Steele In Pursuit 2

Part Four

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Remington shook Max Grumby's hand with barely disguised reluctance. "Have we met, Mr. Grumby?"

"Not to my knowledge." He nodded in Laura and Mildred's direction. "Ladies."

Laura moved to stand beside Remington. "I've heard the name-"

"I have an agency of my own," he explained. "Max Grumby Investigations," he said, handing Remington a coffee stained business card. Mildred frowned and gave the rumpled man a wide berth as she returned to her desk.

Remington took the rectangle of cardboard by the one clean corner and glanced at it before quickly disposing of it by handing it to Laura. "Why do you think my wife would be arrested for murder, Mr. Grumby?"

"Make it Max," he insisted. "Not one to stand on formality. I was at the police station this morning and happened to overhear someone talking about how Mrs. Steele is the main suspect in the death of some French guy who was shot to death last night downtown. Figured you might need some help on this one."

"Whoever you - overheard was wrong," Laura informed Grumby in a cool voice. "I haven't killed anyone."

"From what I heard, it certainly looks like you did. Your fingerprints all over the room- and the only ones on the gun. And the dead man *was* here yesterday -"

"How could you know that?" Laura wanted to know.

"Some over zealous patrolman was just downstairs asking the doorman if he'd ever seen the guy - the doorman said he'd been here yesterday and asked if you and Mr. Steele were here before coming upstairs. Thing is, the patrolman's not a homicide detective. He was apparently a witness to Mrs. Steele having been in the Hotel Belvedere at the time of the murder."

"I see. That still doesn't mean anything, Mr. Grumby," Laura said. "Mr. Steele and I appreciate your offer of assistance, but it's really not necessary. This will all be cleared up very shortly.-"

"Hope it's cleared before your wedding on Saturday. Be a shame if you were arrested before that could happen. And with the entire State in attendance. You and Mr. Steele are real celebrities since you brought down Craig Malcolm."

Remington had heard enough. "If there's nothing else, Max," he said, an edge to his voice, "I'll ask you to leave. Mrs. Steele and I are busy on a case - and-"

"Sure. But my offer stands. If you decide you need some help that won't be as noticed as either of you might be- just call."

"We'll keep it in mind," Remington assured the man, shaking his hand again before turning him toward the doors leading to the hall. Once the man was out of sight, he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his right hand.

Laura shivered. "That's *not* a nice man," she commented.

"And I have to wonder why he came by at all," Mildred told them. "All things considered."

Laura and Remington exchanged a look before looking at Mildred. "What things need to be considered?" Laura asked.

"You know that contract we just landed to do the background checks for MultiCorp new hires?" she asked.

"The one that gave you so much extra work?" Remington recalled.

"I don't mind. It's pretty easy to do a check with the computer. Guess who had been handling the contract before that?"

"Max Grumby Investigations?" Laura questioned. "You mean *that* man was handling the background checks for new employees at one of the state's biggest companies?"

"Had been for years. I didn't really expect to get the contract when we bid for it just for that reason. Everyone I talked to said that Grumby knew where the bodies were buried and there was no way the board at MultiCorp would cut him lose."

"Evidently they did," Remington mused. "The question is, why?"

Laura nodded in agreement. "Mildred, I hate to ask this- but-"

"I've already done a full investigation of MultiCorp, Mrs. Steele," the woman said, getting up to go to the file cabinet, where she withdrew a folder. "It's all right here."

Remington gave her a hug. "You're a marvel, Mildred. An absolute marvel."

Laura scanned the file quickly. "Craig Malcolm was on the board of MultiCorp until his death."

"I would imagine he was on the board of a good many corporations," Remington pointed out. "The man liked to control things."

"And he would need someone to do his dirty work for him," Laura said. "Not a hired gun, necessarily, but someone who could get the dirt on a rival or possible enemy and never be noticed. Someone who would blend into the woodwork as an average Joe."

"So, like I said, why come here and offer to help you?" Mildred asked again. "Doesn't make sense, considering that you and Mr. Steele were responsible for his losing his biggest account."

