- Steele Away
With Me
- Part 1
- Transcribed from the
Episode written by:
- Michael Gleason
- Safes in Cairo, London, and Amsterdam
are blown open, and diamonds stolen from each one.
In San Diego, a man carries a package through town, pauses to
open a map that will lead him to the "casa de Laura Holt".
He looks around nervously, and is forced to run when a car starts
to chase him. Another car appears, and he finds himself trapped
between the two of them. He runs from the pursuing men, hiding
at the top of a fire escape.
Still carrying his package, he makes a break for it, and someone
shoots at him. Several more shots are heard.
***
At Laura's house the next morning, she rushes from the shower
as someone rings her doorbell. "Maria," she says, her
hair in a towel and another around her body, "you've got
to stop forgetting your-" Her words fail as she finds the
man who was running there.
"Agua, por favor," he manages to say before falling
to the floor to reveal bullet holes in his back.
***
At the offices of Remington Steele Investigations, a woman comes
from the elevator carrying a briefcase and looking as if she's
on a mission that she doesn't intend to fail. She's middle aged,
with severely styled blonde hair, slightly overweight. Entering
the office, she goes through the throng of women who are there
to tell the gum chewing woman at the desk, "Excuse me. Mildred
Krebs. I have a nine-thirty with Miss Holt."
The girl smiles, blowing a bubble. "Don't we all."
Miss Krebs is NOT amused. "Would you be kind enough to announce
me?"
"Oh. Honey, I don't work here. That's why I'm here. To find
out if I work here."
"Is there someone I can see with who DOES work here?"
Krebs asks with a frown.
The woman turns toward Steele's office. "Some fox took one
look at us and barricaded himself in there." She laughs.
Krebs moves in that direction. "Excuse me. Comin' through."
She practically knocks another woman down en route. "Oh.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." She knocks on the door.
From inside, Steele says, "Try and be patient, ladies. Miss
Holt will be along momentarily."
Krebs tries the door, finds it locked, and knocks again. Steele
opens the door. "I have an appointment with-"
"Yes, yes, yes, I know. You have an appointment to see Miss
Holt. Well, I can't imagine what's detained her," he says
quickly. "She's usually so prompt."
"Are you Remington Steele?" she asks.
"Please accept my apologies," he says, about to close
the door.
"Actually, you're the person I should be speaking to,"
Krebs tells him.
"I'm sorry, but, hiring a new secretary is Miss Holt's bailiwick.
Now if you'll just take a seat with the other ladies over there-"
"You don't understand. I'm Mildred Krebs."
"I wouldn't dispute that for a moment," Steele replies,
a bit frustrated by this bull dog of a woman.
"It's about your AUDIT," Krebs informs him. She hands
him her identification and enters the room as he looks at it.
"Mildred Krebs," he reads, closing the door behind
her. "Field Representative. Internal Revenue Service."
Krebs puts her things on his desk and takes out her glasses.
"Nothing to be alarmed about."
"Uh huh," Steele says, approaching cautiously.
"I know how that word AUDIT strikes terror into the heart
of the average person," she reassures him, opening her case.
"Well, you don't know that half of it, Miss Krebs."
She pulls out a stack of papers. "Purely routine, I can
assure you. Now, you see, these computers kick out the names
at random, and now it's your turn to be in the spotlight, so
to speak," she tells him with a smile as she shows him the
printouts. "See, we did an audit of your agency. Which necessitated
a cross check audit on the personal returns of all the people
that work for you. We have a Laura Holt," she says, flipping
through the returns, "Murphy Michaels, Bernice Foxe. But,"
she takes off her glasses, "and you'll get a boot out of
this, Mr. Steele-Everybody loves to give the IRS a big old horse
laugh-" Steele laughs, more from nervousness than understanding,
however. "And it IS embarrassing now that come to think
about it, because," she starts to laugh, and Steele joins
her. "We-" laughs more. "We can't find your tax
return," she finally admits through the laughter.
Steele's laughter slows. "Ah, my tax return? Oh?"
"We put in new computers. We went from a 640I to a 980Z.
I kept pushing for a 1020J, but- oh, you know these bureaucracies,
my dear. They never listen to the people who actually have to
work darn machines." Steele commiserates with her problem.
"So I guess your tax return is rattling around in the system
someplace. Lord knows when it will ever surface. So, if you will
just give me YOUR copy, I will wrap this up in just a few hours."
"My copy," Steele repeats, obviously wary.
"Yeah."
"Yes, uh-"
"YOUR copy," she repeats.
"My copy." He's trying to think of a way out. "Uh,
would you excuse me for a moment, please?" he says, taking
off for Laura's office. He closes the connecting door and runs
to the phone, dialing a number. "Laura? Where are you? It's
chaos here!"
Laura is sitting on her sofa, the dead man on the floor. "Well,
it's no bed of roses here."
