Darkness was falling over the streets of New York as Tony Roselli entered the cubbyhole that he considered his office. He tossed the file he was carrying onto the cluttered desktop, then he went to the window, not bothering to turn on the light or to remove his coat.
The view wasn't much now, but old-timers in the area told him that before they'd built the high rise across the street, you could see the top of the Statue of Liberty in the harbor. The old brownstone was only one of a handful of buildings that had yet to be demolished to make more room for yet another parking garage or apartment building in the City.
But it wasn't the view -or lack of it- that was on Tony's mind at the moment was the file that lay on the desk behind him.
The information it contained was damning. And frightening. And if it were true, Tony knew what he had to do. But the question was, would Jess listen to what he had to say after everything that had happened?
He stared down at the street three floors below, seeing the streetlights coming on, illuminating the dirty brown snow that lined the streets. Even the red and green Christmas lights didn't help the scene that much from this angle. Or maybe it was just his state of mind.
Tony wasn't looking forward to Christmas. His parents had made plans to spend the holiday in Rome while on a tour of Italy, and as a result his married brothers and sisters were all spending the day with their in-laws, leaving Tony to his own devices. They wouldn't even know he was gone.
He opened the file and glanced again at the contents, then picked up the telephone and dialed a number. "Hello? . . . Yes, I'd like to make a reservation on your first flight to Los Angeles."
***
He arrived in LA around midnight, New York Time. That made it nine, Tony thought as he reset his watch and then signed the paperwork for a rental car. He drove to Jess's loft, trying to decide what he should do first. Contact her? Nah. She'd just say he was doing this out of jealousy- *if* she was still seeing the guy. That's why he was sitting here down the street from the converted warehouse where she had her loft.
The windows of her third floor rooms were dark. She wasn't home. Her car was parked in its spot in the alley, however. Which meant she was out. Either at Laura and Steele's- or with *him*.
He slid down in the seat when the silver grey Mercedes limo came to a stop before the front doors of the building. Peering over the steering wheel, Tony watched as the driver got out and opened the back door for Jess and Philip Cameron.
Cameron said something to the uniformed man, and then went inside with Jess. The driver got back into the car and drove away. A light went on upstairs- not the main light, but it looked like the one in the kitchen- or at Jess' desk, maybe, Tony thought, frowning.
She was still seeing the industrialist. "Damn!" Tony spat, slapping the steering wheel. They'd looked pretty close, too, with Jess holding onto Cameron's arm as they'd gone through the front doors. For a moment, Tony thought maybe his information was wrong. That Mitchell had gotten the wrong info somehow, gotten things turned around. Jessica Thorne was too good at reading a person's character to be pulled in by someone.
Of course - after spending ten years with him, and considering the way their relationship had ended-, she'd probably deny that, Tony thought, his gaze glued to the light in those windows, as he wondered what was going on up there.
He drifted off to sleep sometime during the night, waking only when someone tapped the roof of the car. "This is a no parking zone, buddy," one of LAPD's finest said.
Tony shook himself awake and glared at the man, then at the window- where the light was still on. He looked at the clock in the car, and saw that it was almost midnight. Rolling down the window, he said, "Sorry. I'll go-"
"You got some ID?" the officer asked. "You look familiar."
Tony slowly pulled out his wallet and showed the officer his PI ticket. "I'm on a case."
"Roselli. Hey, you used to work around here, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Tony admitted, and reached out to take the license as he started the car. "I'll be moving along."
"Might be a good idea. Parking tickets aren't something you can include on expense reports, I imagine."
"No," Tony agreed, waving and nodding as he pulled away from the curb. Of course, there wouldn't be an expense report on this case- since his client was dead . . .
***
Laura Steele stood in the doorway to the bath off of her husband's office and sighed. "You're going to be late," she warned him, watching him primp before the mirror. "It's just lunch with your children at school," she said. It was the last day of class before Christmas break, and traditionally, it was the day that the children invited their fathers to have lunch with them before going home early.
