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Laura watched as Harry refilled her
glass. The only light in the room came from the fireplace, bathing
them in shadows. He looked up and caught her eyes on him, then
leaned back on one arm. "Have you been thinking about my
idea?" he asked.
"Your idea - which idea might that be?" she asked, uncertain
that she was ready for this discussion. Earlier, on the balcony,
he had told her he wanted to stay here with her. That was enough,
for now.
"About buying a house," he reminded her, fully aware
of what she was up to. But for once, he wasn't going to let her
back down. It was time to get everything out into the open.
Laura leaned back. "I don't know. It's a pretty big commitment,
isn't it? And you've always shied away from those-"
Harry put down his drink and knelt beside her. "Laura, if
I didn't want to make a commitment, would I have fought so hard
to stay here? To find a way to get around immigration?"
"You mean con them, don't you? By marrying that - by marrying
Clarissa," she amended, realizing that she was dangerously
close to revealing how hurt she'd been hurt by his choice of a
high priced call girl over herself.
"I thought you said you wouldn't have married me if I'd asked
then."
"I did. But I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that
I wouldn't have married you for that reason," she told him
in a soft voice that he had to strain to hear.
"And what reason *would* have been enough for you to marry
me?" he asked, hoping he sounded suitably nonchalant, as
if her answer wasn't the most important thing in the world to
him.
"The only one that matters, I suppose," Laura said vaguely.
Harry sighed. "Laura, I know I hurt you by not telling you
about my problems with immigration. I really thought I could handle
them on my own, without having to involve you -"
"But don't you see? I was *already* involved. And cutting
me out was just one more example that you -"
"That I didn't trust you?" he finished. When she nodded,
Harry lifted her chin. "Laura, I trust you more than I've
ever trusted anyone. Even myself. I don't know exactly when it
happened, but at some point during the last five years, I crossed
a line that I had promised myself never to cross. I began to care.
Deeply. And that scared the hell out of me. I fought it for as
long as I could before I finally admitted to myself that it had
been fate that led me to you. And I'm not about to try and second
guess fate. You and I were meant to be, Laura. To be here, now,
together. And that's not going to change. Not on my part, anyway."
Laura's throat was tight again as she gazed into those blue eyes,
reading the truth of what he was saying- and so much more. How
many times had she seen this look? And how many times had she
dismissed it as simply another ploy to get her into his bed? Well,
she had *been* in his bed for a month, he was still here. Dare
she finally let herself believe he was sincere? That he really
-
"Say something, Laura. Even if it's only to tell me that
you don't want me to be around."
"If I didn't want that, would I be so worried that you might
take off tomorrow? Or the next day? Or next year?"
"Then maybe you'll agree to the other commitment I have in
mind."
"What commitment?" Laura asked, her expression wary
again.
"That we get married. For real this time. With your mother,
and Frances, and Donald in attendance. And all of our friends
- in a church, where there will be no questions, no doubts-"
"Why now?" she wanted to know.
"Because I want this settled before that bloody interview
comes out in the morning. I was going to wait until after this
was all done and over with, but what happened this evening changed
my mind." His hand circled around the back of her neck,sending
a warmth throughout Laura's body.
"This evening?"
"Before your family arrived?" he reminded her. "If
you'll remember, someone took a shot at us."
"They don't want you. They're after me -" her voice
trailed off as he shook his head.
"Malcolm knows that if he harms you, he'll have to deal with
me. He won't waste time by having to set up two hits, Laura."
Her dark eyes widened. "Would he really have to deal with
you?"
He pulled her into his arms. "Laura, if anything ever happened
to you, nothing would stop me from bringing down whoever it was
that took you from me. Even if it meant my own life would end.
Because without you in it, my life would have no meaning."
Laura felt his heart beating against hers as she rested her head
against his chest. He still hadn't said the words, was still tap
dancing around them as fast as he could. But were those words
really important? Her father had said them to her mother and he'd
still left. How many times had Wilson told her he loved her and
then taken her to task for her "terminal flights of frivolity"?
And he'd left as well. But she needed to hear him say it. Just
three little words. "I want to say yes, -"
"Then say it."
"I need to know - to be sure that- " She put her head
back to look at him.
