"Ohmigod," Laura muttered, quickly grabbing her fingernail clippers from her purse as she kept her eyes glued to the readout.
9…8…7…
Which wire to cut, she wondered silently, pressing her weight against the door to keep it from being opened. Red or black?
6…5…4…
Laura slipped the clippers over the red wire, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pressed down as hard as she could, thinking that if she was wrong, at least they'd go together.
Nothing happened. Well, nothing except that the door opened as Laura relaxed, nearly knocking her to the floor as Remington entered the apartment.
"Laura?" he asked with concern, seeing her pale face as she stared at the read out. Following her gaze, he saw it as well.
3. The timer had stopped at 3.
Remington pulled Laura to her feet as he asked, "Is that -?"
"3 seconds," Laura said, her voice barely above a whisper, and almost collapsed as her knees gave way. "Damn."
"Whoa there," Remington said, slipping his arms around her and helping her to the sofa. "How did you know it was there?" he asked.
"I had - a - feeling," Laura explained slowly, placing her hand to the back of her neck. "So I went out onto the fire escape and slipped the latch on the bedroom window to get in. I was trying to figure out whether to cut the red or black wire to disarm it when you turned the key and the timer started counting down from 10 seconds."
Remington went to the bar and poured some whiskey into a glass and brought it over to her, noticing that she was shaking. "You saved my life. Both our lives," he amended with a smile as he pressed the glass into her hands. "Thank you."
She took a drink, fought back the reaction to the straight liquor, and shook her head. "You're a target. Racine Douglas' stalker wants you out of the way."
"I've been expecting him to try something," Remington said, and Laura frowned.
"You - what?"
"I thought he might try to get me out of the picture," Remington explained, and then waved toward the device. "I didn't expect something like that, though. Trying to run me down with a car, taking a shot at me - not an attempt to blow me into little tiny bits."
"Harry, we have to bring the police in on this," Laura told him. Remington got up and went to the window as she spoke. "We don't have a choice, now. This guy's got some serious problems-"
Remington turned to look at her. "Laura, if I were to call the police in every time someone that didn't like me tried to kill me, I'd never get anything done. Besides, we don't know that Racine's stalker did this. I've made a lot of enemies over the years. Even before I became Remington Steele."
The telephone rang, and blue eyes met brown. Picking it up, Remington said, "Steele here."
"You were lucky this time, Steele," a man's voice, filtered by some electronic means told him. "You - and your associate. But next time, you won't be so lucky. Or maybe she won't be. Stay away from Racine Douglas. She's mine. I'm the only one who understands her, the only one who can give her what she needs."
"Indeed?" Remington questioned, keeping his tone even. "Why the secrecy? Why not just come out into the open and talk to her? You're frightening her."
"When the time is right, when she's ready, I'll show myself. But until then, you stay away from her, Steele, or you'll regret it." <Click!>
Remington took a deep breath as he hung up the telephone.
"It was him, wasn't it?" Laura questioned, watching him carefully. "The stalker."
"He warned me to stay away from Racine," Remington confided, going out onto the balcony to survey the street below. He heard Laura put the glass onto the coffee table and follow him.
"You're not going to do what he wants, are you?" Laura asked, but Remington was certain that she already knew the answer to her question.
"I can't," he said. "I have to draw whoever this person is out so that we can catch him. And if that means making myself the target of his insanity, then so be it." He turned to look at her. "Being Remington Steele means more than a name on a door to an office or a letterhead. There are very real dangers attached to it. I've never shirked my responsibility to client, and I refuse to start now."
"I know," Laura said, sighing deeply. "It's just- I keep thinking about what might have happened if I hadn't been here," she said, and Remington pulled her into his arms.
"I'm grateful that you were," he said into her hair, then frowned. "Why were you here?"
"Oh, I needed to take a shower and change clothes before going back to the office," she explained, starting to move away. Remington could feel the sudden rise of tension in her, and placed his hands on her upper arms to look at her.
