Sighing, she sat down the edge of the bed to look at the man laying there. "You know, Daniel," she said softly, "you really should get an answering machine."
"I have one," he informed her without opening his eyes. "Must have been damaged when they tore the place apart."
"So. You're awake."
"Have been for some time," he informed her. "Just waiting for the jackhammer in my head to quiet down a bit."
"Why did you leave the hospital? What was so damned important that you had to risk coming to Los Angeles?"
"How did you know I was in the hospital?" Daniel asked, opening his eyes at last. He sat up, slowly, testing every movement. "Where is Harry?"
"He went to London," she said slowly. "Because he was worried about YOU after your friend Chalky called and said he'd taken you to the hospital. He's looking for Chalky right now to see if he knows where you disappeared to."
Daniel paled even more than before. "Oh, no," he moaned softly.
"What?" she asked, noting his concern.
"Chalky's the one responsible for my current condition," he informed her. "At least in as much as he led them right to me."
Laura grabbed the telephone and dialed again. After the tenth ring, Laura hung up and faced Remington's former mentor. "I think you need to tell me EXACTLY what's going on, Daniel. Remington's life may depend on it."
Remington grabbed the telephone as he rushed into the cluttered apartment, only to hear a "click" and then a dial tone. "Damn," he muttered, running a hand over his face, trying to shake off the exhaustion of too little sleep and too much worry. He'd searched everywhere for Chalky, left messages for the runner to come and see him here. And no one on the streets claimed to have seen Daniel, either.
He decided that a full search of the apartment might give him some clues, so telling himself that he would call Laura later, he began trying to bring some order to the chaos around him. Bending down to pick up a fallen lamp, his eyes found the hallway to the bedrooms as he rose.
Realization dawned that he hadn't even looked in those rooms the last time he'd been here. What if Daniel had come back- and was in there, ill? He went to the doorway of the room Daniel used, peering into the dimly lit room. Every drawer of the chest and dresser had been tossed onto the floor, the contents laying in scattered heaps on the thick carpeting. Remington moved into the room, and his attention was caught by a beam of early morning sunlight as it reflected off of something shiny. He recognized the silver photograph frame from an old memory.
It had been on Daniel's nightstand when Daniel had lured him back to the old flat with the promise of food. Remington smiled as he recalled asking Daniel if the woman in the photo was his "bird", and Daniel's quiet denial. "Just someone I once knew," he'd said. And he'd put the photo away, into the top drawer of the chest. But it was across the room from the chest, Remington realized, closer to the night table. Daniel must have put it out again. His smile faded as he picked it up and noticed the broken glass that blurred the image beneath.
"God, Daniel, where are you, mate?" he asked aloud.
Placing the photo on the cluttered table beside the bed, Remington stepped across the debris to the contents of the top drawer of the chest and began looking through it.
"Should I assume from your calling Harry *Remington* that you and he have- to put it euphemistically-turned a new corner in your relationship?" Daniel asked Laura.
"NOT that it's any of your business, but no, we haven't," Laura admitted truthfully, then regretted her honesty as she detected a glimmer of satisfaction in the man's eyes. "Not yet," she amended. "But we will- when we're BOTH ready." She glared at him. "Stop trying to change the subject, Chalmers. Why would your friend Chalky have led you into being hurt?"
Daniel sighed. "Laura, my dear, we really don't have time for this. We have to find Harry-"
"We will. But if *Remington*," she said with emphasis, "IS in danger, then I'm going to need to know the whole, sordid story to help him."
Daniel shook his head and then closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over him. "You're like a terrier," he commented, looking at her with a hint of amusement. "You just won't let go once you've got your teeth into something, will you?"
There was no amusement in Laura's eyes. "Not when it comes to Remington's life, no."
Daniel reached out to take her hand. "I believe, my dear, that we've finally found something in common," he said. He put his head back, closing his eyes as he began to explain. "It all began over twenty years ago. A friend approached me, asked me to- appropriate a certain painting for him. He had tried to buy it from the man who owned it, but the silly man refused the offer. My friend wanted to give it to his wife as an anniversary present." He opened his eyes to find Laura's narrowed gaze on him, and paused.
"The painting- it wasn't a- Monet, by chance, was it?" she asked.
"As a matter of fact, yes, it was." Daniel felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. "Why do you ask?"
