Steele in the Chips
Original Airdate: March 19
Transcribed by "pamo"
From the Episode Written by:
Robin Bernhein & Stephanie Zimbalist and Howard Baldwin

It's nighttime in Los Angeles. The wind is blowing the remaining leaves from the trees. The children's swings and merry-go-round in a playground are being pushed by the wind as the leaves slowly move across the park. It is almost errie. A middle-aged woman, short, plump with dark, curly hair, with a trench coat pulled tightly around her, slowly paces back and forth impatiently waiting for something or someone. A man, in a suit, checks the time on his watch with a cigarette lighter. He too, begins to pace. Another man looks anxiously into nowhere as he chews on his fingernail. He notices the others watching him and quits. They wait.

A car, a two-toned older luxury model, approaches. The left front headlight isn't working nor does it have any hubcaps. A man wearing a light jacket emerges from the car carrying a briefcase. He leaves the car running and the light on. He walks by the three people waiting for him. They follow him to a spot in the playground where they sit around him in a half circle. He sets the briefcase down on top of a bar-b-que grill and unlocks it. He lifts out a smaller box and proceeds to unlock it as well by removing the padlock. He lifts out a large chocolate chip cookie and hands it to the nail chewer. Taking the cookie with both hands he lifts it to his mouth and proceeds to take a large bite out of it and begins to chew. "Rich."

He hands the cookie over to the middle-aged woman sitting next to him. She too takes a bite. She eyes the cookie, the man, the cookie. After savoring every moment she says "Moist," and then hands it to the other gentleman.

With both hands he pushes the cookie into his mouth and chews. With a very full mouth of cookie he says "Satisfying," and hands the rest of the cookie back to the man from the car.

"Your bids?"

The nail biter removes an envelope from his breast pocket and hands his bid in the direction of the man now in possession of the cookie. The woman places her bid, in an even larger envelope, on top of his. The third man places his bid, in an even larger envelope, on top of hers.

"You'll have my answer in the morning."

After replacing the cookie and the three bids inside his briefcase, the bushy haired man with a mustache locks it and leaves.

Without another word, the three people depart the playground. The men walk off in opposite directions of each other and the woman puts on her sunglasses before leaving.


A vessel suddenly breaks in a kitchen laboratory sending blue and green liquid everywhere. The bushy hair man with the mustache from the car turns to another man in a lab coat - "Walter, what are you doing?" gesturing towards the mess.

The man in the lab coat and glasses, Walter, angrily asks "What kind of partner are you?" His eyes are wide with anger, "Trying to sell my life's work?"

"Ten million dollars is a lot of dough, Walter."

"Ah, you don't understand. They'll suppress it, they'll destroy it."

"What do you care what they do with it?"

"I've given fifteen years of my life to this. I don't care about the money. I care about mankind," Walter answers passionately.

"Sorry old man. The formula may be in your head, but I got all the prototypes."

"You wouldn't do that to me." Walter's eyes grow huge.

"Just relax, you're going to be a millionaire. By tomorrow you'll be off in Bali sipping banana daiquiris with some native guava blossom." He begins to sway back and forth to a slow beat. "Think of it, Walter, the stars, the palm trees, the bikinis." He begins to dance with Walter. "Tom...a...tom…" Walter pushes him away but the man continues dancing alone. "Ba-ba-baba". Walter grabs a glass bottle from the lab table and hits the mustached man over the head from behind.

He drops to the floor moaning in pain. Walter walks around the lab table to a row of file cabinets. He opens the top drawer of one of them, looks in, shuts it and opens the next drawer. Here Walter finds what he's looking for and removes a red cookie tin from the drawer.

"Walter" is faintly heard. He ignores the man's plea.

Walter unlocks a small locker and places approximately one dozen cookies into the red tin. He places the lid back onto the tin and leaves the laboratory taking the tin with him.

The man on the floor groans, lifts up slightly holding his head and then falls back onto the floor.


In the lobby of the offices of Remington Steele Investigations, Mildred Krebs is removing the brown paper from a package that has just been delivered. She lifts out a red cookie tin. She pries open the lid and lays it aside and openly admires the cookies.

"Oh....oh...." and tastes one. "Aaah....ah," a brief look upward savoring the taste. Just as she is about to take another bite, Laura Holt arrives outside the office of Suite 1157. She pauses for a very short moment before entering the office to observe Mildred. In disgust, Laura stomps into the office.

"Good Lord, Mildred," her hat in her hand, "It's nine o'clock in the morning."

"Oh, Miss Holt, you've got to try these." Laura places her hat and purse on the desk as Mildred holds the tin full of cookies up for her to sample continuing all the while to eat a cookie herself.

"Where's your self-respect, your will-power?" She rests both hands on the desk to make a point. "This is shameful. This is degenerate." Laura reaches for one of the cookies still being offered by Mildred. "This is...," she takes a bite..."absolute heaven." She rolls her eyes skyward. "Ooooh." Laura takes another bite before returning to her old, business-like self. "This is terrible," she says with mouth full of cookie. She tosses the remains of her uneaten cookie back into the tin, "We've got to get rid of these things." She grabs the cookie out of Mildred's hand and throws it back into the tin and with both hands pushes the lid on securely. "It's time to turn over a new leaf." Laura motions for Mildred to get up and follow her. Taking Mildred's hand, Laura pulls her around the reception area desk. "What you need is a little aerobics to get you going." Laura begins "working out." Moving her shoulders as she walks to "a beat." Mildred follows, shaking her head "nooooo" all the time. Laura continues ignoring her reluctance.

"It's no use - I've tried everything." Laura continues with her stretching. In time with Laura's movements, Mildred said "I mean, water diets, protein diets. I've even had acupuncture," Mildred said while pointing to her ear, "Nothing works." Nothing detours Laura from her leg stretches. She begins touching her toes, bottom up, toward the door, left hand to right toe, right hand to left toes, and so on and so forth. Mildred lowers her head to become even with Laura, "Let's face it, Miss Holt". She stands up straight. "Maybe," continues Mildred, slapping her thighs and spreading her arms, "I was just meant to be voluptuous."

"Nonsense, Mildred....oh..." Still upside down, Laura's mouth drops open as she suddenly stops with the aerobics as she sees that a client as entered the office. "Here is it is, Mildred," pretending to locate the "missing contact". Laura takes Mildred's hand then places the "contact" in it. Mildred closes her hand around the "contact" and returns to her desk.

Turning her attention to the visitor, the nail-biter from the playground, "Contacts can be such a problem. I'm Laura Holt, Remington Steele's associate." She extends her hand to shake his.

"Bill Miles." The nail chewer introduces himself and he takes her hand in both of his, "I need to see Mr. Steele."


