Laura Holt came out of her office as Mildred was putting on her coat. "You want me to wait for you, hon?" Mildred asked, taking her purse from the desk. "I don't have anything planned for the evening."
"Well, as it happens, Mildred, I *do* have something planned for this evening," Laura confided, placing the folder she was carrying on Mildred's desk to be taken care of Monday morning.
"Really? But- I thought the Boss was in Bakersfield for that photo shoot with the Governor and all those other big wigs?"
"He's due back tonight," Laura said. "I'm meeting him at his apartment for dinner."
"He's gonna cook after driving back from Bakersfield?"
"Of course not."
Mildred looked concerned. "*You're* going to cook, Miss Holt?"
"I took a page out of Mr. Steele's book," she said. "I'm having it delieverd from Che Rive. Claude owed Mr. Steele a favor. I just- called it in."
Mildred smiled. "In that case, have fun."
"Oh, I plan to, Mildred," Laura assured the motherly receptionist. Remington had left for Bakersfield the previsou evening, wanting to be rested and refreshed before the all day meeting with the Governor. Laura would have gone as well, but a client here in Los Angeles had refused to be put off. Since it had just been a simple publicity appearance, Laura had insisted that Remington go alone, and promised him a treat when he returned.
She turned off the lights and grabbed her purse, locking the office doors behind her. Tonight was going to be a night that neither she nor Remington would ever forget . . .
***
Remington turned off the engine of his brand new BMW and got out to fill the tank. Another hour and he'd be back in Los Angeles. Home. He smiled as he realized that he really thought of LA as home now. What was that old saying? "Home is where the heart is." That was it. And his heart was truly in Los Angeles with a certain lady detective. He went into the office to pay the attendant, handing over his credit card and waiting for it to be returned. "Do you have a pay phone around here?" he asked.
"Around the side of the building," the attendant told him as he handed back the card. "Have a nice evening, Mr. Steele."
"Thank you." Remington found the payphone and dialed the number to Laura's loft. When there was no answer, he frowned and hung up, wondering where she could be. Dropping the dime again, he dialed the condo. She answered on the first ring.
"Hello?"
"Laura. There you are. What are you doing at my place?"
"Waiting for you," she told him, and he smiled at the tone of her voice.
"That sounds promising," he replied.
"Where are you?"
"About an hour out, I think. Should be home around-" he looked at his watch in the dim light, "eight or so. Traffic's dropping off a bit."
"I'll be here when you get here," she said.
"I might even be there sooner if that's the case, Miss Holt," he said. "Keep everything warm."
"Oh, I plan to, Mr. Steele."
He hung up the phone, still smiling at her playful tone. Maybe spending last night in different cities would have some advantages, he decided, and headed toward the sleek silver-grey BMW. He might even stop by the office en route and pick up that little item hidden in the back of his desk drawer . . . Getting into the driver's side, he reached forward to start the engine, but the feel of cold, hard steel against his neck made him stop.
"Slowly, Mr. Steele."
He glanced in the mirror, but the gun moved, preventing him from seeing anything. "If this is a hold up-"
"It's not your money I want, Steele. Start the engine and drive out of here. We're going someplace nice and quiet where we can have a little chat."
Remington felt the muzzle of the gun move slightly away, allowing him to turn the key and put the car into gear.
***
Laura watched as Claude set the dinner on the table in a display of absolute perfection. She was in such an expansive mood that she gave him a much larger tip than she might otherwise have done, then showed him to the door. Lifting the lid on a chafing dish, she inhaled the aroma. All of Remington's favorite foods, wine, a flickering fire- Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was still almost half an hour before he would arrive, so she sat down to wait.
***
In the hills between Los Angeles and Bakersfield, the man who had held a gun to Remington's head tightened the seatbelt on the driver's side of the BMW and reached over to release the brake, putting the car into gear. From the passenger side of the vehicle, he steered it toward the curve in the road, heading it straight for the guardrail and the canyon below.
Seconds before the car hit the rail, the man opened the passenger door and rolled from the car onto the pavement, coming to his feet to watch as the car flipped, tumbling down the hill-side before coming to rest at the bottom of the ravine. He smiled as he took a small box from his pocket and pressed a button. The car exploded, bursting into flames.
"Rest in Peace, Remington Steele."
***
Laura sighed as she looked at her watch again. Nearly ten p.m., and still no sign of Remington. She blew out the candles she'd lit- what there was left of them, anyway,- and wandered out to the balcony to look down at Rossmore. She saw a silver BMW and thought for a moment it was him, but when it passed and continued away, she knew she'd been wrong. She had suggested the BMW to replace his beloved Auburn, insisting that it was easier to tail someone in it since there were so many of them in the area. Now, she wished that he was still driving the vintage car. At least then she would know it was him.
