Steele Hanging On

Part Two

Jessica looked down at the downy dark hair of the infant in her arms. "I think he's going to have blue eyes," she told Laura.

Remington looked up from the story he'd been reading to the twins. "Hazel," he told her.

Jessica looked again, then shook her head. "Sorry to disagree, Remington. But I really think I'm right." She handed Patrick back to his mother.

"I agree with you," Laura confided softly.

"I heard that," Remington said, pulling a drowsy Megan into his lap as Agatha entered the room. "Ah, Agatha. There you are."

The nanny gave her employer a gentle smile. "I'll take the little one up and then return for Daniel and Megan," she told him.

Laura handed Patrick to the woman as Mrs. Hobbs came into the room. "Excuse me, Mrs. Steele, but how much longer shall I keep dinner warm?"

Remington saw Jessica glance at her watch, then rose, Megan still in his arms. "I'll call Antony," he decided, only to pause as the telephone rang. "There, see? That's probably him now, saying he'll be right along." Laura came over to take Megan from him, then took Daniel's hand as well.

"I'll take these two up to their beds," she decided. "Tell Tony to get over here NOW," she told her husband as he answered the call.

"Steele here."

"Steele, before you say anything-," Tony began.

"Ah, Antony. We were just wondering where you'd got off to," he said, glancing at Jessica.

"Thanks, Steele. I didn't want Jess or Laura to know that it was me. I need your help, Steele."

"Really?" Remington asked, more careful in his response now. Tony sounded really rattled.

"Yeah. Could you come over here? Now?"

"Now? Dinner's ready-," he said.

"Conchita's dead," Tony told him. "And I think whoever did it used my gun to kill her."

Remington kept his back toward Jessica. "Are you certain?"

"Steele- will you come over?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Remington told him. Hanging up, he waited a moment, knowing that if he were going to leave, he'd best do it before Laura returned. She'd see through his prevarication for certain. "Uh, he wants me to come over- wants to talk to me about what's going on before he sees you," he told Jessica, heading for the front door.

She followed him. "What about dinner?" Jessica asked.

"You and Laura go ahead and eat," he suggested. "No sense in all of us going hungry simply because Antony's gotten himself into a bit of a fix." He turned to look at her, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek. "Don't worry. We'll be back before you know it."

"He'd better have a good excuse for being late," Jessica said.

"I'm sure he does," Remington assured her, then left the house.

"Where was Remington going?" Laura asked as she came to the top of the stairs.

"To meet Antony," Jessica told her. "He said we should go ahead and have dinner if we like."

Laura stared at the closed door, listening to the sound of the Auburn's motor fading into the distance. "We might as well do that, then." But the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end- a sure sign that something was going on.

Remington turned the corner and frowned as he saw the flashing lights of police cars in front of Antony's apartment building. Apparently he was too late to avert any further trouble. The coroner's men were loading a body into the dark wagon, as he approached. "Excuse me- who's in charge here?" he asked.

One of the attendants apparently recognized him. "Uh, Lt. Cohen. Apartment 36."

"Who's in there?" Remington asked, indicating the bag.

"Pretty little thing. Twenty something Hispanic woman. Single gunshot wound to the heart. Coroner thinks she was shot point blank." He closed the door.

Remington nodded, then went inside to the dimly lit elevator, glancing warily at the cage before pressing the button. For once, he almost considered taking the stairs. The third floor seemed overflowing with police, all knocking on doors, and talking to neighbors. "Everything was quiet," one woman who lived next door to Antony was telling an officer. "And then a gunshot."

"And that's when you called the police?" he asked.

"Well, I was going to, but I heard the sirens before I had a chance," the woman insisted.

Remington paused in the doorway of apartment 316 to examine the scene. One of the officers held out a hand to stop him, but Remington pulled out his identification, flashing it before the man, who nodded and let him pass. "Sorry, Mr. Steele."

