except the one thing you SHOULD be checking," she said.
The intercom buzzed, and Laura pressed the button. "Yes,
Mildred?"
"Mrs. Brierly is here, Mrs. Steele."
When Laura frowned, Remington prompted, "The nanny?"
"Give us a couple of minutes, Mildred, then send her into
Remington's office." She saw Remington place a hand on the
door to the reception area. "What are you-?"
"I want a look at this one before we waste time interviewing
her," he said. Laura came around the desk as he opened the
door just enough for them to have a look at the woman who stood
near Mildred's desk. "Good Lord, Laura. It's Mary Poppins,"
he exclaimed.