"You didn't happen to do a check on Grumby, did you, Mildred?" Laura wondered.

"Only a basic profile - same as the others who bid on that contract." She dug out another folder, opening this one herself. "He's been a P.I. for twenty years- has a lot of big wheel accounts, but keeps a low profile."

Laura glanced at the names of those "big wheels". "Do a check on those companies, Mildred. I'm curious how many of them Malcolm was involved with. *And* how many Grumby still has an arrangement with."

"You got it."

As they returned to his office, Laura noticed Harry's distracted air. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking that Mildred's come a long way since she came into this office trying to hang me for tax evasion."

Laura smiled. "I think it's surprised her as much as either of us. What did Jimmy have to say?"

"Robert du Mont was wanted by French authorities for a variety of crimes - to put it bluntly, Laura, he was a con- man. And not a very good one. He'd been in jail more than once - the only reason he wasn't in jail this time is that he forfeited his bail and ran. Someone helped him get into this country - "

"Illegally. Then he was hired to play the role of Phillipe du Pres. That would explain the folder of press clippings and photos that I found in his room. But he decided to back out- to tell me the truth -"

"Or that could have been simply a ruse to get you down there - never realizing that he would be dead before you arrived."

"We need to tell Jimmy about that patrolman that's conducting his own investigation into du Mont's murder."

"You're right. I'll call him - and I'll tell him about Grumby's visit as well. Maybe he has some more information on our - colleague."

Laura shivered again. "I don't even like to think about that." The other line rang as he picked up.

Pressing the button, he answered. "Steele here- Frances. -" he gave Laura an inquiring look. She shook her head. "Yes, she's right here. No, no, she's not busy -" he held out the telephone, leaving Laura no choice but to take it.

She sat on the edge of the desk, her expression promised later retribution as she said, "Frances. What can I - *again*? Can't you and Mother handle it? I know it's my wedding, but-" She grimaced, rolling her eyes and lifting them toward the ceiling. "All right. Give me fifteen minutes. Good bye." Hanging up, she glared at him. "The caterer needs to see me about something -"

"It will do you some good to get away from all this for awhile," he told her. "Forget about the problems and concentrate on our wedding."

"But- Jarvis -"

"I'll call him," he promised, leaning down to give her a kiss. When she put her arms around his neck to lengthen the kiss, Harry pulled her closer, then lifted his head. "Go on."

"You're going to pay for this," she promised.

"I expect that, my sweet." He dropped another kiss to her lips, then turned her toward the door. "Now go. Wouldn't want Frances and Abigail to call again, wondering where you are." As the door closed behind her, he sighed and dialed Lt. Jarvis' number.

**********

After talking to Jarvis, Remington went out to Mildred's office. "Anything new?" he asked

"Nope. Nothing."

"I want you to try to find Antony again, Mildred-."

"I already called-"

"But this time, tell them you're Laura Holt-Steele." When Mildred frowned, he said, "I'm playing a hunch, Mildred." He wasn't ready to give up on the man's possible involvement in all this just yet.

She glanced at him again, then dialed the first number.

**********

Laura listened to the caterer's problem with a disbelieving expression, then said, "China? You called me away from the office to tell me that you're going to have to change the china?"

"You picked the pattern yourself, Mrs. Steele," the blue haired woman said. "And you were quite specific in that choice. When your mother informed me that the number of guests had increased, I realized that I simply didn't have enough of that pattern - and we're probably going to have to add another layer to the cake --"

"*Another* one?" Laura questioned. "It's already as tall as I am."

"And at the very *least*, another case of champagne -"

Laura's eyes widened, and she turned to her mother. "Exactly how many people are going to be at this wedding?" she asked. "I mean, maybe we should consider leasing the Coliseum for the reception!" she exclaimed, only half in jest.

"Now, Laura, dear. I know you're nervous -" Abigail began, but Laura broke in. The caterer moved away to give the women at least the impression of privacy.

