Tony entered the abandoned apartment
house cautiously, listening for voices. When he finally heard
them they were still too far away for him to make out the words.
As he got closer, he could hear the pawnbroker. "I was just-
hey, look. Put that thing away. I'm sure we can come to an understanding-
Don't-" There was a gunshot, and Tony heard someone approaching.
Knowing whoever it was would be armed, he wisely ducked into an
open doorway to wait until the person went past. Small, dark clothes,
dark hair, very feminine outline, he noted.
Once the coast was clear, Tony ran down the hall to where he estimated
that the shots had been fired.
"Oh, Bernie," he said, kneeling.
Bernie coughed. "Got too greedy. Dangerous-"
"Hang on, I'll go get some help-" Tony said, although
he knew it wouldn't do any good.
Bernie coughed. "Didn't know about the murder. Said she wanted
to play a joke on Steele." He laughed, the action ending
in another cough. "Joke-was on me."
"I need a name, Bernie."
"Des-coine," was all he managed before his eyes glassed
over.
Tony closed his eyes. "Descoine." He had read all of
the agency's case files- a requirement that Laura set up as part
of his training. The name was familiar- and dangerous. He went
to call the police, then headed for the office.
Remington was returning to his room when he saw Lt. Jarvis coming
off of the elevator. "Look sharp, Sweeney," he said
to the police officer. "Your boss is here."
Sweeney shook his head as Jarvis approached. "I tried to
call, Mr. Steele- but you weren't in your room. And I didn't want
to bother Laura-"
"What now, Lieutenant?"
"We finally found that cab driver. He verified your story.
Drove you straight from your office to the Savoy, and he watched
you go inside. I think I owe you an apology, Mr. Steele."
Remington opened the door of his room and ushered Jarvis inside,
telling Sweeney, "Hold all of my calls, officer," before
closing the door. "I hope that means that you'll take that
trained gorilla of yours with you when you go."
"Not sure. I might need to leave him here for your protection,
Mr. Steele."
"MY protection?"
"From Major Descoine."
"Ah, yes. The Major. I thought he was securely locked away
in prison, with at least another five years to go before he was
eligible for parole."
"He is. And I'm going to pay him a visit tomorrow. I just
got to thinking about how much this case resembled the one where
he tried to frame you before- and did some checking. The maid
who sounded the alarm at the Savoy- Do you remember anything about
her?"
"I was still groggy, Lieutenant."
"It might help if you could recall something- she's not a
hotel employee- but she told the first officer on the scene that
her name was Lily Martin."
"Lily Martin. The name of Major Descoine's accomplice in
the embezzlement scheme that sent him to prison the first time,"
Remington recalled.
"Yeah. She committed suicide, which sent Descoine over the
edge. The maid's vanished, dropped comepletely out of sight. And
I've just come from the scene of another murder, Mr. Steele. The
pawnbroker whose mother claimed that you bought the gun that was
used to kill Felicia Grant."
Remington looked at him. "He's dead?"
"Shot by a female assailant in an abandoned apartment house
on Pico. Tony Roselli called it in. He told me that before the
man died, he said the name 'Descoine'."
"The Major's daughter," Remington said. "Minor
Descoine. She helped him try to kill Laura and myself-"
"I've got an all points bulletin out on her, and I'm going
to go out and talk to Descoine tomorrow morning. I thought you
might like to go with me."
Remington smiled. "I wouldn't miss it. About Sweeney, Lt.
Jarvis-"
"I'll send him home."
"I'd rather you send him up to watch Laura's room. Discreetly,
of course."
"Consider it done." Jarvis looked thoughtful. "I
get the feeling that there's more to this than what I know, Mr.
Steele. The manager at the Savoy called me as well just before
I left on that homicide call. He said that there's a painting
in the hotel safe that was put there by Miss Grant just before
she was killed. A Monet."
"A Monet? How interesting."
"According the newspaper reports of your party last night,
you had that painting in your private collection. Would you like
to tell me how Miss Grant obtained it?"
Remington smiled. "I suppose I might as well, Lieutenant."
Charles Harwood watched the television report of Felicia's murder
and that the police were considering Remington Steele as their
prime suspect, then muted the volume. This was bad. Really bad.