"I have to make a good impression, don't I? Wouldn't want Daniel and Megan and Patrick to be ashamed of the old man, eh?" he asked with a smile as he put the brush on the counter and then straightened his tie.
Laura stepped forward to remove some stray hairs from his shoulder. "You always make a good impression," she assured him, smiling at his expression when he noticed what she was doing. "I think half the teachers in the school swoon every time they see you." He leaned closer to the mirror again to examine his hairline.
"Laura, is my-"
"Maybe a little," she confirmed, hiding her smile as she dragged him away from the mirror and toward the door. "Come on. I'm sure they won't notice."
"Don't forget to order the champagne for this evening," he said, following her into the reception area.
"You're going to be late, Chief," Mildred admonished as she came out of her office with a file.
"See?" Laura pointed out as the telephone rang.
"It's your private line, Mrs. Steele," Teri Carson said. "Should I get it-?"
"No, it's probably Frances wanting to know about the article in the morning paper. I'll take it in my office. Mildred, you get him-" she pointed at Remington- "downstairs without further delay."
"You got it, Honey," Mildred promised, grabbing Remington's sleeve. "Let's go, Chief. Is Fred waiting downstairs, Teri?" she asked at the door.
"He should be."
Laura waved after them, and then hurried into her office to grab the phone. "Hello?"
"Hi, Laura."
Her eyes widened, and she glanced toward the open door, where Teri was heading toward Remington's office with some mail. "Just a minute," she said, and put down the phone to close the door. Picking it up again, she said, "Tony. Is everything okay?"
"Not really. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Tony-" she paused. "How's the- um, weather back there?"
"Lousy back in New York," he answered. "Snow and rain and- cold. It's good to be in LA again. I'm not used to New York winters anymore."
"Back in LA?" Laura repeated slowly. "Tony, where are you?"
"Carson Motel. On Pico. Room 16."
"Okay, now the twenty-five thousand dollar question. Why?"
"I'm here on a case. But I'm gonna need your help."
"*My* help?"
"Laura, how involved is Jess with Philip Cameron?"
"I'd say she's- pretty involved, Tony," Laura said, looking at the newspaper that lay open and neatly folded on her desk.
"Damn. I was afraid of that. How much do you know about Cameron?"
"About as much as anyone else- he was an orphan, grew up relatively poor, got a scholarship to UCLA and made his first million by the time he was thirty. Just your typical rags to riches story. Tony-"
"Look, can we meet somewhere? I need to talk to you."
"I don't know if that's a good idea, Tony-"
"Not about us, Laura. Jess is the one I'm worried about. Please? Anywhere you say."
"You said you were on Pico?" she asked.
"Yeah. Carson Motel. Room 16," he confirmed.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Laura told him, hanging up and grabbing her purse. She was halfway out of the office when she came back for the newspaper. "I'll be out for a while, Teri," she informed the receptionist.
"Where will you be, if Mr. Steele should-?"
"Out," Laura said without stopping.
Teri shook her head, wondering if she was ever going to get used to the sudden flurry of unexplained activity that seemed to take place around the Agency at irregular intervals.
Laura saw Mildred in the hallway. "He's on his way," Mildred reported. "Where are *you* going?"
"I- remembered an appointment," Laura lied, pressing the button for the parking garage as she entered the elevator. "If you need me-" she held up her cell phone as the doors closed.
***
Tony opened the door before Laura had a chance to knock. He looked around the parking lot as he ushered her inside quickly. "Thanks for coming," he said to her, putting the security chain into place. He lifted the edge of the faded drape to peer outside.
"I didn't really have much choice," Laura said, and then frowned. "What are you looking for?" she asked.
"It might not have been a good idea to have you come here," he said. "I think I'm being watched."
"Tony, what are you involved in?" Laura asked, moving to look out of the window herself and seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
He finally stepped away from the window and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know, really. It's all kinda confusing." He looked at her at last. "You look good. Guess you and Steele are doing okay?"
"We have our moments," Laura told him. "You know us. I didn't come here to-"
"I know. How are the kids?"