It is a sunny day in LA as Mr. Steele and a tall, young, attractive woman are standing on a tennis court. She is in a tennis outfit and he has loosen his tie, undone his collar button, and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, as she stands clsoe and gives him some instruction. "And follow through," she says. "Wonderful! You have definate potential, Mr. Steele. Firm wrists, good form, excellent follow-thru."

Steele, enjoying her attention, smiles. "Oh, well, the Remington Steele Agency is noted for its- follow thru, Miss Dalrymple," he assures her as they walk toward the net, her hand thourough his arm.

"You now, security is extremely important on the pro-circuit. IF I retain your agency, I would expect you to be close by at all times," she tells him.

"Oh, day and night, I assure you. At the Remington Steele Agency vigilance is our watchword, yes," he says.

"I warn you, Mr. Steele, I'm terribly conscious of my image."

"Oh, put your fears to rest, Miss Dalrymple. The Remington Steele Agency is very soul of propriety. I mean dignity is our watchword. Vigilance - and dignity. And, uh....follow through." He grins that grin has he demonstrates his follow through. They briefly make eye contact with each other before they hear....

"Yoo-who." The plump middle-aged woman from the playground comes running down the steps towards them. "Mr. Steele."

Unrolling his shirtsleeves, "Yes, who are you?" Mr. Steele replies and not very happy about being interrupted.

"Mr. Steele?" They shake hands. "Shirley Tannebaum - your office said I could find you here." She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head.

"Oh, Well, that could be bad for one of us."

She continues, refusing to be interrupted. "Listen, I'm at the end of my rope. You have to help me out. I need you to find Walter."


"Walter Munzinger, my brother-in-law. I haven't heard from him in three days." She says holding out three fingers to emphasize her point, "Tomorrow is my daughter's wedding. Walter and Tiffany are like that." She holds up her crossed fingers for Steele to view. "What am I going to tell her? What am I going to tell the Doctor?"

"Ah, the doctor?"

Mrs. Tannebaum reaches into her purse and removes a picture. "She's marrying a doctor."

"Ah," says Mr. Steele as he fixes his tie.

"Here, that's him. That's Walter." She hands Mr. Steele a Polaroid picture of Walter.


Back at the offices of Remington Steele Investigations, Laura Holt is viewing the same Polaroid picture. "How long has your brother Walter been missing?" she asks.

"Three days," is his answer. "And my sister, Mary, is so upset. She's in the hospital and the doctors are really worried."


"Well, listen, Mrs. Tannebaum, the agency really isn't equipped to handle a full scale know." She raises her hand to stop Mr. Steele from going any further.

" silly of me. So you need money to cover expenses, right?" She pulls a check out of her purse and hands him a check. "Will that do?"

"Ten thousand dollars?" says an astonished Mr. Steele.


An equally astonished Miss Holt is looking at a check made out for ten thousand dollars.

"Ten thousand dollars?"

"He's the only brother I have, Miss Holt," said Bill Miles in the same tone of voice Laura used when she was trying to convince Murphy she was "only protecting the agency."

Laura eyes the check and just shakes her head.


Mr. Steele and Miss Dalrymple are walking along the corridor toward the agency, and Miss Dalrymple asks, "But how can you handle both cases at once?"

"Ah, don't worry, Miss Dalrymple. I'll simply assign my trusted associate to the Munzinger matter, then I'll be able to devote all my energies to-" he glances at her as he adjusts his tie, "servicing you."

They enter the offices of Remington Steele Investigations, "Ah, good morning, Mildred," he greets the receptionist as he drops Miss Dalrymple's tennis bag in front of the desk.

With a mouthful of cookie Mildred answers him, "Morning, Mr. Steele."

Laura enters the reception area from one of the offices. "Ah, Miss Holt, I need you to handle a pressing matter."

"I'm afraid I have a pressing matter of my own, Mr. Steele." She smiles proudly.

So sure of himself, "I believe my matter is more pressing. I've been retained to locate a missing relative."

"So have I," said Laura, smiling.

Mr. Steele crinkles his brow and through clenched teeth and forced smile, "You have?" He looks over at Miss Dalrymple only to have to look up. "Have a seat, will you, Miss Dalrymple. Mildred, some coffee for Miss Dalrymple," he responds and none too happy about it.

Determined to win this one, Mr. Steele takes Miss Holt by her arm and they march into his office. Laura lets out a sigh. Once inside his office they face each other, both very determined to have their case be the one they take.

"My relative comes with a $10,000 retainer," Mr. Steele exclaims proudly holding up the $10,000 check.

Laura's mouth drops, as she pulls her $10,000 check from her front pocket to display for Mr. Steele. "So does mine."

"It does?" He looks at the check Laura's holding up for him to see.

"AND I have a picture," says Laura.

"You show me yours and I'll show you mine."

They both fumble in their respective pockets and pull out their pictures to show the other. They look at each other's. Eye's wide and in unison and total disbelief, "Walter Munzinger!"

Mr. Steele turns his picture around to view himself to be sure of what he just saw.

"My, the man must come from a very doting family."

Laura looks at the picture she's holding, "Any more of Walter's relations show up we'll have to open a branch office."

The man in the business suit from the previous night at the playground enters the office. "Remington Steele?" They turn.


"Maynard Stockman, Vector Foundation."

"Oh, good," quietly responds Mr. Steele has they shake hands.

"I need you to find someone for me, a man named Walter Munzinger."

Laura and Mr. Steele look at each other speechless and then do a double take.


Laura and Mr. Steele are in the Rabbit driving down a street in LA, top down. She begins, "Don't you find it a bit odd that three different people hired the Remington Steele Agency to find Walter Munzinger?"

With his arms folded across his chest, Mr. Steele nods his head, "Mmmmm....frankly, yes. And the sooner we wrap up this missing Munzinger the sooner I can go over Miss Dalrymple's itinerary." He chuckles a bit.

A bit disgusted, "Should be an exciting trip." Pausing a moment, and with a twang of jealously, "Need I remind you that Miss Dalrymple's a client?"

"Oh, well, she's more than that, Laura, she's the ideal client."

"How so?"

"She wants to mix business with pleasure."

Laura rolls her head and eyes.


It's a typical southern California apartment building with palm trees planted around the pink, stucco, multi-level building. Mr. Steele and Laura approach the door of Walter Munzinger's apartment.

"Uh-oh, never a good sign when the door is ajar," comments Mr. Steele as he slowly pushes the door open and they both cautiously enter.

"Oh, good heavens," explains Laura as the apartment has been totally ransacked.

"It looks like someone wants Walter for more than Tiffany Tannebaum's wedding, eh?" Both hands are now deep in his pockets as he carefully steps around the clutter. Mr. Steele reaches out to unsuccessfully straighten a poster of Albert Einstein while Laura continues to investigate.

