Stressed Steele

Episode 6

by Nancy Eddy

"Laura? Oh my god, Laura, wake up."

Trevor's voice sounded frightened, Laura thought. Why was he frightened? she wondered, struggling against the darkness the threatened to engulf her again. She tried to speak, but her throat felt like sandpaper. "I'm-" she tried to clear her throat, and moaned when it hurt like hell. She tried again. "I'm - okay," she managed to croak, shaking her head as if to disavow her words. Opening her eyes, she found herself on the floor near the open doorway, staring up into Trevor's light blue eyes. "Trev-"

"Shhh. Don't try to talk. I've already called the police and an ambulance -"

"No-" Laura tried to say, but he shook his head.

"I had to, Laura. There was no choice. I SAW him. I saw the man who did this."

"Who?" she whispered. It hurt to talk. And memories were starting to come back. She came home from a wonderful evening at Remington's, and as soon as she entered the apartment, someone attacked her from behind, wrapping something around her neck. She lifted her hand to her throat, feeling for it.

"It's over there," Trevor told her, pointing to the length of fabric tossed on the floor. "I took it off as soon as I could - ."

It was a tie, Laura decided. But not one of hers. Her attacker had tried to strangle her with it. The last things she recalled was the sound of fabric tearing and the telephone ringing. "Telephone," she said. "Have to call-" she started to cough as her abused throat protested.

"You just lay there. The ambulance will be here any minute-"

"Don't need-" she sat up, her hand falling on a scrap of material as the telephone began to ring again. Before she could stop him, Trevor picked it up.

"Hello?"

The line was silent for a long moment. "Yates? What are you doing there? Where is Laura?"

"Steele," Trevor said, seeing Laura's concerned look. "Laura can't talk at the moment - "

"Why not?"

"Someone tried to strangle her. If I hadn't arrived when I did, he might have succeeded."

"Good Lord. Is she all right?"

"Yes. I've called the police and an ambulance-"

Laura held out her hand, wanting to try and assure Remington that she was all right. But Trevor remained out her reach. "Trevor," she croaked, and was certain that it had been loud enough for Remington to hear. The sound of sirens grew in volume.

"I'll be right over," Steele said.

Trevor hung up the telephone. "He's on his way," he told Laura. She rose to her feet, the piece of material in her hand. "You shouldn't be up," he insisted, taking her to a chair. "What's this?" he asked, taking the fabric.

"Found it- on floor," Laura said.

He knelt beside her chair. "I'm glad I decided to stop by instead of just calling," he told her. "If I hadn't scared him off -" He shuddered, his eyes taking on a haunted look. "I came up the stairs and saw your door open - heard noises inside. When I got here, your attacker released you and pushed past me to run down the stairs. But I got a look at him, Laura. I KNOW who it was. And this time the police can't overlook it." Seeing the question in Laura's eyes, he sighed. "It was John Harris. The same man who murdered Rachel."

Steele had flagged a cab down, preferring not to have to wait for Fred to arrive with the limo, and when the car turned onto Laura's street, he groaned. An ambulance, four police cars- one unmarked official vehicle - were all parked on the street. As he exited the cab, he paid the driver and released him. One of the young officers on duty greeted him with a grim smile.

"Mr. Steele. I wondered if you'd be here."

Steele searched his memory. He'd seen the young man before, while on a case. The name was elusive, however, so Steele returned his smile. "What's going on here? How is Miss Holt?"

The paramedics were just coming out of the building- alone, Steele saw thankfully. "Must not be too bad if they didn't take her with them," the officer guessed. "Apparently Miss Holt was just returning home when she was attacked inside her apartment by someone who tried to strangle her," the young man explained eagerly. "If Mr. Yates hadn't dropped by, she'd be dead now and no one would know who the killer was."

"Did they catch the man?"
"No," another voice said, causing both men to turn. The young officer looked worried. "You can go on, Devlin."

Devlin swallowed heavily. "Later, Mr. Steele."