His gaze fell on the upper seam of the sleeve of her blouse. It was ripped open. "What happened?" he asked.
"Nothing," Laura insisted, pulling out of his grasp and moving back into the apartment, heading toward the bedroom, where she took a fresh blouse and pants from her end of the closet. "Really," she reiterated as Remington followed her.
"Ian Devlin did that, didn't he?"
"I -"
"Murphy told me that you'd gone to see Devlin," Remington told her. "I knew it was a mistake for you to see him alone. The man's a womanizing, amoral -"
"I found him quite charming," Laura said, tossing her hair back and turning toward the bathroom. "A breath of fresh air, as a matter of fact."
"Laura-" Remington said, continuing to follow her, only to find himself face to face with the bathroom door as she closed it. Grasping the knob, Remington discovered that she had locked him out. "Laura!" he called out, "let me in!"
The shower came on, and Remington's jaw tightened as he stuffed his hands into his pockets in frustration. Suddenly, he smiled as his fingers touched a leather pouch. Withdrawing the small wallet, he opened it and pulled out a lock pick, which he expertly used to unlock the bathroom door.
Quietly, he slipped into the bathroom, removing his shoes and jacket, then the rest of his clothes, all the while appreciating the view of Laura through the frosted glass of the shower door.
When he opened the door and joined her, she was smiling expectantly, and slid her arms up his chest and around his neck. "What took you so long?" she asked as his lips met hers . . .
***
An hour later, they lay on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms. "That was-," Laura sighed, combing her fingers through the dark hair on his chest as she sought for an appropriate description.
"Mmm," was all Remington could muster in reply.
"It's been too long since we did something like this," she noted, and Remington gathered his strength to lift his head from the pillow and look at her.
"I seem to recall night before last, in Las Vegas -"
Laura smiled at the memory. "I wasn't talking about that. I meant this. Taking time out in the middle of the day to be together."
"Ah. A little 'afternoon delight', eh?" he teased as his hand moved down her back to cup her hip. "You're right. It has been awhile."
"Too bad it has to end," she said regretfully, looking up at him. "Are you sure we can't stay here for the rest of the day?"
"Love to," he answered, placing a kiss onto her forehead. "But Racine's limo is waiting for me downstairs. I'm surprised that her driver hasn't come up to check on me, actually. And Racine's housekeeper has to get home to her own family."
Laura sighed again. "Then I suppose I'll go and remove that bomb from the front door."
"Good idea," he agreed, but neither of them made a move to leave the bed. "Murphy has some connections that should be able to tell us a little about it. Speaking of Murphy, he told me that you spoke with Howard Forester's mother today."
"She's his receptionist. And while she didn't *say* it, I got the impression that she doesn't like Racine very much."
"So Murphy mentioned. Any idea why?"
"All I could tell was that she thinks Howard is spending too much time with Racine, that she's keeping him from spending time with other clients. But *I* think she's jealous, afraid that Racine is going to steal Howard away from her. Mrs. Forrester seemed to be a very protective mother. Ian Devlin confirmed most of it, too. He even said that he thought Howard was like some kind of Svengali."
"And Racine is his Trilby?" Remington questioned. Actually, he'd had the same thought a few times. But he had something else on his mind. "Speaking of Ian Devlin, Laura-" he began, but Laura looked up at him.
"You're right about him. He's an unprincipled, lecherous, egotistic scoundrel, who seemed to have eight arms."
"How'd you manage to speak to him?"
"I pretended to be an intern to get onto the set of his new movie, and then snuck into his dressing room to wait for him. I told him I was writing an unauthorized bio of Racine, and wanted his input for it."
"I'll wager he jumped at that opportunity- and to tell more lies about Racine as well," Remington commented, inspecting a bruise that was beginning to appear on her shoulder.