She picks up a picture frame. "Look at this, third place at the food expo awarded to Walter Munzinger and Michel J. Spencer."

"Apparently Walter was into food research." Mr. Steele takes the frame half-heartedly from Laura and views it.

"Apparently Michel J. Spencer is his partner." He places the picture down and picks up a scrap of paper and reads it… "Well, well, well, well, well, have a look at this. Our phone number and address," as he hands the piece of paper to Laura.

"Walter must have intended to contact us…"



"Gesundheit." They say to each other and then look toward a closed closet door. Laura quickly goes to one side while Mr. Steele prepares to open the door, hand balled into a fist - ready to punch whoever is on the other side. He opens the door.

"Clay!" Laura explains obviously delighted to see the handsome man who was hiding in the closet.

"Laura Holt," he scans her, just as delighted to see her. Mr. Steele looks on, very perplexed. Clay chuckles, "You look terrific."

Laura looks him over very carefully, "From what I see you don't look so bad yourself."

"God, I haven't seen you since the good old days back at Havenhurst. Have you lost weight?"

"Excuse me," said Mr. Steele as he pushes Clay back into the closet and shuts the door and none to friendly either.

"Who is that man?" he asks Laura.

"Clay Platt. We used to work together," she smiles.

"I see. You made an exception in his case, did you? About mixing business with pleasure?"

She shrugs her shoulders; "We put in a few late nights, a lot of paperwork."

"Well, he seems in the mood to burn some more moonlight oil, doesn't he?"

They hear a couple of knocks from inside the closet.

"Be quiet," said Mr. Steele turning only his head toward the closet.

Laura, in a very provocative voice said, "We've both mature consenting adults and we can't be expected to suppress our natural instincts and urges."

Mr. Steele leans up against the door. Carefully articulating very word, Mr. Steele asks "Laura, that mature, consenting adult is standing in a closet in an apartment that looks like it's been leveled by a tornado. Don't you think we should ask him some pertinent questions? Hmmmm?"

"You are absolutely right."

"Good." He steps way from the closet door.

Laura opens it demanding, "Clay, what are you doing in that closet?"

Clay glances cautiously at Mr. Steele, "I'm on a case."

"So are we," answers Mr. Steele as he points to Laura.

"Well, neither of us can betray a client's confidence."

Mr. Steele grabs Clay by his tie and backs him up a step against the wall, "Listen mate, the man who lives here is missing."

"Well, do you know where he is?"

"No," he releases his hold on Clay and pats him on the chest.

"Well, neither do I." Turning his attention to Laura, "We'll do lunch sometime," he pats her twice on the bottom as he walks by.

"Nice backhand," Laura points her finger in his direction and he gestures a tennis move on his way out the door.

Mr. Steele buttons his jacket and folds his arms across his chest.


At the office, Mildred is touching her toes. "Toes and knees and toes and knees. Toes and knees . . ." Staring at the red tin of cookies all the while, Mildred is talking to the cookies, "And cookies, please!" She starts rubbing her ear, going to the tin. "I'm not hungry. I'm not hungry. I HATE cookies. I love celery," rubbing her ear. "I'm not hungry." Miss Dalrymple enters the office carrying her tennis bag. Mildred jumps at being caught talking to herself.

"Miss Krebs, I've rearranged my schedule. Is there any word from Mr. Steele?"

Mildred places the lid on the cookie tin with both hands and pushes it down very tightly. "Miss Dalrymple, I'm so glad to see you. I have something for you." Mildred pushes the cookies at Miss Dalrymple.

"Oh, no, I shouldn't. Oh, no."

"Please take it. Please."



"Well, if you insist," and places the cookie tin into her tennis bag.


With a Cheshire cat grin on her face Laura and Mr. Steele approach the offices of Remington Steele Investigations. Laura, with hat in hand, has a little bounce in her step while Mr. Steele only looks on in wonderment. They stop suddenly outside their office doors. They enter into the totally torn apart office, "Good Lord," said Mr. Steele.

"There must be something in the air," says Laura.

Suddenly Mr. Steele begins to sprint across the office, "Miss Dalrymple, Miss Dalrymple!" Laura spreads her arms in disbelief.

"Ah, Good Lord," gasps Mildred as she and Miss Dalrymple enter the office.

Spotting her from the other side of the room, Mr. Steele tripping over anything and everything in his way, "Miss Dalrymple, you're safe, Miss Dalrymple, you're OK. Oops," he says, nearly tripping in his haste to get to her side. "Oh, yes, fine."

"Boss, I only took an hour for lunch," said Mildred.

"First Walter's apartment and now we're on the hit list," Laura ponders the recent events.

A man in a lab coat enters their offices. "Remington Steele?"

"Yes," very seriously.

Very slowly, one word at a time, gasping for air, "I'm…Walter…Munzinger."

"Oh, Walter, oh, yes, please come in," said Mr. Steele extending his hand to shake with Walter. Walter reaches out and falls flat on the floor face down, revealing a blood stained lab coat on his back.

Laura and Mr. Steele quickly bend down beside him. Grasping for breath, Walter raises his head and said "Don't give up, the shape of the world is in your hands." His head falls back on to the floor.

"Good Lord," said Miss Dalrymple as she covers her mouth like she may be sick. Laura looks up away from both the body and Miss Dalrymple.


Remington meets Miss Dalrymple at his office door. "Feeling better, are you, Miss Dalrymple?" he asks.

"I'm sorry about your rug," she says.

"Oh, nonsense, we were thinkin' of gettin' a new one, anyway," he assures her quickly. "Uh, Mildred, some hot tea for Miss Dalrymple."

"How did he-" she points at the floor, "How did he die?"

Steele steers her toward the sofa. "Heart attack," he tells her. "Heart attack, no doubt. Yes, of course." He clears the sofa. "Always so sudden," he says, as they sit down, his arm around the distraught woman. "I mean, one minute you're here, the next you're-"

"Bullet wound," Laura announces from where she is bending over the computer at Mildred's desk. Steele and Miss Dalrymple both turn suddenly to look at her. "From the coroner's preliminary report, Walter was shot at close range." Laura continues, even more sternly, "I think it is time we chat with our clients." She stands up and begins leaving signaling Mr. Steele to follow.

"No, wait, what about me?" asks Miss Dalrymple. Not at all happy about Miss Holt's suggestion that he leave and returns to work, Mr. Steele continues to comfort Miss Dalrymple. "I mean, there's all those reporters down there. I don't want to be involved in this kind of publicity."

"Once I'm through with this we'll discuss you tour in a quiet, dignified manner."

Laura clears her throat. Mr. Steele acknowledges Laura but returns his immediate attention to Miss Dalrymple. "I'll be back in an hour, maybe…. Forty-five minutes."

