Jessica turned to Tony once Judge Kaufman had left the room. "It's not over yet, Antony. I'll find someone."
Tony was very aware of the guard at his side as Remington and Laura moved closer. "She's right, Tony," Laura said softly. "Remington and I are going to check out those leads you gave us. And we have a few contacts of our own as well."
The guard placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go, Roselli."
Jessica watched the door close behind him, then turned to place some papers into her briefcase, sighing tiredly. A masculine voice spoke. "It's not like you to take a losing case, Miss Beecham," John Barnes, the assistant District Attorney told her. "Especially a criminal one."
"Maybe I don't think it's a losing case. Mr. Roselli's innocent."
"Of course he is," Barnes commented dryly, obviously having heard similar assertions before. "The fact that his fingerprints were the only ones on the gun doesn't mean a thing."
"It was HIS gun, Barnes," Laura pointed out.
"He's being set up," Remington added. "And we're going to prove it."
Barnes picked up his briefcase. " It could be hard to make good on that, considering that harboring a fugitive could cause serious trouble for your agency. But either way, you'd better solve it before we go to trial, Steele. If I take what I've got now to a jury- Roselli doesn't stand a chance. Have a nice day." With that, he nodded and left the courtroom.
Remington placed an arm around his sister's shoulders, pulling her close. "Never liked that man," he commented. "I'm sure we'll come up with something, Jessica."
"He's right about he agency being in trouble, Remington," she told him, glancing at Laura, who nodded slightly.
"If the Board decides to play hardball, yes. We've weathered worse storms," she reminded her friend. "Remington and I have some people to talk to. Care to tag along?"
Jessica shook her head as they turned toward the doors. "I've got to get back to my office and try to find SOMEONE that the court will consider adequate to release Antony to."
"Good luck," Remington said as they paused beside her car, noting that Fred had the limo parked nearby. He paused, giving her a brief hug. "And stop worrying. Things will work out."
Laura and Remington knocked on the door marked "Information Retrieval" and waited until they heard the familiar voice call out. "Come in!"
Sheldon Quarry's welcoming smile almost made a visitor overlook the clutter of his small office. Almost. Files and papers were scattered everywhere. Boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling in one corner. A computer sat on the desk, the screen awaiting input.
In the midst of all of this sat Sheldon Quarry, the Central Intelligence Agency's "answer man." He was an unassuming man, someone you might pass on the street and never look at twice. But his smile was wide as he saw who entered the room. "Mr. Steele. Mrs. Steele." He rose, shaking their hands. "You could have knocked me over with a feather when I got your message. Last place I expected either of you to turn up was here."
Remington smiled. "Ah, well, Sheldon, you never know when we might pop up. How's life treating you these days?"
"Not too bad. We just bought a new house."
"And how's Lucille?" Laura asked. "And the kids?"
Sheldon's smile grew wider if possible. "Oh, they're great, Mrs. Steele. You know, I never thought I'd enjoy being a father. But there's something so special about having those little eyes looking up at you like I'm some kind of cross between Errol Flynn and Big Bird." He glanced at Remington. "You probably know what I'm talking about, Mr. Steele."
Remington tugged an ear. "In a way, Sheldon," he agreed.
Sheldon indicated the two chairs before the desk. "Now, what can I do for you?"
"We need some information, Sheldon," Remington told their former client.
"You've come to the right place, then," he assured them, fingers poised over the computer keyboard.
"We have a former CIA operative working for us," Laura began, but Sheldon's nod stopped her.
"Roselli. Cover was Immigration for most of his time with the Company." He squinted as he tried to recall more information. "Got in Dutch with the Big Guys several years ago, redeemed himself with the Fitch affair a few years back before leaving to take a job in the private sector."
"Uh, that's him," Remington confirmed, nothing short of amazed by the man's eidetic memory. "He's been accused of murdering a young woman he knew down in Mexico, and we think that perhaps someone from his- previous profession might be setting him up."
Sheldon typed something into the computer, scanning the information. Shaking his head, he said, "According to this, the only one who might have been able to do something like that would be Fitch, and he's still locked away in a British prison."
"Surely the man made enemies," Remington insisted. "He does tend to grate on one's nerves, after all." He winced as Laura's foot connected with is ankle and added, "At least, he used to."
Sheldon looked apologetic. "I'll keep digging, Mr. Steele. If something comes up, I'll call."
Edward Holt was sitting on the edge of Mildred's desk as Laura and Remington entered the offices. Laura went to her father, giving him a hug. "Hello, Daddy."
Remington shook his father in law's hand. "Edward," he said, then turned to Mildred. "What's the good word, Mildred?"
"No so good, Boss," she said. "I called Estelle Becker first thing this morning like you suggested. There's no record of Conchita de la Vega entering this country legally."
"And I did a little digging myself," Edward told them. "I did manage to come up with an address where Conchita was staying, but nothing else."
