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As she looked at the woman, Laura
shook her head. "You're lying. My father-"
"I know it's difficult for you, Mrs. Steele- Tom said it
would be. That's why he wanted me to stay in the background until
he could talk to you - make you understand -"
"Understand what?" Laura shook her head again, then
turned to Steele. "Let's go." She got into the passenger
side of the white car, eyes straight ahead.
"Mr. Steele, she *must* listen to me. She's making a terrible
mistake. I don't know what Tom told her yesterday, -"
"He *didn't* mention anything about *you*," Laura said.
Steele glanced at the woman's haunted eyes.
"I think we might at least listen to what she has to say,
Laura," he said slowly, bracing himself for her disapproval.
Laura got out of the car again, and turned toward the elevators,
leaving Steele and the woman no choice but to follow.
**********
Mildred was just locking the office doors for the night when she
saw Laura, Steele and another woman come from the elevator. "Mr
and Mrs. Steele. I thought you were going home?"
"Slight change of plans, Mildred," Steele said, watching
as Laura unlocked the doors. "You go on home," he told
her, seeing her glance toward the woman. "We'll talk tomorrow."
"You're sure? I can stay-"
"No, go on." He locked the door behind her and then
followed Laura and the woman into his office.
"All right, Miss-"
"Robbins," the woman said. "Sheila Robbins. I was
- Mitchell Hargrave's secretary fourteen years ago. That's how
I met Tom. And it's Mrs. Robbins. I'm- a widow."
"And when did your husband die, Mrs. Robbins?" Laura
asked. Steele stood near the window, letting Laura ask the questions
she needed answered.
"Ten years ago. Mrs. Steele,- Laura- I know this is difficult
for you to accept-"
"It's not difficult, Mrs. Robbins," Laura told her.
"It's *impossible*. You really expect me to believe that
my father left my mother to run away with you?"
"I'm afraid that's exactly what happened, Laura-" seeing
Laura's disapproval, she smiled that sad smile again. "Forgive
me. It's just that Tom spoke of you so often- I almost feel as
if I know you."
"Well you *don't*," Laura pointed out.
"You were the one he missed most of all, you know. The one
he most regretted hurting when he left. He had no choice, Laura."
"No choice?"
"Neither of us wanted it to happen, Laura. It just did. He
was having trouble at home - I had just left my husband - we went
out for coffee a couple of times, then, before either of us knew
it, we fell in love. Tom fought it for a lot longer than I did.
He was worried about your mother and you and your sister."
She frowned. "Then Mr. Hargrave was killed - things became
so crazy -"
"What *about* Mr. Hargrave's death?" Steele asked softly.
"Tom met with Mr. Hargrave that evening, and I arrived later
to deliver some reports I had finished typing- to tell the truth,
I knew Tom was going to be there and had volunteered to do the
work. Apparently Mr. Hargrave was still reading the new insurance
paperwork and Tom answered when I knocked on the side door. We
were in the hallway when we heard the gunshot and ran into the
study." Sheila Robbins twisted the handkerchief in her hands.
"Mr. Hargrave was dead- and there was no sign of the person
who had killed him."
"What happened then?" Laura asked suspiciously.
"Tom was afraid that if we called the police, and both of
us were found there, someone would become suspicious, begin to
wonder. So he insisted we leave. He stopped on the way home and
called to report the murder - without giving his name. But they
found him anyway. The contract on the table- a neighbor who saw
his car- apparently no one noticed my car, since it was there
for such a short time."
"What happened when the police found him?" Laura wanted
to know, curious now as to how far this woman was going to carry
her story.
"He couldn't tell them why he'd left the room without involving
me- so he lied. He told them he'd seen the killer but couldn't
identify him. He hoped they would leave it at that. But they didn't.
They kept pressuring him to identify the killer, to testify about
a meeting between Mr. Hargrave and Mr. Logan and Craig Malcolm."
"But he didn't want to testify?"
"He couldn't. If he had, it might have come out that he and
I were- well -" She paused. "Tom didn't want to hurt
any of you. So he finally decided that it would best if he and
I just left. Made a clean break, before everything came out."
