Jessica leaned over Mildred's shoulder
to peer at the information on the computer screen. "According
to this, the only person who ever insisted that Joe was dangerous
was his cousin Glen Darnell."
"Yeah," Mildred agreed. "The courts only put him
in foster car because Darnell abandoned his custodial rights."
"Which fits Joe's story," Jessica confirmed. "You
say you didn't come up with anything on Darnell, Mildred?"
"Model citizen," Mildred said. "Not even a traffic
ticket."
"Dig a little deeper," Jessica suggested. "There
has to be SOMETHING there that we're missing."
As soon as Laura hung up from talking to Robert, Remington grabbed
the phone. "Who are you calling?" Laura asked.
"Lt. Cohen," he told her. Laura said a silent prayer
that her father was all right as she looked out over the streets.
"Ah, Lt. Cohen. Remington Steele . . . Really? . . . Yes,
well, Laura was wondering about the guard you put on her father-
She told me that Edward had dismissed the officer- . . . Indeed?"
He gave Laura a relieved smile. "What? Yes, I suppose we
could." He glanced at the clock on the car's dash. "Fifteen
minutes? . . .We'll see you then."
Laura frowned as he turned the car away from the hospital. "Where
are we going? What about Daddy?"
"Lt. Cohen did a bit of checking on Joe Blakewell after I
left him earlier. What he found out made him rethink his position
on the case- and when Officer Lesley called in, telling him that
Edward had sent him away, Cohen had insisted that Lesley stay
right where he was- just out of Edward's sight." Remington
reached across to take her hand in his. "He spoke with Lesley
just before I called. Everything's quiet."
"So where are we going?"
"To meet Cohen at his office. He wants to discuss what he's
found." Laura picked up the phone. "And who are you
calling now?"
"The hospital. I just want to make sure myself that Daddy's
all right."
Tony was pacing the cell when he heard a key turn in the lock.
"Come on, Roselli," the guard told him, jerking his
head sideways. "You've been sprung again."
Tony frowned. "Sprung? By who? I thought the judge was ready
to throw away the key," he said as he moved down the corridor.
"Apparently someone's got some connections," the guard
muttered. "All I know is that I just got word that you were
being released." He transferred his prisoner to another guard,
who led Tony farther.
As Tony was picking up his things, a guard gave him a note. "What's
this?" Tony asked.
"Don't know. I was just told to make sure you got it, that's
all."
Tony nodded, reading the note. "Edward's in the hospital,"
it read. "Everyone is at Mercy General. Meet us there as
soon as you can. J." Tony frowned again, looking at the policeman.
"Can I use the phone to call a cab?"
"There's a payphone down the hall," the officer told
him with a surly voice.
"Thanks a lot," Tony said, pushing through the doors
and into the air of freedom again. Going to the nearby bank of
telephones, he dug out some change and placed a call.
"Bingo!" Mildred called out, drawing Jessica's attention.
"You found something?"
"I did a little digging," Mildred explained, "and
there it was."
"There WHAT was, Mildred?"
"A second bank account in Darnell's name," Mildred said.
"Not really in his name, but in the name of another company
that can be traced back to him if someone knows what they're doing."
She pointed to something on the screen. "See? Here- and here?
Deposits of really big chunks of cash- and payouts the day after,
mostly to one firm."
Jessica examined the figures. "Delacorte Distribution,"
she read. "How far back do these transactions go?"
Mildred pressed some more keys. "Ten years. There were also
some payouts to a Christine Conover, and a recent one to Conchita
de la Vega."
"Christine Conover is the woman that Sheaffer was convicted
of killing," Jessica told her. "See what you can find
out about - Delacorte Distribution."
Cohen showed Laura and Remington into his office with an apologetic
grin. "Looks like I might have been a bit hasty in dismissing
your ideas, Steele," he said as Remington sat down in the
second chair that Cohen pulled up.
"Why?"
