Steele Trap
Transcribed from the episode written by:
Michael Gleason

Laura and Steele enter an office. The secretary sits down at her desk. "Yes? May I help you?"

Laura starts to speak. "We have an appointment-"

"We have an appointment-" Steele says at the same time. Steele continues when Laura doesn't. "To see Dr. Bellows."

The secretary, revealed to be a nurse, grabs a clipboard. "Will you fill out this financial statement-"

"I'm Remington Steele-"

"And also these waivers of liability-"

"Waiver of liability, eh?" Steele questions as Laura looks on.

"It's a standard form. It simply states that if you should come out of the operating room disfigured or deceased, the doctor assumes no responsibility, and cannot be sued by your heirs or your assigns."

Laura tries. "You don't understand-"

"It's customary to pay for medical services in advance. The fee for consultation is seventy five dollars." Laura turns toward the door across the room. "We do accept cash, money orders- or all major credit cards," she says, getting up to head them off. "Sorry, we don't accept personal checks."

Steele leans toward her. "Nurse Ratchet," he says, "We are private investigators, summoned by Dr. Bellows."

"Why didn't you say so?" the woman says sourly, moving to the desk to pick up the telephone. "Doctor?" She frowns. They hear a gunshot from the other office, and all three burst inside.

Laura and Steele go to the man who's head is on the desk, a gun still in his hand. Laura checks his pulse, then looks up. "Call the police," she tells the woman. She leaves. Laura notices the paper in the dead man's hand. It's an invitation. She picks it up. It reads, "You are cordially invited to spend the weekend in the Devil's Playground."


Murphy enters the offices, and Bernice points him toward Steele's office, where Laura and Steele are dusting the photos of Steele on the wall. "Hi," he says, holding up a file. "I've got a preliminary background check on our - almost client." He sits down. "Arthur Bellows was a cosmetic surgeon. You know, lift this, tuck that. HEAVY financial problems. He recently lost three malpractice suits. And he's known through out the medical community for his drunkeness. Sometimes IN the operating room."

Laura has stopped helping Steele to listen. "Any idea what the Devil's Playground is?"

"Some kind of resort. It's on an island off of Baja California."

"Resort?" Steele asks, suddenly attentive. "On an island? How intriguing."

"Forget it, Laura," Murphy says. "The guy killed himself. The reasons aren't important."

Laura starts to say something, but Steele says, "How cold, Murphy. How callous. Perhaps you've been at this too long." He looks at Laura. "You're asking yourself - could that invitation have triggered his death?" Laura watches him pace in silence. "And you know- the only place to find the answer is in the Devil's Playground. Miss Wolf?" he calls, going to the door. "Miss Wolf, run out and get me one of those little black bags Robert Young used to carry around. And- oh, an assortment of medical paraphenalia." He turns back to Laura as she comes to the door.

"Give me a clue," she says, confused.

Steele puts on his jacket. "Appropriate props," he tells her. "are the key to any convincing characterization."

Murphy stands up. "You're going to IMPERSONATE Dr. Bellows?"

"What better way to get to the bottom of this tragedy?" Steele asks.

"Laura," Murphy warns, "it's getting away from us again."

She starts to speak, but Steele beats her to it- again. "Laura - you're as curioius about this as I am."

"He has us there, Murph," she admits. "Give me an hour to pack." She starts to leave.

Steele reaches over to straighten a photo. "LAURA!"

Laura turns. "If I allow him to go out there on his own, impersonating Remington Steele, IMPERSONATING Arthur Bellows, can you imagine the outcome? Give me twenty minutes," she says, and leaves.

Steele smiles smugly at Murphy, buttoning his coat as he starts past. Murphy grabs his arm. "I know why you're so hot to pursue this nonexistant mystery. You want to get Laura alone on that island don't you?"

"You know what I most admire about you, Murphy?" Steele asks.


"Your perception," he says, patting Murphy on the shoulder as he leaves.

Murphy throws down his notebook in frustration.


A helicopter flies into what appears to be an island paradise, desposting Steele and Laura. "We'll see you on Monday," the pilot tells them before departing again.

Steele and Laura watch the helicopter go. "The first thing we do," Laura tells Steele, "is introduce you as Dr. Bellows."

"What if someone knows the real Bellows?" Steele asks.

"We hit him with the suicide and gauge the reaction. I'll be your nurse. Tracy. Tracy Lord." They start walking toward the house. "I've always loved that name, Tracy. It's so- shimmery," she tells an attentive Steele.


At the house, Steele knocks, and the door is opened by a young blonde woman dressed as a woodland nymph. She giggles. "Are we expecting you?"

"We have an invitation," Steele tells her, handing it to her.

She takes it. "Well. In that case, entre vous," she says, giggling again. She closes the door behind them. "I'm Miss May," she tells them.

Steele and Laura put down their cases, and Steele takes the young woman's hand. "A pleasure, Miss May."

She giggles again. "No, not MISS May, Miss MAY."

"Oh," Steele says, still without a clue.

"Cindi Sikes. The 'Devil's Disciple' for May."

"Oh, of course," Steele says, finally understanding. "And I'm Dr. Bellows. Dr. Arthur Bellows."

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Doctor," she says, dragging him away from Laura.

"You are?"

Laura stands, waiting as Cindi whispers in his ear. "Sorry," he tells her. "No." She leaves, disappointed. Laura joins him.

"What was that all about?" she asks.

"She forgot her birth control pills," he tells her. "Thought I might have an extra supply." Laura frowns. They hear piano music coming from one of the rooms, and Steele turns in that direction. They find a red haired woman. "Delightful touch," Steele compliments her. "I'm Dr. Bellows. Dr. Arthur Bellows."

