ADDING STEELE TO THE FIRE
The setting sun created a pink and lavender backdrop for the skyline of downtown Los Angeles. Most of the heavy after-work traffic had subsided, leaving the major thoroughfares to their usual level of business. A hot autumn breeze whisked the odors of the highways around the skyscrapers.
The smell of exhaust entered through the screen door of apartment 20C, blending with the odors of perfume and gunsmoke. The penthouse apartment was dark, except for the light from a small desk lamp. Dim sounds of the outdoor traffic mixed with the sounds of rustling papers. The rustling ceased, and a black-gloved hand pulled a manila folder from a file drawer in the oak desk. The light was extinguished, and the drawer closed. The figure moved toward the front door of the apartment, pausing briefly by the lifeless gentleman sprawled across the living room floor. The front door was cautiously opened, and the light from the hallway illuminated the corpse, and caused the blood on the carpet to glisten. The front door was closed softly, leaving only the sounds of the nightly traffic echoing from the streets below.
Remington Steele dried his hands on the blue dishtowel as he exited the kitchen. He looked up at the sound of his wife's laughter. Laura Steele was sitting on the far corner of the couch, her right leg tucked under her left. She was chattering into the phone, apparently engaged in an amusing conversation. Remington smiled softly as he sat on the couch next to Laura. It still amazed him how well he had taken to married life, despite his objections to it in the past. But then, that was before he knew Laura‑‑before he fell in love with her.
"Alright, Frances," Laura said, smiling into the phone. "I will, I promise. Okay. I'll tell him. Mm-hm . . . bye." She hung up the phone, chuckling softly. Remington threw the dishtowel over his right shoulder and spread his arms over the back of the sofa.
"Well, you and Frances had a lot to talk about," Remington observed casually. "You've been on the phone for nearly an hour."
"Well, we haven't talked in a while," Laura said, leaning back into the cushions. "Not since you and I came back from our honeymoon. Our second honeymoon, that is." She smiled coyly at her husband. Laura noticed the dishtowel hanging on Remington's shoulder and gasped.
"Oh, the dishes!" she groaned. "I was supposed to help you with the dishes. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. It's alright. I took care of it," Remington said, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his hand. "Besides, I want you to take it easy. You've been ill so much lately. I don't want you to over-extend yourself."
"I'm fine," Laura responded.
"You say that every night, and every morning you wake up ill. You've barely been eating lately. Tonight's the first time in nearly a week that you've eaten a full meal," Remington scolded.
"You're exaggerating," Laura said, picking up the TV remote and flipping through the channels.
"No, I'm not," Remington insisted. "I still wish you'd see a doctor."
Laura sat quietly for a moment.
"I'll go tomorrow," she said softly. Remington looked at her with amazement.
"You will?" he asked. "What changed your mind? I mean, you've been fighting me on this for the past couple of days."
"I talked to Frances about it, and she made a few suggestions about what could be causing my illness. Her best suggestion was to talk to the doctor about it," Laura replied.
"Well, remind me to thank my sister-in-law for talking some sense into you," Remington teased. Laura shot him an annoyed look.
"Speaking of in-laws," Laura diverged. "Laurie Beth wants to know when her Uncle Remington is going to come over and give her horsey-rides again."
Remington laughed uncomfortably. "She does, does she?" he asked, fidgeting with the towel on his shoulder.
"Mm-hm," Laura answered, smiling at him. "The kids adore you, you know."
"Well, they're not so bad themselves," Remington complimented reluctantly.
"You do so well with them," Laura said, staring ahead as she tried to be as casual as possible. "You seem to enjoy being with them."
"I do," Remington answered matter-of-factly, averting his eyes to the TV. Laura bit her lower lip nervously.
"Well, you know what I think," Laura said in a teasing voice. "I think you'd make a pretty good father someday."
"Really, Laura," Remington laughed. Laura turned to him, trying to hide the concern on her face.
"You don't think so?" she asked.
"Well, I . . . " he began. He stopped a moment, trying to think of the right words to say. "I've never thought of myself as the fatherly type."
"Does that mean you don't want a family of your own someday?" Laura asked, the worry in her voice growing. Remington noticed it, and smiled.
"I didn't say that," he said softly. Laura grinned broadly, relief covering her face. "I wouldn't object if somewhere further down the road you decided to give me a child or two."
"Further down the road?" Laura asked, her smile fading slightly.
"Yes, you know. In a few years, after we've settled into married life and gotten our careers exactly where we want them. Then we can devote our time to . . . other important goals in life. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, yes, of course," Laura said, smiling at him. She turned her eyes toward the television. Remington scooted over next to her, putting his arms around her shoulders and leaning toward her.
"Of course, we could go . . . practice for that later time in life, if you'd like," he murmured seductively. Laura turned and smiled softly at him. Remington leaned in slowly, brushing his lips lightly against hers. Laura turned to face him, bringing her left hand up to his cheek and pulling him into a deeper kiss. She pulled away and stared deeply into his eyes.
"I love you," she whispered seriously. Remington smiled, brushing a strand of her hair to the side with his left hand.
"I love you, too, Laura," he returned. He kissed her again, pulling her into his arms. Laura responded willingly, drowning in the warmth of his body. She pulled back and looked at him again, smiling.
"I suppose practice does make perfect," she murmured. "And we do want perfect children? Don't we?"
"Mm-hm," Remington smiled, his eyelids drooping with desire. He kissed her again, the sweetness of her mouth tantalizing him. "Besides, you should get to bed early, anyway. Since you've been under the weather lately, and all."
"Thinking of playing doctor, Mr. Steele?" Laura teased, stroking the back of his ebony hair.
"Only if you're sure you're up to it. I don't want to do anything to aggravate whatever it is you might have," Remington answered seriously. Laura chuckled softly.
"I don't think there's any chance of that," she said. Remington looked at her questioningly.
"Why? Do you know what's been causing it?" he asked, concern clouding his features.
"No . . . " Laura said reluctantly, dropping her eyes to his lap. "I just meant . . . I feel much better, that's all. I don't think I'll have any problems tonight. Really."
"Are you sure?" Remington pressed, looking straight into Laura's eyes. She smiled reassuringly.
"Positive," she said strongly. She grinned coyly, and ran her index finger down Remington's chest. "So, should we stay up and watch television for a while, or would you prefer that we turn in early for . . . um . . . physical therapy?"
Remington smiled and took the remote from Laura's lap, letting his fingers brush along Laura's thighs for a second longer than they should. He switched off the television, and threw the remote behind him onto the couch. Throwing his dishtowel on the table in front of him, he pulled Laura up off the couch.
"I think you need a close . . . examination," he said romantically, picking her up in his arms and carrying her into the bedroom.
Remington strode confidently into suite 1157, his eyes skimming the silver lettering that announced the location of Remington Steele Investigations.
"Morning, morning, morning," Remington greeted Mildred cheerfully, as he usually did every morning.
"Morning, Boss," Mildred Krebs replied as Remington stopped at her desk to flip through the mail. "Where's Mrs. Steele?"
"She's at the doctor's office. She'll be in later," Remington informed her, glancing distastefully through the bills before abandoning his search.
"Finally talked her into it, huh?" Murphy Michaels asked, emerging from the storage room, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. Remington turned to him as he approached.
"No, actually, Frances managed to do it," he answered.
"What about Frances?" Jenna Holt inquired, walking out of her and Murphy's office, several manila folders in her hand.
"Frances talked Laura into going to the doctor," Murphy informed her.
"You mean Laura actually listened to someone? And a family member, no less?" Jenna said mockingly.
"It's a bit odd, isn't it?" Murphy joked.
"Well, odd or not, I don't care. So long as it gets her to the doctor and we can find out what's wrong. She's been sick like this for a week. There's got to be a reason besides a `nagging bug', as Laura says," Remington commented.
"Was she sick again this morning?" Jenna asked, concern for her sister showing in her olive eyes.
"Mm-hm," Remington nodded. "Which is odd, because she was fine last night. She ate a full meal and everything."
"Well, the doctor will find out what it is. Probably just exhaustion or something," Murphy said, flashing a coy glance to Remington. Remington returned an annoyed look. "From work and travelling, I mean," Murphy added, feigning innocence. He didn't react fast enough to avoid the smack on his arm from Jenna.
"You are evil," she scolded.
"Evil?" Murphy responded in mock hurt. "Me? Evil?"
"Yes, you," Jenna insisted. "You're also a pervert."
"If anyone should know . . . " Murphy began playfully, earning him another smack on the arm. "Do you believe this?" he cried to Remington and Mildred. "Persecuted by my own girlfriend for wanting to soothe the worries of a co-worker."
"Oh, please," Jenna muttered, rolling her eyes. Remington and Mildred laughed.
"Well, Murphy," Remington said, "you know how these Holt women are. They're always ready to put a man in his place."
"You got that right," Murphy agreed.
"Well, fine. Would you prefer to do without me?" Jenna asked Murphy. He responded by putting his arm around her waist and pulling her next to him.
