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After a grueling hour and a half in
Estelle Becker's office being questioned by several of her superiors,
Laura and Steele made their way out to where they had left Fred
waiting with the limo. But there was no sign of the chauffeur
or the car. As he looked up and down the street, Steele frowned.
"Bad time to take a coffee break, Fred," he muttered.
He didn't like standing here in the open with a hired killer no
doubt watching their every move. "Come on," he told
Laura, moving toward the the telephone booth nearby.
"What are you doing?" she wanted to know.
"Calling Fred to find out where he is," he told her,
then patted his pockets. "If you have some change, that is."
Laura shook her head. "What happened to your emergency fund?"
she asked as she opened her purse.
"It's in bills, not in change," he explained, taking
the coin from her and putting it into the slot. "Keep an
eye out, Laura. I don't like this -" At last he hung up.
"No answer. He's not in the limo." He started to put
the dime into his pocket, only to stop as Laura lifted her brows.
"Call Mildred and see if she's heard from him," she
suggested. Steele dialed the number, only to discover that Mildred
hadn't heard from Fred all morning. As he hung up, Laura looked
up at him. "You're scowling," she accused.
"And *your* crinkle is showing," he returned. "Let's
find a taxi to take us to retrieve the Auburn," he decided.
"And dispense with Fred's services for the remainder of the
day."
Laura led the way to the taxi stand. "He'd better have a
good explanation for this," she remarked.
**********
Prepared this time to run the gauntlet of reporters, Laura and
Steele were pleasantly surprised to find the corridor nearly empty
as they stepped out of the elevator. Inside the office - to which
the doors were unlocked, Mildred smiled in greeting. "What
happened, Mildred?" Laura asked her, picking up the messages
from the desk.
"You mean your 'fan club'?" Mildred asked. "Jarvis
came back and sent them all packing. Even sent a couple of uniforms
to watch the lobby."
"We'll have to remember to call and thank him," Steele
said. "Have you heard from Fred?"
"He called a few minutes ago, looking for you. He went to
get a cup of coffee, and when he got back, the limo had three
flat tires. It was parked in a one hour zone, and when he couldn't
get the auto club to come and help, the police towed the car away."
"You mean the limo's in a police impound yard?" Laura
asked in a disbelieving tone.
"Apparently. I put in a call to Jarvis to see if he can help.
How'd it go with Malcolm and Estelle Becker?"
"I think Malcolm's nervous," Laura said. "He recognized
Parker's name, but he didn't admit anything."
"Not that we expected him to," Steele said.
"What about Immigration?"
Steele glanced at Laura, then scratched behind his ear. "Unless
we resolve this quickly, Mildred, it looks as if I might be leaving
town by the end of the week."
"But- I thought that your marriage was enough-"
"It would have been, Mildred, but Malcolm's used his power
to convince them that our marriage wasn't *entirely* legal,"
Laura said.
"But it was - " she looked closely at them. "Wasn't
it?"
Before Steele or Laura could answer the door to Steele's office
opened and Phil Reeves appeared. "I thought I heard you two
out here."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that Mr. Reeves was here, Mr. Steele."
"I thought Laura suggested that you go into hiding somewhere,
Reeves?" Steele asked as he, Laura, and Mildred moved toward
the office
"And I told her no way was I going to miss out on this exclusive.
I've been hiding from this story for fourteen years, Steele."
"How did you manage to get that story past your editors?"
Steele asked.
"I'm not the only one on the paper who doesn't like the way
Malcolm's every wish is granted. I called in a few markers from
people who owed me - did a stint in proofing last night myself
just to make sure it got through. How did the meeting with Malcolm
go?"
"Hello?" a voice called from the outer office, and Mildred
turned.
"I'll go. You two fill Reeves in on what's going on."
As she closed the door, Reeves shook his head. "You know,
there are times I think that *she's* the one running this agency."
"We couldn't do it without her," Steele admitted. "Before
we get into our meeting with Malcolm, there's something I think
you should see."
Laura brought out the photo of Everett Parker. "Have you
ever seen this man?"
Reeves shook his head. "Looks like a police mug shot -"
he turned it over. "Everett Parker - wait a minute. This
is the man that the police thought Malcolm hired fourteen years
ago to kill Hargrave. Where did you get this?"
Laura gave Steele a knowing glance. "A source inside the
police department got it for us."
"I tried to get information on Parker fourteen years ago-
for Hank's article. When his request was refused, he decided not
to use the name. Did you show this to Malcolm?"
"Yes. And he knew the name."
"But I don't think he's ever actually seen Parker face to
face," Steele told them.
"Why do you say that, Remington?"
"Men like Parker prefer doing business with as much anonymity
as possible for self protection. Malcolm studied that photo carefully
for the time he saw it. As if memorizing the face for future reference."
"Because he's afraid that he could be next on Parker's list
if things aren't cleared up? To keep him from talking like he
kept Sheila Robbins from talking to me. You're right, Steele."