"An address?" Remington asked as he turned toward his office. "Where?"
"Uh, Mr. Steele," Mildred said quickly, rising. "There's someone waiting in your office," she finished, wincing as Laura and Remington both turned to look at her. "He's from the State Board of Licensing."
"They're not wasting any time, are they?" Laura noted, squaring her shoulder and passing Remington to go to the door. "Shall we, Mr. Steele?"
"After you, Mrs. Steele," he replied.
The little man sat nervously in the chair before the desk, briefcase on his lap. He looked around, then rose upon the Steeles' entrance into the room, the briefcase falling to the floor and hitting his foot. "Ouch!"
Remington managed to hide his smile as he offered a hand. "Remington Steele. And my partner, Laura Holt-Steele. How may we help you?"
"Leon Palmer," he explained, pulling an ID wallet from his pocket and showing it to them. "From the State Board of Licensing. We've- received a complaint." He placed the case on Remington's desk and opened it to pull out a report. "Apparently you harbored a man wanted for murder."
"That MAN is Tony Roselli," Laura told Palmer. "He WORKS for the Agency. And we weren't harboring him. We were just trying to give him a chance to talk to his attorney before turning himself in to the police."
"But you DID know that he was wanted by the police," he pointed out. "According to this report, Mr. Roselli was seen in Mr. Steele's car as it entered the gates of your property. The wisest move for you to make, Mr. Steele, would have been to take Mr. Roselli directly to the police station and THEN called his attorney."
"Perhaps we were a bit- protective of a friend, Leon," Remington agreed, putting an arm around the man's shoulders. "May I call you Leon? Well, Leon, it WAS an isolated incident, and I can assure you, it won't happen again."
"Was it, Mr. Steele?" Leon asked, causing Remington look at him.
"Was it what?"
"An isolated incident? I need to look over your case files for the last three years. If we find any hint of impropriety -," he said, but Laura shook her head.
"Those files are private," she reminded him. "Unless you've got a warrant-," her voice faltered as Leon held one up. "Oh."
"And until the review is finished, I'm afraid I'll have to ask that your agency cease and desist in any cases it might be handling."
Laura turned toward the door. "Mildred, could you please come in here?"
Mildred entered the room, glaring at Leon. "Yes, Mrs. Steele?"
"Would you mind showing Mr. Palmer where we keep the case files, Mildred? Specifically the ones for the last three years. And then stay with him in case he has any questions."
"Sure, Mrs. Steele," Mildred said, putting on her best bureaucrat face. "This way, Palmer."
Leon frowned as he watched Mildred head toward the other office. "And where will you and Mrs. Steele be, Mr. Steele?"
Remington glanced at Laura. "Ah- visiting a friend," he answered.
Marie pointed to Jessica's door. "She's in there, on the telephone, I think, trying to find someone to take responsibility for Mr. Roselli. Might as well go on in."
Jessica hung up the telephone as the door opened. "Remington. Laura. I hope YOU have good news. I don't have any at the moment."
"Neither do we, I'm afraid, except for an address that my father found for Conchita."
"Edward's helping?"
"At the moment, he's the only one of us with a still intact Investigator's license," Remington said. "A young man from the Board is downstairs with Mildred as we speak, poring over our case files from the last three years."
"The case files? Did he have a warrant?"
Laura placed it on the desk. "He did. No luck in finding anyone to help out on your end?"
"Nothing. I've called everyone I can think of, but none of them know Antony well enough to agree to help."
The intercom buzzed. "Yes, Marie?"
"Mrs. Morgan and Mr. Brandon are here."
"Send them in," Jessica said. Looking at Remington, she sighed. "I'd forgotten that I was supposed to have lunch with them today."
"Do they know about what's happening?"
"Is something happening, Remington?" Robert Brandon asked his grandson as he ushered Remington's Aunt Katherine into the room. "Other than the fact that Tony Roselli's been arrested for murder?"
Laura, Jessica, and Remington all looked at each in surprise. "Uh, Robert," Remington began, but the older man was taking Jessica's hand to explain.
"You should have called, Jessica," he chided gently, pulling her into his arms.
"I didn't want to bother you and Katherine," she tried to say.
"I'm your grandfather," he reminded her. "It's my job to be bothered." Jessica relaxed against his chest for a moment.
"How did you find out?" Laura asked.
"Maisie Blakewell's son is a reporter," Katherine told them. At their blank expressions, she continued. "Maisie lives in the apartment across from mine. Her son knew that my nephew was Remington Steele, and called Maisie to tell her about it. Of course, she just couldn't wait to tell me all the grisly details."
Robert turned to look at Remington. "Now, how can we help?"
"I don't know if there's much anyone can do at the moment, Robert. The judge won't release Antony into any of our custody-."
Robert nodded. "Because he was taken into custody in Harley's apartment. Do you think they might consider me adequate for the task?"
To Be Continued . . .