"Yes, ma'am," the young page answered. "He used that telephone right there, then left with a woman -"
"Left? The hotel?"
"No. They went toward the elevators."
"What did the woman look like?" Murphy asked.
"Tall, red hair -"
Laura turned back to the desk clerk. "I need to know what room Sybil Blaylock is in. It's urgent."
He consulted the computer before him. "Sorry, Mrs. Steele. There's no Sybil Blaylock registered."
"Tall, attractive, red hair," Murphy said. "Dressed to the nines-"
"Wait a minute. Miss Havenhurst. Yes." He typed in the name. "Room 412."
Laura, Murphy, and Lt. Craig made a beeline for the elevators as Craig called his officer on the second floor to meet them two floors up.
"Why are you going to kill me, Miss Blaylock?"
"Oh, Sybil, please. It's much more appropriate to call someone by their first name when you're going to be found dead in their bed, don't you think?" She tore her dress as he watched, pulled the string of pearls loose so that they fell to the floor. "You see, Remington, I owe your dear wife so much. I could have been every bit as good a detective as she is, but she didn't understand my methods."
"Did those methods include stealing another woman's husband, calling his house using Laura's name?"
"I thought that rather brilliant. And if Laura hadn't raised such a fuss about it all, Alan would have forgiven me. Alan always forgave me. But Laura was his little pet - anything she wanted, she got. The best cases, the best partners- Alan said it was because she was the best of the lot of us. I got so sick of hearing her name - And it wasn't just Alan. Murphy- Laura's little lapdog, Lee Thompson, all of them. Always singing Laura's praises. And then she went to work for you. If you're gone - then she'll just be one more detective out there. Without your coattails to ride on, she'll flounder and end up having to give up."
"Laura's a better detective than I am," Remington told the woman. "Always has been. If anyone's been riding anyone else's coattails, it's me. "
"You expect me to believe that the great detective Remington Steele owes everything to HER? Not likely." She put the gun against his chest as she came to sit on the bed beside him. "I'm going to tell them that you came up here to talk to me- or so you said, and then you attacked me, tried to rape me. I got the gun I keep for protection, and threatened you with it, you tried to get it away, and it went off- Leaving poor Laura a young widow who has to live down the scandal of her husband's death in such- undesirable circumstances."
"You won't get away with it. They'll still need to find out who killed those three men -"
"It will be a great, unsolved mystery. No doubt the hotel will probably find a way to make money off of it." She reached up and scratched his neck, drawing blood. "There. Good-bye, dear Remington. It's almost a pity to finish you off before - But I can't afford to wait." She forced his head down with her right hand, keeping a firm grip on the gun with her left one.
Remington fought her for a moment, then allowed his lips to meet hers. He felt her surprise at his surrender at the same moment that there was a knock on the door.
Remington used the distraction to grab Sybil's left wrist and push it away as the gun went off, the bullet striking bed beside him. He felt her strain to bring the gun back towards him as the the door splintered and Murphy burst into the room, followed by Laura and Lt. Craig.
Sybil strained against Remington's hold as she saw Laura. "It's your fault! It's all your fault! Why did you have to be so perfect?! Why?!!" Remington handed her over to the officer who had followed them into the room, who handcuffed her and led her, still muttering about Laura, from the room. Lt. Craig took the gun from Remington as Laura went to Remington's side.
"Are you all right?"
"I think so." He returned her hug, then looked at Murphy. "If you hadn't burst through that door, Murphy - Thank you."
"Well, we all make mistakes, don't we?" Murphy asked, but he grinned nonetheless.
Lt. Craig looked at them. "I'm going to need a statement, Mr. Steele."
"Of course."
"Nonsense. This conference needs something to close it that will end it on a good note." She held out his jacket. "Here."