Steele nodded as he looked at the boyish features of Detective James Jarvis. "What are you doing here, Detective? I thought your beat was homicide. Since there's been none committed-"

"No, but there was an attempt. And I just happened to be at the station when the call came in. I recognized Miss Holt's address and came to see if I could help. She's going to have some bad bruises on her neck for awhile, but I think she'll be all right."

"Thank God."

"I don't want to ask you this, Steele, but- where were you an hour ago?"

"You can't seriously believe- what the hell did Trevor Yates tell you in there?"

"He didn't implicate you- not directly, anyway."

"What DID he claim?"

"He says he stopped by to pay a quick call on Miss Holt and frightened the assailant away - but he DID get a glimpse of the man's face. He says it's the same man who killed his wife ten years ago in Tucson. And he also says that he has reason to believe that YOU know the man as well."

"John Harris," Steele told him. "Yes, I know him. He was the police detective who investigated Rachel Yates' murder. He accused Yates of that crime, and Yates has accused Harris."

Jarvis looked at him for a long moment. "Do you know where John Harris is, Steele?"

"I should think sleeping," Steele hedged. When Jarvis merely took a deep breath, Steele said, "Why are you simply taking the word of Trevor Yates, Jarvis?"

"I might not- if the killer hadn't left something behind that might tie Harris - or someone else - to the attempt on Laura- Miss Holt's life."

"What are you talking about?"

Jarvis showed him two evidence bags. "A silk tie- and a shirt pocket that Miss Holt apparently tore from the man's shirt in her struggles." He watched as Steele took the one with the tie. "He used that to try and strangle her. Mr. Yates had to remove it from her neck when he found her." He watched Steele. "Something wrong, Mr. Steele?"

"This looks like one of my ties- but it's difficult to tell -"

"Look at the label," Jarvis suggested, turning the plastic bag over and shining a small light on it. Steele easily recognized the name of his tailor. "You missing any ties, Mr. Steele?"

"Not that I was aware of," Steele assured him.

"You can see why I have to ask where you were."

"I was at my apartment, waiting for Miss Holt to let me know she had arrived home safely. We were burning a little midnight oil at my apartment," he told the detective, well aware that the man knew the real reason for Laura's presence at the condo. "She was supposed to call me when she got home. I waited the fifteen minutes it usually takes her and tried to call- but there was no answer, so I waited awhile, expecting her to call. When she didn't, I called again- and spoke to Trevor Yates. Did you happen to ask HIM where he was? And how he just HAPPENED to be in the area?"

"I plan to check out Yates' claim, Mr. Steele," Jarvis said. "And I want to talk to John Harris. If you know where he is, I'd suggest you tell me-"

"He's staying at the Golden Palms Motel, Room 15," Steele informed him.

"Thank you."

"Can I go up to see Miss Holt now?" Steele asked.

"I suppose. You might have to fight your way past Yates, though. He seems to have appointed himself her white knight."

"I want to be there when you question Harris, Jarvis."

"Then don't spend too much time with Miss Holt. I'm headed over there now."

Steele glanced up at the crowd of Laura's neighbors who were slowly heading back to their apartments, then up the side of the building to the spot where Laura's loft was located. "Let's go. I want to hear what Harris has to say."

Laura watched the street below, seeing Steele talking with Jarvis, then getting into the detective's car. Trevor came up behind her. "I still think you should have let them take you to the hospital to be checked out."

She shook her head as the car moved off, followed by the others. "I'll be fine," she insisted, forcing the words past her sore throat. The paramedics had suggested she have some x-rays taken, and she would- tomorrow. She had wanted to see Remington. But he was off with Jarvis, probably answering questions. She had seen the label on the tie as well, and had recognized the name. And when she had explained it for Jarvis, Trevor hadn't actually accused Remington of involvement in the attack, but he had made certain that Jarvis had known that Harris had been in contact with Steele, implying that Steele's jealousy might make him unstable.

