 | ||||||||||
 |  | |||||||||
 |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | |||
| ||||||||||
| | |||||||||
| | | | | | | | |||
The wedding rehearsal went off without
a hitch, even though Remington was on the lookout the entire time
for Tony to make an appearance. Since his call to Laura the day
before, there had been no sign of him, but Jarvis agreed with
Remington that the increased police patrols should remain in place.
"After all, every dignitary of any merit's supposed to be
at that wedding tomorrow morning. Wouldn't do to have someone
get hurt because we let our guard down."
After dinner, served in a private dining room at Che Rive, Abigail
pulled Laura away from where she and Murphy Michaels were talking.
"Excuse us, Murphy," she said. "I need Laura for
a minute."
Murphy grinned at Laura's frustration. He had arrived only a few
minutes before the rehearsal due to a delayed flight from Denver,
and the old friends hadn't been able to talk very much. He watched
as Abigail drew her daughter across the room to where Steele was
standing. Murphy shook his head, still unable to fully grasp the
fact that Laura and Steele were married - and were getting married
again tomorrow morning. She certainly *looked* happier than he'd
ever seen her, he admitted. But he knew too much about Steele's
past - about who the man really was to be completely at ease with
the idea.
"So you're Murphy, huh?" a middle aged blonde woman
asked, standing beside him.
"So you're Mildred," Murphy returned. He'd heard all
about the invaluable Miss Krebbs in Laura's letters, knew that
the woman single handedly kept the agency running smoothly. He
smiled, nodding in the direction of Laura and Remington. "Is
she happy, Mildred?"
"Mrs. Steele? You bet. I knew from the moment I met them
that they were meant for each other."
"Really? That's not *quite* how I saw it."
"Yeah, well, you had a personal interest in keeping them
apart, right?" When Murphy looked ready to deny her words,
Mildred added. "You still care about her, don't you?"
"She never saw me as more than a friend, Mildred," Murphy
admitted. "And she was right. As special as I know she is,
I also know that I wasn't the right man for her."
"And you're not sure that *he* is either. Look, Murphy, that
man loves her more than anything in the world. I think he'd rather
die himself than let anything happen to her or hurt her."
As Murphy watched, Remington put an arm around a laughing Laura's
shoulders, pulling her close to his side. He'd never really taken
the time to notice how right they looked together. He'd been too
busy trying to prove he was the better man, he supposed. Remington's
eyes lifted and met his, and Murphy lifted the glass of champagne
in a silent toast.
"Remington," Abigail said again. "Are you listening
to me?"
He forced his attention away from Murphy and back to his mother
in law's voice. "I'm sorry, Abigail. What were you saying?"
"That it's time for you and Laura to say good night and for
us to leave -"
"Say goodnight?" Laura repeated. "What-"
"Laura, did you or did you not tell me that you wanted this
wedding to take place as if you and Remington hadn't eloped?"
"Well, yes, but- I never thought- Mother -" she looked
toward Remington for help, but he simply shook his head as if
to refuse to get into the middle of this.
"You'll see each other tomorrow morning at the church,"
Abigail reminded her. "Come on, everyone. Time to go -"
"I'm sorry," Laura said to her husband. "I didn't
expect this-"
"Are you still determined to go out with the others?"
he asked, looking down at their intertwined fingers, at the light
reflecting on the diamonds of the bracelet he'd given her the
previous day.
"There's no reason not to," she said. "Tony's gone."
He brought her hands to his lips. "Be careful."
"And you don't lose too much money. Murphy's not a novice
poker player," she warned him. "And Frances set a limit
-"
"We're not playing for real money, Laura," he assured
her. "Just chips. And don't worry about Donald. I have an
idea he'll do just fine." The room was empty except for them,
and Remington pulled her into his arms for a kiss. "I love
you, Laura."
"I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of hearing you
say that," she sighed as they kissed.
"Really, you two," Abigail said, returning. "It's
only one night. Let's go, Laura."
"You take the limo," Remington told her. "I'll
drive to Monroe's warehouse in the Rabbit."
Laura nodded as they moved toward the outer exit. "All right."
They kissed again as Abigail, Mildred and Frances waited inside
the limo. "Good night."
"Good night." He saw her inside, then closed the door,
tapping twice on the top of the car as a signal to Fred. "Have
fun," he called. "But not *too* much fun," he added,
knowing that she couldn't hear him. Donald approached.
"I'm going to take the kids home and then I'll be at the
warehouse."
"You've got the directions?" Remington asked.
"Yes. See you in about an hour - if I'm lucky."
"Plenty of time, Donald," he assured the man. "Don't
hurry." He returned to the restaurant and found the mai'tre'd.
"Claude."
"Ah, Mr. Steele. A lovely party, was it not?"
"Very nice, Claude. Thank you." He pulled out some bills
and slipped them into the man's hand. "Send the bill, but
give this to the staff with my thanks."
"Oui, Mr. Steele. Thank *you*."
**********
Laura winced as the music's volume increased to an almost unbearable
level as yet another male stripper began his "performance".
She covered her face with her hand, embarrassed as once again
she was the recipient of the dancer's attention. He was certainly
well built, but he left her a little cold.
She looked around, seeing that the others were really into the
show - Mildred was even whistling loudly, trying to get the man's
attention diverted toward herself, waving some money as added
insurance. After watching the older woman tuck the money into
the thin strap of the man's remaining garment, Laura slid from
her chair unnoticed. She needed some air.