"I have a room full of seething secretaries, not to mention
some-"
"I can top that," Laura informs him. "I have a
dead man in my living room."
"A dead man? Oh. Anyone you know?"
"According to his maritime papers, he's my cleaning lady's
son."
"Uh. I'll be right there, okay?" He hangs up and heads
for the connecting door again, the stops, recalling Miss Krebs
is there. He goes to the outer door and enters the reception
area, smiling nervously at the women who stop talking to look
at him. "Morning, Ladies. Morning, morning, morning."
He smiles at the gum chewing woman, mimicking her, before making
his way quickly out of the office.
***
At Laura's he's examining the body as Laura tells him, "His
name was Hector Figueroa.
He had a detailed map in Spanish to my house, and this hotel
key. I thought it was Maria, she's always forgetting her key.
I go to answer the door, and there he was, clutching this package
wrapped in newspaper."
"Package?" Steele asks. "Wrapped in newspaper?
Laura, this is beginning to smack of The Maltese Falcon.
Walter Huston plays a sea captain, who, although riddled with
bullets, manages to bring Bogart the Falcon wrapped in newspaper."
Laura looks heavenward during his explanation. "What was
in the package?"
She takes him to the kitchen and shows it to him. He picks up
a large fish. "A FISH?"
"Hector worked on a tuna boat," she tells him.
"Well, I don't think he came all this way with three bullets
in him just to bring you catch of the day." He puts down
the tuna and turns to locate a knife. It's frozen solid and snaps
the tip of the knife off.
"Maybe you'd better defrost it first," Laura suggests.
"Yes," he agrees, and stuffs the tuna into her oven,
turning it on as a woman screams. Laura rushes to the front room.
Maria is standing in the living room over the body, rattling
in Spanish. "I know, Maria, I know," Laura commiserates.
"It was a dreadful, awful thing."
Maria continues to speak in Spanish, and Steele asks, "Did
your son have any enemies that you knew of?"
Maria looks at him. "Que hijo?"
Laura points to the man. "Your son. Hector."
"Esta no es Hector," Maria insists, continuing.
"In English," Laura asks. "Please, Maria. Por
favor."
"That is not Hector. Why, he doesn't look anything like
Hector. Hector is much better looking."
"But he was carrying your son's papers," Laura insists.
"That is NOT Hector. I should know my own son!"
Steele sniffs. "Good Lord! The fish!" He rushes back
toward the kitchen,.
"Fish?" Maria asks, outraged. "You're gonna eat
at a time like this?"
Laura pushes her toward the sofa. "Maria, please, sit down.
I'll get you a glass of water."
"I don't want a glass of water. I want to know why that
man has my son's papers."
Laura takes a deep breath, looks from the dead man to Maria,
then runs toward the kitchen as Maria sits down.
Steele pulls the thawed fish from the oven and holds it so that
Laura can cut the underside to reveal- "Diamonds!"
she says.
Steele takes a pair of tongs and examines one of them, smiling.
"D. Flawless. Marquis cut, approximately 2 karats, worth
about, oh- seventy five thousand on the open market." His
smile is wider. He notices that Laura's staring in amazement.
"Of course," he says quickly, "that's just a layman's
guess."
***
They return to the office, and surprisingly it's empty. "All
clear," he tells Laura as they cross the reception area.
"Why shouldn't it be?"
"Well, a slight problem came up," he tells her as they
go to his office. "Under the circumstances, I didn't want
to bother you with it." He opens his office door, revealing
that Krebs is sitting on the sofa, waiting. She stands up. "On
the other hand, what goods a problem if you can't share it?"
he asks as Laura looks at Krebs. "Laura Holt, may I present
Mildred Krebs, from the Internal Revenue Service.
Laura's eyes open wide. She shakes Krebs' hand. "Miss Krebs!
We had an appointment this morning! I'm terribly sorry."
Back in her no-nonsense mode, Krebs says, "No need to apologize.
Let's get on with it, shall we?" she says, going to her
papers on the desk. "According to the corporate return,
which you signed, Miss Holt, the company employed a Bernice Foxe
as a secretary-receptionist."
"Unfortunately, Miss Foxe is no longer with us," Laura
says.
"Hmm. Yes. Terrible loss. She ran off with a saxophone player,"
Steele says as Laura frowns. "No doubt they're enjoying
some hot licks in New York, eh?"
"And a Murphy Michaels as an investigator?" Krebs adds.
"I'm afraid Mr. Michaels also left the agency," Laura
tells her. "He opened one of his own in Denver."
"Works closely with the coroners office. Murphy always had
a flair for autopsy reports."
Krebs removes her glasses as Laura says, "I can't imagine
what could be wrong, Miss Krebs. Every penny was scrupulously
accounted for."
"Well," Steele tells her, "it seems that the computer
misplaced my return, and Miss Krebs simply wants to take a peek
at my copy?" Laura freezes.
"You copy?"