"Never," he said, gazing to her affectionately. She smiled at him, pleased.
"I'm certainly glad you two decided to stick around for a while," Remington stated.
"Oh? Why's that?" Murphy inquired, tearing his eyes momentarily from Jenna.
"Now Laura and I won't be the only couple arguing in this office," Remington answered, grinning wickedly.
"Excuse me," a voice said behind Remington. He turned to see a stout, middle-aged man entering the office. The man wore a three-piece business suit, and carried a folded newspaper in his right hand. Murphy and Jenna released each other quickly and assumed a business-like manner.
"Yes, sir, can I help you?" Mildred asked politely. The man glanced around to each individual.
"I'm here to see Mr. Steele about a delicate yet urgent matter," the man said frankly.
"I'm Remington Steele, Mr. . . ." Remington prompted, extending his hand.
"Seldon. Marcus Seldon," the man replied, shaking Remington's hand firmly.
"Well, Mr. Seldon, why don't you step into my office, and we can discuss things there, okay?" Remington replied, steering Mr. Seldon toward his office. "Yes, straight through there," he directed. He turned to Murphy and Jenna. "You two want to join me on this one, since Laura's not here yet?"
"I really need to finish this security contract, but you go, Murphy," Jenna declined. Murphy nodded and followed Remington into his office.
"Now, Mr. Seldon," Remington said, pulling his overcoat off and hanging it on the coat rack next to his office door. "How may we be of service to you?" Remington walked over to sit in the chair behind his desk, while Murphy stood in front of it. Mr. Seldon glanced uneasily at Murphy. "Oh, my apologies for the lack of introductions. Mr. Seldon, my trusted associate, Murphy Michaels. All of my associates are completely discrete and trustworthy, so you can count on them, I assure you."
Mr. Seldon seemed a bit more at ease, but worry continued to line his face. He sat gingerly in the chair opposite Remington.
"Have you seen the newspaper this morning, Mr. Steele?" Seldon asked, tossing the folded newspaper onto Remington's desk. "Notice the headline." Remington picked up the paper and unfolded it with curiosity. "Shipping Magnet Found Murdered" was sprawled across the top of the paper. Remington held the paper at a sideways angle so Murphy could see the headline as well. Remington cleared his throat and began reading aloud.
"'Gerald Morgan, 47, owner of Morgan Shipping Industries, Inc., was found murdered in his apartment late last night. The apparent cause of death was a gunshot wound to the chest by a small caliber pistol. Neighbors reported hearing the shot at around 7:15 last night, but dismissed the sound as a car backfiring. Police are questioning several suspects, but so far no arrests have been made.'" Remington stopped reading and looked up at Mr. Seldon. "I take it this was a friend of yours?"
"Friend? Not on your life!" Mr. Seldon exclaimed, sneering. "Gerald Morgan was one of the dirtiest, crookedest businessmen I've ever met, and a detestable human being. I was ashamed to even be on the same planet with him!" Remington and Murphy exchanged glances of puzzlement and uneasiness.
"Well . . . uh . . . my apologies for any wrong insinuations, Mr. Seldon," Remington replied cautiously. "However, since you're obviously not mourning this man's passing, may I ask exactly what this concerns?"
"My wife is what this concerns," Mr. Seldon replied sternly. "She happens to be one of the `suspects' the police are questioning."
"How does your wife figure in on all of this?" Murphy asked, his expression of confusion mirroring his partner's.
"Someone said my wife visited Morgan's apartment last night. The police are trying to place her there during the crime. They kept asking exactly what time she was there. Of course, I wouldn't let them talk to her. She's devastated by all of this mess . . . especially by the fact that people are accusing her of being involved."
"Would your wife have a motive to kill Mr. Morgan?" Remington asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Of course not! She barely knew him!" Mr. Seldon boomed. "That's why all of this is so ridiculous! But the police don't listen! They're looking to pin this on the first scapegoat they find, and they found my wife first. Lisel wouldn't harm a fly," Mr. Seldon explained emphatically. "Mr. Steele, I want you to investigate this and give me solid proof that my wife didn't kill Morgan. Something tangible that I can give the police in order to get them off our backs. Lisel's a very sensitive person, and all of this nonsense could kill her. I won't have this disturbing my wife's delicate senses!"
Remington and Murphy exchanged glances again. Murphy raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Remington reacted by clearing his throat and rising from his chair.
"I will be happy to help in any way I can, Mr. Seldon," Remington said, walking around his desk and leaning against the front of it, facing Mr. Seldon fully.
"Excellent. I knew by your reputation that I could count on you," Mr. Seldon replied loudly. Remington chuckled modestly.
"Yes, well, in order to proceed, there are a few things I'd like to know first," Remington responded.
"Such as?" Mr. Seldon asked.
"How did you know the deceased?"
"Why do you ask?" Mr. Seldon inquired, his curious tone laced with anger and distrust of Remington's motives. Remington searched for the right excuse to avoid any undue hostility.
"Background information vital to the case," Murphy rescued.
"Exactly," Remington responded, a sigh of relief escaping between his words. "Purely routine. All part of the business of detection."
"I understand," Mr. Seldon said, his distrust dissolving. "I knew Gerald Morgan as a business associate. We're in the same business. I own Seldon Imports."
"So Morgan was a competitor?" Murphy asked casually, masking his suspicions.
"Not much of one . . . we're far bigger, and we distribute far more globally. He wasn't much of a threat to us," Mr. Seldon covered. "He was a rotten businessman. Not in the sense that he couldn't turn a profit, but in the sense that he'd go to any lengths to do so . . . legal or illegal. He once conned a private shipping company in Hong Kong to go public, by saying that it would quadruple their profits. As soon as they took his advice, he bought all the stock he could, raided them, and swallowed the company. That company had been a family business for 200 years, before Morgan totally destroyed it. That's just a small example of his business tactics," Mr. Seldon finished angrily.
"Have you dealt with Mr. Morgan's company before?" Remington asked, sitting on the corner of his desk.
"A few times. I finally got sick of seeing what he was doing. Few people know this, but I'm in the process of buying out Morgan Shipping. It's too bad someone killed him this early. I was looking forward to seeing his face when I told him I owned him."
"How did your wife know him?" Remington asked.
"He's come to my office a few times when she's been there. She joins me for lunch on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and Morgan had a nasty habit of showing up just before lunch. He had a knack for ruining my appetite," Mr. Seldon answered bitterly. "He even showed up at my house once. That's the only contact she had with him. She'd have no reason to go to his apartment."
"What motive do the police think your wife would have?" Murphy asked.
"Who knows," Mr. Seldon grumbled. "Probably that she was somehow standing up for me. I don't know, really. I've refused to let them talk to me or my wife."
"Can we talk to your wife?" Murphy asked.
"Yes . . . but it will have to be later tonight. I'll leave my address with your secretary." Mr. Seldon glanced at his wristwatch and stood up. "I really must be going. I have to get to the office. No one knows I'm here right now, and I would prefer it to stay that way. It wouldn't look good for the police or the press to find out that I'm hiring you to defend my wife's innocence. So, if you and your colleagues don't mind, I would prefer the utmost discretion in this matter."
"Ap . . . say no more, Mr. Seldon. I completely understand," Remington silenced him by raising his hand. "You can depend on the Remington Steele Agency for complete discretion, and we'll get started on your case immediately."
"Good. The sooner this mess is cleared up, the better," Mr. Seldon commented. He shook Remington's hand, then Murphy's. "Mr. Michaels, Mr. Steele. Good day, and good luck." Mr. Seldon turned and left the office as briskly as he had entered. Remington turned to Murphy as soon as they were alone.
"Is it just me, or is there more to this story than what Mr. Seldon is willing to admit to?" Remington asked. Murphy produced a half-grin of understanding.
"You mean the fact that Mr. Seldon appears to have a perfect motive to commit this murder?" Murphy translated.
"Mm . . . and what better way to divert attention from his motives than to try to support his wife's plight to prove her innocence," Remington added.
"So where do you think we should start? With the wife or the business?" Remington thought for a moment.
"I think we should see if Mildred can scrape up some information on all three of the players in this little scene, and then we should visit the crime scene and see what we can find out there."
"Good idea," Murphy commented, striding to the door with Remington following close behind.
"Mildred, we need some information from that blasted computer," Remington said, letting his distaste for technology slip. "Give me everything you can on Marcus Seldon, Lisel Seldon, Gerald Morgan, Seldon Imports, and Morgan Shipping Industries."
"Okay," Mildred said, jotting the names down on a notepad next to her. She swiveled her seat to face the computer and began typing in the commands for name searches. "This may take a while, Boss."
"Hm . . ." Remington mused. "Well, then, Murphy, what say we check out Morgan's apartment?"
"Sounds good," Murphy said. "Let me grab my jacket."
"Oh, grab mine, too, will you?" Remington asked. Murphy nodded, heading toward his office. "Mildred, first can you give me the home address of Gerald Morgan?"