Laura had tried to object, but the paramedics had insisted that she not talk too much, give her throat time to recover a bit. "Why did you try to cast blame on Mr. Steele?" she asked Trevor now.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "You have to admit, Laura, that your boss is a trifle possessive of you. You and he probably argued this evening-"

"No," Laura said. "We - didn't."

Trevor shook his head. "Now, Laura. You don't have to keep something like that a secret. And you don't have to protect him just because he's your boss-"

"But he's not-" She stopped, realizing that the medication that the paramedics had given her was taking effect. "I'm tired, Trevor," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Thank you for being here -"

He took her hand. "I'll always be here for you, Laura. If you'll let me.I came too close to losing you tonight. I'm not ready to do that." He lowered his lips to hers, his kiss still as unassuming, as safe as it had been before. "Jarvis promised to post a man downstairs in case Harris comes back, but I don't think I'm going to get any sleep tonight, worrying about you. Maybe I should stay -"

"Trevor-"

"On the sofa," he finished. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea. I'll call you tomorrow morning."

She followed him to the door, then allowed another kiss before closing it behind him, making certain the locks were all fastened, then glancing at the spot on the window that led to the fire escape. The police had covered the broken pane, but it was still a reminder of how close she had come to death tonight.

Laura shivered in the suddenly cold apartment and wrapped her arms around herself as she sat down on the sofa. Remington would be back. As soon as he finished with Jarvis, he'd be back to make sure she was all right. "Stay awake," she murmured as her eyelids fell. Just a little nap, she decided. He'd wake her up when he got here.

As they got out of Jarvis' car, another car pulled into the lot. Steele's features froze as he saw Trevor Yates get out and approach them. "Detective Jarvis. Steele."

"What are you doing here, Yates? I thought you'd still be with Miss Holt-"

"She insisted I leave - the medication she was given was starting to make sleepy. I made sure the place was secure and that the man the Lt. here posted was in place. Besides, we're about to confront the man who did it-"

"We don't know that for sure," Steele pointed out.

"Oh? Do you have any other suspects, Detective Jarvis?"

"I just want to ask Mr. Harris a few questions, Mr. Yates," Jarvis said.

"And I have the right to be here to listen," Yates said. "After all, the man DID kill my wife -"

Jarvis frowned. "All right. But you two stay back and let me do the talking."

Steele let Yates precede him, unwilling to have the man where he couldn't see him. He was TOO calm, Steele thought as they moved toward the darkened windows of Room 15. TOO certain. He was sure that whatever was happening, Trevor Yates was setting Harris up - and he was trying to implicate Steele.

Near the door, Steele got Jarvis' attention. "He won't answer the door for you, Jarvis. And if he sees Yates- "

Jarvis indicated that Steele knock. "Harris?" A light came on.

"Wha-? Who is it?"

"Steele. I need to talk to you."

The sound of the safety chain being removed and the door unlocked sent the three police officers into alert, Steele noticed. Harris opened the door and stepped back. "Come in. Don't you ever sleep, Steele?" he was asking when he turned and saw the two men behind him. "Yates! What- " his green eyes moved to Steele. "Why did you bring him here?"

Jarvis showed Harris his badge. "John Harris?"

"Yeah," Harris said shortly, angered both by Yates' presence and Steele's betrayal.

"Lt. Jarvis of the LAPD. I need to ask you some questions."

"What about?" He looked up at Steele. "Miss Holt. Has something happened to Miss Holt?"

"You know what's happened to her, Harris," Yates said accusingly. "But you're not going to get away with it this time."

"Get away with- What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Yates -" Jarvis said before turning back to Harris. "Have you been here all evening?"

"I got in about nine," he said. "And went to bed after watching some TV. There were no witnesses, no one to back me up. I know the questions, Lt. Jarvis. I was a policeman in Tucson."

"Would you mind if my men search the room?"

"Go ahead," Harris said. "I've got nothing to hide."

