Laura came slowly down the stairs, keeping a watchful eye on her captor. "If the door's locked from the outside and inside, how did you get in?" she asked as she reached the bottom step.
Gianelli motioned for her to continue past him into the main area of the room as he said, "This place was built during prohibition. The original owner sold bootleg liquor. He had a tunnel put in from the back." Laura's eyes moved to the dark area of the basement outside of the light. "Don't bother trying to find it, Miss Holt. It's as well hidden as the button to release the door at the top of the stairs." He turned a chair around that was sitting near the deep shelves that lined two of the walls. "Sit down."
Laura did as he ordered. "Shouldn't you be at that premiere, waiting for Miss Douglas and Mr. Steele?"
"I've been through enough of these to know how long they take. They'll never know that I was gone." She heard him moving things around on the shelf behind her and to her right, and then he said, "Put your hands behind your back."
"It won't be the first time, will it?" Laura asked as he tied her hands to the back of the chair. "That you've left while Miss Douglas was busy elsewhere."
"I'm a busy man," Gianelli said with a shrug. "Things to do."
"Roses to leave," Laura recalled. "Bombs to set?"
Gianelli gave the ropes an extra tug.
"You're not going to get away with it, you know," Laura declared in a steady voice. Gianelli walked around to stand before her, the gun now in his jacket pocket. "Mr. Steele's already suspicious. Why do you think I'm here?"
"He might have set you on the path, Miss Holt, but he doesn't know for sure. After this evening, it won't matter." He moved toward the corner in which Laura had found the explosives. "I'm counting on his concern for you to resolve things. You're his Achilles' heel. I'll give him a message saying that you're in danger and he'll rush to save you - straight to his death. At your side, as it were."
"You'll never get away with it," Laura declared.
***
Murphy entered the house cautiously, peering around doorframes, listening for sounds. Laura's car had been parked outside, but so far there had been no sign of her.
In the kitchen, he checked the back door, and found that it was still locked. There was a third door in the room, and Murphy decided that it likely led into a pantry as he grasped the knob to open it.
It wouldn't budge. The knob turned easily, so it wasn't locked, but it appeared to be bolted from inside.
***
Laura and Jack Gianelli heard the door at the top of the stairs rattle. Laura opened her mouth to yell, only to find herself staring down the barrel of Gianelli's gun. "I wouldn't, Miss Holt." Then he smiled and put the gun away again. "It wouldn't do you any good anyway. The room is soundproof. Fireproof, earthquake proof."
The door rattled as if the person had thrown his weight against it.
Gianelli looked thoughtful. "Shall we find out who our determined guest might be?" he suggested, stepping behind Laura again. She heard him move toward the stairs, and then the room was plunged into darkness.
"What are you doing?" Laura asked, hearing him behind her. The cold steel of the gun touched her neck.
"Opening the door," Gianelli replied in a quiet voice. "I'd suggest you remain quiet, Miss Holt, unless you want to die now."
Laura wasn't sure if he had moved away or not, but in the silence she heard a soft "click" that seemed to echo eerily around the room.
The door upstairs opened suddenly, and Laura made out Murphy's blonde head in the light from the kitchen above.
Taking a chance, Laura used her feet to push the chair she was in backward, hoping to surprise Gianelli. But he wasn't there, and she cried out as her hands were crushed beneath the combined weight of wood and flesh.
"Laura?" Murphy called, starting down the stairs.
From her vantage point, Laura was able to see Jack Gianelli under the stairs, and yelled, "Look out, Murphy!"
But she was too late as Murphy went tumbling down the stairs to lie in a rectangular pool of light from upstairs. Laura saw Gianelli pass by her to grab something from the shelves before he went to kneel at Murphy's side.
Gianelli pulled Murphy up into a sitting position against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, then did a quick inspection. "He's not dead," he announced, using some rope to tie first Murphy's feet and then his hands. "Probably going to have one hell of a headache when he wakes up, though. Might have been easier for him if he'd been killed in the fall," he mused. A series of musical tones caused him to look at his watch. "As much as I'd like to stay and finish this, we have to go." He climbed the stairs to close the door, returning the room to darkness.