Impatient, disgusted and perhaps a little bit jealous, Laura walks over to where the couple is sitting and grabs Mr. Steele by his arm, forcing him to stand up and then proceeds to push him out the door but not before grabbing her hat.


Very few people are gathered around the man who hired Laura to find Walter, who's now wearing a silver space suit, as he stands in a grocery store aisle talking about Booster Bars. "I'll never forget the twelve years I spent with the space program. Walking on the moon was about the most exciting moment in my life." More people move away. "Oh…being an astronaut meant you had to have something special - well, well, Booster Bars have something special too. You see Booster Bars…", the crowd leaves him standing there with a fake smile on his lips.

"Oh, hi, how you doing?" he notices Laura watching and is a bit embarrassed by the whole thing.

"I thought you looked familiar," says Laura.

"Yeah, well, now you know," taking off his helmet. "The man who flew to the moon, a Ph.D. in astrophysics, hawks Booster Bars. Twenty thousand units a week."

"Sounds impressive."

"Well, the company wants fifty - they're thinking of hiring Michael Jackson."

"It's a different world down here, isn't it," sympathizes Laura.

"Yes. A man has dreams, you walk on the moon and you're a hero," he glazes off into no where, "a ticker tape parade, talk shows. Six months later and no body knows you." Laura puts her head down, embarrassed by the honesty. He, too, looks away. "Well, too old to go the moon again."

Changing the subject, "How's Mary?" asks Laura.


"Your sister, the one in the hospital," looking right at him.

"Oh, right, yea, she's hanging on." Now his turn to change the subject, "Have you found Walter yet?"

"He made a brief appearance in our office," states Laura.

"When you see him, tell him I've put together a syndicate of backers. I think I can come up with three million."

With absolutely no expression on her face, "Three million?"

"That's as high as I am authorized to go. Now, I want Walter's answer."

"I'll do my best to wring it out of him."

"Do that."

Laura turns to leave the store, mouthing the words "Three million," and clearly not understanding any of it.


Mr. Steele for a brief moment outside of an upscale candy store, Lila's Delights. A very pretty young woman leaves the store and the two exchange pleasant glances. With his hands in his pockets, Mr. Steele approaches the counter, "Ah."

Mrs. Tannebaum comes scurrying out of the kitchen carrying a tray of several different delicious looking confectioneries, and at the top of her voice explains, "Crystal, you forgot to turn off the oven." She spots Mr. Steele. "Mr. Steele."

"Ah, Mrs. Tannebaum," they shake hands, "you never told me you were Lila Delight, the queen of sensual confection."

"You're very thorough."


"I take it you found Walter."

"Actually, he found us."

She guides Mr. Steele over to a table out in the front of the store away from any customers. They sit. "Oh, he is ready to do business?" she asks.

He leans forward, "Business? Ah...that might be a bit difficult, Mrs. Tannebaum."

"Don't toy with me, Steele, I'm a desperate woman. Now, you tell Munzinger that I'm offering a million five."

"I beg your pardon."

"Look, Steele, my business is being eaten alive by cottage cheese and club soda." She leans towards Mr. Steele and continues, "People have forgotten how to live. They're devastated by, uh…by stretch marks and cellulite. Thin hips and thighs, that's all they care about."

Mr. Steele about ready to take a bite out of a cookie, thinks twice and lowers it from his mouth. Mrs. Tannebaum goes on, "Munzinger should jump at a million five."

I'm not sure he'll jump at anything, Mrs. Tannebaum," answers Mr. Steele.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Steele," holding a chocolate covered cookie. "All right, all right, an even two mill, but that's as high as I'll go," holding up two fingers.

"Well", clearly his throat, "I'll confer with Mr. Munzinger - but I'm not sure what he's gonna have to say on the subject, OK? Mrs. Tannebaum? Good day." Mr. Steele rises to leave and pops the cookie he was holding into his mouth. Shirley Tannebaum bites into the chocolate cookie.


"If I just knew what we were getting back to them about," said Mr. Steele from the passenger side of the Rabbit.

"Whatever "it" is Lila Delight and Astronaut Willie would cash in their life savings for it," observes Laura."

"Well, it is going to be a bit difficult getting any information from Walter at this point. Perhaps his partner, Mr. Spencer, might be of some help. What about a little sting on the wing, Laura?"

"I'll do the driving, thank you," and she speeds off in the direction of the laboratory.


Mr. Steele and Laura Holt enter Walter Munzinger's kitchen laboratory where they immediately encounter a totally ransacked room. They stop short and Laura explains, "Oh my Lord."

Mr. Steele places his hands on his hips, "Boy, someone is determined to make us work for our money."

"A man's home is ransacked. His laboratory is ransacked and our office is ransacked. It would help if we knew what everyone is looking for."

Mr. Steele spies a bug under the edge of the counter, clearing his throat and increasing the volume of his voice, "Yes indeed, spring is in the air."

"I beg your pardon?" Miss Holt looks at him like he is crazy.

He holds up the bug for her to see.

"Yes, yes, you are absolutely right. Maybe we should take the rest of the day off." They both begin to search for more bugs. Laura finds one on the bookcase and tosses it to Mr. Steele who catches it with one hand.

"Yes, yes. A stroll in the park, ah, maybe a round of golf."

Laura suggests, "Maybe take in a movie."

He points to a third bug located above a door on the wall.

"Oh yes, a movie would be a good idea. What would you like to see?"

"I'll leave that to you, Mr. Steele."

He opens a closed room marked "Restroom." "I would love to see 'Ghandi'," he answers and tosses the three bugs into an open toilet and flushes them down.

"You certainly gave them an earful."

"Yes, poor Walter, everything he said was broadcast in stereo."

Laura, very thoughtfully, "Someone, or a lot of someones knew he meant to contact us; but why us?"

"I don't know," replies Mr. Steele, "perhaps we should check the closet, maybe one of your old flames is in there."

Giving him a very snotty look, "Don't be ridiculous." Laura opens the door on one of the storage closets and a body falls out. "Oh."

Mr. Steele quickly steps in and caches the body as it begins to fall to the ground. "Oh my God."

"Well, who is he?" inquires Laura.

"I don't know. He doesn't look familiar," as he pokes around in the dead man's pockets. Mr. Steele pulls out a wallet, "Let me see," holding up the wallet, "Oh…say hello to Walter's partner, Michael J. Spencer," reading one word at a time from his ID.

A scream is heard from behind. They both turn and see a thiryish woman, "What happened? Who are you?"

Holding up the ID as if it belonged to him, Mr. Steele thinking very quickly, "Food and Drug Administration."

Laura takes over, "Do you work here, Miss…ah."