"I told you,- it was nothing I couldn't handle. I fought off more persistent octopi in my college days," she informed him in a dismissive tone. "But Devlin did talk. I think he loves the sound of his own voice."
"Quite likely," Remington nodded. "What did he say?"
"Well, he doesn't like Howard, and admitted that he wanted Racine to change agents because he didn't like the way Howard seems to control her every move. He claims that the more he pushed, the further Racine drew away from him, until they were sleeping in separate rooms, and barely speaking."
"And that's when he started the affair with his co-star?"
"His *first*. He mentioned having several of them before Racine caught him in the act with that Spanish actress. He suggested that I co-write an autobiography with him. Which would have entailed working *very* closely with him, if you get my drift."
"Unfortunately, I do. And I think I'll keep on sailing," Remington decided, tamping down the anger he felt toward Ian Devlin by changing the subject. "Murphy said that you were still convinced that Howard's the stalker after talking to his mother. Do you still believe that?"
"I haven't found any reason to change my mind," Laura confirmed, looking up at him. "Why? Did you find out something? Murphy told me that he didn't think it was Howard either after their meeting, but he wouldn't say why."
"As we were going to lunch, Racine told me that Howard is - well, that he - Let's just say that his mother doesn't have to worry about losing him to another woman."
Laura's eyes widened. "He's *gay*? And no one bothered to let me know? You just let me keep chasing after - "
"There was no way for me to contact you and let you know- or to let Murphy know what he was walking into, either. It seems that Tony's Gym is private for a reason. Racine told me that it's where Howard meets most of his 'friends'."
"Oh, my." She started to giggle. "Murphy. Poor Murphy. No wonder he was so upset when I got back to the car. It's a wonder that he didn't kill you."
"I think he considered it," Remington said, joining her laughter. Suddenly his laughter stilled, and he rolled Laura over so that he was leaning over her. Dropping a kiss onto her lips, he said, "I don't think you should stay here alone."
"Harry-"
"Hear me out. I don't want to risk your being here if this psycho comes back again with the intention of finishing what he started. Stay at your place. Just until the case is finished. Please?"
Laura placed her hands flat against his chest. "And where will you be?" she asked.
"At Racine's place in Malibu," he answered, and immediately saw the insecurity flare in her brown eyes. "Laura, she has a guest room. I'm there to protect her, nothing more."
"Ah, but who's going to protect you from her?" Laura wondered.
Remington smiled as his hand moved downward, over her breast, coming to rest again on her hip. "After the last hour, making love with anyone else would be a bit of an -" Remington paused for effect before finishing "- anticlimax." He waited for her to respond to the pun, and when he saw the smile beginning to form, gave her a long kiss.
Sitting up, he pulled her with him. "Come on. We'd better get dressed and get going."
"If you insist," was Laura's subdued response, and Remington sighed as he moved toward the bathroom for a quick rinse before getting dressed.
***
Remington gave his hair a final comb though, grabbed the overnight case that he'd packed from where it lay on the bed, and went out into the living room, where Laura was just finishing removing the remains of the bomb from the door. He dropped a kiss onto the back of her neck. "Feel better now, love?" he asked, sliding his arms around her waist.
"Hmm," she said, placing the bomb into a small case that she had taken from the closet before she turned into his arms again. "I still wish we didn't have to leave."
"So do I," Remington agreed, pressing a light kiss to her lips. "But work beckons. You need to see what Murphy can find out about that-" he indicated the case, "and I have to relieve Racine's housekeeper. I'll feel more at ease knowing that you're staying at your place until this case is finished."
"While you play house with Racine Douglas," she sighed, revealing that she still wasn't happy about the arrangements.
"Laura-"
She lifted her hand. "I know, I know. You'll be in her guest room."
"Alone." He punctuated the word with a light kiss. "Missing you." Another kiss. "Glad that I don't have to worry about you being here if psycho returns and hurts you by mistake."