"Madeline Vickers," she says. "And I don't do requests."

Laura and Steele nod, turning to see a man lounging on the sofa, pretending to be reading the paper, but really watching them. "Let's try him," Laura suggests.

As they move across the room, a brunette enters. "HI!" she greets them. "I'm Randi."

"Oh," Steele says. "That's comforting to know. Especially on these long weekends," Steele says. Laura elbows him. "Uh, I'm Dr. Bellows. Dr. Arthur Bellows."

"Dr. Bellows," Randi says, smiling. "It's been so LONG."

"It has?"

Another man enters. "Did I hear you say you were a doctor?"

"Yes. Dr. Bellows," Steele repeats, obviously getting tired of doing so. "Dr. ARTHUR Bellows."

"My brother's in the medical profession," the man informs him.


"Yes. He's a proctologist."

"Interesting area," Steele comments as Randi touches the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. Laura looks away. "Uh, permit me to present my current enamourata - Myrtle Groggins."

"Miss Groggins, I'm Feldman Feldman."

"Myrtle," Steele insists. "Call her Myrtle."

Randi holds out her hands. "Wanna do it, Doctor?"

"I beg your pardon?"


"Perhaps later," he tells her.

"I'm ready anytime you are," she assures him, turning and walking away.

"Impressive edifice," Steele tells Feldman.

"Yes," he agrees. "It was the former retreat of a chewing gum magnate before Ambrose turned it into a Devil's Playground Club." Laura looks bored.

"Ah, Ambrose Blinn. Publisher of Devil magazine. Quite an interesting logo: For Satyrs of all Ages."

"I didn't know you read Devil magazine, Doctor," Laura says snidely.

"Only for the occassional medical article," he assures her.

Cindi comes in, carrying a tray of drinks. "Would you care for a cocktail before dinner, Doctor?" she asks, still giggling.

"A man in my profession must be exceedingly careful where alcoholic spirits are concerned, young lady," he says." Laura and Feldman take a drink, and Cindi, thinking she's done something wrong, starts to turn away. Steele grabs a drink. "However- the judicious use of alcoholic spirit is actually a tonic for the body. I'll have a cocktail or two now, perhaps a flagon of wine with the meal, then an after dinner drink- followed by some Irish coffee." He takes a big drink. "After all," he smiles. "I might have to operate in the morning." Cindi moves away, smiling and giggling. Feldman moves off as well.

Laura turns to Steele. "Poured it on a little THICK, don't you think?"

"The man IS supposed to be a hopeless alcoholic," he reminds her.

"You're HOPELESS, all right," she tells him.


Later, Cindi is showing Laura and Steele upstairs. Laura is still frowning. "Funny, Ambrose never mentioned you, Doctor."

"Yes, well, I - hardly ever mention Ambrose," Steele tells her.

Cindi giggles again, then asks, "He's not- sick, is he?"

"No, he isn't that kind of a doctor," Laura says.


"I specialize in -remodeling," Steele says, causing another round of giggles. She leads them to a room. Steele joins her gaiety, until he notices that Laura is NOT laughing.

"Well," Cindi says, then leaves, STILL giggling. Steele stands there, smiling nervously at Laura.

"Myrtle?" Laura questions. "Myrtle Groggins?"

"Laura, we're on the thin edge with this masquerade, you know? I'm simply trying to inject a little reality into the proceedings. I mean, Tracy would have sounded as manufactured as Cindi and Randi. Whereas Myrtle has such a - dull, plodding, - HONEST ring to it." Laura isn't buying it at all. She turns and opens the door to their room.

Inside, she stops, aghast at the round, satin covered bed, the red silk drapes and the mirrored ceiling. "Isn't this romantic?" Steele asks.

"It's disgusting," Laura tells him. "Like some cheap, gaudy, adult motel." She closes the door.

"I take it you're not comfortable with the ambiance," he says.

"It's a total turn off," Laura assures him.

"Oh. I was so hoping-"

She wheels on him. "WHAT?!"

He looks at her warily. "Best not to discuss these matters on an empty stomach," he decides. "It will wait until after dinner." She goes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Steele looks at his reflection in the mirrored ceiling, then goes to the window as the door from the hallway opens and Randi enters.

"Yoo hoo!" she says. Steele glances at the closed bathroom door. "You don't remember me, do you?" she asks. "Randi Russell?"

Steele looks thoughtful as he meets her in the middle of the room. "The face is somewhat familiar," he hedges.

"It's not the face you were familiar with," she tells him.

"Ah- ha," he says. "Then I'm afraid I'm at a loss-"

"Well, maybe this'll get the old crank turning," she says, unfastening her robe, slipping it from her shoulders to reveal herself to him.

Steele is nervous, glancing away at the closed door. "Uh, Miss Russell!"

"They're YOURS," Randi tells him.

"Mine?" Steele asks.

"I tell everyone they're a work of art."

"Ohh, clever. Uh- Could you - uh, put them away now?" he asks as Laura comes out. She starts to pull the robe back up. Laura freezes. "Ah, Myrtle, uh, so glad you could join us," Steele says, nervous. "That is, we were just going over her- uh-"

"Isn't it GREAT having a body by Bellows?" Randi asks Laura.

"I wouldn't know," Laura grinds out, moving between them to her suitcase.

"You oughta try it," Randi suggests. "It really gives you a LIFT." She smiles at Steele. "We'll be seeing more of each other over - dinner," she says, leaving as Steele nods in agreement.

