Steele Truths

Part Three

   Back at the Sir Francis Drake Hotel, Laura and Remington's "escape" went unwitnessed by almost everyone. Except for one person, who watched as their cab vanished into traffic and then turned back to the hotel, smiling. "This is going to be easier than I hoped," the person thought.

Slipping into the hotel room was child's play. The sound of water running in the bath gave away the location of the room's occupant, and the killer opened the bathroom door, silently entering the small room. Waiting until Hank Jordan turned to shut off the flow of water, the killer dropped a cord around the man's neck and pulled it tight. Jordan struggled, but his attacker was too strong, and he fell to the bottom of the shower. The killer left him there and departed the room.

Laura collapsed onto the sofa of their room four hours later, laughing at their narrowly escaping being caught sneaking back INTO their room. Remington dropped at her side. "That's a sound I haven't heard in awhile," he commented, and when she frowned, he said, "Your laughing like that."
"Between the babies and the office there hasn't seemed to be enough time to laugh very much lately. Thank you for this afternoon."
"Thank YOU," he told her, dropping a kiss on her lips. "I suppose someone would notice if we didn't show up this evening."
"I'm sure of it," Laura told him, smiling. "But we can leave right after dinner," she said. "I'm going to take a shower and change," she said, beginning to remove her clothes. She got as far as the bathroom door before she turned to smile at him over her shoulder a playful look in her warm brown eyes. "Care to join me, Mr. Steele?"
"On my way, Mrs. Steele," Remington responded, following her.

Laura moved toward the bed as she put on her earrings, then grimaced in distaste. Seeing her expression, Remington paused while tying his tie. "Laura? What's wrong?"
She picked up a length of wet rope that had been tossed beneath the bed. "What on earth is this doing here?"
He came over. "It's wet."
"So it hasn't been here very long," Laura said. "And I don't think it was here earlier - before we left the hotel."
Remington sat down on the bed, and Laura joined him. "That means that someone was in this room while we were gone," he said.
"But why? And why leave THIS?" she wondered, indicating the rope.
"Perhaps someone's trying to play a practical joke- although I'm not sure I get the punch line," Remington said, rising again to finish his tie, then checked his shirtcuffs before putting on his jacket. "Laura?" he asked, seeing that she was still sitting, staring at the rope in her hands. "We're going to be late for dinner, love."
Shaking off her reverie, Laura went to put the rope in the bathroom sink, then found her shoes, and slipped them on. After a final glance in the mirror, Laura smiled. "Let's go."

As the detectives gathered for dinner, everyone began wondering where Hank Jordan was, and Murphy, along with everyone else, wondered aloud about where he could be. "Has anyone checked on him?" he asked Wynn Davis, a P.I. from St. Louis.
"I knocked on his door before I came down, but there wasn't an answer," Davis told him and the others listening. "I figured he was still in the shower."
"Maybe we should check on him," Murphy suggested.

Murphy, Davis, Laura and Remington, and several others took the elevator to the second floor, and the others watched as Murphy knocked. When there was no response, he put an ear to the door, listening. "The shower's running."
"It was running earlier," Davis said. "Why don't we break the door down?" he suggested.
"Or get a maid to open it," someone else said.
"If you will excuse me, gentlemen," Laura said, pulling a hairpin from her hair and kneeling by the door. Withing moments, the lock clicked, and Laura smiled up at her audience. "After you, Murphy."
Remington shook his head as she stood to the side. "Showing off?"
"Seemed simpler than standing around discussing-" she broke off as Murphy called her name.
"Laura! Get in here!"
Remington was right behind her as she stopped in the door of the bathroom. Hank Jordan was slumped in the shower, water still beating down on his body. "Is he-?"
"He's dead," Murphy confirmed, using a towel to shut off the flow of water, then covered Jordan with the same towel. Leaning over the body, Murphy said, "He's been strangled. With some kind of rope, I'd say. Braided - unusual pattern-"
Laura and Remington exchanged looks. The rope that they'd found in their room. "Let me look, Murphy," Laura said, moving through the others. She wanted a look at the rope burn. "How long has he been dead?"
"No way of telling for sure, the water was ice cold -"
"He came up here around one," Davis told them. "Said he was going to make some phone calls home and then take a shower."
"Did he mention anything about any cases he was working on that might be dangerous or that he was worried about?" Laura asked Davis, who seemed to have known Hank Jordan better than anyone else.
"No. Said everything was quiet. And I don't think any one would have followed him all the way here from New York."
Murphy went back into the bedroom. "Who are you calling, Murphy?" Laura asked.
"The police."

As expected, the police detective questioned everyone with any connection to the conference, including Laura and Remington. They both told how they had left the hotel without telling anyone, and returned the same way, so they were out when Jordan had been killed. "But someone left the murder weapon in our room," Laura told Lt. Craig. "At least, I think it's the murder weapon."
She took the police officer to the sink where she had put the rope. Craig nodded his head. "It certainly has the same design as the marks on the dead man's neck," He agreed. "Where did you say you found it?"
"Under the edge of the bed," Laura told him, showing him the still damp spot. "It wasn't there before we left -"
Craig looked at Laura and Remington. "So you think someone came in here while you were gone and put it here? Why would someone do that, Mrs. Steele?"
"Who knows. That's what you have to find out -"
"We will, Mrs. Steele. Until then, I'd prefer you not leave the hotel again without telling anyone."
Remington frowned. "You sound as if you suspect us, Lieutenant," he said.
"Someone wanted to point suspicion in your direction, Mr. Steele. It's possible that one of your collegues might be a bit jealous of someone as high profile as you and your wife. I have some others to question. I'll talk to you both later."
As the door closed behind him, Remington turned to Laura. "What's going on, Laura?"
"I wish I knew." She picked up the telephone.
"Who are you calling?"
"Agatha. I need to know that the babies are all right."

Laura and Remington went downstairs later to the dining room where they found most of the other conferees having a late dinner. Laura scanned the room. "Murphy's not here," she told Remington.
"Probably talking to the coroner's office," he commented, drawing a look of reprimand from his wife. "You obviously haven't read the rest of the schedule for the conference. The seminar on 'Working Closely With the Local M.E.' is to be headed by Murphy."
Laura dug out the schedule. "And Jordan was supposed to take the one about procedure tomorrow afternoon." She scanned the other seminars. "'Public Relations'" she said with a grin. "That's one they should have asked you about heading up." Remington narrowed his gaze. "I wonder where Murphy is? I heard him tell someone that he would be down for dinner after he took a shower -"
"Murphy's a big boy, Laura. He can take care of himself."
"Like Hank Jordan did?" she returned, waving the waiter away as he came to take her order.
"Laura," Remington asked as she stood, "Where are you going?"
"To check on Murphy. After what happened to Jordan, I'd prefer to make certain he's all right. I have a feeling that something's wrong."
Sighing, Remington followed her from the dining room. Laura's instincts were often dead on target. He only hoped that this time they were wrong.

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