Laura straightened his tie, and smoothed the lapels of his jacket. "I can take care of myself," she reminded him. "You just be careful, okay?"
"Always," he promised, giving her yet another, longer kiss. He broke the contact with a regretful sigh. "I'll call you later if I can. Make sure Murphy knows to keep his wits about him after what happened."
"I will," she said, following him into the hallway and watching him get into the elevator.
Remington blew her a kiss, which she caught in her hand, laughing. "Later."
***
As he got into Racine's limo, Remington gave Jack a look of apology. "Sorry for the delay," he said. "I had some telephone calls that I needed to return before I leave. I hope your having to wait didn't cause any problems?"
"None at all, Mr. Steele," the chauffer assured him smoothly. "Working for movie stars, you get used to it. Most of them never know what they're doing, anyway."
With the privacy screen lowered, Remington decided that now was as good a time as any to question the man. "Even Miss Douglas?" he asked.
Jack smiled. "Oh, no. Miss Douglas is different. I meant stars that I worked for before."
"How long have you been working for Miss Douglas, Jack?"
"Oh, since before Ian Devlin walked out on her."
Since he wasn't sure if he was colouring Jack's less than pleased tone with his own anger at Devlin for hurting Laura, Remington asked, "You weren't very fond of her ex-husband, I take it?"
"That's an understatement, Mr. Steele," Jack said with a wry grin in the rearview mirror. "I lost count of the times that man had another woman in this limo. He always tipped me well enough to 'keep quiet', but - well, I hated watching what he was doing to Miss Douglas. She's lucky to be rid of him. A man like that, he had no idea what it took to make someone like Racine Douglas happy."
Remington went still. "And do you know what it would take, Jack?" he asked, his blue eyes fixed on the reflection of the other man's face in the mirror.
Jack smiled. "Looking for ideas, Mr. Steele?" he returned.
Remington laughed. "Maybe. Racine seems a bit- lost at times, doesn't she?"
"She's the best person I've ever worked for, Mr. Steele. It would take a very special man to give her what she needs to be happy. There aren't many of those around anymore."
"No, there's not," Remington agreed. "Do you think I might be one of them?" he quizzed.
Jack glanced at him before answering. "Well, that decision would be something only Miss Douglas could make, wouldn't it?" he said.
"I suppose so," Remington said, sitting back. He spent the rest of the trip to Racine's house in Malibu in thoughtful silence.
***
Laura pushed the glass door open and entered the office, then paused as she realized that the reception area was empty. She was about to call out when she heard quiet voices. Curious, she quietly approached Murphy's office, which was where the voices were coming from.
"How long are we going to keep this to ourselves?" Mildred was asking.
Murphy's reply was filled with humor. "Bursting at the seams, Mildred?"
"I can't believe they would have done that without telling anyone," Mildred said petulantly.
"I'm not surprised at all. Figured it would happen that way when it happened - "
Laura froze in place. Surely Mildred and Murphy hadn't - there was no way, was there? She started to back away, intending to announce her presence, but the bag she was carrying caught the edge of the coffee maker, and Laura barely caught the glass pot before it hit the carpeted floor and shattered.
The noise everything created caused both Mildred and Murphy to exit his office, with Murphy's eyes scanning Laura's face. "Hi," she said. "I didn't see anyone when I came in-"
"So you couldn't call out and let us know you were back?" Murphy said as Mildred took the coffee pot from her. "You decided to spy instead?"
"I wasn't spying," Laura insisted, not quite meeting Mildred's accusatory gaze as the older woman headed back toward her own desk.
Murphy tilted his head, frowning. "Did you change clothes?"
"Yes. I stopped by the penthouse on my way here."
"Then you met up with Steele, I guess?"
"I did. In fact-"
"How did the meeting with Ian Devlin go?" Murphy asked, and Laura thought that he was trying to change the subject away from what she had overheard them talking about.
"It went. He doesn't like Howard Forrester. Harry told me about - what happened, Murphy," she said, trying to keep from smiling.
