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Three bodies. First her father, then
Sheila Robbins, and now Louis. "This has *got* to stop,"
Laura said firmly, a determined gleam in her eyes that Steele
easily recognized.
Reeves looked from Laura to Steele. "Uh- who's Louis?"
Laura shook her head. "Before we answer *your* questions,
Mr. Reeves, you're going to answer a few of ours, remember?"
She looked at Steele. "Why don't the two of you go into your
office, Remington? I'll be right along. I have to ask Mildred
about something."
Steele nodded. "Shall we, Mr. Reeves?" he asked, indicating
that the reporter should go ahead of him.
Once the door closed behind them, Laura turned to Mildred. "I
want you to find out everything you can about our friend Reeves,
Mildred. And quickly."
Mildred was already typing the information into her computer.
"You got it, hon."
"Thank you, Mildred. And when Monroe gets here, send him
in."
"Will do."
********
Laura found Steele standing near the door, watching as Reeves
examined the wall of photos. Her husband was apparently relaxed,
to all outward appearances unconcerned, but Laura knew that his
pose was deceptive. He was a panther, watching his prey for any
sign of nervousness. The realization that he wanted answers as
much as she did made her touch his arm and smile up at him ever
so slightly. They were in this together.
He returned that smile, placing a hand over hers, his eyes scanning
her tired features. He promised himself that, once this was over
and done with, he was going to whisk her away for a long, romantic
weekend and tell her how he felt about her.
She motioned toward a chair, indicating that their guest sit down,
then said, "How much do you know about what's going on, Mr.
Reeves?"
The man turned, a half smile making his face less cynical. But
there was no humor to be found. His dark eyes were dead serious.
"What I know, Mrs. Steele, and what I can prove, are two
different things."
"Let's start with what you can prove then," Steele suggested,
watching the man closely.
Reeves sat down across from the pair of detectives. "There's
not much of that," Reeves replied. "Precious little,
actually. I know for certain that someone stole all of the notes
on the case about five years ago."
"What case?" Laura asked.
"The Hargrave - Logan murders. I was a cub reporter at the
Trib in those days, did a *lot* of legwork, chased down leads
for the paper's star reporter, thinking he'd give me some credit
in the article. Now, I'm glad he didn't."
"Why is that, Mr. Reeves?"
Reeves looked at Steele. "Because Craig Malcolm has left
a string of dead bodies across this city over the last twenty
years, and I would have been one of them."
"If that's true, why hasn't someone stopped him?"
"How do you stop someone with that kind of power, Mrs. Steele?
He has ties to the police, city hall, even the state house."
Steele sat back. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
" he suggested. There was a tap on the door, then Mildred
appeared, followed by a somber faced Monroe.
She handed Laura some papers, then doled out the coffee that had
been on the tray she brought in, giving Laura a moment to scan
through the material in the preliminary report that Mildred had
printed out. Steele rose to greet Monroe with a firm handshake.
"Monroe." He nodded toward the other man. "This
is Philip Reeves."
Reeves nodded at Monroe, returning the man's handshake, then returned
to watching Laura Holt-Steele, who silently handed the papers
over to her husband and partner. She looked up at Reeves, then
at Monroe. "What happened, Monroe?" she asked softly.
"I wish I knew, Laura. I'd stake all I have that Louis was
clean. Everyone who works for me knows that if they're using,
then they're gone."
"What did the coroner say?"
"What coroner?" Monroe asked cynically. "A drug
overdose doesn't require the services of the county coroner. All
I know is that I found him close to the Flamingo Hotel - which
means he probably saw more than he should have. Maybe Malcolm
picked up on his tail of Sheila Robbins."
"It's possible," Steele agreed, looking across to where
Reeves had returned to his seat. "The reporter that you did
all the legwork for was the one who was responsible for Craig
Malcolm being arrested for those two murders fourteen years ago."
"Yeah. Hank Smithers. Not a bad sort - didn't deserve to
end up the way he did."
"What *did* happen to him?" Laura wanted to know.
"After Malcolm's trial ended with a not guilty verdict, Hank
found himself out of a job at the Trib- and no other paper in
town would touch him. Too frightened of Malcolm, I guess. He sank
into a whiskey bottle and never came out. Five years ago, he was
killed when he stepped out in front of a truck." He saw Steele's
glance at Laura, acknowledging the similarities between her father's
death and that of Hank Smithers. "The driver swore that he
never saw Smithers until it was too late. But Hank's' death renewed
my curiosity in Craig Malcolm," he confessed. "I went
to his widow to see if she still had his notes on the Hargrave
and Logan murders - but she told me there had been a break in
just after Hank's death. The only thing that was taken were his
story notes."
"Including the ones on Craig Malcolm," Laura said.
"Every last one."
"What makes you think that Malcolm had Hank Smithers killed,
Mr. Reeves?" Steele asked.