"Gloria Blyer," she answers a bit worried. "No, I'm looking for Walter, I'm his fiancé."

Laura and Mr. Steele look at each other. "Ah, ah, Gloria, ah…" folding the wallet back up, "I think we have some bad news for you."


Returning to Suite 1157, Laura and Mr. Steele run in on a ransacked office once again. "Ah," said Laura very disgusted to find this mess for a second time.

"No, no not again," says Mr. Steele.

"The ransacker is thorough to the point of obsession."

Mildred comes into the office from the hallway. "Ah, twenty minutes, Boss, I swear, I just went to the post office."

Realizing that Miss Dalrymple is not with Mildred, Mr. Steele begins running toward the inner offices jumping over anything that happened to be in his way, "Ah…Miss Dalrymple, Miss Dalrymple." There's a crying noise coming from his office, "I hear you."

Laura and Mildred follow him to his office stepping only a little more carefully. "I hear you," he spots her, "Oh, Miss Dalrymple, there you are." He helps her up, placing her arm around him. "What happened?"

"Well, I heard some noise, and I thought it was you, I went out to look and somebody punched me in the mouth," holding her hand up to an all ready swollen lip. Mr. Steele uprights one of the chairs that had been flipped over during the earlier ransacking. She sits down.

"She must have scared them off," offers Mildred.

"I don't understand any of this," wines Miss Dalrymple. Mr. Steele removes his handkerchief from his front pocket and begins to fan her with it.

"You're safe now. Mildred, some ice for Miss Dalrymple."

"If they all ready ransacked your office, why did they do it again?" she asks.

"Unless it was someone different this time…" ponders Laura.

"What is it they want?" asks Miss Dalrymple.

"Whatever "it" is we're suppose to have it," responds Laura.

"Yes, but there was nothing on Walter when he, ah, you know," offers Mr. Steele.

"That's true, unless Walter sent us something when he..." Laura's eyes grow wide with realization.

"Here's the ice," said Mildred upon her return, carrying both the ice for Mr. Steele and a large package. "This just came," said Mildred carrying a large package in brown paper.

"Oh, thank you, Mildred, thank you indeed." Turning his attention back to Miss Dalrymple, "It's only a temporary swelling, a little lip gloss and no one will be any the wiser."

"Oh, my god," said Laura as she begins to rip off the tape. "Shhhh…"

"Laura, I'm trying to comfort a client."

Laura lifts out a small black box from the larger package. "You hear a ticking?"


"It sounds like a bomb," says Laura as her throws the small black box to Mr. Steele, who promptly throws it back to her.

"Throw it out the window."

Laura runs to the window, ready to toss it out when she realizes, "The windows don't open."


"Don't just stand there! We'll all be blown to smithereens! Do something!" screams Miss Dalrymple.

Taking the bomb and running with it toward the elevator, Mr. Steele commands everyone in the way to "Move, move, move, look out!"

"Come on, come on," says Laura to the elevator doors. The doors open, "Get out!"

Laura grabs the packages from the deliveryman in the elevator and pulls him out as well. Mr. Steele grabs the other occupant. "This isn't my floor."

"Come, get out, move."

"Are you crazy or something?"

The bomb explodes blowing the elevator to bits and Laura and Mr. Steele on top of the people who were in the elevator.

"We may have just lost our lease, Laura," observes Mr. Steele.


Mildred is standing in the still very ransacked office when Laura, wearing a newly donned red dress twirls around. Mr. Steele and Miss Dalrymple enter the office. Mr. Steele gives Laura an admiring look, "Ah, Miss Holt, you look- , ah-," not sure of the right word, "-smashing."

"I got you that table at La Boheme," Mildred tells her.


"La Boheme?" questions Mr. Steele.

"I'm having lunch with Clay Platt."

"Are you sure you can handle it alone?"

"I'll do just fine."

Laura turns to leave as Mr. Steele reminds her, "Remember I only give my employees an hours' lunch." Laura puts on her sunglasses, smiles and leaves for lunch.

The phone rings. "Remington Steele, ah, hold on just a second. It's a Gloria Blyer," she tells Steele. "Said it's a matter of life and death."

"Don't things ever slow down around here?" asks Miss Dalrymple to no one in particular.

Taking the phone from Mildred, "Ah, Yes, Steele here . . . Yes . . . Ah, well, where are you? . . . OK - OK. I'll be right over." He hangs up. Looking at Miss Dalrymple, "Sometimes I wish I weren't so damn dedicated. It's just a minor matter that needs my attention."

"I'm not sure I can survive it."

"Just remember, the watchwords - vigilance and dignity."

"Yeah. And follow through," she finishes for him.

"The Remington Steele agency specializes in follow through."

"You're very persuasive." They grin at each other.

"Ah…I'll be back in about forty-five minutes, maybe half an hour." He grins at Miss Dalrymple and walks out the door never taking his eyes off her.


Laura arrives at the restaurant and is pointed to where Clay is seated. She crosses the room. "Clay!" she calls to get his attention as he sips from a martini.

Clay rises to greet her as two men cross the room to sit at the next table. "I had no idea when I asked you to lunch that I'd get this lucky this fast," says Clay Platt to Laura as they sit down in the outdoor patio restaurant.

"Sometimes you just have to seize the moment."

"Right. I can't believe a package like you hasn't been wrapped and tied into a great, big bow."

"Ha-ha," forces Laura.

"Unless, of course, you and your boss have something going on the side."

"Strictly business."

"That's just what I've been waiting to hear." Clay takes Laura's hand and rubs her arm. He begins placing light kisses on her hand.

"Question, Clay."

"You have my undivided attention."

"What were you doing at Walter Munzinger's apartment?"

"Now, I could ask you the same thing."

"In that case, I have a proposition for you," she takes back her hand.

"This may be the best lunch I've ever had."

"You have information I want, I have information you want. I propose a trade. Truth for truth."

"Any subject?"

"I'm an open book," Laura leans towards him.

"Ask away."

"Who hired you to go through Munzinger's apartment?"

He takes a drink, "Varicorp."

"The conglomerate?"

"My turn, who are you working for?"

"Actually we have three clients…"

"Steele must be as good as I hear."

Laura just smiles.


Mr. Steele is walking down the hall of Walter Munzinger's place. He approaches the door, knocks, "Gloria? Gloria? Open the door, it's Steele. Gloria?"

She is hiding behind a chair, holding a very large kitchen knife. "Oh, oh, Mr. Steele, thank you for coming." She gets up.

"OK, OK, calm down. Listen on the phone you said someone threatened to kill you?"

"Some pudgy guy."

"What about a cocky guy about thirty?"

"Yeah, he was with pudgy. They told me if I didn't hand over the package they were going to give me a free trip to visit Walter."