In the front of the ladies' room, she found a telephone and making
a decision, dug a dime from her purse. She had to look up the
number for the warehouse, then wondered if anyone was going to
answer as it rang six times.
"Hello?"
"Is Mr. Steele still there?" she asked the young man
who answered. Probably someone who worked for Monroe, she told
herself.
"I'll go get him. Be right back."
It seemed forever before he came on the line. "Steele here."
"Hello, there," she said. "I miss you."
"Really? I wouldn't have thought it, considering what Donald's
been telling us about Frances' plans for the evening."
The door opened, and Laura held her breath in case it was someone
from her party. It was a young woman she'd never seen before.
"I'd rather be with you," Laura admitted. "I have
an idea," she told him.
Remington smiled as he listened to her. "All right. Good
bye. I love you, too." He hung up and returned to the poker
table as Donald won another hand. "Good thing I was called
away," he commented, looking at the full house that lay on
the table, thinking about the royal flush he'd been holding.
Murphy picked up the cards. "My deal," he said.
"Who was that on the telephone, Remington?" Monroe asked,
being careful not to call his old friend "Mick" around
someone who didn't know the man's past.
"Just an old friend, wanting to wish me luck," he explained,
concentrating on the few chips he had left before him. Glancing
across the table, he saw Murphy's eyes on him as the man shuffled
the cards.
He was lying. Murphy could see it in his eyes. "Five card
stud," he said, dealing the cards. "Jacks or better
to open, nothing wild."
Ten minutes later, Remington placed his cards on the table as
Donald's streak of beginner's luck cleaned him out. "I'm
tapped. And I think it's time I be heading home, gentlemen."
Donald counted his chips, flushed with his success. "Guess
you're right. We'll have to do this again sometime."
"Yeah," Murphy agreed sourly. "Sometime. Come on,
Donald. I'll let you drive me back to my hotel. Night, Steele,
Monroe. See you both tomorrow morning."
"Night. Be careful driving home, Donald," Remington
called. He turned to Monroe. "Thanks, mate."
"Least I could do as best man," he said. "You okay,
Mick?"
Remington touched the back of his neck. "I don't know. I've
got a prickly sensation right here. Been there all night, like
something's going to happen -"
"It wouldn't dare. It's nerves, Mick. That's all. You go
get some sleep and you'll feel much better tomorrow morning."
"I suppose you're right," he agreed, then shook Monroe's
hand. "Thanks again."
"See you in the morning."
**********
Remington climbed the last flight of stairs and waited a moment.
"Can't say I miss *this*," he commented softly, trying
to regain his breath. No wonder Mildred had moved out. He was
in halfway decent condition and the bloody things wore him out.
Must have been torture to Mildred. Placing the key in the iron
door, he slid it aside, entering the dark loft beyond. "Laura?"
he called softly.
"Up here," she called from the bedroom area. He took
the circular stairway with little trouble to find her laying in
the bed, smiling at him. "I thought you'd never get here,
Harry," she sighed.
"I had to take care of a few things at the apartment,"
he told her, removing his jacket. "Did you enjoy yourself
this evening?"
"I suppose so. After awhile, one male body looks like another,"
she teased, laying back to watch him undress.
"Is that so?" he questioned, his eyes glittering in
the dim lighting that came through the window high in the wall.
"And how many - male bodies did you see?" he asked in
a nonchalant tone.
"Oh, ten, maybe fifteen," she told him. "You should
have seen Mildred and my mother. Frances and I thought we were
going to have to drag them both out of the place."
"I can picture Mildred doing something like that. But your
mother?"
"Frances said she'd had more to drink than she was used to."
"Ah, I see," he said, sliding beneath the sheet to pull
her close. "Did I tell you how much I approve of your idea
this evening, Mrs. Steele? I wasn't looking forward to spending
tonight alone. I've gotten used to having you at my side,"
he said, his lips leaving a trail of warm down her arm and back
up it.
"Me to," Laura confessed. "I have to leave early,"
she told him. "Frances put me and Mildred into Mindy's room.
I don't know how long Mildred is going to be able to cover for
me." Laura rolled him over onto his back.
"Mildred knows you're here?"
"She's sworn to secrecy," she said, "Are we going
to talk all night?" she asked, straddling his hips. "Or
make love?"
Remington smiled up at her, giving her a most satisfactory answer.
************
Fred turned the limo toward the Rossmore Arms, glad that there
wasn't much traffic on the streets yet. Instead of driving to
the front as usual, he pulled the car into the underground garage,
parking near the elevator to wait for Mr. Steele. He was supposed
to be here any minute, so Fred got out and opened the car door
to wait. Suddenly he felt something in his side. "Don't move."
Fred lifted his hands, trying to identify the voice of his assailant.
It wasn't familiar. Where was Mr. Steele? he wondered. Suddenly
the man hit him with something, and everything went dark.
Tony dragged the driver into a storage area, where he tied the
man up, then locked the door as he left. Returning to the limo,
he started the engine to pull the vehicle into a less well lit
area, then got back out, keeping his hat pulled low, his face
turned to the dark as he waited for the elevator to begin its
descent- as he waited for Remington Steele.
To Be Continued . . .