Stressed Steele

Episode 3

by Nancy Eddy

Steele looked over the notes he'd made during his telephone conversation. Nothing concrete, of course, but Yates' former employer in New York had told him that Yates' decision to leave the Big Apple for LA had been VERY sudden - and surprising. He'd been in line for a full partnership yet again - and had turned it down with no real reason except that he had to go home to meet someone. Steele tapped his pencil on the paper as the telephone buzzed. "Yes?"
The temp sounded a bit nervous. "Mr. Steele, there's a man on line one who wants to talk to Miss Holt-? A Mr. Yates?"
"Thank you, Miss -Jones? "
"Smith," she corrected automatically.
Steele frowned, then pushed the button to connect him to Trevor Yates. "Steele here."
"Steele? I was calling for Laura -" Yates said, obviously confused.
"Miss Smith must have misunderstood," he said. "You know how temps are -"
"Where is Miss Krebbs?"
"She had to visit her sister out of town," Steele said smoothly. "Family emergency."
"Would you tell Laura I need to talk to her?"
"She's not here. She didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"That she was taking a few days off. Strange. I thought she would have -"
"Did she say why?" Yates wanted to know.
"She didn't explain her reasons to me. She just asked for some time off. Since we're not very busy at the moment - I saw no reason to refuse her request."
"I guess she's at home, then."
"Quite possibly. But -she did mention something about going to visit her mother, I believe -"
"Then I guess I'll just try to call her at home. Thank you."
Steele stared at the telephone for several minutes after he hung up. Yates was nervous. Was it possible that he knew about Harris being in the area? Had he seen the former detective outside the office earlier? Picking up the telephone again, he dialed the motel where Harris was staying. If he was going to put the man up, he might as well put him to work, let him earn his keep. Since HE couldn't watch Laura without further angering her, John Harris would be able to do the job for him.

 

Laura opened the door to the knock as the telephone rang. Seeing the delivery man with an arm full of flowers, Laura said, "Just a minute," then turned to the telephone. "Hello?"
"Are you all right, Laura?" Trevor asked.
Signaling for the delivery man to place the flowers on the table before her, she smiled. "I think so. I just got your flowers-"
"Flowers?" he questioned. "I didn't send you any flowers, Laura- Although I was thinking about it -"
Laura frowned as the delivery man slid the door closed behind him, looking for the card that had come with the two dozen roses. "Are you sure, Trevor?" she asked, opening the envelope and pulling out the card. There were only two words on it. "Remington Steele". Laura sat down, her gaze fixed on the deep red roses.
"I think I'd remember sending you flowers, Laura," he told her. "Is there a card?"
"Sorry. My mistake. Forget I mentioned anything-"
"They're from Steele, aren't they?" he asked in a quiet voice.
Laura reached out to touch the flowers. "Yes. But they don't mean anything. He knows I'm angry with him, thinks he can calm me down with a few flowers."
"Why are you angry with him?"
"Because he's investigating you, and he has no right to do that."
"Maybe he thinks he does. After all, four years is a long time -"
"How did you know I was at home?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.
"I called the office and spoke to Steele. He told me that you had taken a few days off- something about visiting your mother-"
"My mother's out of town," she said. "He knows that."
"You didn't quit because of me, I hope?"
She smiled, thinking that quitting one's own agency would be very difficult. "No. I just decided that Mr. Steele and I needed some time away from each other. That I need some space to make some decisions about my life."
"And do some of those decisions include me?" he asked hopefully.
"Yes. They do."
"I wanted to tell you that I might be a few minutes late picking you up for dinner," he said. "I just got a call from a client who wants to meet with me late this afternoon - "
"I'll be waiting," she told him. Hanging up the telephone, Laura's eyes turned once more to the roses on the table. Two dozen perfect red roses. She shook her head. Always have to do one better, right, Mr. Steele? she thought. One dozen just wouldn't do. Her hand hovered over the telephone again. If he had sent these, then he wasn't going to leave. He was at the office, probably, quite likely still pursuing his investigation of Trevor. And he said that SHE was stubborn.
Her hand fell away again. Let him investigate. When he turned up proof that he had been wrong all along, then he'd have to come to her and apologize. And THAT was something she could definitely wait for.

