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.


"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?" 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."


"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."


"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."


"Acapulco seemed as good a place as any to begin life as a fugitive."

"Um hmm."

"Have you located Hector?"


"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."


"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.


"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."


"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.


"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.


"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."


"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