"The words," he said, understanding. "I've said
it every way I possibly can without saying them, and it's still
not enough. That's the problem, isn't it?"
"Why is it so difficult for you to -"
"The few times I've allowed myself to utter those words above
a whisper, Laura, I've ended up watching as the person I've said
them to walks away."
"I'm not going to walk away," Laura promised. "Because
I love you." There. She'd said it. Now, it was up to him.
Her eyes watched his as they took in her admission. She was surprised
to find relief there. He hadn't been sure of her. Hadn't been
certain that she loved him.
Harry framed her face between his hands, dropping a kiss onto
her lips. "I love you, Laura. I think I have from the moment
I first saw you. You saved my life as certainly as Daniel did.
I can't imagine not seeing you, touching you. You completed me
in a way I never thought I needed completing. And I'll love you
for the rest of my days." He used his mouth to touch the
salty trail of tears on her cheeks, then covered her mouth with
his. It was several hours before either of them spoke coherently
again, and when they finally did, Harry raised up on his elbow
in the bed. "So, Mrs. Steele, will you do me the honor of
becoming my wife- again?"
Laura slid her arms around his neck, smiling. "I still need
to think about it, Mr. Steele," she teased. "I mean,
there are so many things to be considered -"
"Such as?" Harry asked, dropping kisses on her nose,
her chin, then lower.
"I won't quit working, Harry- I can't-"
"Laura," he said, looking at her again. "I wouldn't
ask you to. You and I are a team, remember? Remington Steele Investigations
needs *both* of us to operate."
"What about - children?" she asked.
"What about them?"
"I'd like to have at least one- maybe two. Sometime. Not
right away, of course-"
"Of course."
"And that would create another problem-"
"Nothing that you and I can't handle, Laura," Harry
assured her. "There are times that I think you and I can
handle anything that comes up. Just as we'll handle whatever comes
our way tomorrow." He pulled her closer to him. "I won't
pressure you to say yes, Laura. Just think about it. We can find
a house and move in once we're married. Start everything fresh.
No loft, no apartment - just you and I."
"What would I tell Mother and Frances? And what about Estelle
Becker?"
"Estelle's easy. And we could tell your mother and sister
that we feel guilty for having married so quickly before, without
allowing them to be there, so we're going to renew our vows. I
think that would make Abigail's day, don't you?"
"I'll think about it," Laura promised. "And in
the meantime, Harry-" she said, pressing her lips against
his shoulder. "Why don't you explain the benefits of being
your wife again? I think I missed one or two the last time."
Harry grinned and proceeded to satisfy to her request.
**********
Craig Malcolm's beady black eyes narrowed as he opened the newspaper
and saw the headline on the bottom of the page. "Laura Holt-Steele
Says Her Father Was Murdered." He almost ignored it as more
of the same, but as he read the interview, he felt his blood pressure
begin to rise. "That little -" his hand grabbed for
the telephone. Not the main line, but his private one. Before
he could pick it up, it rang shrilly. "Hello?" he barked
into the mouthpiece. "Yeah. I'm reading it now. I was about
to call you. I was afraid this was going to happen when you killed
the Robbins woman. I tried to tell you - Yes, I think that Mrs.
Steele and her husband need to be removed from the picture, but
not just now. This time there can't be any questions. Nothing
that will tie this to me. She's already raised suspicions. If
anything happens now- I don't care what the article says. There's
no way she can possibly know who you are. Look, I - Let me try
to handle it again- No, I didn't. Do you know where they went?"
Malcolm frowned. So Thomas' widow and the rest of the family had
flown the coop. "I'll speak to Mrs. Steele personally this
time, see if I can't allay her suspicions. That's not enough-
Look, I'm the one who- Don't threaten me." The line went
dead, and Malcolm slammed it down. "Damn. Twenty four hours.
There had to be something he could do to stop Holt's daughter.
Pressing the button on the intercom, he said, "Mrs. Patterson,
call Remington Steele Investigations, and ask Mr. and Mrs. Steele
to be here at ten this morning."
He could hear her flipping through his appointment ledger. "But,
Mr. Malcolm, you have a ten o'clock with the mayor -"
"Call and cancel. This is important. Don't argue, Patterson.
Just do it."
"Yes, sir."