"I'm *not* nervous," she denied. "I *am* furious that the nice, simple wedding that I envisioned has gotten totally out of hand," she declared, moving away across the room, clearly agitated.

When Abigail would have followed, France put a hand on her arm. "Let me, Mother," she offered. "Why don't you talk to Mrs. Sharpe?"

"Good idea. If she backs out now because of Laura's attitude, I don't know *where* we'll find another caterer at this late date," Abigail muttered as she and Frances went different directions.

Seeing her older sister approach, Laura frowned. "No lectures, Frances. I'm not in the mood. Why is she doing this? She didn't go this crazy when you got married."

"You're right. But she didn't have to wait over ten years for me to get married, either," Frances pointed out.

Laura's shocked expression told Frances that she'd worded that wrong. "Are you trying to say that this is all *my* fault somehow? That if I'd gotten married years ago -"

"Of course not. I'm just saying that Mother waited a *very* long time to be able to help plan your wedding. She'd almost given up on it every happening. And no, she didn't go this much overboard with my wedding- but she didn't have carte blanche, either. And if you'll remember, Remington told her to spare no expense in giving you the wedding you wanted."

"But all I *wanted* was a simple little ceremony, family, a few friends, a nice, intimate little get together afterwards. Nothing like -" she waved her hand in a wide gesture. "You'd think it was a royal wedding or something."

"Well, you and Remington *are* royalty right now in this state," Frances pointed out. "Getting rid of Craig Malcolm's influence made a lot of people consider you to be very important. Do you have any idea of how proud Mother is of you, Laura?"

Laura looked across the room to where Abigail was talking with Mrs. Sharpe. "*Our* mother, Frances?" she asked doubtfully. "The same woman who's always told me how disappointed she is in me?"

"It's been a long time since she's said that, and you know it. I remember time when she wouldn't *dare* tell anyone that her daughter was a private detective. Now, she's constantly bragging about her daughter, the private investigator that's such an important associate of Remington Steele - and since you and he married, it's gotten worse."

"I had no idea-"

"Well, you do now. I know this is a lot more than you wanted for yourself, Laura, but can't you put up with it? Just for a few more days, and then it will all be over." Seeing Laura's distracted air, Frances sighed. "Look, we can't take back the invitations that are already out, but I'll do what I can to keep Mother reined in."

It might be over quicker than anyone expected, Laura thought with alarm as she saw LAPD Officer Davis standing outside the glass front windows of the shop. "Thank you, Frances. Look, I have to go. Tell Mother and Mrs. Sharpe to do whatever is absolutely necessary, okay?"

"Absolutely necessary," Frances agreed, watching her little sister leave the shop.

"Where did Laura go?" Abigail asked her.

"She had to get back to the office," Frances explained. "But she said that you could do whatever is absolutely necessary. And that's a quote, Mother."

Abigail sighed, putting down the fluted champagne glass she had been holding with an apologetic look at Mrs. Sharpe. "Forgive my daughter, Mrs. Sharpe. She tends to be far too practical when she shouldn't be."

"I'm sure Mrs. Steele is a very busy woman, Mrs. Holt," the caterer said. "Do you think this pattern will be acceptable?"

**********

He was standing at the next store, staring into the window, but Laura knew he wasn't really paying attention to what was inside, because the moment she passed him, he turned to follow her. He wasn't in uniform, but in street clothes, but she was certain that he was wearing a gun beneath his worn leather jacket.

She turned a corner, then ducked into a store that specialized in frames and photography supplies, hiding behind a display as Davis passed the shop. Quickly, she returned to the sidewalk just as he turned around, looking for her. "Well, Officer Davis, isn't it? The nice young policeman who was so helpful last night - I don't believe I thanked you for your concern -"

"Mrs. Steele," he said, swallowing heavily as he realized that she'd made his tail.

"This isn't a coincidence, though, is it?" she asked, continuing down the sidewalk to the parking garage where she had left the Rabbit. "I mean, you've been following me ever since I left the office."