"And the- friend who hired you to steal it was Clyde Davenport," she said.
"Dear God," Daniel sighed. "I'm too late, aren't I?"
"If you mean that you're too late to stop someone from stealing the painting from Davenport's widow, yes. It was taken last night. If you wanted to stop the theft, why not go to Mrs. Davenport? Why come here, to Remington?"
"Honestly?"
"That would be a refreshing change," Laura commented dryly.
"I hoped to convince Harry to help me stop Valmont's attempt to recover the painting."
"Why now?" Laura wondered. "Why did he wait all this time to make an attempt to get the painting back? It's been twenty five years."
"He didn't know where it was," Daniel told her.
"But he knew that you-" she stopped as Daniel slowly shook his head. "He didn't know that you stole it from him?"
"No. Not until I made the mistake of telling another friend about it a few days ago. There was an article in the Los Angeles paper about Clyde's death- and mentioned his extensive collection of art- including an excellent copy of Monet's "Sunflowers". Unknown to me, Valmont had also seen that article- apparently he'd been checking out every "copy" of a Monet for the last quarter century, looking for the one that had been stolen from him. He recalled that Davenport had made a sizable offer for the painting- that he had turned down- and when Chalky heard that Valmont was offering a reward for any information regarding who had stolen it for Davenport,-"
"He led Valmont to your doorstep," Laura realized. "So much for honor among thieves," she muttered.
"I don't blame Chalky, really. His wife's quite ill- they have three children. He was desperate. And I don't think he knew I was going to be harmed."
"Why should Valmont be interested in Remington?" Laura wondered. "He has the painting back now,- it's over."
"Not quite," Daniel told her. "You see, the Monet that they stole from the Davenport house really IS a copy," he said. "I've got the real one," he confessed.
Daniel's passports were missing. Remington looked around the room, willing the leather wallets to miraculously appear. Either they'd been taken by whoever had ransacked the apartment- or Daniel had come back, and was now out of the country. Remington groaned softly, his worry growing exponentially. Daniel knew how to go to ground better than almost anyone he knew. Finding a needle in a haystack would be easier than finding Daniel when he didn't want to be found. Remington went to the closet, looking around. Sure enough, the smaller suitcase of the matched set was missing- "Damn," Remington muttered, then went to the telephone and dialed Laura's number. When there was no answer, he hung up, wondering where she could be. It was after ten back in Los Angeles. Closer to eleven, actually. Picking up the phone again, he dialed the number for his apartment. She'd gone there to check his machine. Maybe she was still there.
"YOU have it? You stole it for a friend and then double-crossed HIM to-"
"No," Daniel said with a sigh. "I didn't double cross him at all. Clyde was worried that Valmont would come to him, asking about the painting, since he'd just offered for it before I stole it. So he asked me to have a copy made, then keep the original safe for him."
"So now Valmont wants you back to tell him where the REAL Monet is, right?" Laura asked, only to turn and grab the telephone as it rang. "Hello?"
"Laura, it's me."
"Where are you? I've been trying to call-"
"I was out trying to find Chalky- or Daniel," Remington said.
"Rem-"
"Listen, Laura, I don't know how much longer this is going to take."
She tried again. "Reming-"
"It looks as though Daniel's flown the coop- probably gone to the Continent. His passports are gone-"
"Remington-"
"Knowing Daniel's it's not going to be an easy task to find him-"
"Remington, would you PLEASE listen? He's here."
"Who?" Remington asked. "Daniel? He's THERE?" Remington glanced up to see Chalky in the bedroom doorway, a nervous smile on his face.
"Hey there, Harry," the man said in greeting.
"Who was that, Remington?" Laura asked, glancing at Daniel.
"Chalky's here. Let me call you back, okay, Laura?"
"Remington, Chalky's the one who-"
Remington's tight smile faded as two men appeared on either side of Chalky, each holding a gun. "Hang up the telephone, Steele," one of them said. "Mr. Valmont only said that 'e wanted you alive. Didn't specify the condition."
Chalky's eyes widened as he saw the man's hand tighten on the trigger. Suddenly he pushed against the men, knocking them off balance. "Run, Harry!" he yelled.
"Remington!" Laura said into the telephone, but there was no vocal response, just grunting and shuffling- then a gunshot made her flinch. "Hello?!"
"Get after 'im, Jimmy."