"My copy," he says.
"Would you excuse us for a moment, Miss Krebs?" Laura
asks Mildred and turns toward her office.
"Where are you going?" Krebs asks as they leave.
"Just into the next office," Laura tells her, still
smiling.
"That's where HE went," Krebs tells her. "FOUR
HOURS ago!"
"Be back before you know it!" Laura assures her.
"Don't get too comfortable," Steele tells the woman,
who's staring suspiciously in their direction.
***
In Laura's office, "Well?" Steele asks.
"Give me a moment to think." The telephone starts ringing.
"Think? You mean you didn't file a tax return for me?!"
"You didn't exist then!"
"But if I exist now, I must've existed then!" he insists
as Krebs opens the door.
"There's a telephone call for you, Miss Holt. A Lt. Wilder
of the Coast Guard?"
"Thank you." Laura picks up the telephone as Steele
stands by the desk.
Krebs pins him with a look. "What are you doing?"
He turns to the file cabinet. "OH, just checking the files
out. If you'll excuse me for a moment," he says, ushering
her back to his office. "If you'll excuse me for a moment,
Miss Krebs. Highly confidential. Awfully sensitive. There you
go." He closes the door and joins Laura.
"Well thank you, Lieutenant." She hangs up. "According
to charts filed with the Coast Guard, Hector's tuna boat was
off the coast of Acapulco three days ago."
"Uh huh, what does that prove?"
"The fish was wrapped in an Acapulco newspaper, three days
old." She hands him the hotel key. "This key is from
an Acapulco hotel. Whoever that is with Hector's papers probably
boarded there." She takes something from her desk.
"What are you doing?" he asks, sounding worried.
"One usually needs a passport for international travel."
"Where are you going?"
"Mexico."
"Mexico?" Steele questions, sounding panicked.
"Yes, Mexico. You know, Lupe Valez, Maria Montez, Pedro
Amendarez."
"Laura, you just can't take off like this."
"I'm doing it for Maria. She's worried sick about her son.
He could be in all kinds of danger."
"I know. But all the more reason why can't go down there
alone."
"Then 'Steele' away with me."
"Mexico?"
"Sun drenched days, glamorous nights," she suggests.
"Couldn't we be drenched someplace closer to home?"
"Is there something that precludes your going to Mexico
with me?" she asks, suspicious of his attitude.
"No, it's just that, uh-I don't have a valid passport."
"As I recall, when we met, you had an abundance of passports."
"Yes, yes, I know, but now that I'm trodding the straight
and narrow I wouldn't feel right using one of those."
She moves toward the door. "All right, you stay here and
fend off the IRS until I can thing of a plausible reason why
you didn't file a tax return!" she opens the door and goes
through it.
"Laura!" he calls after her as Krebs opens the other
door.
"Mr. Steele?"
He rushes to the files. "Digging, digging!" he tells
her, his eyes on the open doorway, promising Laura retribution
when he sees her again.
"Is there some reason why you can't produce a copy of your
tax return?"
"Hmm? Umm," he closes the cabinet. "I have a confession
to make, Miss Krebs," he tells her, leading her back into
his office. "I didn't file a tax return for that particular
year," he confides.
"Why not?"
"Because- uh, because- please. Sit here," he says,
indicating a chair. "Because -because I didn't earn any
income!" he insists. "It's all here in the corporate
return. Remington Steele was not paid a salary," he finishes,
a bit proud of himself.
"Be that as it may, Mr. Steele, but you were paid in kind."
"Paid in what kind?"
"The agency wrote off a car, a chauffeur, an apartment.
The only valid reason not to declare those items as income would
be if you devoted one hundred percent of your time in business."
"Oh, of course I did!" Steele insists. "I sleep,
breathe, eat, DREAM, private investigating!"
Krebs looks doubtful. "I'll be around at nine-thirty tomorrow
morning to inspect your domicile. And if it contains one single,
solitary item of a personal nature, my past experience will come
in handy," she tells him as she packs up her things.
"What past experience was that?" he asks nervously.
Krebs smiles. "Six years with the fraud squad," she
informs him, and leaves.
***
Laura arrives in Acapulco, and goes to the hotel. "Hi,"
the clerk says. "Can I help you?"
"I hope so. My name's Laura Holt. I'm a private investigator
from Los Angeles, and I'm attempting to locate this man."
She shows him a photo of the dead man. "His uncle in Los
Angeles passed away recently and left him a small inheritance.
Unfortunately, there's no current address for him. I did, however,
manage to learn that he may have been at this hotel a few days
ago. Perhaps as a guest."
The clerk laughs. "That's no guest. That's Pedro."
"You know him?"
"Yes, I do. He's a bellman here. Pedro Campos."
"That's the correct name, alright," Laura confirms.
"Yeah, but, uh, I'm afraid he hasn't come to work for the
past- three days."