"I told you I did some checking on Joe Blakewell- turns out
that his real name IS Sheaffer, and your sister did represent
his father ten years ago. Add that to the fact that he's been
in the area every time Roselli's been in trouble- AND that he
threatened his cousin's life before he was placed in foster care,
well- let's just say that I want to talk to the young man."
"Have you put out an APB on him?" Laura asked.
"No. It's all still pretty unofficial. He'll turn up. He's
a reporter. Sooner or later one of my men will spot him."
"And by then, Antony Roselli will be convicted of murder
- TWO murders, and sitting in prison," Remington pointed
out.
"I've got a call in to the Judge," Cohen told him. "I'm
going to explain all this to her, see if I can't convince her
to release Roselli. But to tell you the truth, Steele, he's probably
better off where he is rather than out on the streets."
"What do you mean?" Remington wanted to know.
"He's been released once- and another murder was committed.
If he's released again, there might be a third." The telephone
rang. "Cohen. Yes, Judge- what? Who-? But I need to know-,
no, no. How long ago?" He glanced at his wristwatch. "Thank
you." He hung up and looked at the Steeles. "Tony Roselli
left the jail five minutes ago," he told them.
"Someone bailed him out?" Laura asked.
"Apparently. The judge said that she wasn't at liberty to
discuss the particulars of the case. Do you have any idea where
he might have gone?"
"To the office, possibly," Laura suggested after glancing
at Remington.
"Or Jessica's loft."
"Blakewell's not after Miss Beecham directly," Cohen
reminded them. "Not yet, anyway. Is there anyone else involved
in this case that might be at risk?"
Laura gasped. "Daddy!"
"That's strange," Mildred mused, looking at the printout
in her hands.
"What's strange?" Jessica asked, feeling ready to throttle
the woman. Why couldn't she simply explain things without being
prodded?
"There were several large payments to Delacorte from the
Import house right after Claude Sheaffer was convicted and died.
A few more for about, oh," she paused to look at the figures
again, "five years. And then nothing until six months ago
when the payments started again."
Jessica took the printout. "That is odd. I always suspected
that Darnell had an accomplice, but I had no idea who it might
be. Any leads on who Delacorte Distribution belongs to, Mildred?"
"It's a blind company," Mildred explained. "A dummy,
set up to accept funds, launder them, and send them to their final
destination. This one sends the funds to an account in the Caribbean.
Tracing it from there is practically impossible."
"Another dead end," Jessica said as the telephone rang.
"Remington Steele Investigations," Mildred answered.
"Mildred," Remington said in to the car phone, "Is
Antony there, by any chance?"
"Tony?" Mildred repeated, lifting her shoulders as Jessica
turned to look at her. "No, Chief. Why?"
"No calls?"
"No. Mr. Steele, what's going on?"
Jessica indicated that Mildred should give her the telephone.
"Remington? What's happened?"
"Jessica. Someone got Antony out of jail- and he's disappeared.
It's possible that whoever's behind this got him released so he
could be blamed for Edward's death. Laura and I are on our way
to the hospital now. If Antony should call, find out where he
is and tell him to stay there."
"I will," Jessica told him, frowning as the line went
dead. "Someone bailed Antony out of jail," she told
Mildred. "It's possible that the killer's going to make a
go at Edward." She saw Mildred's worried face. "Why
don't you go on over there?" Jessica suggested. "I'll
stay here in case Antony calls in. I need to do some further research
anyway. Maybe I can find SOMETHING to tie all this in."
Mildred picked up her purse. "Thanks, Miss Beecham."
Jessica nodded as she watched the receptionist leave, then sat
down at the desk and began typing on the keyboard. There had to
be some kind of tie in somewhere. But where?
Tony went directly to the information desk at the hospital. "What
room is Edward Holt in?" he asked.
The blue haired woman narrowed her eyes as she looked from him
to the paper on her desk. "Two eleven," she responded.
"Thank you." He took the elevator to the second floor,
and searched for the way to Edward's room, fully expecting to
find a corridor full of people. But the only person near Room
211 was a uniformed policeman sitting in the waiting room across
the hall from the doorway. Tony went toward him. "Excuse
me, do you know where the Steeles are?"