Malcolm turned his chair to face the window. He wasn't going to
get anywhere threatening Holt's daughter. She had more moxie in
her than Holt had. *Nothing* was going to make that woman back
off. The unknown quantity in the equation was Steele. It was well
known that he was blind in love with his wife - and men like that
usually were willing to do whatever necessary to protect the little
woman. The man had an Achilles' heel. And Malcolm knew exactly
where to strike. Picking up the telephone again, he dialed a number.
**********
Laura and Steele decided to use the underground parking garage
avoiding any contact with reporters until they got off of the
elevator on the eleventh floor. The corridor was packed with people
and cameras, all asking the same questions.
"Are you aware that the state licensing board is considering
revoke the agency's license?"
"Where did you get your information about Craig Malcolm's
involvement in all those murders, Mrs. Steele?"
"Did you consider that Mr. Malcolm might have grounds for
filing a libel suit, Mrs. Steele?"
Laura refused to answer the questions, simply let Harry push through
the crowd ahead of her, and to the office where Mildred was waiting
by the door to let them in. She turned the key in the door behind
them. "Sorry. I tried to call and warn you, but I missed
you at the apartment, and then the telephone here started ringing-"
As if to illustrate her point, the telephone rang, and she rushed
to answer it. "Remington Steele Investigations. If you're
another reporter-" She stopped, listening, then put her hand
over the mouthpiece to say, "It's Craig Malcolm's secretary."
To the woman, she said, "Ten o'clock? Just a moment."
She put the phone on hold. "Mr. Malcolm wants to see the
both of you at ten this morning," she told them.
"Tell her we'll be there, Mildred," Laura said, moving
toward her office.
Mildred pressed the button. "Mr. and Mrs. Steele will be
there." Hanging up, she held out a copy of the morning paper
to Harry. "Did you read this?"
He nodded. "Has Reeves called yet? Or Monroe?"
"Not a word from either one of them, Chief. If that article
doesn't smoke out the killer, then I don't think anything can."
The telephone rang again as Steele responded. "That's what
I'm afraid of, Mildred."
She looked up at him. "It's Estelle Becker," she told
him. "And she says it's very important that she speak to
you at once."
"I'll take it in my office, Mildred." He picked up the
telephone on his desk as he sat down. "Steele here."
**********
When Laura entered his office a few minutes later, he was just
hanging up the telephone. "Was that Monroe?" she asked.
"No. Estelle Becker. Seems she's getting some heat from somewhere
to investigate our marriage further. Her superiors are apparently
still having a slight problem with my last minute change of bride."
"What does she suggest we do?"
"Precisely what I suggested last night," he told her.
"And we're supposed to see her after our meeting with Malcolm.
Around eleven, I would think."
"I called Reeves. He's been taking some heat for sneaking
the story past the editors."
"He'd better lay low for a few days -"
"He refused to consider it. Said he'd been running in place
for fourteen years, that it was time to stop running for a change."
"I could learn to like that man, I think." He picked
up the telephone. "Let me call Monroe, then we'll leave for
our appointment with Malcolm. Let's take the limo, shall we?"
Laura nodded. "Sounds good to me," she told him as the
office door opened to admit James Jarvis. "Lieutenant,"
she said, moving forward to greet him. "Come in. This is
a surprise."
He held up the newspaper. "After reading this, I thought
you might need some police protection."
"I think I managed to ruffle a few feathers, didn't I?"
"More than a few, Laura. This could get you killed. You *and*
Steele."
"Have you got anything new?"
"The car's owner still insists it was stolen - says that
it *could* have been stolen by some kids."
"But still no luck in finding those *kids*, am I right?"
"Sorry. But I do have a possible lead for you on the hit
man who was suspected in Mitchell Hargrave's murder. I checked
with Sergeant Hastings - he was the investigating officer in the
Hargrave and Logan killings. He's retired, but I looked him up.
He told me that *this* is the only photograph that your father
was shown that he showed any reaction to- or asked questions about."
Laura took the grainy, black and white photo, turning it over
to glance at the name. "Everett Parker."
"I did a printout of his rap sheet, Laura," Jarvis told
her as Steele joined them. "This guy was arrested for a string
of murders back east a year before Hargrave and Logan were killed
- but there was no evidence to tie him to the crime, so the New
York police had to let him go. Apparently he only worked for organized
crime bosses. An enforcer."