"Hey, here you go. What package?" handing her his handkerchief.

"This postal receipt came in the morning mail."

"To the Remington Steele Agency from Walter Munzinger," Mr. Steele reads it aloud.

"Did anything come to your office today?"

"Nothing you would be interested in getting. Did you tell anyone you had this?"


"That was precisely the right thing to do."

"I told them you had it."

"That wasn't the best alternative. Come on." He takes her arm and they leave the apartment.


"My turn," Clay says, sounding just a little tipsy. "How much did you earn at Havenhurst?"

Laura picks up her glass. "Twenty-four." Clay snorts in amusement. "What's so funny?"

"I made thirty -six," he informs her. Laura nearly chokes on her wine. "AND a company car," he gloats.

"My turn. What is it everyone is looking for?" asks Laura as he takes another drink. "Ah, come on Clay, we had a deal. What is it?" insists Laura.

"Promise you won't tell anybody I told you?"

"I promise."


Not sure she heard right, Laura asks again, "What?"

"My turn. Why don't we go to my place? I'm beginning to feel a little sleepy."

"Did you really say 'cookies'?"

"We could break out the baby oil."

"Worth two lives and millions of dollars?"

"Well, when Walter bit the big one, so did the formula, only the prototypes are left. I'm really starting to feel a little sleepy."

"Prototypes? Of cookies?"

"Rich, moist, delicious and no calories." He leans towards Laura. He looks like he's about to kiss Laura when he falls on her shoulder, asleep. She pushes him back up.

"Did you say 'no calories'?"

"Not one teensy, weensy little calorie." He passes out and lets his head fall onto the table. The two men from the table next to where they are sitting, get up and go over to Laura's table.


Gloria Blyer and Mr. Steele are in the Auburn heading for La Boheme when Gloria realizes they aren't going to the office, "La Boheme! I thought we were going to your office to look for Walter's package."

"Just as soon as we wrestle Miss Holt from the clutches of a closet king."

The Varicorp men are carrying out Laura to a car waiting by the curb who "kidnapped" her from the restaurant. "Let go of me you big ox! What do you think you are doing?"

Mr. Steele sees this. "It seems she's fallen into other clutches," said Mr. Steele as he does a U-turn in the Auburn and begins the chase.


The men lead Laura through Varicorp's offices, and to a door.

"Good afternoon, Miss Holt." Laura is unceremoniously pushed in to the office of Stockman at Varicorp. "I'm sorry we had to meet under such unpleasant circumstances."

"Does the Vector Foundation usually snatch people off the street, Mr. Stockman, or is that Varicorp's style?"

"Miss Holt, you are a very smart cookie," says Mr. Stockman sitting at his desk. "Clay Platt, however, is not. So, I had to step in once again."

Laura just looks at him in total disbelief.


Mr. Steele enters the lobby of Varicorp. He does a quick scan of the room and sees the two men who kidnapped Laura standing beside the office doors. With clearly something in mind he turns and exits the lobby area.


"Now, let me get this straight. Walter Munzinger creates the most delicious chocolate chip cookie in existence- on top of which, it has absolutely no calories- and you are willing to pay ten million dollars to destroy it?" Laura is pacing back and forth in front of Mr. Stockman's desk.

"Why, I would say that's a fair assessment of our position, yes."

"So you bombed our office."

"A distasteful procedure. But given the severity of the situation it was one we had to under take."

"What severity!?! You are sitting on something the whole world is crying for!"

"Miss Holt, Varicorp produces fifty-two varieties of cookies. We manufacture Fudgy Bears in Wisconson, Gooey Chewies in Nebraska, and Yummy-Tummy Treats in Kansas. Our factories support entire towns." He rises from his desk to confront her. "Do you have any idea what would happen if Munzinger's cookie were allowed to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world? Nobody would buy ours. Our factories would close. Gas stations, grocery stores, dry cleaners, libraries, schools -would close. There would be no tax revenue. Cities would collapse."

Laura can't believe what she's hearing.

"There would be unemployment lines. Welfare rolls. Soup kitchens. Honest men and women thrown out of work through no fault of their own, without hope, without…without purpose.. Turning to…to crime, to drugs, riots in the streets, Miss Holt. Well, I for one am not about to let that happen!"


Mr. Steele, now dressed in janitorial clothes with a ski hat on and wearing a huge toothy smile, comes around the corner of the lobby pulling a shop-vac behind him.

"Buenos dias, ma'am. Buenos dias, que?"

"No one called for you."

"No, no limpio ahora." He begins to vacuum her desk.

"No, no," says the receptionist trying to stop him while protecting the things on her desk. "No, you're making a mess." Mr. Steele continues "to clean". "Stop that right now, stop doing this to my desk."

The security guards at the door are alerted to the disturbance, "Hey."

Mr. Steele vacuums her wig off, "Give that back to me!" The receptionist makes one last attempt to stop him as the security guards reach him. He knocks them to the ground using the vacuum hose. Mr. Steele turns towards Mr. Stockman's office. "Stop him. You can't go in there."


"What do you want?" asks Mr. Stockman when he sees a janitor standing in his office doorway.

Mr. Steele grabbing Laura, "Come on, Laura, let's go, this way. Good day."

"Stop, what do you think you're doing? After them you oxen," yells Mr. Stockman to the security guards who have just entered his office. Laura and Mr. Steele head out the back way.

Outside, Steele says, "Cookies? You put my neck on the line to satisfy your sweet tooth?"

As she follows him, Laura says, "You didn't taste one!"

"I don't care! Big men with bombs are trying to pulverize us!" he replies as they run.

"No wonder Shirley and Bill are ready to kill for them! Those cookies are worth ten million dollars!"

"Ten million dollars?"


Mr. Steele gets to the Auburn where Gloria is waiting before Laura and gets in and starts the car. Laura jumps on the running board. "GO!" yells Laura. Off they go with the goons of Varicorp chasing them out of the parking lot. Laura hits her left leg back, kicking at them several times, hoping to detour them a bit. The Auburn speeds out of the parking lot, winning this round.


Entering their office, Mr. Steele and Laura once again find their office has been ransacked. "Oh…now who?" asks Laura. Gloria is trailing behind them.

Mr. Steele calls out, "Mildred? Mildred?" this time angrily.

Mildred enters the office, shaking her head, "Oh, next time I'm eating in."

"Mildred," asks Laura in a calm voice, "Remember that red tin of chocolate chip cookies?"

"How could I forget. They were so moist and delicious."

"Did you eat them?"

"Oh. You would be so proud of me, Miss Holt. I turned over a new leaf, I gave those shameful cookies away."

"How could you do that? What's the matter with you?" screams Laura as she begins shaking Mildred by her shoulders.

