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As they approached Craig Malcolm's
office, Laura glanced up at Steele. "You're scowling,"
she informed him.
"Am I? I can't imagine why. Simply because we're about to
accuse one of the most powerful men in Southern California of
murder-"
"We're not going to accuse him of anything," Laura pointed
out. "I'm simply a grief stricken daughter trying to find
the answers to why my father was killed," she said, then
opened the door before them.
The middle aged secretary pinned them both with a glare worthy
of Mildred Krebbs, IRS. "May I help you?" she asked.
"We'd like to see Mr. Malcolm," Laura announced.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.
"No, but -" Steele began, only to be cut off.
"Mr. Malcolm is a very busy man. Without an appointment-"
Steele gave her his patented smile, oozing charm. "I'm sure
he'll see us, Miss -"
"Mrs.," she corrected, her gray gaze never wavering.
"Mrs. Patterson. And *no one* gets in without an appointment."
"Then we'd like to make an appointment," Laura said.
Mrs. Patterson picked up her pen, glancing at the book in front
of her. "The earliest time I have available is two weeks
from tomorrow at ten a.m."
"Two *weeks*?" Laura repeated. "Now listen lady,
I-"
Steele stepped forward. "Are you *certain* there's nothing
sooner? It's very important that we speak to Mr. Malcolm. It's
about Thomas Holt."
Mrs. Patterson's eyes narrowed. "Holt. You're the detective
who was on the news. The one who's father was killed. What on
earth would Mr. Malcolm know about a traffic accident?"
"That's what we want to find out," Laura insisted.
"I can assure you, that Mr. Malcolm doesn't know anything
about your father's death, Mrs. Steele." She picked up the
telephone. "Now, unless you would like for me to call building
security -"
"We'll take the appointment," he told the woman. Steele
held out a card. "You'll make sure that Mr. Malcolm gets
this, won't you?" he asked, before taking Laura's arm and
steering her toward the door.
Before the door closed completely behind them, Laura was turning
to face him, eyes flashing. "What are you *doing*?"
she asked. "We *have* to get in to see Craig Malcolm!"
He glanced around, drawing her back toward the elevators. "We're
not going to get in that way, Laura," Steele told her. "You'd
know that if you would just calm down."
"I *am* calm!" she insisted, then realized that she
was nearly shrieking at him. Her tone lowered. "What are
we supposed to do, then? Camp out on his doorstep?"
"Nothing so drastic," Steele told her, pressing the
button for the elevator. "Let's go see what Mildred's dug
up about our friend Malcolm, shall we?"
**********
"Not much, Mr. Steele," Mildred said apologetically
as she filled them in over coffee in his office. "He's fifty
three years old, never been married - at least not since he came
to LA, has ties to almost every politician in the state - "
"What kind of business does he have?" Laura asked.
"He's into almost everything. He's CEO of SCM Enterprises.
And Chairman of its board of directors. They're into everything.
Started as a construction company twenty years ago."
"You said that he hadn't been married since he came to LA.
Where is he from?"
Mildred grimaced. "That's the strange part. He's got about
as much of a past as -" she glanced at Steele. "As you
do, Mr. Steele. He seems to have appeared full blown on the scene
twenty years ago. Before that, bupkis."
"Any ties to organized crime? Drugs?"
"Rumors," Mildred confirmed. "Nothing concrete.
You know how it is."
"Yes," Laura agreed grimly. "Keep digging, Mildred.
We have to come up with *something* to tie him to Daddy's murderer."
Mildred nodded, then left Steele's office, leaving them alone.
Sitting on the sofa, Steele watched as Laura moved restlessly
around the room. "Something's bothering you, isn't it?"
"Me. I'm sorry for losing it that way at Malcolm's office.
You were right. I need to take a few steps back, get some - perspective
on this thing."
Steele rose to join her at the window, putting his arms around
her from behind. "That could be difficult to do. He was your
father, and you cared very much for him."
"I loved him," Laura admitted softly, her hands on his
arms, her head against his shoulder. "And I didn't even tell
him that, either.
"We'll find his killer, Laura," Steele promised, turning
her into his arms, lowering his head toward hers as the intercom
buzzed. "Damn." Reaching behind Laura, he pressed the
button. "Yes, Mildred?"