Worked?" Steele asked. "Why the past tense?"
"Because from all the reports I've found, Everett Parker
was killed five years ago in an apartment fire."
"Who made the identification?" Laura wanted to know.
"The FBI. Dental records. Apparently the body was pretty
badly burned in the fire."
"Dental records can be switched," Laura pointed out.
"I know that. If Parker's still alive, Laura, then he's not
someone you want to mess with."
"I think it *is* Parker," Laura said.
Steele tapped his wrist. "We're going to be late, Laura,"
he said.
"Late?" Jarvis asked.
"We have an appointment with Craig Malcolm at ten,"
Steele informed him. "At *his* request."
"You two have a death wish, am I right?"
"Come on, Jimmy," Steele said. "You can walk us
to the limo. That is, unless you're afraid to be seen in public
with us."
Jarvis shook his head and followed them from the office.
**********
"What did Monroe have to say?" Laura asked once the
limo was en route to Malcolm's office.
"He had people watching Malcolm all night- nothing unusual."
He saw her look at the photo of Everett Parker.
"At least we know who to watch for," she pointed out.
"Of course, it's been fourteen years, at least, since this
was taken, but he can't have changed that much."
"You'd be surprised at how living on the run can age a person,
Laura," Harry said. "Parker might not look anything
like that now. And most professional hit men are experts at disguise
-"
"Then we'll just have to be extra careful, won't we?"
Laura said.
**********
There were more reporters outside of Malcolm's office building,
kept away from the entrance by uniformed security guards. The
doorman came to the limo to open the door, and the moment they
were recognized, the reporters moved in their direction, only
to be held at bay by the guards. Inside, one of the guards told
the one on duty at the desk, "I was given orders to escort
Mr. and Mrs. Steele directly to Mr. Malcolm's office." The
guard nodded, moving to unlock the express elevator. "After
you," the first guard said to the couple.
As they entered the elevator, Laura glanced at the gun he was
wearing. "Mr. Malcolm takes his security very seriously,
doesn't he?"
"He's an important man, Mrs. Steele. Lots of people depend
on him. And they don't like it when someone says things about
him that aren't true."
"Aren't true, or just difficult to believe?" Laura asked,
feeling Harry move subtly closer to her as the guard frowned.
The elevator came to a stop, and the guard stepped back for them
to exit, then led them to Malcolm's office, but remained outside
in the hallway as they entered.
Mrs. Patterson's unsmiling face greeted them. "I hope you're
happy with yourself, Mrs. Steele. Denigrating such a fine man
as Mr. Malcolm."
"I believe we have an appointment with Mr. Malcolm,"
Laura said quietly. "And I'm *sure* he wouldn't want to be
kept waiting. He's *such* a busy man."
The secretary's eyes narrowed as she picked up the telephone.
"Mr and Mrs. Steele are here, sir. Yes sir." She hung
up. "Through those doors."
"Those doors" led to an immense office that would take
up half a football field, Steele thought. The darkly paneled room
had only two windows - both behind the man at the desk, illuminating
him from behind, making it difficult to see him clearly. "Mr.
and Mrs. Steele. Come in." Steele waited a moment to allow
his eyes to adjust to the light, then allowed Laura to continue
down the length of red carpet that went to the chairs before the
desk. Laura sat down, then he sat beside her, his eyes on their
host. "I must say, Mrs. Steele, I was a bit surprised when
I opened the paper this morning to find your diatribe against
me."
"Why, Mr. Malcolm?" Laura wondered. "Upset that
the editor didn't stop it before it hit the stands?"
"I see. Now you're implying that I somehow have control over
what's printed in an independent newspaper. What other dark crimes
have you associated me with, I wonder?"
"I thought the interview told it all," Laura told him.
"Murder, extortion, graft, - and that's just the tip of the
iceberg, Mr. Malcolm. I'm sure that, given time, I could come
up with a *lot* more."
"But you don't have that kind of time, do you? From what
I hear, Mr. Steele here has some imminent problems with immigration.
He might not even be in this country by the end of the week."