"Laura, get a grip on yourself! Please!" said Mr. Steele as he grabs Laura around the waist and holds her back from attacking Mildred and up off the ground.

"What have I done?"

"Now Mildred, please listen. Two people have all ready been brutally murdered for those cookies. Whoever has them now is marked for death." Calmly, he asks, "Now, who did you give them to?"

"Miss Dalrymple."

"Miss Dalrymple!?!" He drops Laura and begins shaking Mildred himself. Laura tries to pull him away.


Mr. Steele, Laura, Gloria Blyer and Mildred arrive at the Racquet Centre where Miss Dalrymple is doing a photo shoot.

Running through the patio area at the tennis club, Mr. Steele spies Miss Dalrymple on one of the lower courts. "Ah, excuse me, excuse me," he said as he ran through and around people. "Oh, ah…Miss Dalrymple, Miss Dalrymple, oh there you are. You're safe at last, my dear. You're alive." He kisses her.

"Why shouldn't I be? It's not another bomb is it," she asks anxiously.

Laura takes over, "Miss Dalrymple, where are the cookies that Mildred gave you?"

"They're very popular."

"What do you mean?" asks Mildred.

"Well, two men just came and offered me a hundred dollars for them."

"You didn't give them the cookies, did you?" asks Gloria.

"No, I told them my coach had them. Let him make a hundred."

"Where is he?" asks Mr. Steele.

"In the locker room."

They all turn and run towards the locker room, up the stairs from the tennis courts. First Mr. Steele, followed by Laura, followed by Gloria, followed by Miss Dalrymple, and finally followed very slowly by Mildred who is having trouble keeping up with the rest of them.


They all enter the locker where the two men from Varicorp are hitting Miss Dalrymple's coach. They ALL begin pounding on the two men trying to remove them from the coach. "Grab him," yells Laura.

Mr. Steele grabs one of the men and spins him around, "Come here, Sunshine. There," offering the coach the opportunity to hit the man. He does. The two men run out of the locker room.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, I was just going to take a shower when those Bozos started batting me around."

"The cookies that Miss Dalrymple gave you?" asks Laura impatiently.

"Yeah, that's what they wanted, a stupid tin of cookies."

"Yes, where is that 'stupid tin of cookies'?" asks Mr. Steele.

"I gave them to Tyrone."

"Who's Tyrone?" asks Gloria.

"My son."

"Where is he?" asks Gloria again.

"He's at school, why?"

"Quick," says Mr. Steele. "Come on!"

And they all run to the Rabbit parked in the lot and pile in, Steele driving, Laura in the front passenger seat with Mildred, Miss Dalrymple, her coach and Gloria all in the back. Steele backs out the parking place, spins his tires and quickly drives around the parking lot on his way to Tyrone's school.


"My hand, ouch," said Miss Dalrymple, "My hand. Someone's sitting on my hand."

"Someone's sitting on Miss Dalrymple's hand," says Steele.

"I'm sure it's not me," answers Mildred.

"Her wrist is my livelihood, whoever it is, get up."

"It's a 'Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World'."

"Profound observation, Mr. Steele."

"Spencer Tracey, Sid Caesar, United Artist, 1963. A group of people jump into their cars and begin a mad chase after something very valuable."

"You aren't suggesting-."

"Uh, hmm. One car back, the white Cadillac." Mrs. Tannebaum is driving the Cadillac.

"You might check out the red convertible as well." Bill Miles, the astronaut is driving that car.

"Who are all these people?" asks Miss Dalrymple.

"It seems our friends from Varicorp haven't forgotten us either." Mr. Stockman is in the limo following the others very closely. They round a street corner.

"How do you suppose they all caught on so fast?" wonders Laura.

"Remember the laboratory?" asked Mr. Steele. He pulls a bug out from under the dashboard.

"It's a safe bet they bugged our office as well."

"So you want to listen in, eh?!" Mr. Steele speaking very loudly into the bug. "Well, stay away from that ruddy tin of cookies. One more person gets hurts and I'm gonna come after you. You got it?!" He tosses the bug out of the car.

"They're chasing us for a tin of cookies?" asks Miss Dalrymple, unbelieving of the situation.


They reach the school and begin piling out of the Rabbit. "You all know what Tyrone looks like, so let's fan out," Laura gives directions.

"Yeah, and don't some back without empty-handed," adds Mr. Steele.

The Cadillac, the red convertible, and the limo all arrive at the school, parking next to the Rabbit. Mrs. Tannebaum, Bill Miles, and Mr. Stockman all empty their cars and join the chase. Everyone is running down the outside walkways of the school when Mr. Steele touches Miss Dalrymple and directs her in his direction, "Ah, stay with me," he tells her.

Laura, Mr. Steele and Miss Dalrymple are running down a walkway stopping to look in each classroom to try and find Tyrone. Miss Dalrymple asks Laura, "How do you run in those heels?"

"How do you serve an ace?"

"I trained for it."

"Same here." All the time running and checking the classrooms, looking for Tyrone. Laura spies the classroom where the cookies are being passed around by the students, and quickly eaten. "Oh no, oh no…"

"Unfortunately we are not alone. Varicorp is on our tail. I'll distract our friend," plans Mr. Steele.

"Where shall we regroup?" asks Laura.

"Someplace inconspicuous."

"The boys' locker room," suggests Mr. Steele. Laura ducks inside the locker room. Steele takes Miss Dalrymple's arm. "Come on, let's go."


Laura enters a classroom full of students passing a red tin of cookies around the room. She grabs the tin of cookies from a boy, "Give me that tin!" she demands.

"Hey, let go lady." They play tug-of-war with the tin as the teacher comes over.

"Food and Drug Administration. This cookie is condemned." Laura gains possession of the tin and runs out of the classroom with it.


Miss Dalrymple and Mr. Steele are running down the walkway, towards the Boys' Locker Room. "You know, in a bizarre way, this is kind of fun," remarks Miss Dalrymple.

"Ah, Miss Dalrymple, you're a woman after my own heart. Quickly in here," points Mr. Steele to a hiding place between lockers, as they are now being chased by one of the men from Varicorp. He grabs Miss Dalrymple's tennis racket and uses it to impede the pursuing man.

"Nice smash," comments Miss Dalrymple.

"Ah.. come on."

Mr. Steele and Miss Dalrymple arrive outside the Boys' Locker Room.

"Wait, I can't go in there."

"What? Oh," Mr. Steele realizes she doesn't want to enter the Boys' Locker Room. "Strictly a duty call, come on, Miss Dalrymple, come on."

Once inside the restroom, Mr. Steele whispers, "Laura, Laura," looking over and under the closed doors of the bathroom stalls. He sees the top half of her head over the top of one of the stalls, "Laura! Laura, is this really necessary?" he asks.