The sound of the door buzzer made her turn back into the apartment. He'd forgotten his key, most likely, she told herself, ignoring the fact that he would have simply picked the lock if that were the case. Worry mingled with anger as she opened the door. "Where have you-" her voice trailed off as she saw the boyish face of LAPD homicide detective James Jarvis. "Detective Jarvis. This is a surprise."
Jarvis looked nervous, Laura decided, as he peered behind her. "Uh- Mr. Steele isn't here, by any chance, is he?"
"No, he's not," Laura said and saw him wince. "Why?"
"Just checking. Do you know where he might be?"
"He's driving back from a publicity shoot in Bakersfield," she told him. "He was supposed to have been home two hours ago-"
"He's got a new car, right?"
"Yes. A silver BMW," Laura confirmed, wondering why she was starting to shiver in the warm evening air.
Jarvis pulled out a notebook. "License number RSTEELE 2?"
"What's going on, Detective?"
"Mr. Steele's car was found in a ravine off I-5 about an hour ago," he told her.
"Oh my God." Laura felt the blood drain from her face, but forced herself to remain calm. The last thing he needed was for her to panic. "And- Mr. Steele?"
"So far, there's no sign of him-" He watched as she closed the balcony door and grabbed her purse.
"Can you take me there?" she asked.
Jarvis indicated that she should lead the way out of the apartment.
***
Laura stood at the break in the guardrail, watching as the rescue people searched the area around the smoldering remains of Remington's silver BMW. She felt something fall around her shoulders and looked up gratefully as Jarvis placed his suit jacket over her arms. "Want some coffee?" he offered.
"No, thanks. He's got to be out there. Unless- maybe he was well enough to walk away and look for help?" she suggested, knowing the minute she said the words that she sounded desperate.
"We've checked the road up and down the mountain, Miss Holt. There's no sign of him."
A rescue worker came up the hill using the rope and held something to Jarvis. "This is all we could find, Lieutenant," he said.
In the flashing lights of the police cars, Laura saw what was in the plastic bag and gasped as Jarvis turned in her direction. "Can you- identify these, Miss Holt?" he asked.
Her fingers shaking, Laura inspected the charred scrap of ID bracelet. The watch *could* have been anyone's- except for the inscription on the back. "From LH to RS." She'd given it to him for Christmas two years ago. But it was the ring- a small signet ring that he wore on his left pinky that made Laura realize that he might be gone. He'd never been without it. Even when pretending to be someone else. And he'd never explained what it signified, either. Like so many things. "Where did you get these?" Laura asked the officer.
He nodded toward what was left of the car. "There's- not much left. Everything was pretty burned up, Miss Holt-" he explained apologetically.
Jarvis waved the man away as he put his arm around Laura. "I'm sorry, Laura. I wish it was good news."
Laura clenched her fingers around the jewelry, shaking her head. "It doesn't make sense."
"These things never do," Jarvis said as a photographer's flash went off in their faces. "Back off," Jarvis told the reporter.
"Just doing my job, Lieutenant," he said, and then looked at Laura. "Say, aren't you Laura Holt? Remington Steele's- assistant?"
"Associate," Laura automatically corrected, then wondered if it even mattered anymore.
"Then it *was* Steele in that car down there, wasn't it, Jarvis?" the reporter asked.
"No comment," Jarvis said shortly. "Now back off, Harris, or I'll have you forcibly removed. This *is* a crime scene, after all."
"Then it wasn't an accident?" Harris asked. "Can I quote you on that?"
"We don't know if a crime was committed or not," Jarvis admitted. "All we know right now is that Mr. Steele's car went over the edge of the ravine and burned. The accident is under investigation."
"Then why are you here?"
"As a friend," Jarvis said. "George!" he called, and instantly another officer appeared.
"Yeah, Lieutenant?"
"Get this guy out of here, will you?"
"Sure. This way, Harris."
"Haven't you guys heard of freedom of the press?" Harris asked as George grabbed his arm. "I've got a right to be here."
"Then knock off the questions," Jarvis said, leading Laura toward his car. "I'll drive you home."
She shook her head. "I want to go- Remington's apartment. If he's alive, he'll go there."
"Laura-"
The sight of Neil Harris driving past in the TV station van brought another thought to mind. "Mildred. I have to call Mildred. Let her know. I can't let her see this on the news, Jimmy."
Jarvis nodded and closed the passenger door, then went around and started the engine. "What's her address?"
***
Mildred frowned as the "Special Report" banner replaced the show she'd been watching. "Figures," she sighed, and turned as someone knocked loudly on her front door. The TV forgotten, she rose and went to the door, lifting the curtain beside it to reveal Laura and Lt. Jarvis. "Miss Holt! Jarvis! What are you doing here?"