Laura says, "How much more can there BE?"

"It's allright," Steele assures her. "I'm a doctor."

"NO," Laura reminds him. "You're NOT!" She grabs her clothes and heads back for the bath.

"Well, as a matter of fact, she thinks I- uh, renovated her."

"She was a patient of Arthur Bellows? And she doesn't know you're a fraud? They must have thrown in a lobotomy at no extra charge," she says, continuing to the bath, slamming the door again.

Steele looks uncomfortable.


At a fancy dinner table, with everyone dressed to the nines- Cindi serves dinner- beans and franks. Laura smiles at Feldman. "Franks and beans. On Wedgewood. Shades of Citzen Hearst."

"It's all poor Cindi could handle," Feldman tells her. Steele pours them some wine. "Just getting the can open was a major culinary triumph."

"Isn't our host joining us?" Laura asks.

"No, no. Ambrose is giving us sufficient time to be properly awed by the house that smut built."

Laura smiles up at Steele. "Thank you, Doctor." She turns back to Feldman as Steele moves off. "You don't approve of Devil magazine?"

"I don't have to approve. All I have to do is defend it against charges of pornography. I'm a very busy boy."

At the other end of the table, Randi and Cindi are on either side of Steele, both laughing and giggling. Laura looks in that direction, and noticing it, Feldman says, "Quite a pair, eh?"

"That's what I've heard," she says.

"Randi was Ambrose's steady companion until Cindi assumed that position two years ago. He likes them young- and dumb."

Laura watches them again. "She doesn't seem to be holding a grudge," she points out.

"Randi? She can't hold a thought in her head for three seconds, much less a grudge." He indicates the other man who was on the sofa earlier. "Michael Dominic. Mr. Ambrose's business partner. Ultra silent variety." Laura nods.

Suddenly they hear another male voice. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And welcome to the Devil's Playground." They all get up and join Madeline in the other room. She's at the piano, watching Ambrose Blinn on a big screen TV. "I'm delighted you could all accept my invitation. And I promise each and every one of you a memorable weekend. But for now, enjoy your meal- pass a pleasant evening- and when you least expect it - I will make my presence felt." He uses a remote and the screen goes blank.

Madeline frowns. "What the HELL did he mean by that? Make his presence felt?"

"Well, you know Ambrose," Feldman points out. "He loves the dramatic, so let's just sit back and enjoy the suspense." They all start back toward the dining room, Laura and Steele exchanging a look before joining them.


Later, in their room, Steele comments, "Rather cryptic greeting from our host, wouldn't you say? Rife with all shorts of dark meaning." Laura hasn't spoken, and Steele picks up his suitcase from the bed. "You're right. No sense brooding over it tonight, ey?" he asks, as Laura finishes unpacking her case. He picks up a pillow. "One pillow or two, Myrtle my pet?"

"DON'T call me Myrtle!"

"Miss Groggins hardly sounds appropriate, given the-" his eyes wander toward the bed, "circumstances."

"You're terribly delighted with yourself, aren't you? Manipulating me to this island under the guise of investigating Arthur Bellows' death."

"Laura, you're far too bright for me to manipulate you into anything that you didn't really want to do. You wanted to spend this weekend with me as much as I wanted to spend it with you."

"That's right. I did."



"May I ask what changed your mind?"


"I'm the same person you left Los Angeles with this afternoon," he points out.

"That's the problem. I was hoping, the two of us, alone, without Murphy or Bernice- or a real case, would bring out another side of you."

"I was under the impression that we were inching our way in that direction."

"You HAD to introduce me as your current enamorata, just to make sure that we'd wind up in the same room. If you were so certain that I wanted to be here with you, why did you feel the need to manuever me into this ROOM?!" He looks uncomfortable again. "Because you're always looking for an angle here, an EDGE THERE! You couldn't play it straight, could you? Just this ONCE." She picks up her nightgown, goes to the bathroom door, and pauses. "Do you know how romantic, how exciting, how much FUN it would have been sneaking into one anothers room?" She goes into the bath.

"Perhaps I was hedging my bet. But, I never know where I stand with you. All this never mixing business with pleasure business. I'll admit- my desire got the better of my innate honesty. But if a bit of chicanery forced us to explore other facets of our relationship, I felt it was worth it. For both of us." He looks at the door, tries the handle, finds it locked. He bends down, trying to peer through the keyhole. "You seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time locked in this bathroom," he tells her. "Laura?" He straightens, frustrated. "This is beginning to resemble a honeymoon," he says.


Late that night, Cindi's giggles fill the corridor, and Steele, unable to sleep, returns to the room from a walk, wearing his robe and pajamas. He quietly closes the door, and goes to the bed, where Laura is sound asleep. He leans over, kissing her cheek. She doesn't stir.

He goes to the small sofa, and pulls the blanket over himself, still wide awake, as Cindi's laughter continues.


The next morning, Feldman is banging on Ambrose's door as Madeline and Randi stand by. "Ambrose?" he calls. Dominic appears. There are pink feathers all over the floor of the hall. Laura and Steele join them. "Ambrose! What's going on in there? Cindi? Ambrose!"

"Perhaps they overslept," Steele suggests. "They were up rather late last night."

"Come on! What's going on in there? Open up!"

Dominic pushes him out of the way and kicks open the doors. Inside, they find Cindi, nude, parts of her body strategically covered with pink feathers, lying on the fur covered bed. "She's- dead," Randi says.

As they stand there, looking a the body, Feldman asks Steele, "How did she die, Doctor?"

"Uh, how-?"

Laura steps in. "That's probably impossible to tell without an autopsy, am I right, Doctor?" she says.