 

Steele was about the leave the office when his private line began to ring. Since Miss Jones had left ten minutes before, he rushed to her desk and picked up the receiver. "Steele here."
"Chief, I have some information for you -"
He sat down. "That was certainly quick, Mildred. You haven't been in Tucson for more than two hours-"
"But I found the coroner who did the autopsy on Rachel Yates," she told him. "He's retired, but he was in the phone book-"
"What did you find out, Mildred?" Steele wanted to know, picking up a pen and searching for some paper before tearing a page from the printer.
"He remembered the Yates murder without any problem. Said that it was such a shame that someone that young and pretty should have such a problem with drugs."
"Did you ask why he hadn't put it in the autopsy report?"
"He said that her husband asked him not to, that it would only upset her father, and that it hadn't contributed to her death, anyway. That her death was caused by strangulation."
"Did he say what kind of drugs, Mildred?"
"No. But he gave me the name of her doctor here in Tucson. I'm going to go see him tomorrow. And I'll tell you something else. He didn't like Trevor Yates. Said he wouldn't have done it for him. The only reason he covered up the drug thing was to protect her father. Apparently they were old friends. Makes Harris' story sound possible, right?"
"All it does is confirm his claim that Rachel Yates had a drug problem, Mildred. If you need to talk to me, I'll be in the limo or at home."
"Has- Miss Holt called?" Mildred asked hopefully.
"No. She hasn't. But I called Harris and asked him to go over there and keep an eye on her for me."
"Good idea. I just hope she doesn't spot him or she'll be after you again."
Steele managed a smile. "It might be worth it just to have the chance to talk to her again."
"You get some sleep, Mr. Steele. Things will work out. You two kids were meant for each other."
"I wish I shared your optimism, Mildred," he said. "Good night." As he sat there in the darkened office, he saw Trevor Yates pass by on his way to the elevator.
Steele waited a minute, then locked the doors and followed, catching sight of the man as he entered the elevator and the doors closed. Steele turned toward the stairs, and started down, thinking as he did that the only person he would EVER consider worth doing this for would be Laura Holt.

He reached the first floor and got out the door with moments to spare before the elevator doors opened to release its occupants. He got into the limo, telling Fred, "The garage exit, Fred."
As usual, the chauffeur didn't question him, just did as he was bid. Steele sat forward, watching as Yates' dark blue BMW left the underground garage. "Stay with him, Fred, but far enough away that he doesn't see us."
"Yes, Mr. Steele."

Yates drove directly home, without making any stops, and Steele had Fred stop the car outside the black wrought iron fence of the Brentwood house as Yates turned inside, stopping only to push a sequence of buttons to release the gate. Automatically, Steele's eyes sought out the video cameras around the area, which would make breaking into the house without being seen virtually impossible. The only way in would be through that gate - or through the service entrance if there was one. "Drive around the block, Fred. I want to see if there's another way inside." His eyes scanned the fence as interior as they drove around. Sure enough, there was a second gate with yet another box nearby. He hoped this wouldn't come to his being forced to get into the house, but he was going to work up a plan - just in case. "Home, Fred," he said, sitting back once again, his mind already going over possibilities.

 

When Trevor finally arrived, he and Laura returned immediately downstairs. "I'm sorry I'm so late," he apologized. "I thought Mr. Andrews was never going to stop telling me about his grandchildren. I hope the restaurant held our reservations," he was saying as he closed her door and glanced up.
Laura noticed his tension immediately and followed his gaze to a spot across the street where a short man, clad in a dark coat, stood in the shadow of a building. As they watched, he turned deliberately away from them, moving slowly. She waited until Trevor got into the car and started the engine. "Who was he?"
"It looked like - the man I think killed my wife." He shook his head. "I must have been wrong-"
"I still think you should go to the police, Trevor-"
"I told you, Laura, it wouldn't do any good." His eyes searched the sidewalk as they passed, but the man had vanished into the darkness. "The police would take his side of it- he's an ex-cop himself."
"An ex-cop?" She recalled that Remington's source, the man who was accusing Trevor of murdering Rachel, was a former police detective.
Trevor nodded, his laugh harsh. "And you want to hear the funny part? He killed her and then got himself assigned to the case. He tried to convince the Tucson authorities that I killed her."
"Why would he do that?" Laura asked.
Trevor's knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel. "Because he holds me responsible for the death of his father."

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