Stressed Steele

Episode 5

by Nancy Eddy

John Harris answered the door, blinking sleep from his eyes. "Steele? Has something happened to Miss Holt?"
Steele entered the small room, grabbing Harris' tee-shirt, practically lifting the smaller man off his feet. "Nothing's happened to her- but something's going to happen to you, unless you start telling me the truth, mate. All of it." He released Harris and the man fell to the bed.
"What are you talking about?"
"Suppose you tell me about your father- and why you think Trevor Yates is responsible for his death.."
Harris frowned, now fully awake. "Where did you hear that?"
"Never mind where I heard it. Is it true?"
Harris ran a hand through his curly red hair. "No. Yates did handle the account for the company my father worked for- but it wasn't his fault that Dad embezzled that money. Or that he chose to kill himself rather than go to prison."
"You told me earlier that you had met Yates once before his wife's death. Did it have to do with this?"
Harris nodded. "I wanted him to know that I didn't blame him for what happened."
"Were there any witnesses to that conversation?" Steele asked.
"None that I recall."
Steele began to calm down. "Are you aware that Yates is telling people that you killed his wife and tried to frame him for it? And that you're still following him with the intent of taking his life?"
"Yeah," Harris said, "I know. That's how he got me off his tail in Miami. By the time I got it straightened out, he had taken off for New York." He looked up at Steele, his green eyes clear. "I didn't kill Rachel Yates."

Steele breathed a sigh of relief as he unlocked the doors to the office. Laura obviously hadn't arrived yet, so he went directly to his office and dialed the number that Mildred had given him the evening before.
It took several rings for her to answer the phone. "Hello?"
"Good morning, Mildred."
"Mr. Steele. What's up?"
"Miss Holt is coming into the office -"
"That's great news, Chief!" the woman said. "How'd you manage that?"
"I simply told her that you were called out of town on a family emergency-"
"Oh, Mr. Steele, I-" Mildred sounded uncertain.
He heard Laura's voice. "Hello?"
Steele lowered his tone. "You're at your sister's in Detroit," he told her, then smiled as Laura appeared in the doorway. "Ah, Mildred," he said brightly. "You're lucky you caught me. I only just arrived- how is your sister?"
"I can't lie to Miss Holt, Chief," Mildred told him. "You know I -"
"Oh, no. No trouble at all. Take all the time you need. Miss Holt is right here-"
"Mr. Steele -" Mildred said, trying again.
Laura held out her hand and Steele handed her the receiver. "Mildred. How is Dorothy?"
"She's- ah- she's fine, Miss Holt," Mildred said truthfully. "You know how she panics for no reason."
"How long are you going to be gone?"
"Another day or so, I think. I'm glad you decided to come back-"
Laura smiled at Steele as he stood at the window. "Well, I couldn't very well leave Mr. Steele in charge now, could I?"
"I really have to go, Miss Holt," Mildred said. "I'll call you again later."
"Keep us informed," Laura said before hanging up.
The sound of someone in the outer office sent her and Steele in that direction. The blonde receptionist froze, dropping her purse, spilling its contents on the floor at her feet. "I'm sorry, Mr. Steele. I know I'm late -"
"Well you're here now, Miss- Jones."
"Smith," she said, looking at Laura.
Laura knelt to help her pick up the change she'd dropped. "I'm Laura Holt, Miss Smith," Laura said.
"Miss Holt? But, I thought you-"
"Miss Holt changed her mind about taking some time off," Steele explained.
The telephone rang as Laura picked up the last of the change, and as she watched, the young woman pushed two wrong buttons before finding the right one. "Remington Steele Investigations -" She paused. "One moment, please." She pressed a button. "Oh no." Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she told Laura, "I think I disconnected him."
Steele saw Laura's look of dismay, then turned and retreated back to his office, leaving Laura to handle the crisis.

Mildred smiled tightly at the elderly physician who greeted her. "Dr. Bowen. I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me."
He indicated the chair before his desk. "What can I do for you, Miss Krebbs?"
"I need to ask you some questions about one of your former patients, doctor. But I also need your promise that you won't tell anyone that I've asked them."
His bushy white brows lowered as he frowned. "What patient?"
"Rachel Yates," Mildred told him.
Dr. Bowen's frown deepened. "Rachel? Who are you, Miss Krebbs?"