"No problem," Mildred answered, typing the name into the computer. "Gerald Morgan, 1136 South Madison, Parkview Place Condominiums, Apartment 20C," she read from the screen.
"Thank you, Mildred," Remington answered as Murphy approached him. He took his overcoat from Murphy and slipped it on. "We're headed there now. Oh, and if Laura show's up while we're gone, tell her we'll fill her in as soon as we get back. Ready, Murphy?"
"Yep," Murphy answered.
"Let's go. We'll take the limo. We'll be back soon, Mildred," Remington called as he and Murphy exited the office and headed for the elevators.
Laura exited the elevator and rounded the corner, heading for the office. Her knees still felt weak from the shock of the news. She wasn't sure why it was such a shock; she had suspected it for a while. Yet somehow, hearing it from a doctor made it more real. Laura's stomach churned uneasily as she approached the office door. She willed her hands to stop shaking. She knew what she had to do. Remington had to know, whether he would like it or not. Laura took a deep breath to calm herself and pushed the glass door open, entering the office.
"Morning, Mildred," Laura said, interrupting Mildred's work at the computer.
"Oh, morning, Mrs. Steele," Mildred replied, looking up from the computer screen. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. I'm just fine," Laura lied.
"What'd the doctor say?" Mildred asked, turning to face Laura fully.
"He said I was okay, and the stomach trouble would pass in time," Laura said, feeling guilty for not telling the whole truth. "He said I just needed some rest, that's all."
"Oh, so it is exhaustion," Mildred said, an amused smirk on her face.
"What?" Laura asked, confused.
"Nevermind."
"Well, is Remington here?" Laura asked, heading toward his office, ready to get the moment over with.
"No, he's gone out," Mildred answered. Laura stopped, a mixture of relief and frustration at not resolving the situation flooding her.
"Where did he go?" she asked, turning and walking slowly back to Mildred's desk.
"He got a new client this morning. He and Murphy went to go check something out. They said they'd tell you everything as soon as they got back."
"Oh," Laura said, even more frustrated at missing out on a new client and a new case to pursue. "Where's Jenna?"
"In her office, working on that security contract."
"Alright, thanks, Mildred," Laura said, turning and walking toward her office. She entered and closed the door, hanging her blazer on her coat rack and putting her purse the bottom drawer of her desk. She walked over to the newly-added access door and entered Jenna's office.
Jenna sat at the messier of two desks in the room, scribbling a word out of the document in front of her. She looked up as her sister entered.
"Hey, sis," Jenna said, putting down her pen and giving Laura her full attention. "How did the visit with the doctor go?"
"Fine, it went fine. I'm fine," Laura said, eager to avoid the subject. "Jenna, what do you know about the new client?"
"Nothing. I was working on the security contract. You'll have to ask Murphy or Remington about it."
"They're both gone," Laura said in a disappointed tone.
"Good. Then that gives us plenty of time to talk about what the doctor really said and what you're trying to hide," Jenna said frankly, rising from her chair and walking around to the front of her desk. She leaned up against it and crossed her arms.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Laura tried to laugh off Jenna's accusations. She couldn't look her sister in the face. She knew that if she did, the jig would be up.
"Laura, who do you think you're talking to? I know you. "You say you're `fine' without further explanation; you rapidly change the subject; and now you won't look at me. Who do you think you're kidding?" Jenna scolded. "Now what did the doctor really say? I mean, is it serious?" Laura laughed sarcastically.
"Oh, you could definitely say that," she said, dread filling her again. Jenna paled.
"Oh, God, Laura . . ." she whispered. "You aren't . . . you're not, dying, are you?"
"No!" Laura said, shaking her head. "No, nothing like that. I really am okay. The doctor said I just needed to rest some more."
"What did he say is causing your illness?" Jenna pressed. Laura finally looked at her, and gave up.
"He diagnosed it as . . . morning sickness," she said reluctantly. Jenna gasped, her eyes widening.
"Morning sickness? You mean . . . you're pregnant??" Jenna exclaimed, shocked. Laura nodded, sighing heavily. Jenna laughed. "Well, Laura, that's . . . that's wonderful!" Laura closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. Jenna's smile faded at Laura's unexpected expression. "That's . . . not wonderful?"
"Yes . . . no . . . I mean . . . it is . . . it's just that . . . ,"Laura said, searching for the right explanation. "It's not the best timing."
"Why not?" Jenna asked. "And tell me the truth this time. Don't try to hide it. Are you saying that you don't want this baby now?"
"No . . . I do want this baby . . . it's just . . . " Laura trailed off, unable to admit her fears.
"Just what?" Jenna forced Laura's confession.
"Well, I'm not sure that . . . that Remington's ready for this," Laura blurted out.
"What ever gave you that idea? He doesn't even know yet . . . does he?" Jenna inquired, confused.
"No, he doesn't know," Laura confessed. "But last night we talked about having a family. I had just spoken to Frances, and she confirmed my suspicions that I may be experiencing morning sickness. Anyway, I got Remington to talk about starting a family, just to see what he'd think of the idea, in case I was really pregnant. He made it very clear that he doesn't want children right now."
"Only he's going to get one right now, and you're worried that he won't be happy about it," Jenna concluded. Laura nodded. "Laura, that's ridiculous. Remington adores you, and I'm sure he'd adore the thought of you giving him a child. Don't worry about it!"
"I don't know, Jenna," Laura admitted. "It took him so long to make a commitment, and to even think about having a family someday. I don't want him to feel pressured into something he's not ready for. I don't want to make him unhappy."
"With as much love as he obviously has for you, how could he be unhappy about something that would make you happy? I really think you're over-reacting," Jenna said.
"You really think so?" Laura asked hopefully.
"Absolutely," Jenna stated. "Talk to him about it. He has to know, one way or another."
"You're right," Laura responded. She took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm sure he'll love the idea," she said, trying to convince herself as much as Jenna.
"That's the spirit. Oh, and congratulations!" Jenna said, walking over and giving her big sister a hug.
"Thanks," Laura murmured, smiling genuinely for the first time that morning. She released Jenna and moved toward the door. "Well, I suppose I'd better get to work. I have a ton of paperwork to catch up on," Laura said.
"Okay," Jenna replied, walking back to her desk. "I'll finish this contract up and bring it in for you to look over."
"Sounds good," Laura said, opening the door to her office. "See you later." Jenna waved as Laura exited the office and closed the door.
Remington and Murphy exited the elevator and walked down the hall toward apartment 20C. Murphy stood guard as Remington squatted before the door, picking the lock. He rose and turned the knob, motioning Murphy into the apartment. Remington gave a final, cautious glance down both ends of the hallway before entering the apartment and closing the door.
The first sight that greeted them was the white outline of a body, sprawled across the living room floor. A large, red stain tainted the carpet in the middle of the outline. Remington and Murphy exchanged glances of disgust before fanning out to search the room.
"Uell, the police have obviously been through here," Murphy said bitterly. Remington looked up at him questioningly. Murphy ran his finger along the coffee table and showed it to Remington. Remington noted the black fingerprinting powder that covered the top of his index finger.
"Wonder if they were kind enough to leave us anything," Remington mused, circling around the large oak desk and sitting in the massive leather chair. He began searching through the items on the surface, before trying his luck with the contents of the drawers. Murphy picked up a notepad from the coffee table and opened it. The top page was blank, but a faint impression remained. A gold-plated pen inside the notepad slid off the pad and fell to the floor, bouncing under the couch. As Murphy knelt to pick it up, he noticed another glint of gold, hidden under the couch. Murphy pulled the object out, and stared intently at the ladies' gold-link bracelet.
"Well, well," he murmured, standing up and staring at the flat bar in the center of the bracelet. "Looks like the cops did leave us something."
"What's that?" Remington asked, pulling a piece of stationary from the back of a drawer. His eyebrows rose as he contemplated the significance of the letterhead.
"A woman's bracelet, with initials carved on it," Murphy reported, walking over to Remington. He held the bracelet forward so Remington could see the letters. "L.S. That's either his wife, or yours," Murphy joked. Remington smirked.
"I guarantee you, it's not Laura's. I can safely say she wasn't here last night."
"Strong alibi for last night?" Murphy teased.
"That's for me to know and you never to find out," Remington returned jokingly. He held out the stationary for Murphy to see. "Have a look at this." Murphy's eyes widened as he took the paper from Remington.
"`Seldon Imports'?" Murphy read.
"Mm-hm . . . I found it in the back of the drawer. It was nearly stuck behind the drawer, which is probably why the police missed it," Remington said, motioning to the drawer as he spoke.
"`Eleven p.m., 206 Harbor Way'," Murphy read. "That's in the marina, isn't it?"
"I think so. We'll have to check that out. Too bad it isn't dated," Remington said. He noticed the notepad in Murphy's hand. "What's that?"
"Oh," Murphy said, dropping the stationary and bracelet on the desk. "I found this on the coffee table. It looks like there's an impression here. Got a pencil?"