Jarvis signaled the three officers to come inside. "Why did you leave the Tucson police department, Mr. Harris?" Jarvis asked.

Harris glanced at Yates. "His wife was murdered and I was the homicide detective assigned to the case-"

"Very conveniently for you," Yates commented.

"More INconvenient for you," Harris returned. "Because I saw through your lies and found the truth. I didn't kill his wife, Jarvis. Yates murdered her and when I started getting too close, he tried to pin the blame on me."

One of the police officers was on his knees beside the bed, searching below it. Something caught his eye and he reached between the mattress and springs to draw something out. "Lieutenant," he called. "I think I found something."

"What is it?" Jarvis asked, moving around to take the items from him. He examined the two or three ties, all silk, and all bearing the same label as the one from Laura's apartment, glancing occasionally at Steele. The blue shirt that he held up seemed perfectly normal as Jarvis laid it on the bed and drew the plastic evidence bag from his pocket to hold it against the shirt - in the exact spot where a pocket was SUPPOSED to be - it had been ripped away, the threads broken. "Care to explain why the shirt that Miss Holt's assailant was wearing is here in your room, Mr. Harris? Or why you have these ties that probably came from Mr. Steele's apartment?"

Harris shook his head. "I didn't know those were there. I thought I'd misplaced that shirt," he insisted. "I looked for it this afternoon, and couldn't find it. I've never seen the ties -"

Jarvis looked at Steele again. "Did Mr. Harris have access to your apartment, Steele?"

Steele took a deep breath. "Yesterday evening. He had dinner there."

"And did he have any opportunity to take those ties?"

"I suppose he might have."

"You didn't notice they were missing?"

"No. I didn't."

A uniformed officer came in. "Lt. Jarvis, the desk clerk says that a cab pulled up to this room about two hours ago and someone got in and left."

"Did the clerk see the name of the cab company?"

"Said it was too dark. But she says she's pretty sure the person who got inside was Mr. Harris."

"She's lying! I haven't left this room all night!" Harris turned and dove for Yates. "Tell them the truth! Tell them that I didn't -"

The officers grabbed Harris and held him back as Yates straightened his tie and smoothed his hair. "I HAVE been telling the truth, Harris. And now your lies have been exposed for what they are."

Jarvis stepped up to Harris. "I'm placing you under arrest, Mr. Harris, for the attempted murder of Laura Holt."

The green eyes closed in relief. "Then she's not dead?" Harris asked. "Thank God."

"More lies," Yates said. "You almost strangled her and you know it."

"You can go now, Mr. Yates," Jarvis said pointedly. Yates turned and left the room, going to his car and leaving without another word.

"What about me, Jarvis?"

"I need to ask you a few more questions, Mr. Steele," he said. "About the ties."

"Why don't I meet you at the station?" Steele suggested. "I need to go check on -"

"Laura's probably asleep, Mr. Steele," Trevor told him. "I'll check in on her later."

Jarvis watched as Harris was led from the room. "I'll need to talk to you tomorrow, Mr. Yates."

"You have my number, lieutenant." He nodded in Steele's direction. "Night, Steele."

Jarvis watched the tightened jaw muscles in Steele's face. "You don't like him very much, do you?"

"I don't trust him, Jarvis."

"We didn't find the shirt and ties at his house - and how would he have gotten in here to place them? Or gotten the ties from your apartment? I somehow don't see you inviting Trevor Yates over for dinner."

"No. I've no idea, Jarvis."

"Is it possible that you're just a little - jealous of Yates where Laura is concerned, Steele?"

Steele met those brown eyes. The police detective had always seen too much, he thought. For all his unkempt appearance, he was as sharp as a tack. "You don't miss much, do you, James?"

"As little as possible. And if I missed the way you look at Laura, then I might as well turn in my shield. It's the only reason that I never made a play for her." He turned off the light in the room and led Steele out to his car. "How did she get hooked up with Yates?"