"Well, take an educated guess," Feldman suggests. "After all, you're the medical expert."

Steele picks up a feather. "Here's your cause of death."

"A feather?" Madeline questions.

"It's my sad duty to inform you that Cindi Sikes was literally tickled to death."


Downstairs, Madeline has a drink. "How can anyone be tickled to death?" she asks.

Steele, still carrying the feather, turns from the window. "Hmm? How? How. I'm afraid the explanation is far too technical for you laymen," he says.

"I remember my brother telling me that laughter temporarily cuts off the air supply to the lungs," Feldman says. "Therefore, prolonged laughter could, conceiveably induce a form of asphixiation. Am I substantially correct, Doctor?"

"I sometimes wish that we gentlemen of the medical profession were half as concise as you gentlemen of the bar."

"Tickled to death," Randi said. "And I always thought that was just something you said when you were happy."

Steele turns to pace. "I heard Mr. Blinn and Miss Sikes around three this morning. Found myself in the throes of-" Laura glares at him. "Some back problems-" Laura smiles. "Attempted to walk of the excruciating pain. Miss Sikes was giggling her way to ecstacy."

"Are you saying it was an accident, Doctor?" Feldman asks.

"In the heat of passion," Steele suggests. "In the grip of heavenly transport, perhaps Mr. Blinn simply got carried away and didn't know what he was doing - or when to stop."

"Ambrose Blinn is a sadistic FREAK," Madeline says.

"Well, he likes to inflict pain under the guise of pleasure," Feldman agrees, "but-"

"This is just the sort of thing he'd come up with," Randi says.

"I think we should find our host," Laura tells them. "Put the question of what happened to him."

"Good. Let's split up," Feldman suggests. "It'll be more efficient that way. Some of us search the grounds, others take the house."

Randi grabs Steele's arm. "I want Dr. Bellows for a partner."

"Randi," Feldman says. "This is not an Easter egg hunt." When Steele and Randi move away, Feldman looks at Laura. They pair up. Dominic goes out the side door, alone.


Outside, Steele and Randi are walking in the woods. "Ambrose!" he calls.

"It's just like Blind Man's Bluff," Randi declares. "Come out, come out, whereever you are!" she calls.

Steele grins. "Ambrose! Mr. Blinn!"

"Ambrose!" Randi calls.

Steele stops her, turning to face her. "Uh, Miss Russell, refresh my memory. When exactly did I- uh-"

"Two years ago," she tells him. She laughs. "I'm really very naughty."

They start walking again. "Your personal life is your own."

"No, no. I mean, Dr. Harvey Burnbaum was supposed to do the operation, but he got in a fender bender
on the way to the hospital, and since I was all prepped and everything, he asked if you could take over for him. So you probably never even knew my name," she tells him, as they pause again. She puts her arms around his neck.

"So we've never actually met before, except in the operating room. And me behind a surgical mask."

"And when I came to, there was Dr. Burnbaum, and as soon as I got out of the hospital, I went straight to Switzerland, and I never got a chance to thank you properly-" she says, pulling him into a kiss.

Surprised, Steele finds himself on the ground, Randi on top of him, kissing him. "Oh, please!"

"This is FUN!" she insists.

"Um, Miss Russell, please. I'm a man of medicine-" She kisses him again. Steele, struggling to free himself, throws his arm out. His hand lands on a shoe. He frowns, looking in that direction. "Uh, Miss Russell-" When she doesn't stop, he pushes her away. "Miss Russell!" He indicates that she should look nearby. She screams.

Laura and Feldman hear the scream and find them. Steele's bending over the body as Randi stands nearby. "Ambrose," Feldman says.

"He's- dead," Randi tells him. Feldman draws her away.

Laura joins Steele. "And then there were none," Steele whispers.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Laura agrees.

"No," Steele insists. "The movie."

"What movie?"

"Barry Fitzgerald, Walter Huston, Louis Hayward, June Depree, for God's sake."

"Get a grip on yourself. You're coming unhinged."

"A group of people are lured to a remote island and systematically murdered. Laura, we're trapped on this island with a crazed killer." He looks around nervously.


Back at the house, Steele announces, "Ambrose Blinn- was choked to death."

"How?" Feldman asks. "Rope? Wire? Strangled?"

"Garbage," Steele says.

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought it was a pertinent question."

"Garbage," Steele says again.

"Okay, okay, Doctor. You've made your point."

"Ambrose Blinn was literally choked to death with garbage. You know: pork rinds, lettuce stems, potato peels."

"Are you sure?" Madeline asks.

"I saw it with my own eyes. The man's mouth was a veritible salad of death. Believe me, it wasn't a very appetizing sight."

Laura moves toward the TV. "And from the appearance of the body, he'd been dead several days."

"Then he couldn't have greeted us last night from his bedroom, could he?" Feldman realizes.

Laura turns on the TV, and the greeting begins to play. She turns. "It was on tape," she explains. "All anyone had to do was press the 'Play' button, and Ambrose magically appeared on the screen, allowing everyone to think he was upstairs."

"But we were all in the dining room when he started talking," Randi points out.

"All except-," Feldman recalls, looking at Madeline.

"I was playing the piano. And I was just as suprised as any of you when Ambrose appeared on that television."

"It's obvious you turned the tape on," he insisted.

"There's a timer on this machine," Laura tells them. "Anyone of us could have set it and been safely in the dining room surrounded by witnesses."

"Which means?" Madeline asks.

"Which means," Steele says, "One of US is the murderer."

"I think it's time we called the authorities," Laura says.