"Uh . . . yes. Here," Remington said, pulling a pencil from the holder on the desk. Murphy set the notepad flat on the desk and gently rubbed the pencil across the paper's surface. The graphite outlined the impressions.
"It's a set of numbers," Murphy said, tossing the pencil onto the counter.
"Hm . . . bank account, perhaps?"
"Maybe," Murphy said, tearing the paper from the notepad. He folded it and stuffed it in his inside jacket pocket.
"Let me check one more thing before we go," Remington said, sliding out of the chair and disappearing behind the desk. Murphy watched in puzzlement, then walked around the desk to see what Remington was doing. He smiled at the sight of Remington, crouched next to an open cabinet, the left side of his face pressed against the metal door of a safe. A twinge of envy passed through Murphy as he observed the ease in which Remington figured out the lock's combination. Remington sat up straight and swung the safe door open. He shuffled through the safe's contents, stopping at a large sheet of paper.
"What do you make of this, Murphy?" he asked, handing the paper up to Murphy as he finished plundering the contents of the safe.
"Stock reports of some kind," Murphy concluded. "Looks like he was buying a lot of stock. There's also a list of names here. I'm afraid I don't know a lot about stock documents."
"Well, we'll let Mildred have a crack at it," Remington grunted as he closed the door and stood up. "Let's get back to the office and see what she's come up with."
"Right," Murphy agreed, picking up the bracelet and stationary from the desk. He and Remington checked the hallway cautiously before exiting the apartment.
Laura lifted her head from her paperwork at the sound of her husband's voice. She felt a wave of nervousness returning from the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and went out to greet her husband.
"We also found this," Remington was telling Mildred as Laura emerged from her office. "It obviously is some kind of stock report, but that's all Murphy and I could deduce from it."
"I'll look it over, Boss," Mildred assured, taking a large sheet of paper from him.
"Well, found evidence for the new case?" Laura asked, approaching her husband. Remington and Murphy turned to her.
"Yes. Quite a bit, actually," Remington replied. "How'd the doctor's appointment go?"
"Fine," Laura replied simply. Remington stared at her questioningly.
"And?" he encouraged. Laura stared at him blankly. "What did he say? I mean, are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm alright. I just need a little more rest," Laura replied. Murphy and Mildred exchanged amused glances.
"Is that it?" Remington pressed. Laura opened her mouth to continue, but was interrupted by Jenna's entrance.
"Here it is," she said, walking up to Laura and handing her a manila folder proudly.
"What?" Laura asked, taking the folder and opening it. "Oh, the contract! Great! Thanks, Jenna."
"No problem," Jenna replied. "Have they filled you in on the new case yet?"
"Not yet, but I'm anxious to hear about it," Laura said, looking at the two men.
"I want to hear about it, too, in case I can help out," Jenna said.
"Well, why don't we g into Steele's office and fill you in, and then Mildred can fill us in on what she's come up with as soon as she's ready?" Murphy suggested.
"Sounds good to me," Jenna said, turning and heading toward Remington's office, followed by Murphy, Laura and Remington. Remington stopped Laura just before his office door.
"Laura, you didn't finish telling me what the doctor said," Remington reminded her.
"It's no big deal. We can talk about it later. Business first," Laura answered, heading for Remington's office. She cursed herself silently for not telling him everything, but her doubts still lingered. She entered the office, refusing to meet her husband's worried and probing stare.
"Alright," Mildred said enthusiastically as she entered Remington's office. "I think I've gotten all the info the computer will give me." She stopped in front of the couch where Laura and Jenna were sitting. Remington and Murphy were sitting opposite each other in the chairs at either end of the couch.
"Well, the ladies have been caught up on our part," Remington said, glancing at Laura and Jenna, "so, the floor is yours, Mildred." He made a sweeping gesture with his left hand.
"Okay," Mildred said, looking briefly at the printouts in her hands. "Let's start with Lisel Seldon. Originally from Budapest, Hungary, she came to America and married Marcus Seldon fourteen years ago. She used to work for her husband's company, but she quit about two years ago. Since then she's been unemployed, but she fills her time with charities and country clubs. She has lunch every day at Bel-Oaks country club, and lately she's been paying for a lot of lunches for two on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
"Her husband said they often have lunch together," Jenna dismissed.
"Only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays," Murphy corrected.
"So who's she eating with on those other days?" Laura added.
"Good question. What else, Mildred?" Remington asked.
"I got the name of the jeweler off that bracelet and called them. The bracelet was definitely Mrs. Seldon's. Mr. Seldon bought it for her two weeks ago. As for
Mr. Seldon . . . owner of Seldon Imports since 1974, but the business didn't really take off until a couple of years ago. It seems to have hit an even keel lately, but his stock's been fluctuating. I have found where he was attempting to buy up Morgan Shipping, but he's nowhere close to a buy-out. But, get this," Mildred said dramatically. "Someone's been buying a lot of Seldon stock. It appeared to be several people at first, but the stock sheet you brought me confirmed the truth. The brokers that have been buying have all been buying for Morgan Industries. And Morgan is close to a buy-out."
"You mean was," Murphy realized. "Pretty good motive for murder, don't you think?"
"There's one other thing," Mildred interjected. "Morgan's been buying stock from private shareholders. Part of that sheet was a list of private shareholders and how much stock they own. That material should have been available only to the high brass at Seldon Industries. There's no way Morgan could have gotten it unless someone from Seldon Industries gave it to him."
"You mean a mole?" Jenna asked. Mildred nodded. "And maybe Seldon found out about it and confronted Morgan. The conversation turned ugly, and Seldon killed him."
"Well, Murphy, it seems our original theory about Mr. Seldon is working out," Remington said, adjusting his position in his chair. "It seems Mr. Seldon had a much better motive for murder than Mrs. Seldon."
"Sounds like it, doesn't it?" Murphy replied.
"Well, Remington and I will visit Seldon Industries and have a private chat with Mr. Seldon. Meanwhile, Murphy, you and Jenna visit Bel-Oaks and find out who Lisel Seldon has been dining with," Laura instructed, rising from the couch. "Mildred, see if you can dig around in the Seldon Industries' employment histories and find our mole."
"Right," Mildred said.
"Why don't we all regroup for lunch at Rodchester's?" Remington suggested. "Say around noon?" Everyone agreed. Mildred went back to the computer as the four investigators left the office.
"So," Remington began loudly as he and Laura sped down the highway in Remington's 1936 Auburn Speedster convertible. "Tell me what the doctor said."
Laura squirmed uneasily, her nervousness returning. She knew she should tell him, but now just didn't seem the time. Not in the middle of a case.
"He just said I needed to take it easy for a while," Laura told him.
"And the stomach trouble? Are you telling me that's from exhaustion?"
"Well, he did say that it may have been aggravated by all the travelling I've done in the past month. Jet lag and all," Laura replied, feeling guilty for not revealing the whole truth.
"Did he prescribe anything?" Remington asked, glancing briefly to Laura before returning his eyes to the road.
"Just plenty of rest," Laura answered.
"Well, I suppose I'm partly to blame, but don't worry . . . I'll let you get more sleep from now on," Remington said. Laura looked at him, eyebrows raised.
"You mean you're not going to tempt me into any more romantic interludes?" she asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Remington smirked.
"Don't be ridiculous, Laura. You know me better than that. We'll just go to bed earlier, that's all," he replied casually, turning into the parking lot of Seldon Imports. Laura laughed as he parked the Auburn and switched off the engine.
"Shall we?" he asked, getting out of the car. Laura followed, falling into step with Remington as he buttoned his jacket and put his hand gently against her back. He opened the door for his wife, then followed her inside.
The interior of the office building was decorated in a modern style, with black marble floors and columns. Elevators on the left pinged their arrival, and an octagonal desk sat in the center of the spacious room. A tall man stood at the desk, chatting with the young secretary. He appeared to be in his late thirties. He wore a three-piece suit similar to Mr. Seldon's, but his mannerisms made him appear far more personable. Remington and Laura approached the desk.
"Good morning. Sorry to interrupt," Remington said to the secretary. We're here to see Mr. Seldon."
"Mr. Seldon's not in, but perhaps I can be of assistance," the man said, extending his hand. "Jack Parsons. I'm Mr. Seldon's associate."
"Remington Steele," Remington returned, taking Jack's hand and shaking it briefly. He gestured to Laura. "This is my associate, Laura Steele." Laura and Jack exchanged greetings. "It's imperative that we speak with Mr. Seldon. When do you expect him to return?"
"Well, I don't know if he's coming back. He had to hurry home for something. However, I know Mr. Seldon and this business very well. I may be able to help you."
"Did you know Gerald Morgan?" Laura asked. She noted the uneasy expression that crossed Jack's face.
"Why don't we go upstairs to my office where we can discuss this privately. Shall we?" Jack suggested, pointing toward the elevators. Remington and Laura followed him up to his office.
"Please, have a seat," Jack said pleasantly as they entered the large office. Remington and Laura sat in the plush chairs in front of Jack's desk.
"Now, what is it you came here to find out, Mr. Steele?" Jack asked, sitting behind his desk in his high-backed leather chair.