"Go ahead and laugh. It is kinda funny once you think about it. Thing is, Forrester was a perfect gentleman."
"You mean he didn't make any moves on you?" Laura teased.
"Guess I'm not his type," Murphy replied, and then nodded toward the bag she was carrying. "What's that?"
"That," Laura said, carrying it to Mildred's desk, where she carefully opened it to reveal the contents, "is a bomb."
"A *what*?!" Mildred asked, moving faster than Laura had ever seen her move.
"Don't worry. I disarmed it," she explained, and then went on to explain the circumstances under which she had done so.
***
Martha de la Garza opened the door to Remington with a worried smile. "Oh, Mr. Steele. I'm so glad that you are here."
Taking note of the woman's expression, Remington glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry I'm late, Martha, but -"
"It's okay, Mr. Steele," Martha informed him, taking his arm. "I called my husband and told him that I was going to be late. It's Miss Douglas that I am concerned about."
"Why? Did something happen while I was gone?" he asked.
"I convinced her to sit down in the living room and watch television. She was pacing around the house like a caged tiger, making me nervous. Then *he* came on. One of those awful interview portions of news programs, you know?"
"*He*, Martha?"
"That Devil, Ian Devlin," Martha nearly spat. "Talking about how he was going to write an autobiography and tell everything about his life."
"He did, did he?" Remington drawled, narrowing his eyes. It hadn't taken him long to grab hold of Laura's idea, had it? He thought to himself. "Where is she?"
"In her bedroom, laying down." She took the small suitcase from him. "I'll take this to the guest room."
"Thank you. And then you might as well go home to your family," he said, and then paused before leaving the room. "Martha, how well do you know Jack?"
"The chauffer?" Martha questioned, obviously surprised by the question. "Not very well. He keeps to himself most of the time. He sometimes comes into the kitchen for coffee while he is waiting for Miss Douglas to be ready to leave. But I know that he would do anything for Miss Douglas."
"He's never spoken to you about his family or friends outside of work?"
"No," she answered thoughtfully. "I believe he was in the service when he was younger, but he does not talk about it. My cousin was the same way."
"I'm sure," Remington said. "Tell me, Martha, did Jack have coffee with you in the kitchen yesterday evening before Miss Douglas left to pick me up?" he asked.
Martha nodded. "Yes. He did." She gave him a curious glance. "Why are you asking all of these questions about Jack, Mr. Steele?"
"I'm curious, that's all. Do you know where Miss Douglas keeps her important papers? Contracts with Mr. Forrester and such?"
"In the safe in her office," Martha explained. "She and Mr. Forrester are the only ones who know the combination."
"Thank you, Martha. Good night."
"Good night, Mr. Steele," Martha returned, turning toward the guest room.
Remington went into Racine's bedroom to check on her, only to find her sleeping peacefully. Deciding not to wake her before their evening at the premiere of a movie in which one of Howard's other clients was appearing, Remington went around the house, checking windows and doors once Martha had gone. He inspected the back door of the house, though which the housekeeper always came and left, and thought he felt a sticky substance above and below the metal plate, as if someone had placed a piece of tape across it to prevent the latch from entering as the door was closed.
Racine's office faced the front of the house instead of the beach. Seeing Remington's surprise, she had laughed and explained that a view of beach meant that she would never get anything done. The safe was hidden behind an oil painting of Racine, done by a local artist that Remington considered barely adequate to be called an artist at all.
Once the safe was revealed, Remington leaned close and listened for the tumblers as he turned the dial. It was easier than he'd thought it would be, and within moments the dial clicked, and the safe was open. He smiled to himself, thinking that he hadn't lost the touch. It wasn't often he had the opportunity to crack a safe these days. But then, Daniel had always claimed that it was like riding a bicycle. Once you learned how, you didn't easily forget.