"No phones," Dominic tells her. "They won't be hooked up until the official opening next week."

"No phones?" Steele questions.

"No nothin. No radio, no TV, no shortwave, even the electricity's runnin on the emergency generator," Dominic tells them.

"How do you know this, Mr. Dominic?" Laura wants to know.

"I checked."


"I like to know them things."

Steele moves to join Laura. "It seems our first priority is to stay alive until the helicopter returns next Monday. Toward that end, I suggest never being alone with one other person. Always make sure there's a third party present." he says, as the others eye each other suspiciously. "That way, the killer won't be able to strike again."

"And then there were none?" Laura asks him.

"You must admit, a knowledge of cinema occassionally comes in handy," he says.

"Well, that's sound advice, doctor," Feldman points out. "Except for one thing: What if there's more than one killer?" Everyone looks at Steele, who grins self conciously.

Laura and Steele are in Cindi's room, Steele playing around with the video camera, which is on a tripod.
"More than one killer." Steele asks, "Do you think that's possible?"
"Whoever it is has a certain poetic bent," Laura adds.
"Well, Ambrose Blinn was accused of publishing garbage, and he was choked
to death with it," Laura explained.
"And Cindi Sykes, who had an irritating propensity for giggling..."
"...giggled herself to death," Laura finished.
"Any candidates?"
"None of the guests seem overly fond of their host."
"Hmm. That might account for Blinn's death, but what about Cindi?" Steele asks. "I hate to speak ill of the dead, but she seemed far too vacuous to do anything that might drive someone to murder."
"She did replace Randi in Blinn's affections," Laura points out.
"Yes, but you should have heard the two of them over dinner, exchanging annecdotes over Blinn's sexual preferences like so many recipes...Are you familiar with the honey thing? Well..." (He clears his throat.) "Apparantly..." (pause) " heat a bowl of honey, take half a pound of shredded walnuts..."
Randi begings to scream and they run from the room.

Randi is screaming, "Help me! He's trying to kill me!" when Laura and Steele come on the scene to find her and Dominic darting around a circular settee, her with a fireplace poker, and him with a pool cue. "He came at me with that pool cue!" Randi tells them.

"She's crazy! I turned around and she's standing over me with that poker!"




"You should know," he says. "You were my biggest star." Laura grabs Randi.

She grabs the poker. "A little warm for a fire, Miss Russell."

"Ask him what he was doing in here, going through Ambrose's desk."

"I wanted a look at the books," Dominic says.


"I put up the green to back these clubs. We were supposed to be partners, fifty fifty. Only Ambrose forgot how to add when it came to my share! So I wanted to see just how much he snookered me out of!"

"How's that for a motive?" Randi asks.

"It's fine for Ambrose," Laura admits. "But it still leaves Cindi."

"All last night, he was comin on to her, tryin' to get her to go upstairs with him. She just looked in his ugly face and said if she wanted an animal, she'd go to the zoo!"

Dominic rushes toward her, Steele grabs him. "What about you? What about you? Ambrose kicked you out on your kazoo!"

From behind Laura, Randi says, "Don't be too sure, toad face. I got invited here, didn't I?! Maybe Ambrose missed a REAL woman."

"There ain't more than ten percent of you that's real."

Randi tries to get at him. "People PLEASE!" Steele insists. "Let's confine ourselves to name calling! It's far more civilized."


In their room as they dress for dinner, Steele tells Laura, "Well, it's obvious that we can't keep our eye on everyone."

"Maybe our killer has bagged his limit," Laura says, going into the bathroom. "There won't be anymore victims."

"There should be at least one more."

She looks at him. "What makes you so certain?"

"Because I know who it should be."

"Alright, I'll bite. Who?"

"You." She stares at him. "'And Then There Were None'? Barry Fitzgerald and Walter Huston faked Fitzgerald's death. With everyone believing that he was just another victim- he was free to search for the killer." Laura goes into the bath and closes the door. Steele goes to the door. "Believe me, Laura, it will work. When Dr. Arthur Bellows pronounces you dead, who'll question it?" he tells the door. "With everyone downstairs, you'll be free to go through their rooms and search for evidence." He tries the door, it's locked, so he bends to the keyhole again, kneeling. "You'll be able to- watch their every move without them knowing it." She opens the door suddenly.

"Loose something?" she asks.

"Uh,-a- cufflink. Oh, here it is." He gets up.

"Your plan is brilliant," she admits.

"Of course it is. It's from movie."

"Except for one flaw."


"The killer will know he- or she didn't kill me."

"Hmm. THAT'S why it worked in the movie," he recalled. "Barry Fitzgerald was the killer."



"My death- is an accident."

He grins. "Laura." He puts his hands on her shoulders. "You've done it again. Saved the day with your analytical approach, your inspired inventiveness-" He pushes her gently onto the bed, following her. "What say we take a little rest before we launch into this strenuous plan of yours?"

"I'm not tired," she tells him.

"Perfect. Neither am I."

She gets up. "We'll need some kind of diversion."

"Are you wearing pantyhose, by any chance?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Strip." Laura's eyes widen.


Later, after dinner, Madeline's playing the piano again when the lights begin to flicker. Dominic stands up. Feldman says, "Generator's running low. If we don't conserve energy, we won't last the night. Come on, help me get some candles."

"I'm not going anywhere alone with you," Dominic tells him.

"Myrtle," Feldman says, "Would you please join us?"

Laura pauses as Steele joins the men in the doorway on his way into the room. "Before we go anywhere, I have a confession to make." They all stare at her. "Oh, no. No, it's not that. I- I hate the name Myrtle. My- My middle name is Laura. Please. Please, call me Laura."