Laura led Mildred into the living room as the news report continued. "Repeating our breaking news, it appears that famed Los Angeles private detective Remington Steele-" Laura grabbed the remote and turned the machine off.
"What about the Boss?" Mildred asked, getting a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong. *Very* wrong. "Miss Holt?"
Laura pulled Mildred to the sofa. "Sit down, Mildred. I don't know how to tell you this, but- from all indications- it looks like- Mr. Steele's car went into a ravine tonight-"
"Where is he?" Mildred asked as the nervous feeling spread further. "What hospital?"
"He's not in a hospital, Mildred," Laura said gently. She held up the plastic bag containing the jewelry. "It looks like- he's gone."
"Gone?" Mildred repeated in a soft voice, unwilling to believe what she was hearing. "Gone- gone? As in- dead?"
Laura nodded. "I'm afraid so, Mildred."
"Oh, Miss Holt!" Mildred said, and the two women fell into each other's arms, Laura rubbing Mildred's back and whispering words of comfort as Jarvis moved around the room, looking at the photos that the older woman had scattered around of her employers. "What happened?" Mildred finally asked. "Was it an accident? Or was someone trying to get back at him? One of those slime balls you and he put away? "
"We don't know enough to say for certain yet, Mildred," Jarvis told her. "But I can tell you that Major Descoine is still locked up tight at San Quentin."
"What about that kid of his?" Mildred asked. "She'd be able to do something like this."
"We don't know what *this* is yet, Mildred," Jarvis reminded her.
"In a pig's eye, Jarvis," Laura burst out.
"Laura, that road up there is treacherous. Mr. Steele's not the first person to loose control on that curve and go over into the ravine. And if, as you implied, he was in a hurry to get back to Los Angeles for some reason-"
Laura shook her head. "This stinks to high heaven, Jarvis, and you know it."
He held out his hand for the plastic bag containing the jewelry recovered from the body. "I'll check it out and get back to you, but I'm sure that it was an accident."
"Maybe someone else- the Agency's put away other people besides Descoine," Mildred pointed out.
"I'll look into that as well," he promised. "And I'll have them expedite the ID of the body- just in case. You wouldn't happen to know what dentist Steele used, would you?"
"My brother-in-law," Laura told him. "Donald Piper. He has an office in Tarzana- but he teaches part time at USC."
"I'll check with him. Do you still want me to take you to Rossmore?"
"I'll get there myself," Laura told him. "I think I'll stay with Mildred for awhile." Mildred gave her a grateful look.
"Okay. I'll be in touch."
Laura called out as he turned to go. "Jimmy-" he stopped and looked at her. "Thank you."
"It's a good thing I was at the station when the call came in, I guess. Will you two be all right?"
"We'll have to be, won't we?" Laura asked sadly. Jarvis nodded, and left them alone.
Drawing a deep breath, Laura stood up, slapping her leg. "I'm going to make some coffee."
Mildred managed a tight smile. "I'll make it. Yours takes like the Thames, remember?" She sniffed again. "Oh, Miss Holt, what are we going to do?"
"Find whoever did this, Mildred," Laura said. "No matter what it takes."
***
The next morning, after a quick stop by Laura's loft for her to change clothes, the two women went into the office. The telephone was ringing even as Laura unlocked the door. "If it's the press, we're not commenting yet," Laura said, going toward her office. She wasn't sure she was ready to face Remington's office.
Mildred picked up the phone. "Remington Steele-" she paused. "Hello? . . .Just a minute." She pressed the hold button, catching Laura in the doorway of the office. "It's your sister."
"Damn," Laura sighed. "I'll take it in here, Mildred. Could you make some coffee, please?"
"Coming right up."
Laura took a deep breath and picked up the phone. "Frances?"
"Oh, Laura. Are you alright? I just heard what happened. How awful. The police called here asking Donald for Remington's dental records-"
"I should have called last night, Frances. I'm sorry. I wasn't-"
"Oh, I understand, Laura. It must have come as such a shock. Accidents are always so sudden. One minute a person's there, and the next-"
Laura squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the tears, taking refuge from her emotions by clamping down the lid tightly. "Did Donald-?"
"Yes. That's where he is now. I haven't told the children yet. I don't know how I'm going to manage that. You know how much they thought of him. I always hoped- well, you know."
"I know, Frances," Laura agreed, smiling tightly as Mildred came in with her coffee. "I have to go, Frances," she said. "I'll call you later, okay?"
"I was going to offer you a place to stay here if you- need some company-"
"I'll be fine, Frances. There's so much to do- a- a funeral to plan and- and-" She took a deep breath. "I really have to go. Tell the kids I love them, okay?"
"Okay, Laura. If you need anything-"
"You could call Mother for me. Right now, I'm not sure that I could-."