There was no response from the man, so Tony reached out to get
his attention, thinking that the officer might have fallen asleep.
"Hey," he said, then was forced to grab the man as he
fell over. He laid him back on the chair, and realized as he stood
up that the front of his shirt was covered with blood.
Footsteps in the corridor alerted him- and he turned around just
as Laura, Steele, and Lt. Cohen entered the room, all three sets
of eyes moving from the blood on Tony's shirt to the body of the
dead policeman. "I know this looks bad," Tony began.
"But I can explain."
Before he could say another word, Laura turned and ran for her
father's room, followed by Steele and Cohen. Tony followed, his
heart in his throat.
Jessica frowned over the information the computer screen was showing
her. Glenn Darnell had attended Harvard, barely passing his classes
to graduate. But the thing that interested Jessica was the name
of the man who just missed being top of his class.
"Very interesting, wouldn't you agree, Miss Beecham?"
a voice said over her shoulder.
Jessica froze. "Mr. Barnes. This is a surprise."
John Barnes stepped back enough for Jessica to turn the chair.
"I thought everyone would be at the hospital, making sure
that Edward Holt was all right. Everyone except you, of course.
You've been most predictable throughout this entire matter."
"You went to Harvard with Glenn Darnell, didn't you?"
"I'm afraid so. Poor Glenn didn't have much going for him-
if he hadn't stumbled into his cousin's import business, I don't
know where he would have wound up."
"You mean other than on a slab at the morgue?"
Barnes' eyes were filled with the glimmer of madness, Jessica
realized. "True. But he got cold feet." He laughed softly,
sending a shiver down Jessica's spine as he lifted a hand to the
side of her neck. "I thought it strange that a man who had
already directly killed two people and killed a third indirectly
should quibble over another death."
"Because he was afraid it might be traced back to him and
reveal what he'd done ten years ago- framing Claude Sheaffer for
murdering Christine Conover, then killing Mrs. Sheaffer and making
everyone believe Joe was unstable and violent. What was it all
for, Mr. Barnes? The drugs?" She kept her finger over the
"Save" button, waiting for him to become distracted.
Even if he killed her, at least Remington and Laura would have
a place to start searching.
"There weren't any drugs in the beginning. Glenn set up a
nice little racket bringing illegal Mexican women into this country
as "couriers" delivering shipments. He'd supply them
with the proper documents, then steer them toward a local pimp
who paid him quite handsomely for his efforts."
"How did your father become involved?" Jessica asked.
"Paul Grover was an important man with the District Attorney's
office. He could have been the next DA for San Francisco if he
hadn't gotten mixed up in this?"
Barnes' eyes took on a dangerous glint, and for a moment Jessica
thought he was going to close his fingers around her throat. But
instead he straightened and moved away from her. Jessica took
a deep breath and pressed the button to save the information she'd
found. "When I was growing up, I thought my father was perfect.
Thought he could do no wrong. I had no idea what was going on
here after Glenn came back to California. I stayed back east,
finishing law school. Dad- well, my mother had been dead for years,
and I'd often wondered why my dad never remarried, never dated
anyone else. He was seeing some of the prostitutes that Darnell
was bringing up here," Barnes confessed. "Darnell knew
about it, but he didn't say anything- until his cousin found out
what was going on. He put Christine up to trying to seduce Sheaffer
into an affair, and when that didn't work-because Christine fell
in love with Sheaffer, Darnell killed her and framed Sheaffer
for the crime."
"But he needed someone on the inside of the system to make
sure all of the evidence was slanted toward Sheaffer," Jessica
realized. "And he went to your father."
"Threatened to go public with Dad's visits to the girls.
Would have ruined his career. Then they decided that the best
thing to do would be find an inexperienced lawyer to take Sheaffer's
case, and Darnell asked around, found you."