"Oh, my. What a shame. Well, perhaps you could give me his
current address? I do so want to tell Senor Campos of his good
fortune."
"I will see what I can do," he tells her and starts
checking something. Laura opens her purse and surreptitiously
pulls out the room key.
"I'd also like a room," she tells the clerk when he
gives her the address. "If at all possible, I'd like- 2009."
"2009?" The clerk looks behind her. "Are you alone?"
"Yes. I'm quite alone. I prefer it that way. You know, modern
woman and all."
The clerk laughs. "Yeah. Then, I don't know why you would
like to have the Room 2009," he tells her. "It's the
Honeymoon Suite."
Laura's embarrassed. "Oh. The Honeymoon Suite. Well, no
wonder my sister recommended it. She said it was the most satisfying
room she'd ever been in." She laughs.
"It's booked solid. Months in advance."
"Oh," she sighs, disappointed. "In that case,
I'll take any old thing you have available."
"It'll be a few minutes," he tells her. Laura nods
and walks across the lobby, passing the sign in for an insurance
salesman convention.
The receptionist asks a man, "Your name, please?"
"Martin Ring," he tells her.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ring, I can't seem to find your name here."
Across the lobby, a light blue suited man is putting on a name
tag with Ring's name on it as he watches Laura leaving the hotel
and follows her.
***
Laura is walking through the town, looking for the address on
the paper in her hand. She approaches a woman who is cooking
on the sidewalk. "Buenos dias. Habla ingles?" she asks,
but the woman doesn't respond. "Pedro Campos, ah- casa?"
She takes out a photo. "Um, mi a mi- ah-mi amigo- Hector
Figueroa here," the woman takes the photo and puts it down.
"En Pedro casas campo- en Pedro Campos' casa?" The
woman looks at Laura and walks away, leaving Laura frustrated.
"Gracias." To herself, she says, "I knew I should've
taken French."
As she walks along, a car follows her, suddenly one of the men
inside grab Laura and hold her, trying to push her into another,
parked vehicle. When she runs away, the car follows her. Laura
runs around the corner- directly into the man wearing a light
blue suit.
"Whoa!" he says, grabbing her. Laura glances behind
him to the car. "Slow down! That's the way to have yourself
an accident! You're a little- off the beaten track here, ain't
ya?"
"Yeah," Laura tells him. "I got separated from
my group." The car is still waiting for her.
"Oh," the man says. "Listen, maybe I should see
you to your hotel," he offers.
"I'd really appreciate that, Mr.-" she glances at the
name tag, "Ring."
"Marty," he insists.
"Marty! Laura. Laura Holt," she says as they shake
hands.
"Laura. Where're you staying, Laura?"
"The Princess," she tells him.
"The Princess? IS that a coincidence? That's where we're
put up to!" They laugh at the small world. "Yeah! I'm
with the insurance convention," he tells her. "It's
a little reward they cooked up for writing a lot of policies.
I'll say one thing, though. I always say it. You can't have too
much insurance." Laura turns him away from the car, and
he offers her his arm. "You never know when you're gonna
run into a crying need for it."
They leave, depriving the people in the car of Laura's company.
***
That night in Los Angeles, Steele is sitting in his office with
the diamonds they found. The phone rings, and he answers. "Steele
hereYes, operatorWho's calling? Yes, I'll accept the charges.
Hector? This is Remington Steele. Miss Holt's associate. Where
are you?"
Hector is on a telephone outside. "I've been calling her
place all day. Do you know if somebody named Pedro Campos came
to see her?"
"If it's the fellow with the fish, I'm afraid he did."
"Do you know where I can reach him?"
"Well, I'm afraid you're gonna need an awfully long cordI'm
afraid he's dead, Hector."
"Dios mio," Hector sighs.
"Look, where are you?"
"Please tell Miss Holt I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to turn
out this way."
"She's in Acapulco-I mean looking for you."
Hector looks frightened. "Oh, man she shouldn't be down
here! She finds me, they'll kill her too!"
"Who'll kill her? What're you talking- Hector? Hector?!"
On the other end, the phone is hanging by the cord, and Hector
is gone. The car that was after Laura earlier is parked nearby.
Steele goes to the windows, looking out, obviously worried about
Laura. He grabs a book from his desk and picks up the phone.
Dialing a number, he waits, then asks, "Yes, what time's
the next flight to Acapulco?Okay, book me on it, pleaseO'Leary.
Michael O'Leary."
***
A police car sits outside a house, and inside, Laura is with
the Chief of Police as they inspect an article of clothing with
H. Figueroa on it. "Apparently your friend was here,"
he tells her.
"Yes," she agrees, looking around the room which has
been searched. "But where is he now? And in what condition?"
"Leave his picture with me," the man says as they go
into the bedroom, where there is blood all over the sheets. "Perhaps
someone will remember seeing him."
Laura hands him the photo. "What can I do?" she asks.
"Go back to your hotel, and wait for my call."