"Well, Mr. Parsons . . . " Remington began.
"Jack. Please, call me Jack."
"Alright . . . Jack," Remington revised. "We needed to speak to Mr. Seldon about his business association with Gerald Morgan."
"May I ask who hired you?" Jack inquired.
"I'm afraid that's confidential information," Remington said in a businesslike manner. Jack nodded in understanding.
"Of course," he said in a disappointed tone. "Well, as I said, I'll help you if I can."
"How long have you know Mr. Seldon?" Laura asked.
"I've known the Seldons for twelve years. They're good people," Jack answered.
"Did you have any association with Gerald Morgan?" Laura asked. She noticed his uneasiness again.
"I've dealt with him a few times, but not one-on-one," Jack admitted. "He and Marcus don't . . . I mean, didn't . . . get along very well. I often had to play peacemaker in the meetings."
"So you know about the animosity between Mr. Seldon and Mr. Morgan?" Remington asked.
"Yes. I've been witnessing it for twelve years."
"We've been told that Mr. Seldon didn't approve of Mr. Morgan's business tactics," Remington said. Jack laughed.
"That's quite an understatement, Mr. Steele," Jack replied. "Marcus detested Gerald Morgan--professionally and personally."
"Personally? You mean he hated Mr. Morgan for some reason other than a professional one?" Laura asked, intrigued.
"Yes, because of his wife," Jack answered. Laura and Remington stared at him curiously. "You didn't know about Lisel and Gerald?"
"Lisel and Gerald?!" Remington and Laura asked in unison.
"You mean Mr. Seldon's wife is involved with Mr. Morgan?" Remington asked.
"Was involved. A long time ago," Jack clarified. "Fourteen years ago, to be exact."
"Fourteen years ago? Isn't that around the time she came here and married Marcus Seldon?" Laura asked.
"Yes. You see, she and Gerald met in Budapest when Gerald was on a business trip. She fell madly in love with him, and when he returned to the States, she followed him. While searching for Gerald, she and Marcus became friends. She eventually found Gerald, but he told her he didn't want a commitment--or anything--from her. She was devastated. She had given up everything to be with Gerald, and he turned her away. So, she ended up marrying Marcus. A lot of people thought it was her way of revenge--to make Gerald jealous. But I really believe that she loves Marcus."
"So she got over Gerald, but Mr. Seldon still hates him for hurting her in the first place?" Remington deduced.
"Actually, I'm not so sure that she ever really got over Gerald. I have seen them together once or twice. Apparently, she kept a friendship with him. Only she always made me promise never to tell Marcus. I figured it was because she knew how much Marcus hated Gerald. I suppose there could have been more to it than just that."
"You mean they may have rekindled the romance?" Laura asked.
"I don't know, but if they did, Lisel was setting herself up for another fall. I heard Gerald and Marcus arguing once, and Gerald made it clear that he had no interest in ever marrying Lisel. But I wouldn't think it beneath him if he had an affair with her just to spite Marcus."
"But what if Lisel didn't know that," Laura said, turning to Remington.
"And what if Morgan told her recently that he wouldn't marry her," Remington added.
"As recently as last night," Laura concluded their suspicions.
"Wait . . . you don't suspect Lisel of killing Gerald, do you?" Jack asked, sitting up straight in his chair, a look of concern on his face.
"Do you think she had a reason to?" Remington asked.
"No! Well, I mean, I suppose you would think . . . but that was a long time ago. Lisel couldn't hurt anyone," Jack protested.
"What about her husband?" Laura asked. Jack sighed heavily.
"I've known the Seldons for years. I just don't think either of them would be capable of committing murder, no matter how much of a motive Gerald Morgan gave them," he said calmly. Remington and Laura looked at each other, silently agreeing to stop pressing the subject.
"One other thing, Mr. Par . . . uh, Jack," Remington said. "Did you know anything about a buy-out?"
"You mean the one Marcus is attempting on Morgan Industries? Yes, I know about it. You forget--I am his partner," Jack answered.
"Did you know Morgan was planning to buy out Seldon Imports?" Remington challenged.
"What?" Jack laughed. "That's ridiculous. We could swallow him up."
"Are you sure? Morgan owns a great deal of Seldon stock," Laura pointed out.
"Positive. He doesn't own enough--he couldn't. Besides, not to be cruel, but now that he's dead, he's no threat to us."
"Exactly, Mr. Parsons," Remington said. He stood up, with Laura following his lead. "Well, thank you for your assistance, and if Mr. Seldon happens to come in, please tell him that I'm anxious to speak with him."
"I'll give him the message," Jack responded, standing up and walking the detectives to the door. "Good luck with your investigation, and let me know if I can help you further." He shook Remington's and Laura's hands before holding the door open for them as they exited.
Once they were safely in the elevator, Remington turned to Laura.
"What do you think?" he asked her.
"Well," Laura began, crossing her arms, "I think Mr. Seldon has a very strong motive, but I'm beginning to suspect Mrs. Seldon as well."
"You think maybe he rejected her a second time?"
"And she was so hurt by him again that she murdered him in a rage?" Laura finished. "Maybe. We know she was in his apartment, possibly last night."
"Well, Mr. Seldon said we could speak with his wife this evening, and he left his address with Mildred. I suggest we confront both of them and see what happens."
"Good idea," Laura said as the elevator doors opened. "What's next?" she asked as they walked toward the front door.
"Lunch," Remington answered brightly, holding the door open as Laura walked through, shaking her head in mock frustration.
"Ah, Murphy, Jenna," Remington called out as he and Laura approached them at a back table on the patio café of Rodchester's. Murphy and Jenna sat back in their seats, breaking their intimate conversation, but still gently holding hands. "Where's Mildred?"
"I just called her. She said she'd be here soon," Jenna answered. Remington held Laura's chair as she sat down, then gently pushed it in for her before sitting in the chair next to her. He and Laura picked up their menus and began scanning them.
"I'm starved," Laura said. Remington smiled at her.
"Feeling better then, eh?" he asked hopefully.
"Much. I told you I'm okay," Laura answered. She studied her menu intently, afraid to meet Jenna's questioning stare.
"Any luck at Bel-Oaks?" Remington asked.
"Oh, yeah," Murphy answered, grinning. "You're never going to believe who Mrs. Seldon's been dining with for the past several weeks."
"Who?" Laura asked. Murphy paused dramatically.
"Gerald Morgan," he said finally. Laura looked at Remington, pursing her lips in satisfaction.
"Well, well," she said to him.
"Amazing coincidence, eh?" Remington responded, his tone indicating that he thought it was anything but.
"You mean you knew about Mrs. Seldon and Morgan?" Murphy asked, puzzled. Remington nodded.
"It seems that they were once star-crossed lovers, but he abandoned her, and she married Seldon on the rebound," Remington explained.
"Only rumor has it that a few sparks remained, and he may have turned her away again," Laura finished.
"Where'd you get all this?" Jenna asked.
"From Jack Parsons, Mr. Seldon's business partner. We spent the morning talking to him," Remington said. He looked up as the waiter approached. "Ah, my good man, I believe we're ready to order," he said to the waiter. They each read off their orders, concluding with Remington's.
"Oh, and a bottle of Dom Perignon '76," Remington finished, collecting the menus and handing them to the waiter.
"I'll just have water, please," Laura said. Remington stared at her curiously.
"You sure?" he asked. Laura nodded. "Why? I mean, would you prefer something else?"
"No . . . I just don't want alcohol right now. I'm . . . not in the mood to drink it. And I don't want it to upset my stomach," Laura excused in a rush. She caught a glance of Jenna's disapproving stare.
"Alright. Whatever you want, love," Remington said, nodding the waiter away.
"Well, I need to wash my hands before we eat. Laura, I think you should, too. Wouldn't want you eating any germs to upset your stomach. Come on," Jenna ordered, rising from the table.
"I really don't think I need to wash my hands, Jenna. Can't you go without me?" Laura protesting, knowing she was in for a lecture.
"You know women always have to go to the bathroom in pairs," Murphy joked.
"Hilarious, you chauvinist," Jenna said sarcastically, pulling her sister by the wrist. Laura followed Jenna helplessly to the bathroom.
"You haven't told him, have you?" Jenna accused as soon as she and Laura entered the bathroom.
"I haven't had a chance yet, Jenna," Laura lied.
"You've been riding around in a car with him for the past couple of hours. Are you telling me the opportunity never came up?" Jenna challenged.
"Aren't you going to wash your hands?" Laura evaded, dodging past Jenna and heading for the nearest sink.
"Don't try to change the subject, Laura," Jenna ordered. Laura sighed as she turned on the water.
"Sitting in a car driving down the freeway is not the appropriate setting for telling your husband that he's going to be a father," Laura argued, soaping up her hands.
"Well, you have to tell him soon. He has a right to know. Why not tell him now, over lunch?"
"I don't want to tell him in public. I'm not going to be responsible for causing a scene," Laura insisted, scrubbing her hands.