He needed to think, he decided, going to turn on the jacuzzi before
getting undressed. Sitting in that thing always helped him with
a problem. He seemed to be able to think more clearly.
Slipping into the water, he picked up his glass of wine. This
was better. He'd find a way to solve this problem. If it were
discovered that he was invovled with a murder, it would ruin the
company. He had to find a way-He could see the television from
this side of the tub, and there was a special bulletin-Harwood
reached for the mute button again. "This just in. A local
pawnbroker, Bernard Slade, was found shot to death this evening
in an abandoned apartment building on Pico. LAPD Homicide detective
Lt. James Jarvis was on the scene, and was asked if Mr. Slade's
death was tied into the earlier death of Felicia Grant at the
Savoy. It's reported that the murder weapon in Miss Grant's death
was purchased at the pawn shop owned by Mr. Slade, which is located
just two blocks from the hotel. Lt Jarvis would not confirm the
connection between the two murders, but this station has confirmed
that detective Remington Steele, accused of the first murder,
is still at Mercy Hospital and could not have killed Mr. Slade.
When asked about this, Lt. Jarvis said he had no comment, but
that the investigation was continuing."
Harwood picked up the telephone. To hell with the company. He
had to stop this before it went any farther. "I need to speak
to Lt. James Jarvis- Can I leave a message? It's about the Felicia
Grant case. Yes. Charles Harwood, 555-2901. That's my home number.
It's urgent that I - All right. I'll be right here." He hung
up the telephone. When Jarvis called back , he would tell him
everything.
"So you went to see Miss Grant because she said she could
return the painting that you believed she stole."
"Laura believed Felicia was responsible," Remington
corrected him. "It wasn't Felicia's style to hit someone
over the head as hard as the thief hit me."
Jarvis looked long and hard at him. He had suspected for years
that there was much more to Remington Steele than the records
revealed. But he had come to respect the man. "Do you think
Descoine is behind all of this, then?"
"He must be. What we have to find out is what connection
Charles Harwood has to Descoine. And we have to find Minor Descoine."
The telephone rang, and Remington picked it up. "Steele here."
He glanced at Jarvis. "It's for you."
Jarvis took the reciever. "Jarvis. Really? What's the number?"
He pulled a note pad from his pocket and wrote a telephone number.
"How long ago did he call?"he asked, looking at his
watch. "Thanks. I'll call him from here. Any reports on that
APB? Keep me informed."
He hung up and started to dial the number he'd written. "Charles
Harwood just tried to call me at the station." He frowned.
"No answer." Hanging up, he dialed the station number.
"Betty, it's Jimmy again. Look up
Harwood's address and send a unit out there to check it out. I
just tried to call and there's no answer- Let me know what they
find."
Remington met the detective's level gaze. "You don't think-"
"Don't know. With the way people involved in this case are
dropping, I wouldn't be at all surprised. I'll tell Sweeney to
keep an eye on Laura's room," he told Remington. "You
watch your back as well."
"What time are you going to see Descoine tomorrow?"
"Around nine. I'll pick you up here before I go."
"I'll be ready. And if you find Minor Descoine, Jarvis, let
me know."
"I will."
Jessica met Tony as soon as he entered the office. "Where
were you? I was worried-"
He smiled. "Really? About me?"
"What happened, Tony?" Mildred asked, not taking her
eyes from the computer monitor.
"The pawnbroker's dead. And I think I know who killed him."
"You're a little late, Roselli," Mildred told him, handing
him a printout. "I talked to Mr. Steele a few minutes ago.
He wants us all to go home for the night and make a fresh start
in the morning."
Tony looked at the paper in his hand. "At least Steele's
off the hook. But unless we can find that girl-"
"And that's not going to be easy," Jessica said. "According
to Mildred, she's as much a master of disguise as her father."
Mildred closed the file she was working on and turned off the
computer. "Let me make sure the lights are off in Mr. Steele's
office, and then we can go."
"We'll drop you off, Mildred," Tony told her, and when
she would have argued, he said, "I'll feel better if I make
sure there aren't any surprises waiting for you at your place."
"Antony's right, Mildred," Jessica agreed. "Humor
us."
"Okay. But I'm not riding in the back seat of that Rabbit,
Tony."
Jessica laughed. "I think I can squeeze into the back myself,
Mildred."