"Because I talked to Hank a few days before he died. He seemed
excited about something- said he hadn't had a drink in a couple
of days. He said he was going to take his notes about Malcolm
to a private detective, and have the P.I. look into things."
"Let me guess," Steele said, "the P.I. was-"
"Laura Holt. He'd seen her picture in the paper, remembered
that Thomas Holt had a daughter with that name. Said it was only
right that Holt's daughter bring Malcolm down. I don't know how
Malcolm got wind of what he was planning - but I think he did-
and he killed Hank to keep him from coming to you, Mrs. Steele."
"Do you think that Sheila Robbins was killed because Malcolm
was afraid she would talk as well?"
"She *did* talk, Mrs. Steele." As three pairs of eyes
focused on him, he continued. "Sheila Robbins called me yesterday
afternoon after she got into town. I would guess it was before
she came to see you. Said she wanted to talk to me, that she was
afraid something was going to happen to her, and she wanted someone
to know what was going on."
"Why you, Mr. Reeves?" Steele wondered aloud.
"I told you that I did most of Hank's legwork. And that included
doing preliminary interviews with Sheila Robbins and Thomas Holt.
Sheila discovered Hank was dead, and tracked me down."
"When did you meet her?"
"We arranged for me to be at her hotel after she saw the
two of you. I used my 'diversion' again, and was waiting when
she arrived. No one saw me go in - I'm pretty sure of that. As
for seeing me leave- I didn't think they had, but- "
"So she was alive when you left her?" Laura asked.
"Yes, Mrs. Steele. Very much alive. And frightened. But she
had reason to be."
"What did she tell you?"
"Mitchell Hargrave was one of the good guys around back then.
An honest politician, who hated graft and corruption. He would
have made a good mayor for everyone- except for Craig Malcolm
and his cronies, that is. Malcolm wanted Hargrave out of the way
so that his hand picked man would win the election. So he and
his lap dog Henry Logan went to see Hargrave - suggested that
Hargrave back off, pull out of the election."
"And if he refused?"
"Then they would reveal to the press that Hargrave had been
having an affair with his secretary, Sheila Robbins. Hargrave
stood his ground - and so they took it another step up. They said
that Sheila was pregnant, and that she was willing to name him
as the father of her child. It would have ended his political
career back then. But Hargrave knew it wasn't his child."
"It wasn't?" Laura questioned.
"Sheila was involved with a married man, Mrs. Steele."
Laura's heart stopped beating. "A - married man?" she
repeated. "Who, Mr. Reeves?"
"She'd been having an affair with Logan since he'd taken
care of her divorce for her. It was his child, and he was *very*
married. No chance of a divorce without a massive scandal."
Laura closed her eyes in relief. So Sheila Robbins had been lying
after all. She'd never had an affair with Thomas Holt.
Steele reached out to place a hand over Laura's. "Hargrave
refused to cooperate, I take it?"
"Not only refused, but threatened to show the press the evidence
he'd uncovered about Malcolm. He basically signed his own death
warrant."
Monroe rose to his feet. "As interesting as this is, Remington,"
he said, aware that to call his friend another name would alert
the reporter, "I have a business to attend to. I'll be at
the warehouse if you need me."
Steele rose to shake Monroe's hand and walk him to the door. "If
Louis' family needs anything-" he offered, but the other
man shook his head negatively.
"Already taken care of. And when you decide how to bring
this man down, I want to be there."
Steele nodded. "It's a deal. Tell your men -"
"I've already told them to watch their backs - and they're
taking shorter shifts, calling in more frequently. They're all
just as angry about this as I am." He glanced to where Laura
was sitting with Reeves. "Take care of the lady, mate."
"I will." He closed the door and returned to his chair
as Laura spoke again.
"Where does my father fit into this, Mr. Reeves?"
"The day of the meeting, Sheila made herself scarce, not
wanting to hear what was being said in the office next to hers.
So she took a coffee break. When your father arrived, he likely
heard the three men talking, but when Sheila returned, he was
apparently engrossed in a magazine. An angry Malcolm and Logan
left moments later. Hargrave came out, greeted Holt, and fired
Sheila on the spot. As she was gathering her things, she heard
him telling Holt what Malcolm had tried to do."
"Was my father supposed to have been killed when Hargrave
was?"
"I don't think so. That gunman wouldn't have missed if that
was the case. He was probably as surprised to see your father
as Holt was to see him. Wrong place at the wrong time."
"I see. You said you interviewed him. Did he give you any
indication -"
"All I saw, Mrs. Steele, was a man jumping at shadows, refusing
to talk about anything concerning Mitchell Hargrave's murder -
or Logan's, for that matter. And when Malcolm was arrested, I
tried to see him again. Holt told me to get lost or he'd call
the police. He was gone the next day, and Malcolm was making sure
Holt's family was taken care of - said it was his 'Christian duty'.
Sheila Robbins was already out of Los Angeles by then, she'd left
the day after Logan was killed."
"Why was Logan killed?"