"You're still afraid he'll get upset, aren't you?" Jenna asked, her tone softening. She leaned up against the counter next to Laura. Laura stopped for a moment, sighed, and turned the water off. She walked over to the dryer on the wall and pushed the button.
"Yes," Laura said simply.
"Don't you think he'll be more upset to find out that you've been lying to him all morning?" Jenna pointed out. "Don't you think that it will hurt him more to think that you're doubting his love?" Laura snapped her head toward Jenna.
"I don't doubt his love. I know he loves me. I could never doubt that!" Laura said defensively.
"No? You doubt that he loves you enough to want to father your child. You doubt that he loves you enough to understand how important this is to you, or how much you want this baby, now as much as any time," Jenna argued. Laura's face filled with shock and pain.
"That isn't true, Jenna," Laura said, dropping her hands to her sides as the dryer went off.
"Well, that's how you're acting. Pretty ridiculous, huh?" Jenna countered, walking over to the sink and washing her hands. Laura stared at her for a moment, her mind spinning from Jenna's accusations. She smiled slightly and hung her head.
"You're right," Laura said, looking up again at Jenna. "I'll tell him the next chance I get. Privately, of course. I still don't think a public place is suitable." Jenna smiled triumphantly as she shut the water off and used the dryer Laura had just finished with.
"I knew I could talk some sense into you," she said, rubbing her hands vigorously under the hot air.
"Yeah," Laura said sarcastically. "I'll remember that when you and Murphy get married and you have trouble telling him you're pregnant."
"Oh, please . . . as if," Jenna said distastefully, exiting the bathroom with Laura.
"As if what? Are you saying you aren't going to marry Murphy, or you aren't going to get pregnant?" Laura asked as they made their way back to the patio.
"Marriage I have no trouble with. Kids? No way. I'll leave the rugrats to you and Frances," Jenna replied. Laura laughed.
"I'll remind you of that after you've had your third," she teased.
"Ugh! Please, I'm about to eat," Jenna said disgustedly as they arrived at their table.
"Please what?" Murphy asked as the two women sat down.
"Nothing. Just girl talk," Jenna replied. Laura flashed her a wicked grin as she reached for her glass of water. She smiled as she noticed Mildred, now sitting opposite her.
"Hello, Mildred. When did you get here?" Laura asked, setting her glass down.
"Right as you were going into the restroom. I saw Jenna dragging you in there," Mildred replied.
"Have you ordered yet?" Laura asked.
"Just did," Mildred answered. "I was just about to tell the guys about the info I found on the computer."
"Something about the stationary. Go on, Mildred," Remington said.
"Well, I checked out that address. It's a dock in the marina. One used by Seldon Imports. A ship docked there two days ago, at around eleven p.m."
"That's the time that was listed on the paper," Murphy said. "Why would a ship owned by Seldon be of any interest to Morgan?"
"And why that particular ship? I'm sure an import company has at least dozens of ships," Jenna added.
"This must be one of their smaller ships. Those docks aren't very big. The biggest ships are usually cabin cruisers or small yachts. No freighter could use that dock," Mildred informed them.
"Did you happen to find out the name of the ship that came in two nights ago?" Laura asked.
"Yep. It was the Notorious," Mildred said. Remington chuckled.
"Maybe he's a fan of Ingrid Bergman," he said. He glanced around the table at the puzzled looks. "Notorious. Ingrid Bergman, Cary Grant, RKO, 1946. Ingrid infiltrates a group of Nazis with the help of the man she loves, played by Cary Grant."
"One of his favorites," Laura remarked, flashing a sour glance to Remington.
"Yeah, well, Lisel Seldon doesn't sound like an equivalent of Ingrid Bergman," Murphy returned, "and I doubt Mr. Seldon is a Nazi. He's too much of a capitalist pig businessman, wouldn't you say?"
"Well, it was only a movie," Remington shrugged. "Ah, I believe our lunch is here," he remarked as the waiter approached. The conversation ended as the dining began.
"Mildred, can you dig up that address on Marcus Seldon?" Remington asked as the group entered the office after lunch. "I think it's about time we had a talk with him."
"While she's digging, why don't we go into your office. I need to talk to you, alone. It's very important," Laura said, wrapping her hand around Remington's elbow.
"Oh . . . alright," Remington replied, staring at Laura curiously. Laura glanced to Jenna, who gave her a quick thumb's-up. Laura smiled in understanding as she pulled Remington into his office and closed the door. Laura stood near the door for a moment, trying desperately to calm her nerves.
"Laura? What is it?" Remington asked in concern, observing the dramatic change in Laura's cheerful attitude.
"I think we should sit down," Laura said, moving toward the couch.
"Why? Is something wrong?" Remington asked, following Laura closely.
"Nothing's wrong. Just sit," Laura ordered, pulling Remington down into the chair next to her before sitting on the end of the couch. She pulled her purse from her shoulder and placed it beside her on the couch. Remington leaned back in his seat, his right index finger across his lips, studying his wife intently for a clue to what she was trying to tell him.
Laura sat sideways, facing Remington. She stared into her lap, trying to discern the best way to break the news. She took a deep breath and looked up at Remington.
"I haven't been completely honest with you today, because I was waiting for the right time to tell you this," Laura began cautiously.
"Honest about what?" Remington inquired, his curiosity building into anxiety.
"About . . . everything the doctor said this morning," Laura admitted reluctantly. Remington paled.
"You mean . . . you're not alright? Oh, God, Laura. It's not serious, is it? You're not . . . " his voice trailed off, his mouth unable to form the words that verbalized his worst fear.
"No, I'm not," Laura answered, understanding the cause of Remington's panic. "I meant what I said about being okay. The doctor said I'm in excellent health."
"Excellent health? You've been sick every morning. How could you be in excellent health?"
"That's what I'm trying to explain," Laura said, wringing her hands. She looked down at her hands, realized what she was doing, and forced herself to stop. Knowing that she wasn't making much progress, she decided to try another approach.
"Remember what we talked about last night?" Laura asked. Remington smiled wickedly.
"We didn't do much talking last night," he said coyly. Laura smacked him on the knee in frustration.
"I meant before that," she said sourly, secretly glad for the slight relief of tension.
"Oh, of course," Remington said. "Well, I remember you talked to your sister for an hour, and then we talked about ways to make perfect children."
"Right. You said you wanted a family someday . . . further down the road," Laura reminded him.
"Yes. Laura, what has this got to do with . . . " Remington's voice trailed off as realization seeped into his features. He stared at Laura, wide-eyed. "Laura?"
"I'm pregnant," she confirmed softly, trembling with nervousness. Remington's stare widened, and his breath became labored with shock. He moved his mouth to speak, but the sounds came with great difficulty.
"Y . . . y . . . you're . . . p . . . pregnant?" he stammered, his face filled with shock. Laura tried to read Remington's reaction beneath the surprise, but his face gave away nothing.
"How could you be . . . I mean, I thought you were . . . " he stuttered. Laura nodded, understanding what he was trying to ask.
"I was, but I missed taking it one day . . . in London. It's not supposed to make much difference, but I guess in this case, it did."
"You mean . . . it happened in Ireland?" Remington asked, slowly recovering from his speech impediment.
"Yes . . . six weeks ago," Laura answered calmly, trying to hide her fear of Remington's reaction.
Remington fell back in his chair, staring into space. He shook his head, the shock still perforating him. He stood up and began pacing. Laura swallowed hard, sensing that he wasn't taking it well.
"I know it's a shock, and maybe it is a bit early, but we can get through this. It won't be that bad," Laura consoled in a rush. Remington focused on her.
"Won't be that bad?" he asked incredulously.
"Please, don't be upset," Laura begged, the fear twisting her stomach.
"Upset?" Remington repeated.
"I realize that you may not be ready for this, but we don't have much choice. We can find a way to make the best of this. I really think this could make us very happy, and I know you'll make a wonderful father. Just think about it for a while, and don't be angry or upset," Laura rambled.
"Laura," Remington cried. "I'm not angry. I'm . . . I'm . . . ecstatic!"
"I know you are, but I . . . you're what?" Laura stopped as Remington's words sunk in through her panic.
"I'm ecstatic!" Remington repeated, walking over to the couch and standing before Laura.
"You are?" she asked, amazed by his drastic change.
"Of course! I mean, yes, it's a shock, and I'm not completely certain I'm ready for it but . . . I'm happy. I'm really happy. I mean, the wife I love more than anything else in the world is pregnant with my child. Of course I'm happy!" Remington cried.
Laura stood up, grinning broadly as relief flowed through her. Remington pulled her into a strong embrace, holding her tightly as their laughter filled the office. Laura's eyes moistened with joy as Remington squeezed her tighter.
"Oh, sorry," Remington said, believing that he was squeezing too hard. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, glancing to Laura's abdomen.
"No, I'm fine. We're fine," Laura said, smiling brightly.
"Did you really think I'd be angry?" Remington asked, a hint of disappointment clouding his eyes.