"And once Sheaffer was convicted, Darnell killed Imogene,
making it look like an overdose of sleeping pills, and then got
rid of Joe."
"Joe was a stroke of luck there. They didn't want to lose
track of him completely, you understand. So they had him placed
in foster care- and into the custody of my father's aunt."
"Maisie Blakewell was your father's aunt?"
"Yeah. Oh, she never knew Dad's part in getting her the boy-
of course, once Dad was forced to resign because you told them
what he'd done, he didn't have much clout in the legal community
anyway. If it hadn't been for the money Darnell paid into the
dummy corporation that they set up, Dad would have wound up penniless.
As it was, he was able to live out his few remaining years in
relative comfort."
"And you didn't know about any of this?" Jessica asked.
"Not fully. Oh, I knew Dad had gotten involved in some things
that he shouldn't have- but I blame you and Darnell for what happened."
"I can understand Darnell," Jessica said, rising from
the chair and keeping the desk between them as he started to move
closer, "but why me?"
"You told them what he'd done. That he'd compromised that
case, and knowingly convicted an innocent man. He spent two years
in prison for it. He was never the same after that. I came back
here six months ago to pack up his belongings- found his journals
and started reading them."
"And started blackmailing Darnell," Jessica said, understanding
the recent payouts to Delacorte. "Whose plan was it to frame
Antony Roselli?"
"Mine, actually. It's a very good frame, isn't it?"
"Almost airtight," Jessica agreed. "Except that
when Edward Holt regains his memory, he'll tell that he saw you
running away after killing Darnell. And Antony was with me that
afternoon."
"Ah, but you won't be around to testify at the trial, I'm
afraid."
"I'm not going anywhere," Jessica told him, circling
around to the door beyond him. If she could reach it, she had
a chance.
"Oh, but I'm afraid you are," Barnes told her as a gun
appeared in his hand and he grabbed her. "You're going to
join Darnell on that slab," he said.
"If you kill me, they'll know it wasn't Antony," Jessica
told him as he pulled her toward the elevators.
"Oh, I'm not going to kill you. You were so distraught over
Roselli's guilt that you decided to go up to the roof and get
some air- before throwing yourself over the railing to the street
below."
He pushed the button for the elevator, then stood waiting. "You
can't get away with this, Barnes. Or should I call you Grover?"
"Either one. John Barnes Grover," he said as the doors
opened and he pushed her into the car as the second elevator arrived.
As he pushed the "Close Doors" button, Jessica heard
Tony's voice.
"Tony!" she called out, but she couldn't be sure he'd
heard her- the doors were closed and the elevator was moving up-
taking her to her death.
Tony was the first to exit the elevator, and stopped, causing
Remington to run into him. "Antony? What's wrong?"
"I thought I heard Jess," he said, glancing at the other
elevator, the arrow still lit, indicating that it was going up.
"In that elevator," he said.
"I'm sure you're imagining things," Remington insisted
as he led them down the hallway toward the office. "Mildred
said that Jessica was in the office . . ." his voice trailed
away as he pushed open the door. "Jessica?"
Tony stripped off his bloody shirt, going into his office to find
a clean one. "She's not here, Steele." Remington nodded,
looking at the computer screen. Sitting down, he studied the screen,
then hit a button. "Steele, this is no time to be playing
with that thing. Jess could be in danger," Tony pointed out.
"I know, mate. But I think she was trying to tell us something
before she left."
"Look, we know it's Barnes," Tony reminded him. "Joe
told us that much before they took him into surgery." If
it hadn't been for Joe Blakewell's timely arrival, Barnes would
have killed Edward as he had Officer Lesley. Edward had been unconscious,
but alive, and Joe had suffered a nasty bullet wound. "We
just have to figure out where he took her."
Remington sat back, thoughtful. "That elevator was going
up, correct?" He started opening drawers, finally locating
what he was looking for: the agency gun- and he was relieved to
find it was loaded for a change.
"Yeah."
"Tell me, Antony, if you wanted it to look as if someone
were distraught, and wanted to kill herself, what would you do?"