Feldman and Dominic exchange a confused glance, then move off as Steele grins. As she passes, he says, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You really know how to disappoint a crowd."

"Just get the ball rolling, will you?" She says, then follows the others.

Steele joins Randi at the bar. "Ready to do it, Miss Russell?" he asks.



She takes his arm. "I'm ready to do a lot more than that, but if it gets the ball rolling-"

"That's the idea," he says as they approach the piano.

"The Doc and I want to dance," Randi tells Madeline. "Play something we can grope to."

"I told you, I don't do requests."

"Not even for old times sake?" Randi asks.

Madeline looks at her. "Especially for old times sake."

"Hey, don't take it out on me. I'm not the one who shafted you. You wanna get even with someone, go shove some more garbage down Ambrose's throat. That is, if you didn't do it the first time."

"Look who's talking," Madeline counters.

"I take it you and Mr. Blinn weren't on the best of terms," Steele says.

"He was a lowlife," Madeline says. "A sick growth."

"Then why accept his invitation?"

"He owed me."

"Artie doesn't wanna hear your sad story, Madeline," Randi says.

"On the contrary," Steele assures her. "Artie's fascinated."

"Two years ago," Madeline tells him, "Ambrose formed a record company. Just for me. Six months later, he folded it. Said he couldn't GIVE my albums away. I was reduced to playing sleezy little clubs in the Valley."

"You had your shot, Madeline," Randi points out. "More than most."

"I wanted another. Besides, he owed me, after all I did for him."

"What did you do for him, Madeline?" Steele asks.

She looks up at him, then at Randi, and starts to play again. "How's this?" She starts playing "It's the Wrong Time".

Randi and Steele start dancing. "What DID Madeline do for Ambrose?" Steele asks quietly, but Randi doesn't answer. She starts singing.

"It's the wrong time, and the wrong place.-"

Laura, Feldman, and Dominic return with candles as the lights flicker again. Laura glances from Steele and Randi to the lights. "I'm gonna turn off the generator," Dominic decides.

"Uh," Feldman says, "Would you like us to go with you?"

Dominic turns, opens his coat. "I brought a friend," he tells them, the open coat revealing the holstered gun. He departs.

Steele tells Randi, "Why don't we continue our gyrations up in my room? You slip away now, and I join you at the propitious moment?"

"You didn't happen to notice if there was any honey in the kitchen, did you?"

"I'll check," he tells her. She slinks away. Feldman and Laura light the candles and the lights begin to flicker more. Steele joins Laura. "Care to finish this dance, Myrtle?" he asks. She glares. "Excuse me. Laura." He leads her to the center of the room. "Is the ketchup still on the dining room table?"

They start to dance. "I wish we could find something a little less phony."

"No one will be able to tell," he assures her. "Relax." The lights go out, and Randi screams.

Everyone takes off to find out what's happened. She's upstairs in the hall, terrified. "Are you all right, Randi?" Feldman asks.

She runs and throws herself into Steele's arms. "I walked in- and something clammy grabbed me." They go into Steele's room to find a line strung with panty hose hanging over it.

"Ugh," Feldman says. "They're wet."

"Odd place for Miss Groggins to hang her laundry," Steele comments.

"Yes," Feldman agrees. "If she's the one who put them there."

"Why don't we ask her?" Dominic says.

Steele looks around at the others. "Where is she?"

"I thought she was behind us," Madeline says.

They return to the stairs, and find Laura laying there, still. "Stand back," Steele tells Feldman. "Let a professional attend to this."

"She must have fallen in the commotion," Feldman guesses as Steele kneels over her, checking her pulse.

"Or was pushed," Randi says.

"I'm afraid we shall never know," Steele says, standing, a serious expression on his face. "Myrtle- Laura - Groggins- is dead." He picks up the "body" and carries it upstairs to the bedroom.
Steele carries Laura's limp "dead" body into a bedroom and places her on a spare bed. Groans and says in a whisper, "Putting on a little weight, aren't we?" Scoots a pillow underneath her head, then adds, "I certainly hope you're the last victim. We're beginning to run out of rooms."
He crosses her arms over her chest and patting her hands, he leaves.


Later, Laura is sleeping, the piano is being played - and she wakes as she hears the door open. Seeing the point of a gun, she turns quickly away as the gun is fired- the bullet striking the pillow where her head was only seconds before. The shot sends Laura into the hallway, where she's met by Steele. "Somebody else saw the movie!" she tells him.

"Did I hear a shot?" he asks.

"I hope so, because there's a bullet hole in my pillow the size of Detroit."

Randi and Dominic come out. "Miss Groggins," Randi says. "You're not dead!"

"No," Steele admits. "Miss Groggins is not dead. In fact, Miss Groggins is not Miss Groggins. She's Laura Holt, my most able assistant, from the detective agency which bears my name: Remington Steele. Perhaps you've heard of me."

"No," Randi and Dominic both say.

"Oh. Well," he tells Laura, "It IS a bit far south for us."

"I heard a shot!" Feldman says, joining them, surprised when he sees Laura. "What the HELL'S going on here?"

"We're private detectives, Mr. Feldman," Laura explains, "investigating the death of our client, Dr. Arthur Bellows."

"But-" Feldman begins.

"You mean," Randi asks, horrified, "I bared my soul to a- peeper?"

"And a delightful soul it was, Miss Russell," Steele assures her. "Surgically speaking."

"Pervert!" she accuses, raising her arm to slap him.

