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"How long do you think we have
before they start looking for us?" Laura asked as they walked
along the side of the deserted road.
"With most of LA's finest, I'd say five minutes," Remington
said. "A good many carry an extra set of handcuff keys,"
he explained. "I somehow got the impression that young McNally
hasn't been on the job long enough to have learned that little
trick. I'd say we have an hour before someone helps him."
Laura's eyes widened and she quickly pulled him away from the
road and behind a tall hedge of shrubbery. "Or maybe less,"
she commented. "We'd better find a phone and call Mildred."
His arms around Laura, Remington looked down. "I suppose
you're right."
Ten minutes later, after using the only change either of them
had, he hung up the pay phone and frowned. "She's not there.
But I left a message on her machine."
"Why do I have an uncomfortable feeling of deja vu?"
Laura wondered.
Remington searched his pockets again before glancing at her. "You're
sure you don't have anymore change?"
"No," she sighed. "I wasn't expecting to need any
money."
"Rule number one," Remington said, looking around. "Always
be prepared."
"Then why don't YOU have any change?" she asked.
"I do. It just happens to be in bills at the moment."
He grabbed her hand. "Come on."
"The last time you said that," Laura reminded him, "I
wound up in a stolen car." But she let him lead her toward
the run down little motel.
As they entered the room, Laura looked around with wary eyes.
"Well," she commented, sitting on the edge of the bed
and kicking off her shoes, "At least it's a little better
than the last one."
Remington nodded, sitting beside her. "And at least I was
carrying some cash. They won't be able to trace us using the credit
card."
"What name did you use to check in?"
He hesitated before picking up the telephone and said with a grin,
"John Roby, actually." He dialed the phone, then shook
his head. "Still no answer at Mildred's. And she hasn't picked
up her messages yet."
When he dialed another number, Laura asked, "Who are you
calling now?"
Remington lifted his hand as the other end was answered. "Lt.
James Jarvis, please."
*****
In his office, LAPD homicide detective Jimmy Jarvis picked up
his telephone on the first ring. "Jarvis."
"Ah, Lieutenant. So glad to find you at work."
Jarvis sat back. "Mr. Steele. This is a surprise. From what
I've heard, you and Miss Holt have had a pretty busy evening,
so far. Breaking and entering, car theft,-"
"All in a day's work, Detective," Remington assured
him.
"You probably don't know it, but they've just issued warrants
for both of you. Breaking and entering, car theft, assaulting
a police officer-" he said quickly.
"I didn't lay a hand on Officer McNally," Remington
insisted.
"Perhaps not, but the Department doesn't take kindly to someone
handcuffing one of their officers to his own car," Jarvis
pointed out. "Then there's your part in Mrs. Jameson's heart
attack-"
"Mrs. Jameson had a heart attack?" Remington asked,
meeting Laura's worried gaze.
"Her chauffeur said she had collapsed when he got back to
the house. He's blaming you and Laura for upsetting her."
"How is she?"
"Not good. They flew her to St. Mark's- and the doctors aren't
optimistic about recovery."
"Damn. Look, Jarvis, if you'll have your men search Mrs.
Jameson's garden, I think all of this will be cleared up."
"Search her garden? And what would they be looking for?"
"The body of Harvey Taylor."
"Taylor? Her missing accountant?" Jarvis laughed, but
there wasn't any humor in it. "You take the cake, Steele.
You really expect me to get permission to search the garden of
a woman who's had a massive coronary due to YOUR scaring her to
death? I won't even mention the fact that she and the Commissioner
are old friends -"
"I know it sounds crazy, Jarvis, but Laura and I KNOW that
Mrs. Jameson killed Harvey Taylor and that her chauffeur Pete
Dawson helped her cover it up."
"I need to talk to you about this, Steele. In person. If
Mrs. Jameson dies, then they're talking issuing warrants for the
both of you. For manslaughter. It would look better if you turned
yourselves in," he told Remington.
"All right, Jarvis, I'll turn myself in," he agreed,
slapping Laura's hand away when she would have grabbed the phone.
"With a couple of conditions," he said.
"What conditions?"
"I'll turn myself in to YOU- after you listen to me explain
what Laura and I found. And you'll quash the warrants for Laura's
arrest."
"Wait just one minute!" Laura burst out. "You are
NOT-!"
Remington pulled her back down onto the bed, the phone against
his chest. "Sit down," he said firmly. "I know
what I'm doing."
"Problem, Steele?" Jarvis asked.
"Just a bit of - static on the line," Remington lied.
"Do we have a deal, Detective?"
Jarvis sat forward, thinking. "Where do you want to meet?"
"The all night coffee shop across from Century Plaza,"
Remington suggested. "Be there in thirty minutes. And Jarvis,
if I so much as SMELL any of your compatriots, I won't be there."
He hung up and braced himself mentally for the explosion. He wasn't
disappointed.
"What in heaven's name do you think you're DOING?!"
Laura demanded to know. "If you turn yourself in before this
is resolved, they're just liable to trump those charges so high
that you'll NEVER get out!"
Remington sat there for a second before slowly rising to his feet.
"Which is precisely why I want YOU out here to clear this
up and get me out," he explained, placing his hands on her
shoulders. "Find Mildred and Bernice, and then I want you
to make sure that Jarvis follows through and properly investigates
Taylor's murder. Just be careful, okay? I don't think Pete Dawson's
going to let you go as easily as Jarvis did." He handed her
some money for cab fare.