"We?" Laura questioned as she heard him approach where she lay. Laura heard the soft "Click" of the door locking again, and then felt Jack Gianelli's hands on her shoulders as he righted her, untied her hands and pulled her to her feet. She considered kicking out, but the feel of cold steel against her neck made her reconsider that plan.
"Don't think I won't use this, Miss Holt, because I will. Now come with me." He jerked her arm roughly.
"What about Murphy?" she asked.
"I'll come back and take care of him later," Gianelli stated in a matter-of-fact tone that sent shivers down Laura's spine. "Right now, I'd hate for you to be late for your appointment with Mr. Steele."
***
"Oh, believe me, Mr. Steele," Nick Constantine assured Remington as they sipped champagne in the lobby after the triumphant premiere of the young actor's movie, "Howard takes a *very* personal interest in my career." One of Nick's green eyes closed in a sly wink as he spoke. "I owe everything to him. When he discovered me, I was waiting on tables in a restaurant. He took me under his wing, taught me so much . . ."
"I'm sure he did," Remington mused, taking a sip of his drink, keeping a watchful eye across the room where Racine and Howard were talking to a producer that Howard hoped to convince that Racine was perfect for his next picture. "How do you feel about the time he spends with Racine?"
"Oh, Miss Douglas is- wonderful," Nick enthused. "Why, if it weren't for her, Howard wouldn't have his agency and *I* wouldn't be here this evening."
Remington nodded in polite agreement. After all, he'd seen the young man's performance onscreen. Bogart had nothing to worry about, Remington reassured himself.
He sighed with frustration. He had spoken with several of the actors that Howard represented, and none of them seemed to hold any grudge against Racine's demands on Howard's time. Every one of them sang Racine's praises alongside those for Howard.
Idly, he checked his watch, wondering if Mildred had found anything of substance regarding Jack Gianelli.
Lifting his glass of champagne, he was surprised to find a young woman standing before him, holding a slip of paper. "Mr. Steele, this message just came for you."
"For me?" Remington questioned, taking the paper and handing her his empty glass as he opened it to read what was written on it. "Who delivered it?" he asked.
"There was a telephone call," she told him.
Remington thanked the girl and went to find Racine and Howard. Pulling them away from another producer, he spoke quietly. "I have to go," he told them.
"Go?" Racine questioned, her eyes fearful as she placed a hand on his arm.
"Go where, Steele?" Howard asked.
Remington held up the paper. "I just received a message from my associate. She wants me to meet her immediately at a warehouse downtown to get the proof we need about the person who's stalking Racine," he explained.
"But- what about me?" Racine asked.
"I'll stay with her," Howard offered.
"Thank you," Remington said, and then looked at Racine, taking her hand from his arm and holding it between both of his. "Hopefully, this will all be over this evening."
"You'll be careful, won't you?"
"Always," he promised.
"Have Jack drive you there in my car," Racine suggested.
Remington hesitated, but Howard backed her up. "Good idea. I'll see that Racine gets home safely."
"Thank you." Remington left the lobby and found himself on the sidewalk, looking down the line of limousines until he found Jack Gianelli, leaning against the front fender of Racine's vehicle. "Jack," he said, "I need you to take me downtown," Remington said.
"Sure," Jack agreed, then frowned as he looked behind Remington. "What about Miss Douglas?" he questioned. "Isn't she joining us?"
"Mr. Forester is going to see that she gets home," Remington explained as Jack opened the rear door of the car. "I have to meet one of my associates about - about a case," he said.
"I see," Jack said, closing the door and getting into the driver's seat. "Where to, then?"
Watching the other man's reaction closely in the mirror, he gave the address. "Do you know the area?"
"Not well," Jack confessed. "But I think I can find it," he said reassuringly, and then turned his attention toward the traffic and the road.
Remington sat back in the leather seat, loosening his collar. If what Laura had found proved his suspicions correct, then Jack Gianelli was one cool customer…
***
Murphy groaned as consciousness returned- along with a blinding headache. Realizing he was sitting up, he tried to lift a hand to his aching head, only to discover that his hands were tied together. And so were his feet.