"I'll handle it. It's the least I can do, I suppose."
"Thanks. Bye." She hung up the telephone before her sister could utter another sympathetic word. Right now, Laura didn't want sympathy. She wanted Remington back here where he belonged.
Mildred rubbed Laura's back as she sipped her coffee. "Tough, huh?"
"A little," Laura admitted. "But I'll be okay. I need you to do a check on every crook, every murderer- every-"
"Slimeball?" Mildred suggested.
"Everyone that the Agency had anything to do with putting away, Mildred. And their families. Start with the day I opened the doors of Remington Steele Investigations."
"I will. At least it'll give me something to keep my mind off of his not being here. I keep thinking he'll walk though those doors out there any minute, smiling, happy, wishing us good morning . . ."
"He's not coming back, Mildred," Laura said. "Not this time. We just have to keep things going as best we can."
"What are you going to do?"
"Like I told Frances. Plan a funeral. As soon as Jarvis releases the body-"
"It may not even be his body," Mildred said hopefully. "Maybe someone robbed the Boss, you know? Stole his ring and watch and bracelet and the car-"
"Anyone here?"
Laura and Mildred looked at each other as they both recognized Jarvis' voice. "In here," Laura told him, going to the door.
"I just wanted to come by and see how you two were doing. I called Mildred's house- and when there was no answer, figured you'd be here."
"Any word yet?"
He looked uncomfortable again. "Well- the ME said that the dental records Dr. Piper gave him were an exact match. I'm sorry, Laura. He says that from what he can tell, the person who died in that crash last night- was Remington Steele."
Laura sat back against the edge of her desk. "When can we have the body?"
"The ME says he thinks he can be done by this afternoon," he told her. "He has to finish the toxicology tests." Seeing Mildred frown, he explained. "Standard procedure in something like this. They have to make sure he hadn't been drinking-"
The telephone rang again, and Mildred answered at Laura's desk. "Remington - May I help you? . . . No comment . . . Look, I said no comment. What part of that didn't you understand?" She hung up. "Vultures."
"Let me know about the funeral," Jarvis told them. "I'll be there."
"Thanks," Laura said, nodding absently. Once he was gone, she picked up the phone. "Mildred, what was the name of that mortuary you used when you thought Mr. Steele- Remington and I were dead?"
"Cowan Mortuary. The Agency set up an account with them in case-" her voice trailed off. "I'll go run those checks," she decided.
Laura nodded again. "Cowan Mortuary? . . . This is Laura Holt . . . I thought you might have . . . Yes, I'm fine," she lied. "The Medical Examiner is supposed to release Mr. Steele's body this afternoon- . . . Thank you. I'll be by later to make the arrangements . . . No, it will be a closed casket service," she said definitely. It was the only thing she was certain about at the moment.
Once she hung up, she picked up her coffee- only to discover that it was ice cold. She went into the storage room and was pouring a fresh cup when she noticed the bone china up and saucer that Remington had preferred. With deliberate movements, Laura poured the coffee from her mug into the cup and carried it and the saucer out into the reception area. "Anything yet?" she asked.
"I just got started," Mildred answered, glancing up from her computer to see the cup and saucer in Laura's hands. "Did you talk to the Mortuary?"
Laura nodded, running her finger around the top of the white cup. "I have to go over to his apartment, Mildred- clean up some things. Do you think you can handle things here? Will you be okay?"
"I'll be fine, Miss Holt, but- do you think you should go over there alone? If you're right about someone the Agency put away taking Mr. Steele out, wouldn't whoever it is be after you next?"
Laura hadn't thought of that, and it caused to her to stop with the cup halfway to her lips. "Where's the agency gun, Mildred?"
Mildred looked uncertain, and then jerked her head toward the larger office. "In there. He'd been keeping it in his desk. I have the bullets out here," she said, opening her desk drawer to dig through it until she came up with the six metal cylinders.
Laura took the bullets and then squared her shoulders. With purposeful movements, she went to the closed door and opened it, then closed it firmly behind her. Leaning back on the hard surface, she stood there, imagining him at the desk, looking up at her with those incredible blue eyes and that charm-filled smile that seldom failed to melt her heart.
Keeping her gaze averted from the wall over the sofa, she cautiously moved around the desk and opened the top drawer to remove the agency gun. As she reached inside, her hand brushed against something else, and she opened the drawer a little more to see what it might be.
There, against the wood, lay a small white velvet box. Laura's hands were shaking as she picked it up and opened it. Her knees failed her, and she sat down heavily in Remington's chair, as the ring with a single blue gemstone surrounded by diamonds was dimmed by the tears that began to silently fall as her world fell apart once more - only this time, he wasn't there to hold her . . .