Steele grabs her arm, stopping her. "Just a moment, Miss Russell. Someone attempted to kill Miss Holt just now. I think it's time we searched everyone's room for a weapon."

"Unless Mr. Dominic cares to show us his 'friend'," Laura says.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The one you carry in your inside coat pocket," Laura reminds him.

"I'm not showing you anything, lady." He starts to turn away, but Steele grabs him, cutting him off.

"Uh, uh, uh."

"Hold it!" Dominic says. He opens his coat. The gun's not there.

"Where is it?" Laura asks.

"Where you'll never find it," he says.

Steele starts for Dominic's room, "I'll find it," he says, only to stop as Randi speaks.

"Wait a minute. We're not all here. Where's Madeline?"

"She was downstairs, playing," Feldman says.

"But she stopped," Steele recalls- "right before the shot."

"It's her," Dominic says. "That dippy broad always hated Ambrose," he tells them as they all turn to follow him. "She's probably downstairs, waiting to pop us off, one by one."

They enter the room, and Laura rushes to the piano. "Madeline." She's laying on the bench, blood on her head, a peice of ivory scrimsaw on the floor.

Steele picks it up. "Ivory. For someone who tickled the ivories. Another grim piece of poetry."

"Well," Laura points out. "We're down to four possible victims- and one definite murderer." She looks at the others.


Later, Laura is laying in bed, Steele on the sofa. "Laura?"


"I've been thinking of what you said. About honesty in our relationship. And- in the interest of a new forthrightness, I feel there are certain things you should know about me."

"Pleasant things?" she asks.

"Well-" he hesitates.

Laura sits up. "Sometimes, not knowing is better," she admits. "For instance, I wouldn't want to know you had a wife and kiddies tucked away somewhere. Or that you killed someone- Or swindled little old ladies out of their life savings. When I invented Remington Steele, I gave him all the qualities that I admire in a man: honest, integrity, compassion- desire to help others -"

"Sounds as if you're destined to be endlessly disappointed in me," Steele comments.

"Maybe I created an impossible role for anyone to play," Laura admits. She gets out of bed and walks toward him. "We - have a very- tenuous relationship, you and I." She kneels beside him. "And- if we ever - cross that line- take that step - turn that corner-" she laughs self conciously. "All those awful eufemisms for going to bed with someone- Then maybe I'll want to know. Everything. Then again, maybe I won't. But I would want to know it would- mean more than a moment. That it would last longer than a weekend in the Devil's Playground."

"A commitment, of sorts." She nods. He reaches out to touch her hair. "I've spent the better part of my life avoiding those things like the proverbial plague."

"I figured as much," Laura tells him. "But the fact that you wanted to be honest with me is a hell of a start." She kisses him and then rises to go back to bed.



"Sleep well."

"You too."


The next morning, Steele and Laura come from their room and begin knocking on doors, waking the other three. He knocks on Dominic's door. "Yeah?"

"Rise and shine, Dominic," he calls, then goes on.

"Mr. Feldman?" Laura calls, knocking.

"Yes?" he responds.

Steele knocks on Randi's door. "Miss Russell!" There's no response. "Miss Russell!" Still nothing. "Miss Russell!" Dominic and Feldman join them. Steele opens the door and they enter to find Randi, laying on the bed. Steele checks her pulse, finding a hypodermic needle on the floor. He sniffs it. "Can't smell anything."

"Could have been an air bubble."

"Poor Randi," Feldman muses. "She slept her way right to the bottom."

Laura and Steele stand. "You want to tell us about it, Mr. Feldman?" Laura asks.


Back downstairs, he explains, "It was Randi who came up with the initial financing for Devil magazine. Ambrose promised they'd split everything down the middle. But when the magazine took off, which was almost after the first issue, he realized what a gold mine he was sitting on, and he didn't want to split up anything with anybody. So, she hired me to take him to court. She had him, too- even though there was nothing in writing they had a verbal contract, an oral agreement- witnessed by one other person-"

"Madeline Vickers," Laura said.

"Lawyers, Miss Holt, are a glut on the market. When you're merely adequate, as I am, there aren't a lot of firms clamoring for your services. So, it wasn't a difficult decision for me to make when Ambrose offered to let me represent the magazine in exchange for sabatoging her case. No, it was depressingly easy. Everybody has a price, I guess."

"And Madeline's was a recording contract."

"Ambrose set up the label, she had a convenient lapse of memory, the case didn't even come to trial."

"Why don't you ask him who gets control of the magazine now that now that Ambrose is dead?" Dominic suggests.

"Are congradulations in order, Mr. Feldman?" Steele asks.

"Only, as long as those two broads were alive," Dominic suggests, "There was always the chance that Madeline would tell the truth and he'd wind up with Randi as a partner."

"What about you, huh?" Feldman counters. "With Ambrose with out of the way, he'd have full ownership of the Devil's Playground clubs."

"Great reason to ice Ambrose. But I had no beef with the others. YOU are it, Feldman."

"I've had enough of this kangeroo court," Feldman declares, and takes off.

Dominic takes a step, then looks at Steele. "Well? Aren't you gonna stop him?" he asks.

"We're on an island, Mr. Dominic, he can't get very far."

"You think he was planning to be found here with all these stiffs when the helicopter showed up?" Laura looks thoughtful. "He's got a way off this island- we gotta find him!" He takes off.

Laura looks at Steele. "He does make a certain amount of sense," she tells him, and moves off, leaving Steele no choice but to follow her.

Outside, they find Dominic bending over Feldman's body. He tosses a rock away, then fires his gun at them before taking off. Laura and Steele go to Feldman, finding that he was bashed in the head with a rock. "Not very poetic," he comments. "But it certainly got the job done."