"Come on." All three pile into one toilet stall.

"We did it!"

"We did it!"

"We did it! What did we do?" asks Miss Dalrymple.

"Uh, oh." The festive mood quickly changes once they see the Clay and one of the Varicorp men with guns appear over the top of the stall they are hiding in.

"First closets, then commodes, your style is appalling." Laura hands the cookies over to Clay.

The door swings open and Mr. Stanton is standing there, "Good afternoon." He smiles. She sighs.


Mildred, Gloria and the coach are running down the walkway when they quickly pop into a doorway to hide from Mrs. Tannebaum who is coming from the other direction. She "dances" by them, thinking they are there but not seeing them she continues down the walkway alone.

"I think the coast is clear, Mildred," observes Gloria.

"No," Mildred insists, pulling them back into a hiding place as Mrs. Tannebaum returns for one last look "You learn to look twice in this racket. Don't forget danger is my life," said Mildred trying to sound brave and like she knows what she's doing. "Come on."

They peek around a corner at the school and see the men from Varicorp leading Mr. Steele, Laura and Miss Dalrymple in their direction.

"They've got Sandy," said her coach.

"What are we going to do if they start shooting?" asks Gloria.

"Oh, you amateurs want to know everything," sighs Mildred.

They hide behind a cart of unshelved library books. As the Varicore people approach, Mildred, the coach and Gloria push the book cart in front of them allowing for Mr. Steele, Laura and Miss Dalrymple to free themselves only to end up in a big pile on the ground. Bill Miles comes running around the corner of the school building, jumps over the pile of people, grabs the cookies and takes off down the corridor.

The pile untangles and immediately begins chasing the astronaut with the cookies. "You know, Mr. Steele, each of our suspects had a motive for murdering Walter Munzinger, but why would any of them kill Mike Spencer?" ponders Laura aloud.

"Great, now you don't have any suspects," comments miss Dalrymple, a little disgusted with the entire mess she happened into.

"Perhaps one!" answers Mr. Steele.

Mrs. Tannebaum heads off Bill so he turns back toward the others. "Grab him, Boss," yells Mildred.

Everyone is still chasing Bill as he enters into the school gym where the band is practicing matching and playing "Stars and Strips Forever."

The chase for the tin around the band begins.

"Give me those cookies," yells Gloria.

Mr. Steele tackles Bill and the cookies go flying into the tuba. Mrs. Tannebaum attacks the tuba player, dislodging the cookie tin.

Mildred retrieves them, "I got them, Chief."

"There will be no bread lines in this country," declares Mr. Stockton as he snatches the cookie tin from Mildred and runs by Gloria.

"Ah, Gloria, grab him." She trips him and Laura grabs the cookies.

Clay Platt swings from a rope and grabs Laura and pins her to the gym floor. "Right where I want you Holt." He kisses her quickly and grabs the tin. He tries to find a way out of the gym.

"Grab it, Laura. Grab it!"

"Steady, steady, right there," said Mr. Steele catching up with Clay. He takes the cookies from him, "Let me," and punches him in the face only to have him land in a storage closet, "Back where you belong." Everyone cheers.

Now holding the cookies, Mr. Steele comments, "Amazing, isn't it, Laura? The secret to Walter's recipe is contained in this single cookie."

"May I have the postal receipt, Mr. Steele?" Steele hands it to her, glancing at Gloria as he does so. Laura looks at the receipt. "Yes, I would think this receipt makes you the owner, Gloria," Laura says.

Gloria is delighted. "I can't believe it."

"We can't either, because according to the date, Walter mailed it after he died," said Laura laughing. Still breathing hard from the chase, Laura continues, "You knew he sent us the cookies. All you needed a phony receipt to claim them."

"What are you getting at?" Gloria asks.

"If the deal with Varicorp had gone through you would have married a very wealthy man," adds Steele, still catching his breath. "You must have got bit of a shock when Walter decided to sellout, eh?"

"And with Spencer still alive you had no claim on his creation, so he had to be disposed as well," finishes Laura.

Gloria jams the baton she's holding into Steele's stomach and takes the cookies. In the process of trying to get away, Gloria knocks over Miss Dalrymple, slowing her down so Laura can make a tackle. The cookie tin goes flying, coming open. The cookie falls unseen to the floor.

"Oh," moans Miss Dalrymple.

"So hoped you would come through this unscathed," says Mr. Steele as he helps her to her feet.

"Don't worry, Mr. Steele, the only thing scathed is my dignity."

"Ah, of course."

Mildred comes over to where Laura still has Gloria pinned, "Great work, Hon, now where's that cookie that's going to change the shape of the world?"

"Oh." Everyone looks.

They turn to see the school mascot, a goat(!), eating the last remaining crumbs of the last rich, moist, no-calories chocolate chip cookie.


Steele is sitting at his desk back at Remington Steele Investigations pondering why, "I asked myself, I mean, what was on Walter's mind to turn down ten million dollars, eh?"

Laura is standing behind him, staring out the window. "Walter was an idealist, an ivory tower thinker, the only way to duplicate his formula was to analyze those cookies." She walks around his desk. "There probably won't be another mind like his for centuries."

"Oh come, Laura, it's not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say. You and your enviable metabolism."

Mildred enters the office humming "Stars and Stripes Forever." "Look at Miss Krebs, she's taking it like a trooper."

Mildred smiles, "Oh, I met a guy last night at Weight-Watchers and there's going to be a hot time in the old town tonight."


"Oh," remembers Mildred why she came in in the first place, "Miss Dalrymple is here to see you."

"Send her in, Mildred, send her in." He rises and goes to greet her. "Ah, Miss Dalrymple, yes, come in, Miss Dalrymple. It's my distinct pleasure to be undividedly yours." He takes her hand and plants a kiss on it.

Clay Platt enters the office. "Ah, Clay, what a pleasant surprise!" explains Laura in a somewhat phony voice not to be out done by Mr. Steele. They kiss. "I hope there are no hard feelings."

"All in the line of duty, Laura."

"In that case, I'm free for lunch," hints Laura playing with his tie.

"I'm sorry, this isn't a social call," says Clay, pulling his tie free of Laura's hands and glancing at Miss Dalrymple.

"That's what I came to tell you," adds Miss Dalrymple. "I've decided to go with a more conservative agency. One that better understands my concern for safety and decorum."

"Ah, shall we?" says Clay offering his arm to Miss Dalrymple. She turns toward Clay and takes his arm. They leave the office together.

Mr. Steele gives a little chuckle, "Hmmmm…well, Laura," clearing his throat, "It looks like it's just you and me again, eh?"

"Yep," she nods, "just two mature, consenting adults, alone, at last." She smiles up at him. He looks at her in shock.

The End