He lay in the darkness for a moment, trying to piece together what had happened. He'd been trying to open a door, and had heard a click before it had opened into a dark room with a stairway that led downward. Laura-
Murphy sat forward too quickly, causing his head to swim alarmingly. But he forced himself to focus. Laura. He'd heard Laura's voice down here, trying to warn him before something had grabbed his foot and sent him headfirst down the stairs.
"Laura?" he called in a quiet voice, aware that anything more would send pounding waves of pain through his head.
The silence that greeted his voice caused Murphy to worry even more, and he slowly rose, first to his knees, then to his feet, using the steps and railing to accomplish his goal. Something brushed against his face, and he reached up toward it with his bound hands, only to discover it was a string. He pulled it and a bare bulb suddenly lit the room, throwing odd shadows over the photos that lined the metal walls.
Murphy winced as the light increased the pain in his head, but it was the photographs that drew his attention.
So Steele had been right again. Jack Gianelli *was* the stalker. Grateful that he didn't appear to have any broken bones, Murphy tested the rope on his wrists. The head of a nail caught his eye in the outer edge of the stairs, and Murphy sat down, using the head of the nail to cut through the ropes enough that he could slip them off of his wrists. By the time he finished, he was sweating profusely, his hands were raw, and his head felt as if it were going to explode any minute. But at least he was free of the rope.
He carefully bent forward and untied his feet, then pulled himself to stand, his eyes fixed on his goal: the door at the top. He used the railing for support as he leaned on it as he made his way slowly up, step by step, only to groan in frustration when he discovered that the door was securely locked.
Exhausted and frustrated, Murphy sank onto the top step, his aching head in his hands. He was trapped, unable to do anything until Gianelli returned to no doubt finish what he'd started earlier. Well, there *was* something else he could do: Worry.
Jack Gianelli was obviously a very disturbed man. And he'd taken Laura with him.
***
Remington watched as the limo disappeared back into the traffic, then turned to face the warehouse that Laura's note had directed him to. It was nondescript, as most such places were, with double doors that were securely padlocked, and windows that were so grime-coated that seeing through them to the inside was impossible.
He cautiously made his way around the corner of the building, then to the rear, where he found Laura's Rabbit sitting in the alleyway. Looking around, Remington noticed that a door was partially open, its securing chain and padlock lying on the ground nearby.
Remington approached the door, pushing it further open to peer into the gloom beyond, listening for Laura's voice. He considered calling out to let her know he had arrived, but something warned him that silence might be the best policy in the long run.
Entering the building, Remington paused a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light that somehow managed to penetrate the dirt encrusted windows. Boxes and crates were piled around the room in a haphazard fashion, as if some giant had tossed them willy-nilly.
Keeping as close to the stacks as he could, Remington moved toward the center of the room. A faint beeping sound finally reached his ears, and he paused, trying to identify it. Unsuccessful, Remington continued forward until he reached a pile of crates in the middle of the warehouse's main room. On the other side of the crates, he found Laura, her hands and feet tied, a gag around her mouth. She was looking up at him, her dark eyes huge in her face, pleading with him in silence.
"Laura!" he said in a quiet voice, as he knelt to remove her restraints. Her eyes grew larger if possible, and Remington went still as he realized that the beeping he had heard earlier had increased in tempo.
His fingers worked quickly to free Laura, removing her gag. "Voice activated trigger," Laura said in a hurried voice, rubbing her wrists as she nodded toward one of the crates.
Remington looked inside and saw the bomb, his gaze coming to rest on the digital count down. 10…
Grabbing Laura's arm, Remington pulled her with him as he ran. "Get down!" he yelled, pushing her behind a pile of crates that sat near an outside wall only seconds before the bomb exploded, shaking the entire block with its fury and power, reducing the once empty warehouse into a pile of rubble . . .
***
Jack knocked on Howard Forester's front door, hiding his smile as he spoke to the middle-aged woman who answered. "I need to see Miss Douglas right away," he said, hoping there was enough urgency in his voice. "It's very important."
