"Jessica told me that she couldn't represent me because of-," he began, only to pause as Marie picked up the other end of the line. "Marie, is Jess there?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Roselli. Miss Beecham left a moment ago to go to the courthouse to file some documents on a case."
"Thanks," he said, hanging up. "Damn!" he started for the door, stopping only when Remington called out.
"Antony, where are you going?" he asked.
"To find Jess," Tony explained.
"Then you're going to have to find some way around all of those policemen downstairs," Laura told him. She was looking out of the window. Tony, Remington and Mildred joined her to watch as two police cars drew to a stop before the building and disgorged their occupants. Even from this distance, the figure of Lt. Cohen was clearly identifiable.
"Maybe they aren't here for me," Tony suggested, then shrugged as three sets of eyes focused on him.
Remington scratched his ear. "Antony, Laura and I were at that warehouse just after Darnell was killed. We- saw the killer making his getaway. I even chased him down an alleyway. From a distance, he certainly- LOOKED like you, mate."
Tony glanced at the window again. "Jess is at the courthouse. Someone needs to let her know what's going on."
"You're not going to try and run again," Laura insisted.
"Listen, Antony, Laura and I will track Jessica down, warn her."
"I guess you're right, Steele. Just ask her to tell you about the Sheaffer case. It will explain a lot." He started for the door again.
"Where are you going?" This time, it was Laura who asked the question.
"Making sure they don't find me with you two again. Right now, that's the last thing you need. Just find Jess," he called, and then he was out of the doors and heading down the hallway to the service stairs, ducking inside in time to avoid Lt. Cohen and some of his men as they came from the elevator.
"Mildred," Laura said, turning around, "I want a report on this- Sheaffer Import-Export. See if you can come up with anything that might make some sense of this."
"I'm on it," she said, moving into the reception area, only to freeze. "Why, Lt. Cohen. How nice to see you," she said in an overly- loud voice to get her employers' attention.
Laura and Remington came to the door. "Ah, Lt. Cohen," Remington said with a smile. "What brings you to our little corner of the world- which, as you will notice- is NOT filled with clients clamoring for our help."
"What can we do for you, Lieutenant?" Laura asked, sending her husband a look designed to remind him to behave.
"I'm looking for Tony Roselli," Cohen told them.
"Really?" Remington asked. "May I ask why? I thought he had been released on bond."
"He was. And took the opportunity to kill someone else."
"Who?"
"Man named Glen Darnell. He was apparently Roselli's accomplice in bringing Conchita de la Vega to Los Angeles."
"What makes you think Antony killed him?" Remington asked.
"We have a witness who was in the area and saw Roselli at the scene." His eyes narrowed.
"And why do you think Tony knew this- Darnell?" Laura wanted to know, trying to keep the detective's attention away from Mildred, who was furiously typing on her computer keyboard.
"According to Roselli's phone records, he placed several calls to Darnell over the last two weeks. And there were several pages missing from Darnell's appointment calendar. We're still going over his files, but there's a record of his having employed Miss de la Vega upon her arrival in Los Angeles- using falsified identification, no doubt."
"That's a lot of circumstantial evidence, Lieutenant," Laura pointed out. "Why do you think Tony is here?" Before he could respond, she lifted her hand. "Let me guess: Another witness who just HAPPENED to be in the right place at the right time."
"A reporter who's on the story, as a matter of fact," Cohen confirmed. "Mind if we search the office?"
Laura stepped away from the doorway. "Be our guest, please. He's not here."
Cohen's radio squawked. "Lt. Cohen."
Cohen pressed the transmit button. "Cohen here."
"We got him downstairs, sir," the voice informed. Laura kept her face impassive as Cohen watched her. "He was trying to get out of the building unseen. Says he was up in Miss Beecham's office."
"Take him in. I'll be right down." He lowered the radio. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Steele, Mr. Steele."
Once he was gone, Laura grabbed her purse. "Keep working on that search, Mildred. We're going to find Jessica."
The telephone rang, and Mildred answered it. "Remington Steele Investigations, - . . .Just a minute-," she looked up. "Mrs. Steele. It's for you. Mercy Hospital."