Inside, he found several contracts, but he looked for one that he could be relatively certain would have been typed recently at Howard Forrester's office. A renewal of their agreement, signed by both Howard and Racine, witnessed by Mabel Garrett, and dated only a month before seemed perfect for his purpose.
After several moments, Remington realized that this hadn't been typed on the same machine as the letters from Racine's stalker had been. The lower case 'h' and 'r' were both intact; in fact, Remington was unable to find any anomalies in the type.
He returned the documents to the safe and closed it. He picked up the telephone, only to pause as he heard Racine crying, calling for Martha, and put the telephone back into its cradle before going to assure her that he was there.
***
"You and Steele have got to be two of the luckiest people I've ever known," Murphy said after he'd heard the entire story, including the telephone call from the stalker. "This guy's crazy."
"Certifiable," Mildred agreed, still eyeing the bomb nervously. "What are you going to do with that thing, Miss Holt?" she wanted to know.
"Harry thought that Murphy might use his connections to check it out, see what kind of knowledge might be needed to have built it."
"I can do that," Murphy agreed, closing the bag around the bomb. "Can I trust you to stay here and not get into any trouble while I'm gone?" he asked Laura. "Or are you planning on having dinner with Ian Devlin tonight?"
Laura smiled. "I don't think Mr. Devlin is going to be too anxious to see me for awhile. We didn't exactly part under the best of circumstances." She hadn't told Harry that she'd informed Ian Devlin that she wouldn't help him with his autobiography for all the tea in China - or any other "perks" that he might care to offer. The actor had been furious that she'd turned him down, and promised that he'd write his own book, assuring her that there were plenty of authors out there that would jump at the chance to spend time with him.
"Then I guess you've decided that using him to make Steele jealous is out, then?"
"I haven't decided yet," Laura said as she perched on the edge of Mildred's desk.
Murphy chuckled and shook his head. "I'll be back in an hour. Two tops."
"I'll be here," Laura promised.
Once he was gone, Mildred leaned closer. "So, you gonna give me the skinny, Miss Holt?"
Laura turned to look uncertainly at the receptionist. "The skinny, Mildred? About what?"
"Ian Devlin, of course. Is he really as terrible as that report I got says he is?"
"What report?"
Mildred handed the pages across the desk. "The one that Mr. Steele asked me to get. The man's had more girlfriends than Carter's got pills." Laura nodded, reading the report. "You weren't *really* trying to make Mr. Steele jealous, were you?"
"I thought about it," Laura said, handing the report back to her. "And the report's mostly right."
"Sounds like Miss Douglas is lucky to be rid of him, then. You know, marriage is a strange thing, isn't it, Miss Holt?" Mildred asked. "You never know when one's going to be a keeper or end badly."
"Well, in my experience, they usually end badly. I mean, yours did. And my parents-"
"What about your sister Frances?" Mildred asked.
"One success in a long line of failures, Mildred," Laura sighed, as Mildred continued.
"I've known lots of people who got married and stayed that way. *My* sister, for one. And most of the ladies that I bowl with -"
Laura gave Mildred a stern look. "Okay, Mildred, out with it. Exactly what *were* you and Murphy talking about when I came in?"
"Oh, uh, a, uh - a soap opera that we both watch," Mildred said after some hesitation.
"A soap opera? I didn't know Murphy watched those things. He's usually at work during the day."
"Oh, a night time soap," Mildred clarified.
Laura pinned the woman with a sharp gaze. "Which one?"
"Uh, - " suddenly Mildred's resolve crumbled under Laura's scrutiny. "Ooh, I told Mr. Michaels that this would happen. I can't lie. Not to you or Mr. Steele." Mildred looked at Laura. "Murphy called me earlier today and asked me to do a little digging," she confessed. "I did, and I found out what happened in Las Vegas, Miss Holt." Laura lifted her eyes toward the ceiling as Mildred continued. "Why didn't you tell us that you and Mr. Steele got married?"
TBC