The telephone began to ring, and Laura ignored it, thinking that
Mildred would answer it and let them know if it was important.
But after the fourth ring, she moved toward the desk. "Where
is Mildred?" wondered aloud, picking up the phone.
*Click.*
Laura held the receiver away and frowned. "Guess they didn't
want to talk," she said. Looking up at Steele, she said,
"I want to know why Mildred didn't answer that phone."
The three of them went to the reception area to find it spotless-
except for the files scattered from the edge of the desk nearest
the door. "Mildred?" Steele called, going toward the
empty office, as Laura went to hers.
They returned at the same time. "She's not in there,"
Laura told him. "Her purse. She wouldn't have left without
her purse-" Going to the desk, she opened the bottom drawer
to pull out the huge purse and place it on the table.
"Maybe she went downstairs for a minute," Reeves suggested,
but he sounded uncertain.
"I'll call the security desk downstairs-" Laura decided,
placing her hand on the device as it rang. Her dark eyes met blue
as she picked it up, outwardly calm. "Remington Steele Investigations."
Her hand on Steele's arm tightened.
"Mrs. Steele. I hear you're looking for me."
Laura signaled to Steele to go into her office and listen in.
"That depends on who you are," she said, stalling, trying
to give him time to pick up the telephone as she watched him through
the open door.
"No games, Mrs. Steele. Unless you think Miss Krebbs' life
is worth very little."
"Miss Krebbs? You have Mildred?"
"She's not there, is she?"
"She probably just- stepped out for a moment."
"You don't believe that, Mrs. Steele."
"You know who I am, but I still don't know who *you* are."
"Everett Parker."
"You sound very much alive for a person who's supposedly
been dead for five years, Mr. Parker," Laura commented calmly.
"I think we should meet, Mrs. Steele. So I can try to explain
what's going on - perhaps make you and your husband see the light
in this matter."
"And if we refuse?"
"Then you'll be looking for another receptionist."
"How do I know you have Mildred? That you're not bluffing?"
There was a rustling sound, then Mildred's voice came on the line.
"Mrs. Steele. I'm sorry. He surprised me-" She sounded
groggy, drugged, almost.
"Are you all right, Mildred?"
"She's fine at the moment, Mrs. Steele," Partker assured
her smoothly. "How long she remains that way depends on how
quickly you and Mr. Steele can get to where you're going."
"And where might that be?"
"The Californian Hotel on old Highway 33. Do you know it?"
Laura thought quickly. "We can find it."
"Be there in twenty minutes. Twenty one, and your friend
Miss Krebbs dies."
"If you-" Laura hung up the telephone, hoping that Reeves
couldn't see how badly her hand was shaking as Harry returned
to her. "He hung up."
"We'd better get going," Harry said, moving to the desk
to pull out the agency gun. "Where are the bullets, Laura?"
She paused, before going to her office to the top file cabinet,
where she pulled out a box. "Here," she told him, watching
as he loaded the weapon.
Reeves frowned. "I'll call the police. Where are you meeting
him?"
"Out on Highway 33. The Californian Hotel," Laura told
him. "Contact Lt. Jarvis, homicide. He can help you. He's
the only one I trust to keep this thing from resulting in anymore
deaths."
"Will do," Reeves said, following them from the office
to the Auburn in the parking garage. As they pulled away, he noticed
something on the concrete and knelt to touch a finger to it. Clear,
too thick to be water - and from the location of the spot, directly
beneath where the brake cylinder of Steele's car had been moments
before. And it was fresh. Either he had a bad leak in the braking
system of the old car- or someone had tampered with the brakes.
"Highway 33," he whispered, running toward where his
car was parked. That road was an obstacle course of hairpin curves
that bordered on the river and several deep ravines. A car with
no brakes was a death trap. He had to stop them before it was
too late.
**********
As the Auburn reached the top of the steep hill, Laura said, "If
I remember correctly, the Californian Hotel is just at the bottom."
Steele glanced into the rear view mirror as a car pulled in behind
them from a side road. The tinted, dark windows obscured his view
of the driver, but he frowned as the vehicle barreled toward them
full tilt. "What-" he tapped the brake to allow the
larger car to pass, and his frown deepened.
Seeing his expression, Laura turned in her seat to look at the
car, just as it struck the rear of the Auburn. Sitting back in
her seat, she watched as Harry downshifted to take a curve, saw
him step on the brake. "Slow down! We're going to fast!"
she insisted.
"No brakes," he told her, concentrating on his driving.
Downshift, bleed off speed - They were still going too fast, he
realized as they rounded the curve, scattering gravel and debris
over the edge of the drop off. "Damn!" he breathed as
he saw the steep downhill grade that lay ahead with its tight
curves. "Laura -" he said calmly.
"Yes?"
"Do you trust me?"
It was a strange question for him to ask at a time like this,
she thought. But she answered without hesitation. "Yes."
His eyes met hers. "I love you."