"I feel so helpless."
"At the moment you are." She leaves, passing Marty
outside.
***
Steele is carrying a suitcase, and on his way out of the apartment,
pauses to straighten the Casablanca poster on the wall. When
he opens the door, Mildred Krebs is there. "Miss Krebs.
You're early."
"Thought I'd get a jump on the day. Yesterday was such a
waste."
"Going somewhere?" she asks pointedly as she sees the
suitcase.
"Toledo," he lies. "My Uncle Randolph suddenly
took very ill."
"And naturally you were going to tell me about this unexpected
trip-"
"Well, it came as such a shock," he tells her. "And
your impending arrival completely slipped my mind. But please.
Feel free to, uh, conduct your inspection. Just, close the door
when you leave?" he backs out, leaving Krebs surprised and
angry.
She goes to the phone, and dials a number. "Supervisor Melisch,
please." Picking up a slip of paper, she reads the writing.
"Acapulco. Flight 72. LAX 10 AM." She hangs up the
phone and rushes to the door in hot pursuit of Steele.
***
A white limo delivers a man to a house in Acapulco. He goes to
a terrace overlooking the ocean, where a man is impatiently waiting
while two other men examine and appraise diamonds. "Fifty
thousand," one of the men say, and another man takes money
from a briefcase. "Ninety-thousand." More money is
placed on the table. "Seventy-five thousand." "Two
hundred thousand."
"Frederick Yohns," the third man says, introducing
the new arrival, "Paul Dominick, my associate from Chicago."
Paul shakes their hands. "Mr. Dominick will see that your
diamonds reach the United States."
"When?" one of the men asks.
"They'll be going out this afternoon."
"How?"
"The less you know of that aspect the better it is for all
concerned. On arriving safely in the States, Mr. Dominic will
reclaim them. You should hear from him a day or two after that.
Then you can dispose of them anyway you see fit."
"I think I shall convert them into Swiss money," the
client tells him. "I have no confidence in my own currency."
"Whatever suits you," the man says smoothly as the
client rises.
"Always a pleasure, Alex. Mr. Dominic, I will wait for your
call." The clients leave.
"Yeah, right," Paul says. Once they're alone, Paul
asks, "What do you mean, they go out today?"
"Have to keep the customers satisfied, Paul," Alex
reminds him.
"You know, these aren't postcards we're sending across the
border."
"No, but they have to be just as innocent. Unless you've
managed to create another problem."
"Some broad sniffing around Campos' place. My people tried
to grab her, but she slipped out from under." Alex sits
back. "She came back later with a local cop."
"Who is she?"
"I don't know. But until I find out, I don't wanna move
anything."
"Paul, you may be an expert in your own particular field,
but believe me, I know the kind of people we're dealing with!
They're frightened. In the only way that the very wealthy know
how to be frightened. Their country devalues their currency,
freezes foreign assets, they panic, they scurry around, looking
for the surest, safest way to get their money out. One hint that
our organization is in trouble, and we won't be able to give
those pieces of carbon away."
"All right, all right. As soon as we track her down, I'll
just take her out of the picture, that's all."
"That's your answer to everything, isn't it? You killed
Campos, where did that get us? More complications."
"Wait a second. He took our merchandise. He stole from us!"
"You should have let him have them. They're pebbles compared
to what we're sitting on! Now, have you replaced him? Have you
at least managed to do that?"
"Don't worry," Paul promises. "THIS one, I'll
handle myself."
***
At the Princess Hotel, a bellman comes to a room, and the blonde
man who opens the doors tells him, "Oh, uh, the bag is in
the bedroom." He gives the bellman a tip and watches as
he goes to get the bag. A blonde woman joins the man and they
kiss, laughing, happy, and start downstairs arm in arm. Paul
watches them go, then enters the suite, closing the doors. He
gives the bellman some money, and the man leaves.
Paul goes into the bedroom, then grabs the suitcase. He pours
some of the diamonds into the paper tubes in the hangers.
At the elevator, the man asks the woman, "Do you think we
have time for lunch?"
"Oh, sure," she says. "The plane doesn't leave
til three, and it's only-" she glances at her bare wrist.
"Oh. I left my watch in the room."
"I'll get it," he offers.
"Oh, no, no no," she says, taking the key. "You
grab us a table." They kiss, and he leaves."
Paul is just finishing stowing the diamonds when he hears the
key in the lock. He starts looking for a place to hide, goes
into the bath. The woman comes in, sees the suitcases still beside
the bed, and then goes to the bath to get her watch. She picks
it up, then pauses. Turning, she pulls back the shower curtain-
and Paul is there.
***
Laura gets off of the elevator, looking at the key to Room 2009.
As she nears it, she finds the man banging on the door. "Peggy!
Peg, hon, are you in there?"
Laura pauses by the door. "Don't tell me she locked you
out."
He looks at her, obviously worried. "No."