"I guess I need to practice my surveillance techniques, huh?"

"Might not hurt. Care to tell me what this is all about?"

"A man was shot to death last night around the time you were in the hotel, Mrs. Steele. And your prints were on the gun and in the room."

"I've already explained all of that to Detective Jarvis, officer. Is he aware that you're conducting a private investigation into this?"

"No, but he's not investigating it at all."

"Really? What makes you say that?" She unlocked the door of the car and turned to look at him.

"He put your file at the bottom of the stack on his desk."

"Maybe because he knows I didn't do it, Officer Davis. I suggest you talk to Lt. Jarvis, let him fill you in." She started the engine. "And the next time you decide to follow someone, make sure you don't just stand and stare at them through a window."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll keep that in mind." He stepped back as she backed the car from its spot and drove away, then headed back toward his own car-- and the station. All the lieutenant could do was chew him out. He hadn't done anything wrong. He hoped.

**********

"Here's the report Jarvis got on du Mont, Chief," Mildred said. "And I'm expecting more information any minute."

"Anything on those companies that Max Grumby was working for?"

"Was is the operative word," Mildred told him. "In the last two weeks, he's lost just about all of his contract clients - not even sure how he's still got his doors open."

"And was Malcolm on the board of any of those companies?"

"All of them. It was like the only reason Grumby was on their payroll was because of Malcolm, and when he went, they couldn't dump Grumby fast enough."

"Loss of business would give a man excellent motive for trying to destroy the competition and the cause of his downfall in one fell swoop, wouldn't you say?"

"You want a connection between Grumby and du Mont, don't you?"

"It would help, Mildred," Remington said, smiling as Laura entered the office. "Everything resolved with the caterer?"

She tossed her hat and purse onto the coffee table in the conference area and sat down, slipping off her shoes and putting her feet up. "I think so. She has to change the china - too many guests. And add another layer to the wedding cake- *and* buy another case of champagne." She saw him wince at the last, calculating the cost of just the Dom Perignon alone. "It's all your fault."

"My fault?" he questioned, joining her as Mildred wisely chose to leave them alone.

"You're the one who told my mother to spare no expense, remember? And believe me, she's taking you at your word. It's a good thing we've already gotten financing on the house, because this wedding's liable to bury us in red ink."

"I thought you'd control her, keep her from -"

"When have I *ever* been able to control my mother, Harry?"

"You have a point. What are we going to do?"

"Frances has agreed to keep her under control."

He put an arm around her, deciding it was safe to do so. "Ah, good old Frances."

"She told me that Mother's proud of me."

"Of course she is, Laura."

"I just hope that Lt. Jarvis can keep Officer Davis in check until after Saturday or else she'll really be proud of me for having to cancel the wedding of the year because the bride's in jail."

Remington looked at her. "What do you mean?"

She told him about being tailed to the Caterer's shop, then about talking to the young policeman. "What did Jarvis have to say?"

"That he'd speak to Davis. And he's very interested in Max Grumby's part in all this. Speaking of good old Max - Mildred's come up with something. You were right about those companies. Malcolm was on the board of every one of them, and once Malcolm was dead--"

"They all dumped Grumby."

"Yes."

"Gives him an excellent motive to get back at us and remove the competition, doesn't it?" Laura commented.

"My thoughts exactly, Mrs. Steele," he told her, pulling her closer.

"You know what they say, Mr. Steele," Laura replied, touching her lips to his.

"What's that?"

"Great minds think alike."

"Precisely, my love. Precisely," he agreed, his lips on hers.

Mildred, new report on Robert du Mont in hand, opened the door to Mr. Steele's office, then just as quietly closed it again. No way was she going to disturb those two. With everything that was going on, they needed some time alone.

The door from the hallway opened, and she turned, ready to tell whoever it was that Mr and Mrs. Steele were in conference and couldn't be disturbed. "You."

"Hello, Mildred," Tony Roselli said. "How's it going?"

To Be Continued . . .

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