Laura frowned as she turned and came back "Hello- . . .Yes, he is . . . Why-Is he-?" Remington placed a hand on her arm, sensing her distress. "Yes, yes, I'll be right there." She hung up the telephone. "Daddy's just been admitted to Mercy General," she told them.
Remington put an arm around Laura, noticing how Mildred paled at the announcement. "What happened, Mrs. Steele?" she asked
"They don't know. He was found unconscious in an alley."
Remington pulled her close for a hug. "Let's go."
"But- what about Jessica?" Laura asked him.
"Edward needs you with him at the moment," he said. "Mildred? Would you like to come with us?"
Mildred shook her head. "No, Mr. Steele. I'll stay here and man the phones." They exchanged a look over Laura's head.
Remington held Laura away. "We'll call as soon as we know anything," he promised her.
Mildred gave him a smile of gratitude, and as soon as the door closed, she picked up the telephone to dial the number for Mercy Hospital. There was no way she was going to be able to concentrate on work until she knew how he was doing. "Yes, I'd like to check on the condition of Edward Holt-" When the woman on the other end started her standard refusal, Mildred said, "Now you listen to me, honey, I can stonewall with the best of them. I'm Mr. Holt's lawyer, and I want to know what his condition is. Or would YOU like to be named in the lawsuit as well?" Mildred released her breath as the suddenly amenable woman began to tell her what she wanted to know . . .
Jessica left the judge's chamber feeling a little better. At least the report that Remington and Laura had gotten had settled one problem. Had it only been twenty-four hours since this nightmare had begun? She wondered to herself.
As she opened the door of her car, a voice said, "Excuse me, Miss Beecham?"
She turned to find a man standing there. "Yes."
"I'm Joe Blakewell, Miss Beecham." He flashed a "Press" card. "I'm a reporter, doing a story on the de la Vega murder case."
"I have nothing to say to any of the press," Jessica said, getting into the car, recalling belatedly that Katherine had mentioned her neighbor, Maisie had a son who was a reporter.
"I was just wondering how you felt about the fact that your- uh- client was arrested for another murder?" Jessica's eyes met his dark ones. "And that the police have tied him into a possible drug smuggling operation through an import house here in Los Angeles?"
Jessica tried to close the door, but Joe held it open. "I suggest you let me go, Mr. Blakewell."
"I just thought you'd rather talk to me- someone who's willing to listen to both sides of the story instead of one of my colleagues," he told her in a pleasant voice. "I'm not convinced that Roselli's guilty, Miss Beecham."
"Is he really in jail again?"
"I just came from there. He was booked back in. Bail rescinded."
"Who do they say he killed?"
"A businessman on the docks. Importer by the name of Darnell." He watched her closely.
"When?"
"This afternoon."
Jessica shook her head. "He couldn't have killed anyone. He was with me all afternoon."
"Do you have witnesses to that?" Joe asked.
"No. We were at my apartment, talking about the case." She looked at him. "Mr. Blakewell, do you REALLY want to help?"
"I hate to see an injustice done, Miss Beecham."
"Then get in, Mr. Blakewell," Jessica said, starting the car's engine.
Joe smiled. "You won't regret it," he promised as he closed the door and went around to get into the other side.
"I hope not," Jessica said as she picked up her mobile phone and dialed a number.
Katherine looked at Robert as he hung up the telephone. "Who was it, Robert?"
"Jessica. She called to tell me that Tony is back in jail- apparently the police think he committed another murder after his release."
"That's ridiculous," she said, as there was a knock on the door. "Excuse me." She opened the door to reveal the dyed blue hair of Maisie Blakewell. "Maisie. Can I help you?"
Maisie's faded blue eyes were bright with excitement. "Have you heard? I just wanted to make sure that you'd heard the latest about your niece's friend."
"You mean Tony Roselli?" Robert asked, causing Maisie to look at him in that way she reserved for him and him alone. He immediately regretted gaining her attention at all.
"Why, yes, of course," she said. "He's been ARRESTED again. For ANOTHER murder. I don't see how your granddaughter can save him now, Robert. Poor dear, being so involved with someone like that."
"And how did you find out about it?" Katherine wanted to know.
"The television."
"Oh. I thought perhaps your son had called you."
"My-" Maisie frowned, as if trying to understand what Katherine was talking about. "Oh, you mean Joe. He's such a good boy. So dedicated to finding injustice and correcting it. Of course, it's understandable, considering everything he's gone through in his young life."