"Is something wrong?"
"Yeah. I can't seem to find my wife. We were gonna go down
to get a bite to eat. She came back here to get her watch- but
that was an hour ago. I waited at the restaurant, I called the
room, I had her paged-"
"Don't you have a key?"
"No, she has it."
"Oh." She looks thoughtful, then "discovers"
the key on the table next to them. ""What's this?"
"Why would Peggy leave the key out here?" he wonders,
and they go inside. There's no sign of Peggy, and the cases are
still there. He sits down, then goes to the bathroom. Her watch
is still on the counter. "Something's going on here,"
he tells Laura.
"Maybe she got sidetracked," Laura suggests. "Maybe
she's downstairs, waiting for you."
"No. She'd never leave this. This was my engagement present
to her."
"Maybe we should call the police. I have a friend. Captain
Rios. I'm sure he'll be able to help."
***
They go downstairs, and over a drink, he tells Laura, "She
wouldn't just take off. This is our honeymoon. Miss Holt, we
didn't want to leave but we couldn't wait to get back to Fresno.
To start our life together. Mr. and Mrs George Plummer."
"George, I've had some experience in these things, and often,
what appears to be strange and contradictory has a very logical
explanation."
"Is there someone special in your life, Miss Holt?"
She laughs. "That's hard to pin down. He's special to me.
I don't know how special I am to him."
"Peggy's the most special person I ever knew. We've been
together since the tenth grade. And she would never, ever, just
get up and leave without telling me."
An announcement comes over the paging system. "Laura Holt,
please come to the house telephone. Senorita Laura Holt."
Laura frowns. "Excuse me." Laura goes inside to a phone
and picks it up. "Hello?"
"Really, Laura. You cut me to the quick," Steele comments.
"The minute my back's turned, there you are, sharing a Tequila
Sunrise with another man."
Laura is surprised. "How did you-?" she stops, smiling,
and looks around. She spies him across the lobby on another telephone.
(He's wearing a dishy white suit and black shirt) They wave,
and hang up. She joins him. "I thought this climate was
a little too hot for you?"
"Actually, um, I'm fleeing the tax collector."
"Oh."
"Acapulco seemed as good a place as any to begin life as
a fugitive."
"Um hmm."
"Have you located Hector?"
"No."
"Good. Apparently he IS in danger, and whoever is after
him won't hesitate to kill anyone whom he's with."
"How do you know?"
"He called me up last night. Oh, incidentally, the dead
man's name is-"
"Pedro Campos," Laura finishes, thoughtful.
"You've discovered that, have you?"
She smiles. "It hasn't all been Tequila Sunrises. You know,
you could have told me this over the telephone. You didn't come
all the way down here because you thought I might be in some
kind of danger, did you?"
He shrugs. "Of course not. I'd never insult your intelligence,
or your professionalism. by trying to stop you from getting killed.
No, I simply decided to take a much more- active interest in
the business. You know. What with Murphy and Bernice no longer
with us, someone has to fill the void. And I assure you, Laura,
I've made that commitment. Whatever the problem, whatever the
circumstances, you can count on me. I'll always be there for
you." He looks behind her. "Uh, excuse me, please."
He takes off.
Laura looks behind her to see Captain Rios approaching with an
interested look at the man who's just left. "Senorita Holt.
That man you were just talking to-"
"What about him?" Laura asks.
"Do you know him?"
"Actually, no. I was just giving him directions to the dining
room. Why?"
"He looks familiar. Disturbingly familiar."
"He has that kind of face," Laura comments. "Average,
ordinary. Common as a cold."
"I heard someone else disappeared."
"Yes."
"I hope this is not the beginning of an epidemic,"
he tells her, and they both laugh.
Later, Laura is walking with George and Rios, as George insists,
"Would you stop saying maybe she just wandered into town?
She didn't. I've known her since she was fourteen and she'd never
do anything that flaky."
"Then I'll need a description of Senora Plummer," Rios
tells him as they pass a man reading a newspaper.
"Okay, fine."
Laura hears a "Psst!", and slows. It comes again. And
she stops, letting the others go ahead as she turns to see Steele
is reading the newspaper.
"What are you doing hiding behind a newspaper?" she
asks.
"Hiding."
"Just how dangerous is it for you to be down here?"
He folds the paper. "Not dangerous at all, provided I can
keep one step ahead of the local gendarmary. What is El Capitain
doing lurking about?"
"Whatever's going on is going on in the Honeymoon Suite.
A young woman disappeared from there this morning."
He smiles. "Well, then, let's find out what's going on?"
"Booked solid," she informs him. "Months in advance."
"Then perhaps we should find out who the next occupant is,
eh?"
***
Laura is standing in the airport terminal, holding a sign which
reads "Bloustein" A couple approaches her. "Our
name's Bloustein."
Laura smiles, shakes their hands. "Welcome to Acapulco,
Mr. and Mrs Bloustein. Your car is here."