**********
Phil Reeves stood at the end of the sharpest curve on Highway
33, amid the remains of what had once been a white guard rail,
watching Lt. Jarvis slowly climb back up to the road. "Was
it Steele's Auburn?" he asked.
Jarvis nodded. "Yes." His sharp gaze searched the road.
"Evidently he lost control, went over the edge, rolled, and
burned."
"Oh, man," Reeves breathed, running a hand though his
hair as his shocked gaze scanned the area of the still smoldering
vehicle. "What about-"
"No sign of them. The car wasn't equipped with seat belts-
and the top was down from what I could tell. They were probably
thrown out when it rolled. We're searching the area, but-"
He looked at the reporter with tired eyes. "Looks like you
got an exclusive on this one, Reeves. Laura and Remington Steele
are probably dead."
**********
"BOSS! You better get in here!"
Monroe frowned as Lupe yelled. He'd been trying to reach Mick
all afternoon, to see what else he and Laura might have learned
from Reeves. No one had answered - not at the office, or at their
apartment. He went to the makeshift break room that the men had
set up. "What's up, Lupe?"
The man pointed to the television screen. "Problems, man."
The images of a remote section of highway with a broken railing
didn't explain things in the least. "What-"
"Hold on."
The next images caused Monroe to sink to the badly sprung sofa
beneath him. Mick. And Laura. He fumbled for the remote. "Repeating
our bulletin, well-known detective Remington Steele and his wife,
Laura Holt Steele, are missing and presumed dead after Mr. Steele's
car went through a guard railing on Highway 33 this afternoon.
Police are still searching the area, but sources close to the
police department say that there isn't much hope for the couple,--"
Monroe threw the remote across the room, but felt no solace after
watching it shatter into a hundred little pieces. Mick's luck
had finally run out.
**********
Mildred Krebbs stared at the scenes on the television through
tear filled eyes. "No," she whispered. "They can't
be-"
"But they are, I'm afraid, Miss Krebbs," Everett Parker
told her smugly. "But don't cry. You're going to be joining
them very soon, you know."
"What do you mean?" When he had brought her back to
her little house, Mildred had hoped that he'd just let her go,
let her grieve in peace. They were dead. She'd been forced to
sit in Parker's car as he rammed the Auburn, to watch as the car
careened out of control down those treacherous curves, until the
only thing they saw upon rounding that last corner was the broken
railing and the smoke from below.
"You're a loose end, Miss Krebbs. One that might decide to
try and bring me to justice for your employers' deaths. No one
will question finding you here, dead. The loyal employee, unable
to continue upon hearing about the deaths of her beloved employers."
"I'm not going to just take some pills," she warned.
If only she could think more clearly. Parker kept using that chloroform
to knock her out and her mind felt as if it were disconnected
from her body. But if he thought she was going to go down with
a whimper-
He smiled, then took the can of chloroform from his pocket, along
with the handkerchief he'd used to administer it earlier. "No
pills, Miss Krebbs," he assured her, then placed the handkerchief
over her nose and mouth, holding her, forcing her to breathe the
potent fumes once more. When her struggles ceased, he put the
canister back into his pocket, then made certain the remote control
for the television was in her hand.
Moving to the kitchen, he opened the stove, and blew out the pilot
lights before turning the burners on full. As he moved quickly
toward the front door, the news was again replaying the film taken
at the scene of the accident that had apparently taken the lives
of Los Angeles' detectives Laura Holt Steele and her husband,
Remington Steele. Tomorrow's film would show this house, he thought.
And Mildred Krebbs' body being removed.
He closed the door softly, glancing around to make sure no one
saw him, then moved to his car and drove away.
**********
"If you would just *listen* to me, Jarvis," Reeves insisted.
"You're going to miss your deadline, Reeves," Jarvis
told the man.
"I don't give a rat's ass about my deadline," Reeves
swore, causing the detective to look at him. "It wasn't an
accident anymore than Thomas Holt's death was an accident. You
don't believe that it was either, or you wouldn't be here."
"So?"
Reeves lowered his voice, aware of the possibility that Malcolm
was having someone on the force keeping an eye on Jarvis as a
known associate of the Steeles. "Steele's car had been tampered
with. I found fresh brake fluid where it had been parked at the
office. And they were coming up here because Everett Parker kidnapped
Mildred and told them to meet him at the Californian Hotel."
"That place has been closed for months," Jarvis pointed
out.
"I don't think he thought they would ever get there, detective.
I think he waited up here to make sure the Steele's car went over
the edge."
"What about Mildred? If he's got her -"
"He'll kill her next-"
"Not if I can help it," Jarvis announced, moving toward
his car, Reeves close behind. "Lou," he barked to the
officer still watching the searchers below. "I've got a run
to make. Let me know if you find anything."
"Yes, sir, Lieutenant," the officer agreed, watching
as Reeves got into Jarvis' car and the two men left.
To Be Continued . . .