"We'd better get back to the house," Laura tells him. "Before he does."

They take off. As they enter the house, she tells him, "You lock the doors and windows down here, I'll take the second floor."

As Steele is locking windows, he hears the piano being played. Cautiously he follows the sound to Ambrose's room, where Laura is standing. "I found it hidden in Dominic's room," she tells him, then turns off the player.

"That seems to nail it. He killed Madeline, put that tape on, and was back in his room in time to react to the attempt on your life."

"He won't leave this island until he's positive we're not around to testify against him," she says.

"What a wonderful, romantic weekend this has turned out to be," Steele comments. "Trapped in a house piled with corpses, while a determined killer lurks outside." They pause as they leave the room to look both ways, then Steele nods for them to go.


Laura and Steele are in the dark in front of the glowing fireplace as a thunderstorm rages outside. Steele is sitting on a coffee table and Laura on the edge of the couch cushion.
"Laura," Steele says. "On the remote chance that, uh...we don't survive this til tomorrow, I'd feel better if you knew a few things about me. Perhaps not very pleasant things, but...It was Dublin; the city was rife with unrest...Trouble to the north, trouble to the south..."
"Is that where you were born...Dublin?"
"Laura, please. These confessionals are trying enough without interruptions."
Steele continues. "Uh, where was I? Uh...Ahh, Dublin."
A shutter begins to bang.
"What was that?" he asks nervously.

"It- sounded like- a- shutter," she says, "Banging."

"Does that mean we have to go back upstairs with all those-"

"Well, I don't think we went Dominic to find a way in- especially with him having the only gun in the house. Okay?" They get up, and go upstairs.

"If we're fortunate to leave this island alive," Steele tells her as they go upstairs, "I'm going to insist that we carry weapons. Especially when we're NOT working on a case."

They start trying to trace the banging noise, then hear a creaking noise. Steele pauses before the door. "I - suppose this is- one instance where- ladies don't go first?" he asks. He starts forward. Laura places a hand on his arm.

"Think of me as your backup."

"Yes," he agrees, opening the door. The lightening reveals Dominic hanging by a rope, dead. "Dominic? Laura? If he's, then who's-"


"Of course what? This would seem to suggest that one of us is the murderer. Oh, what a weekend."

"Something I said," Laura recalls.

"Something you said?"

"About somebody ELSE having seen the movie."

"You mean, pretending to be a victim?" he asks.

"We have to start checking rooms," she tells him as they hear Cindi's laughter below them.

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary," he says.

They leave. In the drawing room, the VCR is playing, showing a laughing Cindi frolicking on Ambrose's bed. Laura pauses it.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Randi says, appearing from the doorway, dressed in a pantsuit.

"Miss Russell. I must admit, this is quite a surprise."

She's holding Dominic's gun on them. "Why? Because you thought I was too dumb to plan this weekend?"

"No offense, but you do give the impression of someone more comfortable with cartoons than Kafka."

"Shame on you, Mr. Steele. You're just like everybody else. When you have a face and a body, that's all people figure you have. Devil magazine was going to be my chance to prove I was good at something besides showing myself. Only, Ambrose didn't give me what was coming to me."

"So he got what was coming to him," Steele says.

"How'd you get him to tape that greeting?" Laura asks.

"He LOVED to prove how clever he was. When everyone was in watching him on television, he was going to sneak through the kitchen and be waiting at the dinner table when you came back."

"I didn't fool you for a moment with my impersonation of Dr. Bellows, did I?"

"No, Mr. Steele. Not when it took two years in Switzerland to put me back together after that drunken butcher cut me up."

"How did Dominic get in the house?" Laura wants to know.

"I hope you don't mind us asking all these questions," Steele says. "But we're really quite taken with your creativeness."

"I unlocked the rear door. Didn't want the poor man to catch his death outside."

"Obviously you intend to leave this island before tomorrow morning," Laura says.

"There's a boat moored on the next island, just two point six miles with the current. I swim every day to keep in shape."

"Well," Steele says, clapping softly, moving toward her. "I, for one, salute you, Miss Russell." Laura steps back, pushing the resume button on the VCR, causing Cindi's laughter to distract Randi, allowing Steele to grab her as the gun goes off. He pushes her to the sofa.

She looks up at him. "You know, I liked you a hell of a lot better when you were Dr. Bellows."


As they approach the offices the next day, Steele is telling Laura, "Nothing like a weekend away from the pressures of work to - rest the body and renew the spirit. Just one thing before we leave the Devil's Playground behind us for good. What exactly was in that hypodermic needle?"

"Something called digitalis leaf. The right dose, and it slows down the pulse and heart rate to the point where only a doctor- " she fingers his lapel, " a REAL doctor, can tell you're not dead."

"Um. I never told you about the walnuts and honey, did I?" he says.

Murphy and Bernice are looking at something when the doors open, and they enter, Laura laughing "Well, well," Murphy asks. "How was it?"

"Incredible. Fantastic. Couldn't have been a more rewarding experience," Steele enthuses.

"We started to get to know one another quite well," Laura tells them.

"You did?" Bernice asks.

"Our leader was getting very heavy into the truth game."

"Really?" Murphy asks.

"Absolutely," Steele confirms. "Honesty is the new watchword around here now."

"Good," Laura says. "Then we'll start with your name. Your REAL name." Bernice and Murphy look on expectantly as Steele wavers.

"My name. As William Shakespeare so aptly put it, a rose by any other name-"

"Still has thorns," Murphy finishes for him.

The End.