"If he hates injustice so much, you need to tell him that he's got a perfect case with Antony," Katherine told her neighbor. "He's innocent. And if he doesn't help Jessica prove it, there WILL be an injustice done."
Seeing Maisie's doubtful expression, Robert looked at Katherine. "We really need to be on our way, Katherine," he said, weary already of the other woman's company. "I should try to find Jessica. See if she needs my help."
Katherine began to close the door, edging Maisie from the room. "He's right, Maisie, dear. We'll talk later. And you can tell me all about your Joe's sad life."
Robert shook his head as the door closed. "I don't know how you stand that woman's company," he fretted. "She's absolutely vacuous."
"She makes VERY good tea, actually," Katherine told him. "And she's lonely. For all her talk about Joe, I don't think she sees him very often. Certainly, he's never come by to see her while I've been living here."
Robert picked up his coat. "I told Jessica that we would meet her at the station. In case she needs us."
"Daddy?" Laura said softly, touching Edward's brushed forehead with a shaking hand as Remington and a policeman stood nearby. "Daddy, can you hear me?"
Remington glanced at the officer. "Where did they find him?" he asked in a soft voice.
"In an alleyway near the docks, Mr. Steele," the man answered quietly.
"Near the docks? In what area? Near- Sheaffer Import-Export, by any chance?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, sir. "We've ruled out robbery, since he doesn't seem to be missing any money. His wallet was in his pocket, untouched."
Remington nodded thoughtfully as he joined Laura at Edward's bedside, placing a comforting arm around her. "The doctor said there didn't appear to be any permanent damage," he told her.
"I know. But I'd feel better if he would just wake up and tell us what happened."
"So would I, love. So would I." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm going to call Mildred, okay? Let her know what's going on."
Laura placed a hand over his. "Tell her to close the office and come down here. He might respond to her right now."
He hadn't thought Laura knew about Mildred's relationship with her father. "You're certain?"
"Yes. And call Frances, please. Tell her what's happened."
"I will."
Jessica sighed as she saw the traffic backing up ahead of her. "Damn," she sighed. "I LOVE Los Angeles this time of day. Might as well be in Hong Kong."
Joe Blakewell turned to look at her. "You been to Hong Kong?"
"Oh, years ago."
"Why'd you study law at Berkley instead of England?" he asked.
She returned his look. "You're very well informed, Mr. Blakewell," she said.
"I always research my stories. And call me Joe. Everyone does."
"Your stories. And I'm part of one of those stories?" Jessica questioned as the car ahead moved twenty feet further down the road.
"Well, you're not just Roselli's lawyer. You and he are- involved, aren't you?"
"Off the record?" Jessica asked, glancing at him again.
"Miss Beecham, your friendship with Tony Roselli's public knowledge. Surely you know that already. I'm not fishing for information. Just trying to get some background on you for the story, that's all. You lost your first case, didn't you?" he asked.
The question cased Jessica to step sharply on the brake, throwing them both forward and nearly sending the car behind them into the rear end of Jessica's car. "How did you find out about that?"
"Public record. It was the only criminal case you've ever handled personally all the way through the trial, wasn't it?"
Jessica's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "If you've done your- research- Mr. Blakewell, you know the answer to that question."
"Did you ever think that your client might not be guilty of murder? That you allowed an innocent man to go to prison for a crime he didn't commit?"
Jessica pulled her car to the curb and turned to look at the man. "What are you getting at, Mr. Blakewell?"
"Nothing. Just seems strange that this case is so much like that one, don't you agree?"
"I- hadn't really thought about it," Jessica admitted.
"Maybe you should, Miss Beecham," Blakewell said with a grim smile as he opened the door. "I think I'll get out here. Be seeing you, Miss Beecham."
Jessica watched him walk down the street until he turned a corner. Forcing herself to loosen her death grip on the steering wheel, she started to pull back into traffic, then stopped as someone blew his or her car horn in warning. She rested her forehead on her hands, willing herself to stop shaking. Joe Blakewell's words had reinforced all the fears she had voiced earlier to Tony. There was no way she could be effective defending Tony, not with her failure staring her in the face . . .
To Be Continued . . .