"Right-o," Jimmy replied.
You shouldn't 'ave done that, Chalky. Mr. Valmont's not goin' to be very 'appy with you," she heard faintly. "Not 'appy at all. "
Daniel touched Laura's arm. "What's going on?" he asked, only to have his hand slapped away by Laura, who was still listening to the conversation through the open connection.
"Don't kill me, Nate, please," Chalky begged. "I can help you find him. I just- didn't want anyone else to get hurt."
"Someone's goin' to get 'urt- unless you bring Steele to us. Mr. Valmont doesn't want to hurt 'im- just use 'im as leverage to get 'is property back from Chalmers. So if you want to 'elp your wife and kiddies, you'll find Steele and then call us. Got it, mate?"
"I got it," Chalky said, and Laura could hear his fear through the lines. She heard a door close somewhere, then silence. Hanging up, she paced to the window.
"Laura, would you PLEASE tell me what happened?!" Daniel demanded of her.
"Valmont's men are after Remington," she told him. "He intends to use Remington as *leverage* to get you to turn the original Monet over to him. Where is it, Daniel?"
"Laura-"
"YOU were the one saying that we didn't have time, Daniel. That's really true now." Laura turned to look at him. "Where is the original Monet?"
Remington ducked into an alleyway to catch his breath. Now he knew what Laura had been trying to tell him: that Chalky was somehow tied up in all of this. He had to find a telephone, call Laura again and find out exactly what all of THIS was about.
"Valmont," he said softly. The name was vaguely familiar. He'd heard Daniel mention it years ago, hadn't he? Remington drew back into the shadow of a doorway as one of the men who had been with Chalky entered the alley, hand in the pocket of his coat. Glancing up, Remington saw a fire escape. No help there. An empty soda bottle lay at Remington's feet, and he bent down to pick it up, then waited for the man to pass him.
Remington jumped from his hiding place, putting an arm around the man's throat, and jabbing him in the back with the bottle. "Drop it, mate," he said as the man's gun appeared. "Now," he said, jabbing again for emphasis. The gun fell to the ground. "Now kick it away." Once that was done, Remington's hold loosened only slightly. "Now, you're going to tell me who this Mr. Valmont is, and why he wants to talk to me. And WHY you and your friend tried to kill a very good friend of mine."
"I ain't gonna tell you nothin'," the man said.
"Wrong answer, mate," Remington said, his hold tightening again, the bottle jabbing even deeper into the man's back.
"Ugh!" the man grunted. "Archie Valmont. Chalmers stole something from him, he wants it back."
"What did Daniel steal from Mr. Valmont, eh?"
"A painting. A Monet."
Remington frowned. Daniel hadn't stolen anything like that in ages. Not since before Remington had found his niche as a detective, at least. Said he was too old to be breaking and entering, trying to circumvent alarm systems. "You're lying. Daniel hasn't done anything like that in-"
"It was a long time ago," the man insisted. "Look, I don't know details, only that Mr. Valmont thought he'd found the painting in Los Angeles, but it was a copy."
"Then why does Mr. Valmont think Daniel stole the bloody thing to begin with?"
"Because Chalmers has a big mouth. Bragged all about it to his friend Chalky."
Remington's arm tightened again upon hearing the slur against Daniel. "And you paid Chalky to take you to Daniel."
"Mr. Valmont thinks that Chalmers doublecrossed his client back then and kept the painting for himself."
"Daniel doesn't work that way," Remington told him.
"Jimmy!" Hearing the voice from behind him, Remington turned himself and Jimmy around. "You in here, Jimmy?"
Knowing that Jimmy's partner was on his way into the alley, Remington reversed the bottle and hit Jimmy over the head with it, then made a leap for the fire escape above them. Luckily, he made it, and scurried up the ladder, disappearing over the roof ledge just as the second man found Jimmy.
Remington went to the door that led to the stairwell, and opened it. He started down, and met no resistance leaving the building. On the sidewalk, he looked cautiously around, expecting to see one of the men waiting. But there was no sign of either of them. It was a sure bet that he couldn't stay here, Remington decided, and flagged down a taxi to take him to a small residential hotel that he remembered. Once there, he could call Laura and talk to Daniel about what was going on.
He didn't notice Chalky in a doorway, watching his every move. As Remington's taxi pulled away, Chalky hailed the next one to follow…