"Why didn't my father tell me any of this?" Laura questioned.
"He wanted you to forgive him, to understand. He said he
was going to tell you that he *had* seen the killer to get your
sympathy and then tell you about me later. I'm sorry, Laura. I
know that you must be terribly upset by all this- but I wanted
to tell you the truth before you created any real problem for
yourself or your husband. Tom didn't know anything about Mr. Hargrave's
murder - and he couldn't connect Mr. Malcolm to that meeting -"
"Why not?"
"He was late for his meeting. Because he and I were together."
Steele saw Laura's features close down, saw her eyes harden. "Where
are you staying, Mrs. Robbins?"
"I *was* staying at the Flamingo Hotel. But I checked out
this evening. I'm on my way out of town -"
"Why? Tom Holt's funeral is tomorrow-"
Sheila paled. "I couldn't, Mr. Steele. I might have spent
the last fourteen years with him, but I can't do that." She
rose. "I'm sorry if what I've said has upset you further,
Laura, but- Tom's death was a tragic accident. You have to accept
that fact."
"Thank you, Mrs. Robbins," Laura said dismissively,
remaining where she was as Steele showed the woman out of the
office. When he returned, he picked up the telephone and dialed
a number. Laura frowned. "Who are you calling?"
"Monroe. I want him follow Sheila Robbins, tell us where
she goes from here."
"You heard her. She's leaving. Running away. Just like -"
Steele, waiting for his friend to answer his telephone, reached
over and pulled Laura to her feet and against him, holding her
tightly. "Monroe, mate. I have another favor to ask - - That's
right. A woman, five six, bleach blonde, in her late thirties,
early forties. She just left the office. I want you to have her
followed - I will. Thanks, Monroe." He hung up and put both
arms around Laura, feeling her shivering. "You didn't believe
her, did you?"
"I don't know *what* I believe anymore," Laura said
with a deep sigh.
"Laura, there were so many holes in her story that even *I*
could see through them. And it's easy enough to check her out.
Mildred's report should mention the name of Hargrave's secretary."
Laura nodded, feeling oddly detached from his words. "I suppose
so," she responded in a listless voice.
"Let's go home," Steele suggested. "We've a long
day ahead of us tomorrow." He turned out the light on his
desk, then stopped by Mildred's desk to pick up her report before
unlocking the door for them to leave.
This time, nothing stopped them as they got into the Auburn and
turned it toward home. In the dim streetlights, Steele glanced
across at Laura's face and promised that they would get to the
bottom of this. Either Thomas Holt had been killed because he
knew too much about a fourteen year old murder- or he had lied
to cover up an illicit affair with Sheila Robbins and been killed
in an accident.
Steele had a feeling that his entire future with Laura hinged
on their discovering the truth about Laura's father's death.
**********
At the apartment, he sent Laura to take a hot bath while he found
them something to eat. When she came out, wearing a terry cloth
bathrobe wrapped tightly around her, he was placing bowls of hot
soup on the table. "I'm not really hungry," she told
him.
"You need to eat, Laura," he pointed out. "And
it's only soup." He pulled out a chair. "Now sit."
When she was seated, he went around to his own chair. As he spooned
the soup into his mouth, he opened the folder and started to read
again.
"What's that?"
"Mildred's report on Mitchell Hargrave. Very interesting
reading. Hargrave wasn't married - but his name had been linked
with his recently divorced secretary," he told her conversationally,
aware that she had stopped eating the soup to look at the report
in his hand.
"What?" Reaching across the table, she took the papers.
"Let me see that." She read the words several times.
"Why would she have lied about being involved with Daddy
if she were really involved with Mitchell Hargrave?"
"Perhaps because she knows more than she's telling us and
is afraid for her life," Steele suggested, pleased to see
the glow returning to her cheeks, the fire back in her eyes. "Or,
she might not know anything."
"We have to find out what happened to her after Hargrave's
murder. If she left town- if the police questioned her. You were
right about her story. There are enough holes to keep a Swiss
cheese factory in business for years."
Steele smiled crookedly. "We'll have Mildred run a further
check on her tomorrow morning. Finish your soup before it gets
cold," he admonished. He watched as she read the report again
while she ate.