The housekeeper left Jack on the doorstep while she relayed the message, causing Jack's eyes to narrow in anger. But that anger vanished when Racine and Howard Forester appeared in the doorway. "What's wrong, Jack?" Racine asked.
"I - thought you should know. I think something might have happened to Mr. Steele," he told them hesitantly. "I drove him to that warehouse like he asked me to, but as I was driving away, I heard an explosion." Racine gasped, pressing a shaking hand to her ivory throat. "I had a bad feeling, so I turned the car around and went back to check it out. The building was totally destroyed."
"Oh dear," Howard muttered, putting a supporting arm around Racine. "Did you call the police?"
"First thing, from the car. I waited a few minutes, that's why I'm late. There was no sign of either Mr. Steele or his associate when I finally decided to come here and tell you -"
"His associate?" Howard questioned. "Mr. Michaels?"
"No. That lady that works for him. Laura- Holt, I think?"
"Yes," Racine said in a distant voice. "Laura Holt." She blinked, looking up at Jack.
Howard looked concerned. "I need to go and talk to the police, see what I can find out," he told Racine. "But I can't leave you alone -"
"I'll be glad to stay with Miss Douglas, Mr. Forester," Jack offered. "If, you don't mind, Miss Douglas?"
"No. No, thank you, Jack," Racine said absently.
Howard gave Jack a long, considering look. "Very well. Don't leave her alone for any reason until I get there," he ordered, helping Racine out to the limousine.
"Believe me, Mr. Forester," Jack promised, "No one's going to hurt Miss Douglas as long as I'm around." He stood by as Howard leaned into the limo to speak to Racine.
"I'll be over as soon as I found out something, Racine. Jack will stay with you."
"Thank you, Howard." Jack saw tears glistening in Racine's eyes, reflecting the street lamps on either side of Howard's doorway. "He has to be all right. I couldn't bear to think-"
"Don't. Go home. Try to relax." He gave Racine a brief kiss on the cheek, and then closed the door, watching as Jack got into the driver's side and started the car.
Jack glanced in the rearview mirror at Racine's pale features. "I'm sure he's okay, Miss Douglas," he told her. "A man like that, though, he makes a lot of enemies."
"A man like that?" Racine questioned.
"A private detective," Jack clarified. "He's put a lot of people away over the years. Probably more than one of them wouldn't mind getting back at him. Not saying that's what's happened here. I'm sure he'll be okay," Jack insisted, knowing that he didn't sound at all certain of that fact.
"I hope so," Racine sighed.
"Why don't you sit back till we get home?" Jack suggested, watching as she did just that. She looked so small and lost, he thought. But that would change, once she realized that he was there for her, and that he would always be there for her to lean on.
***
Once he felt stronger, Murphy decided to explore the basement, hoping against hope that there was another door, another way out. Besides, it beat just sitting there, waiting, he told himself. Once out of the main room, he found himself in a long, dark corridor that was only dimly illuminated by the light from the other room.
Feeling his way along the wall, Murphy's fingers touched what seemed to be a doorframe, and his heart began to pound as he thought he'd found his escape route. A little more fumbling brought him to the doorknob, and he turned it quickly to pull it toward him.
He was disappointed to find himself in another room, this one as dark as the one before. He ran his hands along the wall on either side of the door until he located a light switch. Flipping it up, he turned to look around, and his jaw fell in shocked surprise at what he saw . . .
***
Mildred grabbed the telephone when it rang, dabbing at the tears on her face yet again. "Hello?"
"Mildred, have you been trying to call me?" Daniel Chalmers' voice questioned. "I'm sorry I wasn't in, but -"
"Oh, Daniel," Mildred cried, her voice breaking.
"What's wrong, Mildred?" Daniel asked, sounding concerned. "Has something happened to Harry?"
"He was - working on a-a case, trying to - to find a-a stalker," Mildred managed brokenly. "The last time - anyone saw him, he-he went into a-a warehouse w-where he was supposed to-to meet M-Miss Holt."
"Go on, Mildred," Daniel urged, and she could hear the terror in his calm voice.