"Even if that happens," Laura warned him, "You'll
*still* have to deal with *me*."
"I wouldn't worry about my legal status, Mr. Malcolm, if
I were you," Steele said in a calm voice. "You've troubles
of your own brewing. Especially if your hired killer makes another
try at Laura and myself."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Steele."
"He tried last night, Malcolm," Laura told him. "Almost
succeeded in killing us both."
"Really, my dear. I can't believe that you're making these
accusations. Surely your mother told you that I did what I could
for all of you after your father ran away -"
"You mean after he was forced to leave to keep from having
to testify against you, don't you?" Laura asked.
"If it hadn't been for my help, Mrs. Steele, your mother
would have been forced to find employment- probably give up the
house where you grew up - and you would never have gotten into
Stanford -"
"What are you implying, Mr. Malcolm? That you've been pulling
strings all these years? Making us all dance like puppets in your
private little play? Well, this is one puppet who's cutting the
strings -"
"I'd be careful doing that if I were you, my dear,"
Malcolm said, his voice hard and cold. "You've seen how puppets
react without strings- the collapse, and aren't of use to anyone.
You'd hate to lose your private investigator's license. And the
Agency license would go once your 'husband' has been deported.
And what would you be left with, I wonder?"
"More than you would *ever* have," Laura told him. "My
dignity. Integrity. Something I don't think you know very much
about."
Steele thought he saw a grudging respect in the man's eyes for
Laura as she stood up to him. He wagered that few people had the
courage to do that. There was a time when *he* would have been
one of them, he recalled. "If I were you, Mr. Malcolm,"
Steele began, "I would call off your friend Everett Parker.
Before he makes a mistake that will take you both down."
Malcolm paused for a moment. "Everett Parker? I'm sorry,"
he said, shaking his head, "I don't know the name."
"Really?" Laura asked, holding out the photo of Parker
for him to look at, but not allowing him close enough to take
it. "You're certain you've never met this man, Mr. Malcolm?
He's the man my father would have identified as Mitchell Hargrave's
murderer if he hadn't been threatened." She returned the
photo to her purse. "He's a hired killer, who the police
placed in Los Angeles during the time that Hargrave and your friend
Henry Logan were killed."
"As I said, I've never heard the name. You both realize that
I could help you with your problems. Just one call from me and
I could stop this silly investigation into your legal status,
Mr. Steele. And your problems with the state board, Mrs. Steele
could be cleared up just as easily."
"Let me guess," Laura said, a sour expression on her
face. "All we have to do is recant the accusations and fade
into the woodwork. Pretend that my father wasn't murdered. Or
that Sheila Robbins wasn't killed because she was going to talk."
"Or that a poor little man lost his life because he saw too
much," Steele added. He shook his head. "It's gone past
that, Mr. Malcolm. It's too late to just shove it all back into
a nice, neat little package and hope that no one notices it."
"I have to warn you both that if you insist on pursuing this,
I'll have no choice but to take you to court for libel and slander,
Mr. Steele. You've made some serious allegations against my good
name -"
"Then take us to court," Laura challenged. "And
we'll *prove* that those allegations are for real."
Malcolm's pleasant mask fell slightly. She'd called his bluff,
and they all knew it. He rose. "I think we've said all we
need to say. Just remember what I've told you. I offered to help
you. If you insist on ignoring that offer-"
Laura and Steele rose as well. "I'd sooner accept help from
a shark," Laura said.
Malcolm reached across the desk. "Mrs. Patterson, the Steeles
are leaving now. Ask security to escort them back downstairs."
The door opened a moment later to admit the same guard that had
escorted them into the building. "Mr. Malcolm," Steele
said, nodding as he turned and pushed Laura ahead of him. Once
she was a few steps away, he turned. "Just one word of warning,
Malcolm," he begin, his urbanity vanished, "if your
friends succeed in getting me out of the country, and then something
happens to Laura, I'll find a way to come back here and take you
down, mate. Laura may play by the rules, but I don't." The
guard returned to take his arm. Steele pulled it away to join
Laura in the doorway, straightening his tie as they left.
Malcolm waited for the door to close, then picked up the telephone.
"They just left. No. Take them out. But it has to look like
an accident this time. No questions. I mean it."
To Be Continued . . .