"Car?"
"To take you to the hotel."
"The travel agent didn't say anything about a car."
"All part of our Fabulous Fiesta Honeymoon service,"
she assures them with a smile and leads them away to a car.
She holds the door open for them to get into the back, and Mr.
Bloustein says, "Boy, this is gonna be some honeymoon."
Laura laughs. "I'm sure you'll remember it for the rest
of your lives." She closes the door and gets behind the
steering wheel.
Mildred Krebs marches down the walkway, looking none to pleased.
***
Steele comes downstairs at the hotel and approaches the desk.
"Ah, buenos dias."
"Buenos dias," the clerk replies.
"Michael O'Leary. I phoned you awhile ago."
"Ah, yes, Senor O'Leary. You are in luck. We just received
a cancellation not fifteen minutes ago."
"Oh, that is a good stroke of good fortune. Thank you."
"Very unexpected, too. They had this suite reserved since-
February."
"Really? Well, the course of marriage never does run smoothly,
does it? Even on honeymoon," he laughs.
"Uh, where's your wife, sir?" the clerk asks him.
"Oh, she's taking care of a couple of minor inconveniences.
She'll be along shortly." He gives the clerk the papers
and freezes as a familiar voice calls out.
"Hold it right there, buster!"
Turning, Steele finds Mildred Krebs approaching, furious. Thinking
quickly, he runs to her. "Ah, cupcake!" he declares,
then gives her a kiss. He holds her arm behind her back.
"Oh. You're hurting me!"
"And you LOVE it, don't you?" he asks, pushing her
across the lobby ahead of him as the crowd of people in the lobby
watch. "Absolute minx. Try to control yourself til we get
to the bedroom, my poco piesto," he admonishes with a smile.
They enter the suite. "I warn you!" Krebs tells him
as he releases her, "I warn you! You are adding kidnapping
and assault to a list of already penitentiary proportions."
"Please, Miss Krebs. Give me a chance to explain."
"Explain? Explain what? Failure to file a tax return?"
"I am here on a very important case-"
"Flight to avoid prosecution-"
"It all began when a dead man delivered a tuna fish to Miss
Holt-"
"Traveling under a fraudulent passport-?"
"Only the fish contained diamonds, and the dead man wasn't
whom he said he was."
Krebs turns to the phone. "I'm gonna have to call my supervisor,
get further instructions."
"Now there's a deadly killer," Steele tells her, sitting
down and watching her, "stalking the real dead man."
"Maybe I can have you arrested before we extradite you!"
she tells him.
"Miss Krebs, I beg of you. Don't touch the phone."
He gets up as she speaks.
"Operator? Policia, por favor."
"Miss Krebs?" Steele says.
"Yes?"
"Forgive me." He gives her a right to the jaw, knocking
her out.
***
Later, a nervous Steele responds to a knock on the door. "Who
is it?" he asks
"The bride of Frankenstein," she responds.
He opens the door. "Oh, Laura. I've been going crazy waiting
for you."
"Aren't you going to carry me over the threshold?"
she asks him, lounging rather seductively against the door.
"There's something in the bedroom that demands out immediate
attention."
She smiles knowingly. "In that case," she tells him,
"Home, James," and leaps into his arms, showering him
with kisses.
"Normally I'm delighted at these expected displays of affection,"
Steele says, carrying her toward the bedroom.
"You're always telling me not to plan things, to be spontaneous,
to live for the moment-"
"Yes," he agrees. "But I don't think this is the
moment," Steele tells her as Laura sees Krebs on the bed,
bound and gagged.
Laura gets to her feet. "What is SHE doing here?"
"She thinks I'm a tax evader. Because I didn't file a tax
return. And now the entire hotel staff thinks that SHE'S my wife!"
"Well, THIS certainly complicates things!" Laura declares,
going to the bed.
Steele follows. "You have a definite flair for the understatement,
Laura," he tells her, sitting down. "This certainly
isn't the honeymoon I had anticipated."
"Well, we'd better figure out what to do with her."
They rip up a sheet and tie her up more securely as Steele asks,
"How are your prisons in the States? I hear some of them
actually have cells with tellys, stereos, shag carpet, et cetera."
"Don't worry," Laura assures him, "We'll get out
of this."
"Oh, I'm fascinated by the way you use the word WE. Come
on." They leave the bedroom and the still unconscious Krebs,
closing the doors behind them.
"Now we have to make sure that no one gets in this room,"
Laura tells him.
"Meet you downstairs," Steele agrees, opening the door
for her. She places the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the
door.
Steele grabs his coat, puts it on, and then goes out onto the
balcony. He climbs down to the next floor dropping onto the balcony.
Inside the room , a couple is playing cards, and the man watches
as Steele opens the sliding glass door after inspecting it. "Filthy,"
he announces, coming inside. "I'll send someone up immediately."