"Mrs. Holt is on line one, Chief," the woman said. "She
wants to speak to Mrs. Steele."
Laura sighed deeply. "I'll take it in my office, Mildred,"
she said. Giving Steele a quick kiss, she started to move away.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"I have to be. I'm not going to tell her anymore than I told
Frances -"
"What if she's heard about your interview?"
"I'll play it be ear," she told him.
"Do you want me in there with you?"
"That's all right. I can handle it." She smiled at him.
"But thanks for offering."
He watched her close the door to her office and went to his desk
to make some calls. If they couldn't get in to see Malcolm, at
least they would know where he went and who he talked to.
Ten minutes later, he had called in a couple of markers, and was
hanging up his private line, about to join Laura, when the intercom
buzzed again. "Yes, Mildred?"
"The Mayor's on line two. He says it's important that he
speak to you."
"Thank you, Mildred." He waited a beat, then picked
up the telephone. "Steele here."
"Steele. Hope I'm not interrupting anything -"
"Not at all. Is there something I can do for you?"
"Well, as a matter of fact- I just got a call from the Chief
of Police - and he asked me to speak to you - "
"I've already said that I haven't the time to serve on another
committee, -"
"Nothing like that," the mayor assured him. "I
feel a bit uncomfortable about it- considering she's your wife
-"
"It's about Laura?"
"The press conference this afternoon stepped on a few egos,
Steele. I understand that your wife's upset about her father's
death, but it doesn't look good for the wife of the most well
known detective agency in the state to call the local police a
bunch of - well, you get my drift-"
"What would you suggest I do," Steele asked.
"Isn't there anyway you could convince her to- drop this
thing? I've looked over the police report. It's pretty cut and
dried. Hit and run accident, perpetrated by person or persons
unknown."
"Why aren't the police trying to find those 'persons', Mayor?"
Steele wanted to know. "Why did they basically tell Laura
that the case was closed unless some new information came their
way?"
"Because it's a dead end. Look, Steele, I didn't want to
say this, but after Mrs. Steele's little tirade this afternoon,
I got a call from the state licensing board -"
Steele sat up in his chair, eyes narrowed. "And what possible
interest would they have in this?"
"If she doesn't drop this, then they might decide that it's
time to review her license."
"I see. I'll do what I can, Mayor. But Laura believes that
there was more to Thomas Holt's death than a simple accident.
Once she's got an idea in her head, it's best to let her run with
it until the trail comes up cold." The line was silent for
several moments, and Steele wondered if the man had hung up. But
he spoke again, slowly and carefully.
"Steele, pull her off of this. Now. For both your sakes."
The line went dead.
Steele looked up to find Laura standing in the doorway. "Who
was that?" she asked.
"The Mayor," he told her, rising to come around the
desk to her.
"What did he want?"
"It would appear that someone is running scared. He warned
us off the case. Even threatened to have your license reviewed."
He looked at her. "What did your mother have to say?"
"About the same thing as Frances. They decided on a grave
side service. Tomorrow morning. Mother's coming home tonight."
He pulled her into his arms for a moment. "Let's make sure
Mildred clears the calendar. And then we're going home for the
night."
"But- what about Malcolm?"
"I've taken care of that," he assured her, turning her
toward the door. When she turned to look at him, he said, "I
called Monroe and asked him to have some of his friends keep a
watch on Malcolm. He won't be able to make a move without our
knowing about it."
She smiled at him. "Very good, Mr. Steele."
"I was hoping you would approve, Mrs. Steele."
After wishing Mildred a good night, they took the elevator to
the underground parking garage, where the Auburn was parked. As
Steele opened the passenger door, a female voice asked, "Excuse
me - are you Laura Holt Steele?"
Laura and Steele turned toward that voice to find a woman in her
late thirties, early forties standing there. Laura stepped forward
as Steele tried to keep himself between the woman and Laura. "I'm
Laura Holt Steele. Can I help you?"
"I hope I can help you, Mrs. Steele," she said uncertainly.
She ran a hand through her dyed blonde hair. "Tom was afraid
you'd do something like this - I tried to tell him he shouldn't
-"
"Tom?" Laura repeated. "You knew my father?"
"Knew him?" the woman laughed, but it was a sad, hollow
sound. "I lived with him for fourteen years."
To Be Continued . . .