Steele saw Laura off to lunch with a smiling Yates, wishing all the while he could find something to erase that smile permanently. As he turned toward his office, Miss Smith picked up her purse. "Your personal line is blinking, Mr. Steele."
"Thank you. I'll take it in my office," he told her. "You go on to lunch."
She looked uncertain. "Do you want me to bring you something?"
He shook his head. "No. Thank you anyway."
He closed his door and ran to pick up the phone. "Steele here."
"Finally. I was beginning to think you weren't there, Chief?"
"Sorry, Mildred. What have you found out?"
"I spent most of the morning with Rachel Yates' doctor. She was addicted to tranquilizers and pain pills. But he had been refusing to give her prescriptions for them for almost a month before her death."
"What was she taking those medications?"
"That is the interesting part," she said dramatically. "A year after she and Yates married, Rachel found out she was pregnant."
Steele felt himself frown. "There's been no mention of a child-"
"Because she lost the baby at seven months when the car that she and Yates were in was run off the road. Yates escaped with only superficial injuries. Rachel not only lost the baby, but she had to have emergency surgery and couldn't have anymore children. Dr. Bowen says she was never the same after that."
Steele turned to look out of the window. "What there any investigation of the accident?"
"All Dr. Bowen knows is that Rachel always blamed her husband for the accident. But she wouldn't tell him why."
"What was the doctor's opinion of Trevor Yates?"
"He told me that he'd never seen any evidence that Yates was anything less than a supportive, loving husband. But that something about Yates left him cold. That he seemed calculating."
"Why didn't he tell any of this to the police?"
"Because Yates convinced him that if Rachel's mental instability and drug problem surfaced it would hurt her father. He only agreed to tell me about it because Mr. Dawson is dead."
"I need some more information about that accident, Mildred," he told her. "And check out John Harris' background. I discovered last night that his father was one of Yates' clients."
"Got it. Things any better between you and Miss Holt?"
"At least we're talking again," he told her. "I'll talk to you later. Oh, and Mildred-?"
"Yes?"
"Good work." He could almost hear her smile over the line as he hung up.

As soon as Laura returned, Steele made an excuse and left the office to pay a call on John Harris. When he arrived, he found the man just returning to his room.
"I went out to get something to eat after following Yates to a client's office this morning, then back to his own offices. You're lucky you caught me. I only stopped to pick up my note pad -" He picked it up. "What's going on?"
"Were you aware that Rachel and Trevor Yates were in a car accident about a year before her death?"
"It's in the police records. Yates claimed that he was run off the road by another car."
"You sound as if you doubt his story."
"The officers who investigated it said they found no sign of a second vehicle. That it was highly possible that Yates simply became confused in the darkness and lost control of the car."
"Injuring his wife and causing her to miscarry their child, resulting in an ongoing drug problem."
Harris grinned. "You're good, Steele. Took me a lot longer than two days to come up with that information."
"Ah, but Rachel Yates' father was still a part of the equation then."
Harris nodded, understanding. "With him dead, there's no one left to protect. Certainly not Yates." His eyes locked on Steele. "Miss Krebbs is in Tucson, isn't she?"
"She's visiting her sister," Steele told him.

"Miss Holt?"
Laura slowly counted to ten and then raised her head to look at Miss Smith. "Yes?"
"There's a delivery man out here, says he has a package for you."
Laura smiled, wondering which one had sent her something this time. She hadn't intended for the two men to start this little competition, but neither was she adverse to letting it continue for a while longer. She greeted the man, taking the box from him. Carefully, she removed the ribbon, pausing to glance at the card as she did so. "A peace offering. RS." Noting that Miss Smith was almost a curious as Mildred would have been, Laura lifted the lid to reveal that the box contained white and milk chocolate hearts. Laura's mouth began to water as she looked at the candy. Chocolate. He certainly knows my weaknesses, she thought.
Miss Smith pouted prettily. "No one has ever sent me chocolates."
Laura held out the box, offering her one, then turned toward her office, the tempting candy covered from her view. "Let me know when Mr. Steele returns, please."
"I will, Miss Holt."

Steele returned Miss Smith's nervous smile as he paused to pick up his messages. "Any other calls, Miss Jones?"
"SMITH," she said. "Someone's been trying to call on your private line, but since you told me not the answer that one -"
"Thank you. Is Miss Holt in?"
"In her office."