"Well, after our conversation last night, I wasn't sure how you'd take having a child now," Laura explained.
"You mean you knew last night that you were pregnant?"
"No, but I suspected that I could be. Especially after Frances told me she went through the same kind of morning sickness. But I didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure."
"So all that talk about me wanting a family was a test to see how I'd react to the news," Remington hypothesized.
"Well, yes, in a way," Laura replied. "I thought about mentioning to you that I might be pregnant, but after you said that you didn't want to start a family yet . . . "
"Oh, Laura," Remington said sympathetically, taking her face delicately in his hands. "I must have terrified you with all that talk about `someday'."
"It did make me a little nervous," Laura admitted.
"Well, I must admit, even though the thought of becoming a father scares me a bit, I've thought about it before . . . a great deal."
"Really?" Laura asked hopefully.
"Well, I'm not certain how good a father I'll be, but with you, I'm willing to try. So don't worry. I'm not upset. Far from it," Remington said, smiling. He stared into Laura's eyes, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "I love you, Laura, no matter what happens, and no matter when it happens." Laura laughed, wrapping her hands around his wrists. Remington leaned forward, kissing her tenderly.
"I can't believe you're taking this so well," Laura whispered as they parted.
"I can't believe you're really pregnant," Remington said. They laughed again.
"Well, you'll believe it soon enough, when I look like a whale," Laura joked.
"Yes, I suppose seeing you with a swollen stomach should remind me," Remington replied, looking down at Laura's stomach. He moved his hand to her mid-section.
"No," Laura corrected, moving his hand down to her abdomen. "It's in there." She delighted in his joyous grin, and her remaining nervousness gave way to a warm contentment that spread through her from his touch. Suddenly, Laura noticed Remington's smile fading.
"What is it?" she asked with concern.
"Aren't I supposed to feel it kicking or something?" he asked worriedly. Laura smiled.
"Not yet," she said, nearly laughing at the childish manner in which Remington's face fell. "I'm only about six weeks along."
"Six weeks, eh?" Remington asked, dropping his hand from her abdomen. He paused, then smiled gently. "Ireland," he murmured, his eyes softening at the memory of their first night together. "Do you think maybe it happened . . . you
know . . .on that first night?" Laura smiled as she pondered his suggestion.
"Maybe. I mean, if it didn't happen that night, I don't think that I ever could. We didn't exactly sleep much that night."
"No, we didn't, did we?" Remington replied, pulling Laura into his arms. "Is there any way to tell when it happened?"
"Yes. I'm supposed to go back next week. The doctor will calculate when it happened, and give us a due date."
"Would you mind if I went with you?" Remington asked.
"To the doctors?" Laura asked. Remington nodded. "No, I don't mind. In fact, I want you to come."
"Then, Mrs. Steele, wild horses couldn't keep me away," Remington said dramatically. Laura laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pulled him into a passionate kiss, revelling in the tenderness and warmth that flowed from his lips. She leaned in further as she felt his arms circling her waist and his right hand sliding gently up her back.
"I've got that address," Mildred exclaimed, bursting into the office, carrying a manila folder. Laura and Remington broke their kiss as Mildred looked up at them and grimaced apologetically. "Oops . . . sorry. Guess I should have buzzed."
"It's alright, Mildred," Remington said turning toward her but keeping his left arm securely around Laura's waist. They smiled knowingly at each other.
"Well, you two look like the cat that swallowed the canary," Mildred chuckled, her eyebrows raised as she observed their joyous expressions. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"No, no, not at all," Remington dismissed. "My wife has just given me a piece of wonderful news, that's all."
"This wonderful news wouldn't be related to the big secret that Murphy's been trying to squeeze out of Jenna, would it?" Mildred asked.
"What secret?" Remington inquired, staring from Mildred to Laura questioningly.
"Murphy was trying to get her to say what's going on between her and Laura," Mildred explained, "but all she would say was that you will tell us when you're ready."
"Jenna already knows?" Remington asked, a twinge of hurt in his voice.
"She dragged it out of me," Laura protested. "She forced me to tell her my diagnosis, and she figured it out from there." Remington nodded.
"Well," he said brightly. "Do you think we should tell Mildred and Murphy?"
"I think so," Laura answered. "I suppose we'd better before Jenna and Murphy have it out with each other."
"Mildred, will you invite them in? Tell them we have an important announcement to make," Remington said.
"Right," Mildred said excitedly, hurrying from the room to fetch Murphy and Jenna. Remington quickly pulled Laura into a final kiss before Murphy, Jenna and Mildred entered the room.
"Come in, come in," Remington said, releasing Laura as he gestured the trio into the room. He walked over to them, guiding them to the seats near Laura. "Laura has something to tell you. Well, at least two of you," he said, staring pointedly at Jenna.
"Finally, I get to find out what the hell's going on around here," Murphy complained in mock grouchiness.
"Poor baby," Jenna said sarcastically. She glanced at Remington's overjoyed expression, then grinned at Laura.
"Told you so," she teased. Laura grimaced at her, but couldn't keep he smile from surfacing.
"So what's the big announcement?" Murphy asked, making himself comfortable on the couch. Mildred said in the chair by the far end of the couch, and Jenna sat down next to Murphy.
"Do you want to tell them, or may I?" Remington asked, moving back to Laura's side.
"You can," Laura said, smiling at her husband's giddiness.
"Alright. Well, how should I say this?" Remington pondered aloud, rubbing his hands together vigorously.
"How 'bout just saying it, Steele?" Murphy said in mock annoyance. Jenna bit her lower lip to keep from laughing aloud as she exchanged glances of amusement with Laura.
"Yeah, what is it, Boss?" Mildred asked. Remington looked to Laura, who raised her eyebrows in expectancy. He grinned and looked to Murphy and Mildred.
"Laura's pregnant," he blurted out. The office was silent for a few seconds, but the silence was instantly ceased by the cries of joy and congratulations, followed by numerous hugs and handshakes.
"You as a father. That's something I never thought I'd see. Unbelievable," Murphy teased, shaking Remington's hand.
"You have no idea, Murphy," Remington agreed in jest.
"Oh, I'm so excited! I'm going to be an aunt!" Mildred exclaimed, hugging Laura again.
"Hey, I'm going to be the aunt," Jenna teased.
"Well, Mildred's going to be the . . . adopted aunt," Laura said, keeping an arm around Mildred's shoulders. Jenna smiled.
"Sounds like a perfect arrangement to me," Jenna said.
"So when's our niece or nephew due?" Mildred asked.
"Well, we're not sure of an exact date," Laura replied. "I go back to the doctor next week, and I'll find out then. BUT, right now we have a case to pursue."
"Ever the intrepid detective," Remington teased Laura. "Alright. Mildred, you said you had that address."
"Oh! Yeah, right here," Mildred answered, pulling a piece of paper out of the manila folder she was still holding. She handed the paper to Remington as everyone sat down again.
"No phone number?" Remington asked, looking at the paper.
"Uhn-uh. He said he'd call you when he was ready to meet with you."
"Well, should we be polite and wait for his call, or should we make a surprise visit?" Remington inquired, turning to Laura.
"I think, given the circumstances, we should see Mr. Seldon as soon as . . . " Laura was cut off by the telephone ringing. Mildred got up and walked over to Remington's desk to answer it.
"Remington Steele Investigations," she said. "Yes, sir, one moment please." Mildred punched the hold button on the phone and held the receiver out.
"It's for you, Boss. It's Mr. Seldon."
Remington rose and took the phone from Mildred, releasing the hold button.
"Steele here," he said. "Yes, Mr. Seldon, we were just discussing your case. What's that? Really? Are you sure? I see. I understand. My associate and I will be there shortly. Alright. Goodbye, Mr. Seldon." Remington hung up the phone, a look of puzzlement on his face. "Mr. Seldon wants to see us right away. Says he knows who's responsible for Gerald Morgan's death. He says he's been betrayed by someone he trusted implicitly."
"You mean Mrs. Seldon?" Laura asked.
"He didn't say," Remington answered.
"Well, then, let's go find out," Laura answered, rising from the couch and grabbing her purse. Remington nodded and followed Laura out of his office.
"We'll let you know what we find," he called to the others as he hurried to catch up with his wife's determined stride.
Remington and Laura stepped out of the sleek, black limousine and walked up the steps of the plantation-style house. Remington rang the doorbell and buttoned his jacket as Laura straightened her blazer. After a moment of silence, Remington rang the doorbell again.
"Are you sure he said to meet him here?" Laura questioned.
"Positive. He said it was extremely urgent, so he shouldn't have left," Remington answered. He looked at the door knob, and reached for it cautiously. He turned the knob slowly, and was surprised to hear it click open. He looked at Laura, who shrugged. Remington slowly pushed the door open, and the duo crept inside.
"Mr. Seldon? Mr. Seldon," Remington called as he and Laura walked slowly through the foyer. They looked around at the expensive decorations, searching for a hint that anything seemed out of place.
"Mr. Seldon seems to have done quite well for himself," Laura commented.