He took the bowls into the kitchen, then returned to find her
curled up on the sofa, still reading more of the report. She took
the glass of wine he handed her without saying anything. The telephone
rang, causing them both to look up. Steele picked it up. "Steele
here." His eyes flickered toward Laura. "Actually, Abigail,
she's already in bed. It's been a trying day- What?" He saw
Laura's grateful smile. "She thinks so. Tell them to talk
to Laura," he suggested. "I will. I'll see you tomorrow."
He hung up, giving her a thoughtful look. "Someone from the
media called her for a comment on your press conference."
"I really don't want her or Frances getting deeper into this,"
Laura said, a crinkle appearing between her brows.
"You knew it was a possibility, Laura. If your father was
telling you the truth, these people threatened those he cared
about to gain his silence. It worked then, they might consider
that it would work now."
She nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder if I could convince them
to take a trip? Just until this is settled."
"Not without telling them the truth." He sat down beside
her. "Anything else in this that we didn't know?"
"Hargrave had a good shot at becoming the next mayor, apparently.
He was an advocate of cleaning up government. Getting rid of the
graft and corruption - the bribes -"
"And Logan? Did he agree with his co-councilman's view?"
"Henry Logan," Laura said, turning to another report,
"was connected to a *lot* of graft and corruption on the
council. He was almost recalled because of a city construction
contract that he got a *huge* kickback from."
"Still doesn't tell us why Mrs. Robbins would agree to come
to you with that story this evening."
"No, it doesn't," Laura agreed. "I can't believe
that Daddy left because of another woman, Rem -" Laura paused.
"I have *got* to find *something* to call you when we're
alone."
"I've told you before-"
"I know. Pick a name." She eyed him for a long moment.
"Harry." When she saw his uncertain look, she smiled,
reaching out to touch his hand. "It's the name your father
gave you," she reminded him. "It's probably as close
as you'll ever come to knowing what your *real* name is."
He nodded. "Harry it is, then. But it could be a bit confusing
if you happen to call me that in front of a client."
"Not necessarily," Laura told him. "If anyone asks,
we can say it's your middle name. That I just happen to prefer
it over Remington."
"My middle name," he mused. "Remington Harry Steele?"
Laura shook her head. "Remington *Harrison* Steele,"
she corrected.
Now it was his turn to look thoughtful. "All right. Sounds
good to me. As long as it means you stop calling me 'Mr. Steele'
all the time."
Laura put her arms around his neck. "I know *one* place where
I didn't call you 'Mr. Steele'," she pointed out. "Let's
go to bed, Harry."
He dropped a kiss onto her mouth and then rose to his feet, holding
out his hand for her to take. Pulling her up, they moved arm in
arm to the bedroom. In the doorway, they turned, and Steele pulled
her into his arms for a long kiss. "I'll be right there.
I have to turn off the lights and make sure the lock is turned."
Laura smiled at him, unfastening the tie of the knobby cotton
robe. "Don't be long, Harry." The robe slid to the floor
as she moved into the bedroom. Steele smiled at her invitation,
turned off the lights and double checked the door locks, then
joined Laura in the bedroom.
**********
"What happened?" the man asked.
"I told her the story," Sheila Robbins said. "I
don't know if she believed me or not."
"You were *supposed* to make sure that she *did* believe
you." He looked at the end of his cigar.
"I did what you asked - "
"But you didn't finish the job, my dear. You know what's
at stake."
"I don't know what else I can do."
"You'd better hope that she believed you enough to drop her
investigation, Sheila," the man told her. "Unless you
want to attend a funeral yourself."
Sheila paled. "Please-"
"Get out of here. And keep out of sight."
The woman got out of the long, dark limousine and stood watching
as it pulled back onto the dark, just washed street. Glancing
around, she moved down the sidewalk until a cab appeared. Flagging
it down, she got inside and gave the driver an address.
Neither the woman or the man saw the Hispanic man in the alleyway.
He rose from the shadow of a stairway, then flagged down another
cab. It was going to be a long night.
To Be Continued . . .