"It - blew up," she finished. "No one's - no one's seen either of them since."
"Good God," Daniel sighed. "When did this happen?"
"Earlier this evening," she said.
"What about Mr. Michaels? Where is he? Was he with them?"
"I don't know. He-he went looking for M-Miss Holt before that. He hasn't called in."
"I'll catch the first flight to Los Angeles, Mildred," Daniel declared. "Hang on, my dear. I'll be there as soon as I can and we'll get to the bottom of this."
Mildred hung up the telephone feeling only a little better knowing that Mr. Steele's father was on his way. It still didn't change the fact that Mr. Steele, Miss Holt, and Mr. Michaels were all missing. And that the police were listing the first two as "presumed dead".
***
Jack put the finishing touches on the tea tray before carrying it into Racine's bedroom, where she was laying on the bed, still as pale as before. "Here you are," he said in a quiet tone, placing the tray on the bedside table and pouring her a cup. "This will perk you up. It's my mother's special tea," he told her.
"I don't feel very much like perking up, Jack," Racine said sadly. Anyone else, he thought, watching her, would have imbued that line with enough melodrama to render it unbelievable. But Racine Douglas wasn't anyone else. Not to him.
Jack sat on the edge of the bed and held the cup out. "One sip," he begged. "And I promise you'll finish the cup."
Racine sat up, bringing her close enough that Jack could smell her perfume, and the soap she used in the bath. He had a bar of that soap back in his basement, he recalled. He'd taken it during one of his visits with Martha, waiting for Racine to finish a telephone call in her office.
She took a sip of the liquid, and he was rewarded with a look of surprise. "This is good."
"Would my mother steer you wrong?" he asked, arranging the pillows behind her so that she could sit up and drink the tea.
"You know, I think this is the first time I've ever heard you mention your family," Racine said.
Truth was, she had never asked, but Jack had always told himself that it hadn't been because she didn't care, but because she had other, more important things on her mind. "I don't talk about them much," he said.
"Where do they live?" Racine asked.
"I grew up in New York," Jack answered. "Mother died when I was eighteen. Just before I went into the service."
"You were in the service?"
"Army," he said.
"What about your father? Sister, brothers?"
Jack turned his attention to the tray, unnecessarily rearranging the items on it. "I never knew my father. He took off before I was born. It was just Mother and I."
"You must have been very close to her." Jack felt a muscle twitch in his cheek, but didn't say anything as he watched Racine finish the tea. He took the cup and saucer from her hands to put it back onto the tray. "Thank you," she said. "I think I'd like to be alone for a little while, Jack."
"You were in love with him," Jack accused, not moving from the edge of the bed. "With Steele."
She looked surprised at his words, but then she nodded. "I think I was, a little. Silly of me, all things considered. I was just a client to him. Someone who needed his help."
"You could never be silly, Racine," Jack stated baldly, reaching out to touch her cheek with the back of his fingers, ignoring her start of surprise. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known." His finger trailed lightly down her neck and she shivered. *In anticipation,* Jack's inner voice insisted. "You deserve to find someone who could make you happy, who would know how special you are and how to take care of you like you need to be taken care of."
"Jack?" Racine questioned, lying very still, and Jack told himself that she was merely surprised by his words. It was astonishment that he saw on her face, nothing else. She simply couldn't believe that someone would love her as much as he did.
"I've watched you for so long, Racine," he said. "Watched while you suffered through the torments of being married to a man who wasn't fit to look at you much less anything else. I watched, waited, knowing that the time would come when you'd look at me and realize that I was here, that you would realize how much I love you."
"Jack," Racine said again, but this time her voice wasn't as strong as the tea began to take effect. "What's happening to me? I can't - Help!" she cried out in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
"Shh," Jack admonished gently. "It's going to be all right, Racine," he promised, placing his fingers against her lips to quiet her. "I'll help you. I'm going to make everything all right. From now on, I'm going to take very good care of you," he said, leaning forward to replace his fingers with his lips on hers, reveling in how wonderful it felt to be so close to the woman of his dreams at long last . . .
TBC