She nodded, looking up at him. "This isn't quite the way
I planned for this evening to end, you know, Remington."
He pulled her closer to him. "I know. But- there'll be other
evenings."
"Yes," she agreed, placing a kiss on his lips, "there
will. And as soon as all this is settled, I'm going to make it
up to. I never expected all this to happen when I suggested we
go out to Mrs. Jameson's."
"You know what they say about the best laid plans,"
he reminded her.
Laura's eyes searched his face, then fell. "I should have
thought things out a little more, I suppose. I just saw a way
to -"
"To put off facing the music?" he suggested with a wry
grin, lifting her chin so that he could see her eyes as she spoke.
"To avoid my telling you that I happen to love you more than
any woman I've ever known in my entire life?"
"You-You do?" she asked in a soft, startled voice.
He nodded, then lowered his head to hers for a long kiss. When
it ended, he said, "I have to go. I want to be at that coffee
shop before Jarvis gets there and make sure he's not laying a
trap."
"But-" Laura began, only to be silenced by another kiss.
"We'll talk once this is finished," he promised. "Find
Mildred. And watch your back." As he opened the door, he
turned and grinned, blowing her a kiss before leaving the room.
Laura sat there, still in shock. Had he really SAID it? Or had
she imagined it? She touched her fingers to her swollen lips and
realized she was shaking. He'd said it. He'd finally told her
what she'd been afraid to believe all this time. He loved her.
And he was going to meet Jarvis. Laura was suddenly afraid she'd
never have the chance to tell him that the feeling was VERY mutual,
and ran to the door, throwing it open.
There was no sign of him. She stepped out of the room to survey
the parking area and sidewalk visible through the entrance to
the motel. He'd vanished, as only he could do. Shivering in the
damp air, Laura returned to the room and picked up the telephone.
When the answering machine picked up, Laura said, "Mildred,
it's Laura. Meet me at the office as soon as you can. We've got
BIG trouble. And watch your back," she added quickly, then
hung up and left the room.
As she flagged down a taxi, Laura began making her plans. Remington
was so worried about her being careful that he hadn't thought
about back up for himself. The least she could do was follow him
to the coffee shop and make sure things went as they were supposed
to before going to the office. That's what partners were supposed
to do, after all. Back each other up.
*****
Mildred and Bernice walked into Mildred's house in time to hear
the answering machine click off. "I wonder where they could
have disappeared to?" Mildred was saying.
"Well, at least it means they're probably together wherever
they are," Bernice said. "You've got some messages on
this thing."
"Maybe Miss Holt or Mr Steele tried to call," Mildred
said, pressing the "retrieve" button.
Beep!
"Mildred, this is Lt. Jarvis. If you happen to see Mr.
Steele or Miss Holt, give me a call. They could be in trouble."
Beep!
"Mildred, Steele here. Laura and I have run into a bit of
trouble- We're in a motel on Davenport, Room Six."
Beep!
"Mildred, it's Laura. Meet me at the office as soon as
you can. We've got BIG trouble. And watch your back."
Beep!
Mildred put the telephone receiver that she'd picked up after
Mr. Steele's message back into the cradle and looked at Bernice.
"Leave it to those two to find some kind of trouble to get
into," Bernice sighed. "We'd better go."
*****
It took Laura several minutes to spot Remington. He was leaning
in a shadowed doorway, watching the entrance to the coffee shop.
Lt. Jarvis arrived, apparently alone- and went inside. As Remington
started across the street to join him, Laura saw movement in a
car on the curb. The car's driver rolled down the window and the
barrel of a gun appeared- aimed directly at Remington's back.
Laura yelled "LOOK OUT!" and leapt into the street,
pushing Remington to the sidewalk beneath her.
Remington hit the pavement as he heard Laura's warning and then
the gunshot, along with a cry of pain. Realizing that Laura was
laying partially on top of him, not moving, he looked around.
"Laura?"
Jarvis came from the café upon hearing the noise, in time
to see the white car speed away. He made a mental note of the
license number, then knelt beside Steele as he held Laura's head
in his lap. "I'll call an ambulance," he said, getting
to his feet to run to his car.
Remington hurriedly removed his jacket and placed it over the
wound in her right shoulder, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
"Hang in there, love," he begged. "Hang in there."
Her eyes fluttered open. "Remington?" she questioned.
"I'm here. Jarvis is calling for some help."
"It was Dawson," she said. "Tried- to kill you."
Her eyes closed, then opened again. She lifted a hand to his face.
"Have to- tell you."
"Tell me what?" he asked softly.
"Love you too. Al-ways." Her eyes closed again, her
hand fell away, and frantically, Remington felt for a pulse.
When he found it, he drew a shuddering breath. "Thank God.
Hold on, love. Hold on. Help's on the way."
Jarvis came back. "They're on the way. How is she?"
"She's bleeding badly. She told me it was Pete Dawson."
"Mrs. Jameson's chauffeur? Why would he be trying to kill
you?"
"To keep me from talking to you, I would imagine," Remington
told him, his eyes glued to Laura's face, only glancing up as
the sound of a siren rent the night air. "Help's here, Laura,"
he whispered. "Don't give up. Not now." Something he'd
once told Monroe, about people close to them not having as many
aces dealt to them came back to him. He only hoped that Laura's
aces hadn't run out.
To Be Continued . . .