"He wanted to leave his wife, go away with Sheila, raise
their child. But that wasn't part of Malcolm's plan. I think Logan
threatened Malcolm much the same way Hargrave did- and paid the
penalty for it."
"What happened to the child Sheila Robbins was carrying?"
Steele asked.
"She told me that Malcolm arranged a private adoption."
"She decided not to raise the child herself?" Laura
commented.
"It was a different time, Mrs. Steele," he reminded
her. "Unmarried women who became pregnant didn't announce
it to the world proudly or try to raise the child alone. Malcolm
paid her quite handsomely to let him make the necessary arrangements
and then she disappeared much as your father did for fourteen
years."
"Why did she come back?"
"That's easy to understand, Laura," Steele said. "You
were creating trouble for Malcolm. When I didn't respond to the
mayor's request -"
"They mayor called you?" Reeves asked, sensing a story.
"Malcolm brought Sheila back to town to try and make you
think she and your father had been having an affair and had left
together."
"Why would she lie that way?"
"Because Malcolm was threatening to hurt her daughter. He
knew where the child was, remember?"
"The man's a four star cretin," Laura announced. "And
we've *got* to stop him. But how? You said you don't have any
evidence-?"
"I've got my notes on computer disk, well hidden, but no,
no proof. Nothing we could take to the authorities. Just a lot
of hearsay - and the people who said most of it are dead."
Laura paced across the room, and Steele asked, "Why did you
put the story about Laura's father's accident in the paper, Reeves?"
"That was pure luck, Mr. Steele. I happened to be at the
morgue when I saw you two come out of the viewing room. So I asked
the attendant if you were who I thought you were, asked why you'd
been there- he finally told me that Mrs. Steele's father had been
killed in a traffic accident. I did a little more digging- and
realized that he had to have been back to get your help to put
a stop to this - so he could come home."
"Too bad we can't find something to pin on Malcolm,"
Steele murmured.
"That's our problem," Reeves commiserated. "He's
too careful to do any of the dirty work himself. And the man he's
got working for him-"
"That's *it*!" Laura exclaimed. "We don't need
to go after Malcolm. It's the hit man we want!"
"Laura -"
"Mrs. Steele-"
"Don't you see? He's *got* to be in Los Angeles. He killed
Daddy, and Sheila Robbins, and Louis - If we can smoke him out,
then we've got Malcolm as well."
"Laura, the only way to 'smoke him out', is to set you up
as bait," Steele pointed out nervously.
"Then that's what we'll do. Mr. Reeves, you're going to do
an interview. Get out your notepad."
Steele shook his head, not liking this at all.
**********
Once Reeves had left, promising to deliver a copy of his notes
to Mildred, Laura glanced at her watch. "I don't think we're
going to make it to the loft this afternoon. Not if you're going
to have one of your gourmet delights ready for Mother, Frances,
and Donald."
He pulled her into his arms, wanting to ask her not to take this
chance, to call Reeves and put a stop to the interview that was
certain to make her the target of Craig Malcolm's trained killer.
But he knew he wouldn't ask - anymore than she would have asked
him not to go after Daniel's killer if he'd been murdered. Looking
down at her, he shook his head. "I suppose not. I have another
idea, anyway. One I hope you'll at least think about before dismissing
it out of hand."
She looked wary. Would she *ever* stop looking at him as if he
were going to suggest they rob a bank? "What idea?"
"It's not fair of me to suggest that you give up your loft
and me not give up anything - "
"Except some closet space?" she teased, and Steele relaxed
a bit.
"Except that. I thought we might consider moving to a place
a little more closet space."
"A larger apartment?" she asked.
He shook his head, his blue eyes never leaving her brown ones.
"A house."
"A *house*?" she repeated, as if she wasn't certain
she'd heard him. "A house. Could we *both* pick it out? I
mean, you haven't already gone out and-"
"No. I haven't even looked for anything. I just got the idea
this minute. I thought you and I could discuss it- "
"Nothing ostentatious," she said. "And not another
castle -"
He looked disappointed. "We *do* have to maintain appearances,
remember? I mean, how would it look for Mr. and Mrs. Remington
Steele to be living in a cul de sac in the suburbs?"
"*No* suburbs," Laura agreed.
"Then you're agreeing?"
"As soon as this is over, we'll start looking," she
modified. "And if we find something we *both* like -"
He paused a moment at the reminder of the danger she was deliberately
placing herself in. "After your family leaves tonight, I
think we need to have a long talk, Laura," he told her, holding
her head between his hands. He didn't want to take the chance
that he wouldn't be able to tell her how he felt. He was out of
time.
"You have a date, Harry," she told him, lifting her
lips to his.
The door opened, and Mildred stood there, waiting for the kiss
to end. "Excuse me?" When she heard Steele's frustrated
groan, she apologized. "I'm sorry, but- Mrs. Holt's on the
phone- she says someone broke into her apartment and trashed it-"
To Be Continued . . .