He leaves
The woman smiles, putting down her cards. "Gin."
***
Downstairs, Laura joins Steele on the terrace. "Captain
Rios just called. He may have found Hector. The police arrested
someone answering his description, he has no papers, he refuses
to give his name-"
"Why was he arrested?"
"He mooned a group of nuns in the town square," she
tells him.
"Good Lord."
"That's what they said."
"Well, no sense duplicating tasks. Why don't you trundle
around to the local lock up? I'll stay around, see if there's
any suspicious looking characters lurking about the hotel."
"You mean aside from yourself?"
"Vaya con Dios," he wishes her, and she leaves him.
He notices Marty follow Laura, and Steele follows Marty.
Laura rushes past the desk, where the Blousteins have arrived,
and Mr. Bloustein is telling the clerk, "And I'm telling
you that I did NOT cancel my reservation."
Marty catches up with Laura. "Miss Holt!" he calls
out, and she stops, shaking his hand as Steele watches them.
Marty puts Laura into a taxi, then calls one for himself. Steele
summons a third car.
Getting in, he asks the driver, "Habla ingles?"
"Like a native."
"Then do the words 'Follow that car' have any significance?"
"Hey, man, we get the "Starsky and Hutch" down
here!"
Steele smiles and sits back as the car pulls off, laying rubber.
***
At the jail, Rios is telling Laura, "We call him the man
with no shame." The doors of the jail open, and Hector comes
out.
"Hector!"
"Miss Holt?"
"Can I speak with him, Captain?"
"A gentle stroll, Senorita. No sudden movements that might
make the guards anxious." She nods. "Abre le, por favor,"
he tells the guards.
"Thank you." She asks Hector, "Did you really
moon a group of nuns?"
"I needed some fast attention," he tells her. "I
figured the safest place for me was in here. Miss Holt, I'm really
sorry. I never meant to get you involved in this."
"Help me get us out, Hector."
"Pedro was hooked in a smuggling scam. He would hide the
stuff inside some tourist's luggage, and then the tourist would
take it across the border. Then I guess someone would do a fast
break in on the other side and get the stuff back."
"Only he got tired of being the middle man and decided to
keep some for himself."
"Well, he borrowed my papers- for a thousand bucks."
"How did he wind up on my doorstep?"
"My old lady was always talking about how nice you were.
How you were always willing to help someone in trouble. Pedro
didn't speak any English. He'd never even been to the states
before. So I drew him a map and I told him that if he needed
any help to go see you."
"Thanks for the testimonial."
"I thought he'd make it through. Only these two guys came
to his place and started banging me around. I had to tell them
what the deal was with my papers. And then I just ran like hell."
"Alright, Hector. Let's see if we can get you out of here."
"Wait!" he says, stopped her from hailing Rios. "No!
I'm not going back out on the street. I won't even make it to
the airport."
"Why would anyone be after you now?"
"They think I know who Pedro was working for."
"Do you?"
"No. He wouldn't tell me. All he said was the less I knew,
the better off I was."
"He didn't say a name, a place, a destination?"
"Just- Pepe's."
"Pepe's?"
"A disco in ????. That's where he'd pick up the stash."
"But he didn't say from whom?"
"Miss Holt, believe me. This is no time to keep secrets."
"Well, I guess you'd better hang around here a bit longer.
But if Pepe's doesn't lead us anywhere, you're going straight
to Mama."
"Just as long as it ain't in a box."
***
Laura leaves the jail, and is walking down the street when an
arm reaches out and grabs her. She starts to retaliate, only
to discover it's Steele. "Uh, uh, uh," he admonishes,
pulling her close, giving her a kiss on each cheek. "Casual,
nonchalant. Old friends who happen to bump into each other."
"Aren't you a little uncomfortable, being so close to your
natural habitat?" she asks.
"The gentleman in the seersucker over my right shoulder-"
Laura looks. "That's Marty. Marty Ring."
"You know him?"
"He's an insurance salesman. He's here on a convention."
Steele nods, smiles slightly. "Then perhaps he followed
you down here to sell you a policy."
"He followed me?"
"Umm. Let's see if he's interested in Old Spanish architecture
or something a bit younger and more American, hmm?" he suggests,
leading Laura down the street. Marty follows.
They walk down the street, aware that Ring is still behind them.
They pause at the bull ring. "He's still with us,"
Laura tells Steele.
Determined little bugger, isn't he? Shall we?" Steele asks,
and they enter the arena, then take off at a run. Ring follows
them. They cross through a horse pen, and Steele comments, "Certainly
not a place to wear white shoes, is it?"
"Or a white suit."
Ring is still following.
Laura ends up in the bull pen, and cautiously backs out.
Ring enters the ring, going to the center. Suddenly the gates
are closed, and Ring pulls a pistol, nervous. A bull enters the
arena. Ring makes a sudden dash for the side.
To Part Two
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