"That's okay. What happened here?"

"Apparently the guy who lives here shot his ladyfriend and then took off," he said.

"Any witnesses?"

"Not yet. But most of the neighbors heard a gunshot," he said.

"When was this?"

"Around seven," another voice answered.

Remington turned to greet Lt. Mark Cohen. "Lieutenant."

"Mind telling me what you're doing here, Steele?"

"I got a call from Tony Roselli," Remington said honestly. "Wanted me to meet him here to discuss a personal matter."

"Roselli works for your agency, doesn't he?"

"He's an operative, yes," Remington answered. Cohen knew that. The agency had crossed paths with the detective on a case or two. "Why?"

"Do you know if he owns a gun?"

"I believe he does, yes."

Cohen led him toward the bedroom, where an outline of the dead woman was laid on the bed. "Wouldn't happen to know who he might have had up here, would you? Hispanic woman, twenties. No papers or ID on her that we've been able to find."

"Antony spent some time in Mexico, Lt. Cohen. I'm sure he had several friends from those days."

"Any of them he might want to see dead?" Cohen pressed.

"What makes you think Antony killed anyone? Or that he was here at all?"

"His car was here all evening. One of the neighbors saw it when they came home at five. One of them across the hall saw him enter this apartment with the girl around that time. The only weapon in the room was this," he said, holding up a plastic evidence bag, which contained a small caliber handgun. "Coroner thinks it was probably the murder weapon. Add that to the fact that we found the jacket that a neighbor says Roselli was wearing this morning in the living room- and a half empty-still cold- bottle of beer on the nightstand- well, things just point in that direction, wouldn't you say, Mr. Steele?"

Remington turned away, a thoughtful expression on his face. Where the devil was Antony?

He hung around for awhile until Cohen and most of his men left the scene, then turned toward the Auburn. He still had no idea how he was going to explain this to Laura and Jessica. Getting into the car, he froze as he saw something move in the darkness of the footwell on the passenger side. "Don't make any sudden moves, Steele," Tony warned. "I don't doubt that there's someone watching you. I heard Cohen talking to one of his men earlier."

Remington started the car and put it into gear, pulling smoothly away from the curb. He turned a couple of corners, watching the rear view mirror the entire time. "I think we're in the clear," he said. "Might as well get up into the seat."

Tony managed to slide into the passenger seat with some grunts and groans, glancing in the mirror as well. "Thanks."

"Hmm. Mind telling me what you've been up to all evening?"

"I didn't kill her, Steele. Would I have called you if I had?"

"Probably not. But the police seem to think you did."

"Yeah, well, Cohen's had it in for me ever since I beat him to the punch on that case a few months back."

"Your car was parked at the apartment since five."

"Before that," Tony amended. "After I put Conchita into a cab, I decided that I wasn't ready to face you or Laura- and especially not Jess. Not until I figured out how to explain things without looking like a jerk. So I drove home."

"But you didn't go upstairs?"

"No. I realized that Laura would have Mildred calling every five minutes, so I walked down to the beach to think. I was there until seven, when I decided it was time to face the music and tell Jess the truth. But when I got back to the apartment, I found Conchita's body and my gun."

Remington nodded. "Why did you leave after calling me?"

"I'd just hung up when I heard sirens. Figured one of the neighbors had called the cops."

"Very secure building you live in, Antony," Remington commented. "Everyone looking out for everyone else. Almost all of your neighbors were more than willing to tell the police that they'd seen your car in the lot, seen you arrive with Conchita, and heard the gunshot."

"Arrive with- Conchita was there when I got home. She was already dead."

"Sounds like someone's out to get you, mate."

"Yeah. The question is: Who?"

"Don't take this wrong, but- I've no doubt you made quite a few enemies before you came to work for the Agency."

"One or two. That kind of work doesn't lend itself to long friendships."

"Anyone you could call to find out who might be after you?"