Steele had barely closed the door when the one that led from Laura's office opened and she appeared, carrying a box. "I got your peace offering," she told him.
He shrugged, smiling. "I was passing by the candy store downstairs and couldn't resist," he told her, his eyes twinkling. "Did you enjoy them?"
Laura shook her head, placing the box on his desk and removing the lid. "Not yet. I thought I might share them with- someone -"
"I bought them for you," he reminded her. "I know how much you love chocolate, remember?"
Laura picked up a white chocolate heart and waved it under his nose. "Are you certain that I can't tempt you, Mr. Steele?"
He pulled her into his arms, his eyes darkening to the color of the sea before a storm. "That's a leading question, Miss Holt," he was saying as the telephone began to ring. "Miss Jones will get it," he told her. The intercom buzzed. "Damn." When Laura would have moved away, his arm tightened. "Yes, Miss Jones?"
He heard her frustrated sigh, but she didn't try to correct him. "Mr. Yates is on line one for Miss Holt."
Steele's arm dropped as Laura picked up the telephone. "Trevor?" She watched as Steele picked up a chocolate heart and moved to the conference area to eat it.
"I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, Laura-" he began.
"You're not, " she assured him.
"Miss Smith told me that you were in conference with Mr. Steele."
"We were just- discussing a case," Laura said, glancing at Steele's amused expression.
"The reason I called is that I'm going to have to cancel dinner this evening-"
"Why?" She sensed that those blue eyes were on her again.
"Andrews insists on working all evening. He's going to be audited tomorrow and wants to go over everything with a fine tooth comb."
"I guess I can't blame him. Oh, well. I could use an evening on my own, I guess."
"I'll make it up to you tomorrow," Trevor promised. "And I'll try to call you when I get home."
"All right. Good night." Laura hung up the telephone, then picked up a chocolate and took a bite. She closed her eyes as the smooth taste hit her.
"I take it you're free for dinner?" Steele asked, causing her to open her eyes.
She waved her hand. "A client. They're going to be working late."
"Why don't I fix something for us?" he suggested. When she would have opened her mouth, he quickly added, "All I'm suggesting is a friendly dinner. Maybe some conversation-"
"I was going to ask what time I should be there," Laura told him with a small smile.
Thinking quickly, Steele calculated what he needed to do. He had to call Mildred and see if she had found anything else- he could do that while he was cooking. "Seven?"
Laura picked another piece of candy, then the box before starting back for her office. "I'll bring dessert," she told him, popping the last bit of milk chocolate into her mouth as she disappeared into her office.
Steele found himself laughing softly, believing that things just might work out after all.

"Okay, Chief, here's the scoop," Mildred said. "The car accident is listed officially as a hit and run, but I talked to one of the officers who investigated it. There was no sign of the white Ford that Yates insisted ran him off the road. And get this- Rachel Yates was never interviewed about it."
"Why not?"
"Yates insisted she was too ill, and that she didn't really recall anything about the accident."
"Yet Dr. Bowen said that she blamed Yates for the accident."
"I spoke to him again, too."
Steele picked up a hot spoon and yelped. "Ouch! Damn!"
"Mr. Steele? You all right?"
"I'm trying to fix dinner-"
"What's on the menu?" she asked.
"Coq au vin, new potatoes in cream sauce, baby peas -"
"Sounds delicious." She fell quiet. "But you don't usually cook like that unless you're expecting company -"
"I'm expecting Miss Holt," he informed her. "What else did Dr. Bowen tell you?"
"Rachel did remember the accident, but wouldn't talk about it. He said she almost seemed frightened of Yates afterward. She told Dr. Bowen that Yates hadn't wanted the baby at all - Yet when he questioned Yates about it, Yates insisted that he had been just as devastated by the loss as Rachel had."
"I'm sure he was," Steele murmured. "Anything on Harris?"
"You were right about his father. He was one of Yates' first important clients after he and Rachel moved here from Los Angeles and Mr. Dawson gave him a place in the firm. The elder Harris was embezzling funds from his company, and knew the game was up. When they went to arrest him, he was already dead."
"What was John Harris' reaction?"
"He was upset, understandably so."
"Did he appear to hold Yates responsible?"
"Not that anyone I talked to could remember. Is that what Yates is claiming? That Harris had some motive for trying to accuse him of murder?"
"Yates told Laura that Harris killed Rachel, Mildred."
Mildred whistled. "Oooh. Think he might have?"
"I'm keeping an eye on them both."
"I need to talk to Harris' old Captain tomorrow, and then I'll be heading back to Los Angeles. So I'll see you tomorrow."
"None too soon, Mildred. I think Miss Jones is a bit underqualified."
"Jones? I thought her name was Smith?" Mildred asked.
Steele chuckled. "Tomorrow, Mildred. Thanks."
"Enjoy your evening."
"I fully intend to. Now, if Miss Holt will co-operate-"

After dinner, Laura opened the box of chocolates and picked up a heart. Steele shook his head, picking one up as well to hold it out to her. Watching her eyes close, he touched her cheek. "I wish you'd get that look on your face for me," he whispered.
Laura nuzzled his hand, letting his fingers curve into the hair on the back of her head as he drew her closer. When their lips met, Laura could taste the chocolate on his breath, in his mouth as he opened to allow her greater access. When the kiss ended, she found that she was sitting across his legs, her arms around his neck.
"So now I know how to get a kiss like that," he told her. "Chocolate." He would have reached for another heart, but Laura beat him to it. As he watched, she bit off half of the heart, and then offered him the other, placing it into his mouth. "Laura, don't think I'm complaining, but - have you been seeing Yates simply to make me jealous?"
"It started out that way," she admitted.
"But not now." He shook his head, pulling her head to his shoulder. "Then why are you here? Why did you accept my invitation to dinner if you're attracted to him?"
"I wish I knew, Mr. Steele. I wish I knew."

Laura insisted on driving herself back to the loft, and Steele insisted that she call him as soon as she arrived to make certain that she'd gotten there without incident. She unlocked the loft door, and slid it back, then turned to close it- only to find something wrapped around her throat, being pulled tighter and tighter . . . She struggled, thought she heard fabric rip, then darkness as the telephone began to ring . . .