"Growing like weeds. Daniel's almost as tall as I am. And looks just like his father."
"And- Jess? How's she doing?"
"Okay." She pulled the newspaper out from under her arm. "Tony-"
"Does she ever ask about me?" Tony asked.
"She wouldn't ask me. Listen, Tony-"
"You said she and Cameron are involved. How involved?"
"Look, Tony, I don't know that this concerns you anymore. Jessica has moved on-"
"Yeah. With him. Damn," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running a hand over his face.
He looked tired, Laura thought to herself. On the verge of exhaustion, possibly. "When is the last time you got any sleep?" Laura asked softly. "Or had a decent meal?" she added, noticing the remains of a store bought sandwich and bag of potato chips on the nightstand.
"Hell, I don't know. Two- three days. Ever since Pete Mitchell called me-"
"Is that the client you're working for?" Laura asked, deciding that to show him the newspaper now would be cruel. Maybe if she got him talking about the case.
"Yeah. He was. He's dead. He was killed yesterday afternoon in a drive by shooting. They just missed me." Laura's concern upped another notch at his words. "Before he died, he gave me the key to a safety deposit box where he'd stashed the file with the information he'd come to me about in the first place.
"What information?"
He rose and went back to the window. "Pete Mitchell worked for Philip Cameron, Laura. Until two months ago, anyway, when he found out that Cameron's been laundering drug money through his companies."
"Philip Cameron? Drug money?" Laura asked, and would have laughed, if it hadn't been for the fact that Tony's expression held no humor. "Tony, the man is a philanthropist. His foundation-"
"Yeah. The Foundation. That's what Mitchell handled. He was an accountant for the Foundation. What do you know about Cameron's first wife?"
"It's public knowledge that Margaret Cameron died from ovarian cancer. It's the reason he started the foundation to begin with."
"What if I could prove that she didn't die from the cancer? That she was murdered- probably by Philip Cameron himself?"
Laura shook her head. "Tony, the doctor-"
"Was paid off. Went from working in a clinic to running his own research facility within six months of Margaret Cameron's death." He pulled a file folder out from under the mattress and held it out. "Here. There's more, but it's stashed in a safe place."
Laura examined the papers in the folder. "This isn't proof, Tony," she said. "It's-"
"Dammit, Laura, Cameron's dirty. And the thought of Jess being mixed up with someone like that just-"
"Are you sure this isn't about Jessica, Tony?" Laura asked. "The fact that you still love her and want Cameron out of her life, so you're seeing things that aren't there?"
"I do still love her, Laura. I screwed up. I admit it. I guess I never thought she'd toss ten years out the window-"
"She thinks that's what you did," Laura pointed out.
"Yeah. Like I said. I screwed up. But this isn't because of her, Laura. I listened to Mitchell's story. Cameron's a cold-blooded sob who'll sacrifice anything or anyone to keep his secret. I need your help to prove it."
"Tony, I can't." She saw his frustration. "Tony, I have to consider my marriage too."
"Then talk to Jess for me."
Laura drew the paper out again and studied it. "I think you'd better look at this, Tony," she said, and held it out.
Tony took the paper and read, sitting down on the bed again as he did. "Damn. They're engaged? Since when?"
"He gave her the ring two weeks ago. They announced it officially at a party last night at Philip's house. Remington and I are having a family get together for them this evening at *our* house. He's trying to convince them to have the wedding the garden. You know how he is about that gazebo."
"Damn," Tony said again, looking at the photograph of Jess and Philip Cameron. "Have they set a date?"
"Two months. The first of February. It's-"
"Jess' birthday. Yeah. I remember. Will you help me, Laura?" he asked.
"I'll think about it, Tony," she told him, rising. "I have to get back to the office before Remington returns. He went to a Father's thing at school. Lunch with the twins."
"Okay." He pulled a card out of his wallet and gave it to her. "My cell phone number is on there. If I'm not here- use that one."
"Where are you going to be?"