Laura heard the pounding on her door through layers of cotton wool. She sat up from the sofa, realizing that she'd fallen asleep waiting for Remington to arrive. Glancing at her watch, she frowned. It was nearly six a.m. The banging came again, along with a voice. "Dammit, Laura! Open the door! Are you all right?"

She tried to talk, to tell him she was fine, but her voice refused to work above a whisper, and even that hurt. Rushing to the door, she unfastened the locks and slid it open to reveal an exhausted looking Remington Steele. "You look terrible," she managed, then found herself wrapped in his arms and held tightly.
When he released her, he closed the door and went to the sofa, sitting down heavily. He examined her neck, and seeing the bruises starting to mar her fair skin, winced. "You should have gone to the hospital," he told her.

Laura shook her head. "What happened?"

"Jarvis arrested John Harris for trying to kill you. They found the shirt that the pocket was torn from in his room- along with some more of my ties." He'd been forced over the last few hours to admit that Harris had a motive for all this, beginning with the elder Harris' death and continuing through Rachel Yates' murder and his stalking of Trevor Yates for the last ten years. He turned to look at her. "I'm sorry, Laura. I guess I was wrong about Yates. I shouldn't have tried to come between the two of you."

"Rem-"

"Please, Laura," he said, rising from the sofa to pace the room, hands in his pockets. "Let me finish what I came here to say and then I'll go so you can recuperate in peace. I can't say I'm happy about your - friendship with Trevor Yates - I guess it's simply that I'm jealous. But that has nothing to do with what I'm about to say. I thought I'd learned a lot from you these last few years. I guess I haven't learned as well as I thought or else I would have realized that Harris was the one I needed to protect you from instead of Yates. If I'd known that - "

"Not your-"

"Yes, it was. Now Yates is going to try his best to make it look as if I had something to do with that attack - paying Harris to do it or such - I would never do anything to hurt you, Laura. You have to know that. Anyway, what I came here to tell you is that I think think it's time Remington Steele became just the imaginary figurehead that you created. It will give you the chance to get on with your life -"

"What are you-"

"I let you down. If I hadn't been so jealous, I might have seen the truth, been able to protect you-"

Laura tried to speak, but her voice refused to cooperate. He was leaving. She could hear it in his voice, see it in the way he paced the room. She'd always known this would happen. That he'd decide that he couldn't hack it and take off, back to that life he'd had before he had become Remington Steele. Let him go, the sensible, strong part of her whispered. You don't need him. You're a good investigator who's lived too long in this man's shadow. Let him go running back to Europe with his tail between his legs. You managed before he came along, you can do it again. She reached out a hand toward him, and he stopped pacing to look at her.

"You said the other day that we needed some time away from each other. Maybe you were right. You can tell clients that Mr. Steele is out of the country on a case- whatever you like. With time, they might even forget that there ever was a Remington Steele at all. And you'll have to chance for a life with someone who cares about you enough to be there when you needed them."

"But-" It came out as a croak.

"I'll say goodbye now - it's been fun, Laura. We've had some wonderful times - that's why I can't stand quietly while you go off with someone else. I do wish you all the best -" He came to take her hand and leaned down to kiss it lightly- as he had that first time when he had been leaving Los Angeles for San Francisco. "I've never me anyone else like you, Laura Holt, and I doubt I ever will." Turning her hand, he placed a final kiss into her palm, then closed her fingers over it before turning to leave the loft apartment, closing the door behind him.

Laura drew her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them, hoping to stop the shaking that was slowly overtaking her. First the attack last night and now this - He was gone. She wiped a tear from her cheek with an angry hand. You're a big girl, Laura, that voice said again. You don't need him. You don't need anyone. You knew from the first that he couldn't be counted on. That he was a con-man and a thief.

A THIEF WHO MANAGED TO STEAL YOUR HEART, another, louder voice insisted. Laura lowered her head to her arms and gave in to the tears that refused to be held back any longer.