Tony's eyes widened and his gaze moved toward the ceiling. "The
roof? Oh, dear god!"
He ran from the office, Remington close behind. As Tony would
have taken the elevator, Remington held back, turning toward the
stairs. "He'll be expecting you, Antony. You take the stairs.
I'll take the elevator, you distract him and give me time to get
up there so we can save Jessica."
The night air was cool, and a breeze had sprung up. From this
height, Jessica could see most of Los Angeles spread out before
her, lights glittering like diamonds on black velvet. "Nice
view, isn't it?" Barnes said into her ear.
"Yes," she agreed. "Shame to spoil it with what
you're planning to do."
"Ah, but I'm afraid I have no choice, Miss Beecham."
She tried to turn and look at him, but he stopped her. "Of
course you do. We all have a choice. You can turn yourself in.
Get help."
"Help? You think I'm insane, don't you?"
"Of course not," Jessica said, stepping onto the ledge
around the roof of the building at his prodding. She had to keep
him talking. Sooner or later Antony would figure out where they
were. He'd be here to save her. "I just think you could use
a bit of counseling, that's all. I mean, finding out that your
father that you adored frequented prostitutes and was a blackmailer
couldn't have been easy for you."
"Shut up!" he yelled as the bell on the elevator alerted
him to someone else on the roof. Grabbing Jessica's arm, he pressed
the end of the gun under her chin. "Show yourself!"
he called out. "Or I'll push her now!"
Tony came from the shadows, his hands in the air. "I'm here,"
he said, moving away from the elevator- and the stairway door.
"Are you all right, Jessica?" His eyes met hers.
"I'm-," she began, but Barnes stopped her.
"She's fine- for now, Roselli. You know, this might work
out even better. I had planned for Jessica to die by her own hand.
But the idea of her being your final victim has some merit. Of
course, you'll have to kill yourself as well, but the case will
be marked "closed", nonetheless."
"You think I'm just gonna stand here and let you kill Jess
and then me?" Tony asked. "It won't work, Barnes."
"Why not?"
"Because you didn't finish Joe Blakewell off. He's still
alive- and he told us that he found you trying to kill Edward
Holt- and that you shot him." Tony saw the stairwell door
open and close, saw Steele move into position behind Barnes' position.
"He's lying."
"You can't keep killing witnesses, Barnes," Tony pointed
out. "Especially after you kill me. You won't have a scapegoat,
then."
"He was supposed to die!" Barnes ranted, his hold on
Jessica lessening slightly.
Remington saw his chance. He made a flying leap toward Barnes,
pushing him away from Jessica, sending the assistant district
attorney sprawling on the rooftop.
Jessica, released suddenly, found herself swaying, felt herself
beginning to fall- until an arm went around her waist and pulled
her back, away from the edge, and into a pair of strong arms.
"Jess. Oh, Jess," Tony whispered as Remington helped
Barnes to his feet, holding the gun on him.
"I'll escort this gentleman downstairs and call the police,"
Remington told them.
Jessica placed a hand on her brother's arm. "Thank you."
"We'll be right behind you," Tony told him. As the elevator
doors closed again, Tony pulled Jessica into his arms. "I
was afraid I was going to lose you," he said.
"You nearly did," she confessed. "I'm not very
good with heights. Vertigo."
"James Stewart, Kim Novak-," he began, but Jessica laughed
at his attempted movie connotation.
"I knew Remington and I would make a convert out of you,
Antony Roselli."
"In more ways than one," Tony confessed. "Jess,
there's something I need to tell you- that I WANT to tell you,"
he hedged.
"You don't have to," she told him.
"Yes, I do. I love you."
Jessica smiled at him. "You do?"
"You. Jessica Beecham. Not Conchita de la Vega, or Laura-
or-," his words were cut off by Jessica's lips finding his
as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Let's go home, Tony."
"Sounds like a good idea to me," he agreed, pulling
her close as the elevator doors closed.