"Doing a little digging. My client may be dead, but I owe it to him to find out who killed him," he told her, opening the door.
The moment they stepped out, Laura head the familiar sound of a bullet ricocheting off of the metal post in front of them. She and Tony exchanged a look as they dropped to the ground behind her car. "Someone after you?" he asked.
Laura shook her head and rose to her feet as they heard the squeal of tires against pavement and the sound of a car engine disappearing into the distance. She brushed off her slacks. "We're not working on anything that would have caused that. Not that *I* know of anyway. So that means someone was after you. Do you know if Pete Mitchell told anyone he was going to hire you?"
"He said he hadn't. Even insisted we meet away from my office and in public. It's possible someone saw us together and-"
"And then followed you to Los Angeles, since you were the last one to see Mitchell alive and probably know where he hid the information."
"Which means Cameron will know- if he doesn't already."
Laura glanced toward the office and saw the manager through the window on the telephone and told Tony, "Grab whatever you can out of the motel room and let's get out of here."
She followed him into the room, watching as he threw the folder and a few toiletries into the already packed, battered suitcase. "This mean you'll help me?"
"It means I don't particularly want the police to inform Remington that I was at the scene of a shooting with you," Laura told him, getting behind the steering wheel of her grey BMW, a match to Remington's, even down to the license plate: RSTEELE3. "I'm just hoping that the manager's nearsighted and didn't get a good look at the tags on the car before he called the police."
"The police?" Tony asked as Laura turned onto the street and drove off at a very sedate speed. Even before he finished speaking, he heard the sirens and looked behind them to see several squad cars turn into the motel parking lot. "Sorry about this, Laura."
"Tell that to Remington when you explain it to him," she said.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"The safest place I know."
***
Tony looked around Harley's apartment, shaking his head. "Laura, is this a good idea?"
"Harley's spending Christmas with his cousin. He'll be gone for at least another week. All *you* have to do is stay out of sight of the kids."
"When are you going to tell Steele?" he asked.
***
Downstairs, eleven year old Megan Steele turned to her twin brother with a look of triumphant vindication. "You see? I told you I heard Mom's car."
Daniel moved close to it, touching the hood. "It's still warm. But we didn't see her on the path between here and the house," he said. "Where is she?"
"Maybe it's a mirrage," Patrick suggested, mis-pronouncing the word.
"That's mir-age," Megan corrected her 8 year old brother. "Kids," she sighed, watching as Daniel paused near the back of the garage, his head tilted to one side. "What is it, Daniel?" she asked.
"Shh," he warned, waving his hand to get her to be quiet. "Don't you hear it?"
Megan and Patrick joined him, listening. "Hear what?" Megan asked.
"I don't hear anything," Patrick said.
"Sounds like Mom, talking to someone."
Megan narrowed her blue eyes, concentrating. "You're right. I hear her, too. She's up in Harley's apartment."
"Why would she be up there?" Daniel wondered.
"Harley's not there," Patrick said. "He's with his mom."
"Yeah," Megan said, sighing again at her little brother stating the obvious. "Come on." She led them out the side door and up the wooden steps toward the door, turning once to remind Patrick to be very quiet. The little boy nodded and they continued upward.
Just as Megan's hand closed over the doorknob, the door opened and their mother appeared.
Patrick swallowed heavily at being caught out snooping, his brown eyes widening in fear. But Megan and Daniel tried to see past their mother into the room beyond as Laura said, "What are you three up to?"
"We heard someone," Daniel said. "While we were in the garage."
"And why were you in the garage?" Laura asked.
"Megan heard your car," Patrick answered.
"We weren't expecting you home, and we came down to meet you, but you weren't there," Megan told her mother as Laura closed the door firmly behind her and turned the key in the lock.
"Harley's cousin called the office and told me that he was afraid he'd left the stove on when he left," Laura explained easily. "And she asked me to come out and make sure he hadn't so he would stop worrying about it."
"Did he?" Patrick asked.
"No," Laura answered, putting her arms around Daniel and Megan's shoulders to herd them back down the stairs and toward the house.