"I've still got a couple of friends over there," Tony admitted. "But right now, I don't have anyplace to go where I CAN call. You heard Cohen. He's put out an APB on me. Within an hour, every cop in this city's going to be on the lookout for me."

Remington felt Tony's blue eyes on him, and glanced in that direction. He wouldn't ask for help, but he might as well be, Remington thought. "Okay. Okay. I don't know how I'm going to fix this with Laura, but Harley's out of town for another few days- visiting with some friends. You can stay in his place, I suppose. Just keep a low profile, okay?"

"Thanks, Steele."

"Yes, well. How would it look for an operative of the Remington Steele Agency to be arrested for murdering his Mexican-uh, what exactly was she anyway?"

"Secretary," Tony supplied.

"Specializing in that `personal touch'?" Remington suggested.

"Yeah, well, you said yourself she was friendly," Tony pointed out.

Laura paced across the room for the tenth time since she and Jessica had returned from dinner. "Where on earth could they be?" she wondered.

"Perhaps Antony changed his mind," Jessica said, looking into the nearly empty glass of wine in her hand. "And Remington's -."

Laura shook her head. "If they were at Tony's apartment, then why didn't they answer the telephone? No, something's going on. I can feel it right here," she insisted, placing a hand on the back of her neck.

"Have you tried the mobile phone?"

Picking up the receiver, Laura dialed the number. "I hadn't even thought about that. Surely he would- Remington?"

"Ah, Laura," Remington said with what he hoped didn't sound like too much brightness. "Sorry it's taken me so long, but-."

"Where are you?"

"Almost home, actually. Ran into a bit of a snag. I'll explain when I get there. Is Jessica still there?"

"Yes, she is," Laura replied, rubbing the back of her neck. "Remington, . . ."

"Be home before you know it," he said, then hung up the telephone as he glanced at Tony. "She knows something's up. I can tell by her voice."

"She's got good instincts."

"VERY good instincts," Remington agreed grimly. Especially when it came to seeing through him. Lying wasn't something he liked to do to Laura. She tended to be more than a trifle upset when she discovered the truth.

Laura hung up the telephone slowly. "He said he ran into a snag," she told Jessica.

"Is Antony with him?"

"He didn't say. Actually, he didn't say much of anything, when you think about it," she said, moving to the window that overlooked the front drive as it passed the house heading for the garage.

Both women jumped as a soft beeping sound began. Finally Jessica sighed and pulled a pager from her purse. She pressed the button to silence the noise, then rose and went to the telephone. "I'd better call my service, I suppose." Laura nodded, keeping an eye out for the Auburn. "Hello, this is Jessica Beecham . . .They did?" Her eyes met Laura's as the other woman heard the surprise in her voice. "I see. Yes, I'll call them. Thank you." She hung up the telephone and started to dial another number. "The police called looking for me. Wanted to know if I'd seen Antony all evening."

"The police?" Laura questioned, her attention divided between the window and Jessica.

"Hello? Lt. Cohen, please. Jessica Beecham calling."

"Cohen?" Laura repeated. Cohen was a homicide detective. What the hell had Tony done now?

"Hello, Lieutenant . . . No, I haven't seen him since earlier today. Well, around three, I suppose. At the Agency. I was there on business. Why are you asking these questions? Is Antony in some kind of trouble?" Laura's attention was wholly on Jessica now and saw her sister in law go a bit pale. "I see. Yes. Yes, I will. Good night." She stood there, telephone in hand until Laura came over and took it to hang it up.

"What's happened, Jessica?"

"Apparently Antony's- friend was murdered this evening."

"Conchita? Where?"

"Antony's apartment. With his gun, they think."

"Tony wouldn't have killed her," Laura insisted as Jessica sat down again. Hearing the Auburn's engine, she turned back toward the window. "Remington's home. Maybe now we'll get some answers."

To Be Continued . . .

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Original content ©1999 by Nancy Eddy