"We heard you talking, though," Patrick insisted.
"*You* didn't hear her, Patrick," Daniel said. "But we did."
"I called Harley to reassure him," Laura said. "Let's go back to the house."
"Don't you have to go back to work?" Megan asked, surprised at Laura's suggestion.
"Not right away. Is your father at the house? I thought I saw his car in front when I came in."
"He was just about to leave to go back to work," Daniel told her. "We're out of school for a whole two weeks, Mom," he said, excited by the prospect. "You should see the haul we made at school."
"A whole two weeks," Laura repeated, putting a hand on Megan's shoulder as her daughter turned back to look at Harley's apartment.
"Christmas!" Patrick declared, running on ahead of the others. Of her three children, only Patrick seemed to have picked up Laura's delight in this time of year. Megan and Daniel saw it only as another day to get presents.
Idly, though, Laura began to wonder if her mother or Frances could be talked into taking the children for a few days- just until this latest crisis was taken care of…
***
Agatha Brownley was standing in the doorway from the garden, watching as they approached. "Mrs. Steele. What a surprise."
"Has Mr. Steele left yet, Agatha?" Laura asked the nanny.
"I don't believe so," Agatha replied. "I think he was just going to call you-"
Laura continued through the evergreen draped foyer and into the to the living room, where Remington was hanging up the telephone as he stood near the eight foot Christmas tree that the family had decorated the night before. "Laura. There you are. Terri just told me that you'd left the office right after I did and hadn't been heard from since. I was about to call your cell. Is everything all right?" he asked, noticing something strange in her eyes.
"Um, I- A client called. And *old* client. He needs our help again," Laura told him, and Remington's frown deepened.
"Which one?" he asked. "And why couldn't he simply come to the office instead of all the cloak and dagger, eh?"
"Cloak and dagger is his speciality," Laura countered, trying to tell him something with her eyes.
"You still haven't told me this client's name, Laura," he pointed out as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. "Where are we going?" he asked.
"The garage," she said quickly, passing the children, who were standing near the stairs. "I- um- need you to look at the car."
"The car?"
"It's- making a funny noise, and I thought you might be able to figure out what's wrong with it-"
"Daddy?" Megan giggled in disbelief, and earned a hurt look from her father in return. "Well fact it, Daddy, you're *not* a mechanic." She started to follow them, but Laura held out her hand.
"I need to spend a few minutes alone with your father, Megan," she said.
"You do?" Remington asked, totally confused by Laura's entire attitude.
"To discuss the case," Laura explained. "Confidentiality," she said to Megan, who nodded, but didn't look entirely convinced by her mother's words. "Come on, Rem," Laura said, pushing him out of the house ahead of her.
Megan watched them disappear down the path, and then opened the door to follow. "What are you doing?" Daniel asked.
"Finding out what' going on," his sister said. "Aren't you in the least curious?"
"Yeah, but-"
"Fraidy cat," Megan taunted. "Come on."
"No one is going anywhere, young woman," Agatha said, causing all three of her charges to turn and look at her. "Your rooms need tending to. All of those Christmas gifts from school need to be put into their places."
Megan and Daniel exchanged a sigh, and then turned to follow Agatha and Patrick upstairs.
***
The closer they got to the garage, the wider Remington's smile became. "I know what this is about, you know," he told her.
Laura looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "You do?"
At the bottom of the steps that led to Harley's empty apartment, he took her into his arms. "You just wanted to spend a few minutes alone. The two of us. We don't get enough time to do that anymore, do we? Seems there's always a case, or the children- other family interrupting us-" he told her between kisses. "Sometimes I miss the old days when it was just you and me and the occassional interruption from Mildred-"
"Rem- that's not-" she grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs behind her. "Come on."
"Harley's apartment? I'm not sure that's ethical, Laura- I mean, as much as I'd like to get you alone-" his voice faded as she opened the door and they entered the room.
"Hello, Steele," Tony said, smiling nervously.
To Be Continued---