"Mm, not according to Mildred. His business has been slipping lately, and I know Morgan's buy-out attempt hasn't helped matters."
"I wonder who he thinks killed Morgan. You think maybe he found out about Mrs. Seldon and Morgan rekindling their friendship?" Laura proposed as they approached the living room.
"Or adding a bit more fuel to the fire," Remington noted. "Well, I guess we won't find out right now. So much for his urgency," Remington added, looking into the living room.
"Perhaps the matter was more urgent than we thought," Laura said, gripping Remington's arm as she stared intently at the living room floor. Remington turned his gaze to where Laura was pointing, and saw a well-polished shoe peeking out from behind the couch. Remington and Laura hurried into the living room, and found Mr. Seldon lying face-down on the carpet, a pool of blood forming from underneath him, and a gun next to his head.
Remington and Laura paced around the foyer next to the main staircase as they watched the crime scene unit of LAPD scurrying about in the living room. After being grilled for twenty minutes by the officer in charge of taking their statements, both Remington and Laura were well frustrated with the system. They knew they were in for more frustration when Detective Jim Jarvis sauntered over to them.
"Well, it looks like we've got Mrs. Seldon dead-to-rights this time," Jarvis commented almost gleefully.
"How can you be so certain that Mrs. Seldon did this?" Laura protested defiantly, despite the fact that she feared he was right.
"Well, for starters, the gun is registered in her name," Jarvis answered.
"That doesn't prove that she pulled the trigger," Laura argued.
"This is her house, and there was no forced entry," Jarvis returned.
"The door was unlocked when we got here. Maybe they don't lock their doors," Remington pointed out.
"In Los Angeles? I know that this is a good neighborhood, but that's arrogant thinking in this city," Jarvis countered.
"Maybe Mr. Seldon knew his killer and let the killer in," Remington said.
"That's an awful lot of defense from you two for a possible double-murderess. Is there something you two know about this case that you're not telling?" Jarvis inquired, his hands on his hips. "If so, you'd better start talking."
"Or what?" Laura sneered.
"Or I take you both in," Jarvis threatened.
"On what charges?" Remington protested.
"Why don't we start with obstruction of justice?" Jarvis said nastily.
"And why don't we end with client privilege of anonymity. Come on,
Jarvis, you know you can't force us to give you any details about our case," Laura countered.
"Wanna bet?" Jarvis said angrily.
"Alright, alright. Everybody calm down. This isn't getting us anywhere," Remington said. "Look, Jarvis, we're as much in the dark about who's responsible for this as you are. Maybe if we got a little cooperation from you, we might be able to help you out."
"I don't need your help. As far as I'm concerned, I'm going to arrest Mrs. Seldon for a double-murder," Jarvis answered.
"How do you know that she killed Morgan, too?" Laura asked. "All you have is one witness that placed her at the scene sometime that day."
"That, and the fact that the gun we found here is of the same caliber as the one that killed Morgan. I'm going to have ballistics do a rush, but I have a feeling that I'll get a match," Jarvis bragged.
"We'll see, Detective," Laura said, unable to counter his argument. "May we go now?"
"Sure, but don't take any unexpected trips. As far as I'm concerned, you two are material witnesses," Jarvis warned. Laura glared at Jarvis. She opened her mouth to protest, but Remington pulled her toward the front door.
"We'll be around," Remington said as he pulled his wife out the door. The walked down the driveway toward the limo, where Fred, the chauffeur, stood waiting for their return.
"Well, things aren't looking too good for Mrs. Seldon, are they?" Remington noted as he walked briskly beside Laura.
"Maybe, but I don't think she did this. What reason would she have for killing her husband? And why would she leave such an incriminating piece of evidence as the gun at the scene? It doesn't make sense," Laura answered, stalking toward the limo.
"Well, we'll go back to the office and fill everyone in on what's happened, and you can rest a bit," Remington said.
"Why? I'm fine. I don't need to rest. I need to find out what the hell's going on around here," Laura said, climbing into the limo as Fred held the door open for them.
"We'll find out what's going on, but I really think you need to calm down and rest a bit. I don't think you should get so excited in your delicate condition," Remington explained, climbing into the limo after Laura. Fred closed the door and walked around to the driver's door, climbing in.
"My condition isn't that delicate. Don't worry about me. I can still work. I'm okay," Laura said, annoyed.
"Humor me," Remington pushed. Laura shot him a look of frustration.
"Are you going to baby me like this for the next seven-and-a-half months?" she asked. He smiled.
"Absolutely," he answered.
"That doesn't bode well for either of our blood pressures," Laura commented dryly.
"The office, Fred," Remington called. He leaned back as the limo started forward, refusing to pursue the conversation further, much to Laura's annoyance. Finally giving in, she laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, trying to calm her frayed nerves. A smile snuck to her lips as she felt her husband's warm hand settling softly over hers as the limo sped back to the office.
Remington opened the door to their apartment, pulling the key from the lock. He held the door open for Laura, then closed it behind her. Remington threw his keys on the cabinet next to the front door. He pulled off his overcoat and jacket as he followed Laura to the bedroom.
As he entered the bedroom, Remington observed his wife hurriedly shedding her blazer and unbuttoning her blouse as she threw open her closet. She pulled a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt from the closet and tossed them onto the bed. Laura looked up and noticed Remington staring at her with a slightly amused expression.
"What?" she asked as she pulled off her blouse in an agitated manor.
"You alright?" he asked, undoing his tie and pulling it off as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.
"Fine. I just have to get out of these clothes," Laura explained heatedly, slipping out of her skirt.
"Oh, well," Remington said in mock boldness, sauntering up to Laura. "Why didn't you say so? May I . . . offer my assistance?" he asked seductively, taking Laura into his arms. She laughed, placing her hands against his chest.
"I think I can manage, thank you," Laura replied, giggling. Remington moved his eyes down Laura's slender figure, admiring her.
"Are you sure? I mean, in your delicate condition, you really shouldn't over-exert yourself," he commented, trying to sound serious.
"Oh, and making love wouldn't make me `over-exert' myself?" Laura pointed out. Remington's face fell.
"True. I guess it would be a bit dangerous for you now," Remington said. Laura smiled.
"No, it isn't," she assured him. He looked at her questioningly. "I knew you'd wonder about that, so I asked the doctor if it would be okay. He said it's perfectly fine, so long as we aren't too . . . exuberant."
"So the doctor said it was alright, eh?"
"He said it was fine. But we couldn't make love after my water broke," Laura replied. Remington grimaced.
"I love you, darling, but even I wouldn't go that far," he said in a disgusted voice. Laura laughed.
"I hope not," she answered, still laughing at her husband's expression. "So, can I finish getting dressed now?"
"Mm . . . I suppose, if you must," Remington replied.
"Thank you," Laura answered. Remington pulled her into a warm kiss before finally releasing her.
"I'll go start dinner," Remington said, giving Laura one last, loving look before leaving her to change clothes.
Laura wandered into the kitchen, breathing in the aromas that filled the room. She watched her husband as he darted back and forth between the stove-top and the oven.
"Mmm . . . smells wonderful in here," Laura said. Remington looked up and grinned. "What are we having?"
"Italian chicken with fettucini and a Caesar's salad," Remington reported.
"Italian theme tonight, huh?" Laura asked, walking up to the counter and snatching a crouton from the salad bowl.
"Well, it's pretty easy to cook, and it's healthy and nutritious--which is just what you need," Remington replied, stirring the fettucini carefully.
"Still babying me?" Laura asked playfully, snatching another crouton.
"Absolutely," Remington answered, walking over and tapping Laura's hand away before she could snatch a third crouton. "Besides, I'm babying for two now," he added with a wicked grin. Laura pushed him playfully. Remington kissed Laura's forehead before grabbing a pot holder and re-basting the chicken.
"Anything I can help with?" Laura asked.
"No, I don't think so, unless you want to carry the salad to the table--without eating the croutons," Remington scolded. Laura returned a snide look before toting the large bowl to the pre-set dining room table. She returned as Remington began draining the noodles.
"Almost ready," he informed her.
"Even the chicken?" Laura asked.
"Yep. I put it on time-cook before we left this morning so it would be ready by now," Remington explained. He poured the noodles into a serving bowl and handed it to Laura.
"Careful, it's hot," he warned. Laura carried the bowl into the dining room as Remington retrieved the chicken. Laura sat at the end of the glass table, awaiting her husband. Remington finally emerged, carrying the steaming pan of chicken. He set it down on a mat and sat opposite Laura.
"I was going to serve wine with the meal, but I don't think that would be wise," Remington said, looking pointedly at Laura.
"Well, you can have some. Just because I can't drink any doesn't mean you have to deprive yourself. I'll just drink some ice-water," Laura replied.
"Actually, ice-water sounds perfect. I'll get us both a glass," Remington replied, rising from his chair and hurrying into the kitchen. Laura shrugged and began filling her plate with noodles. Remington returned, setting a glass of ice-water in front of Laura's plate before circling the end of the table and sitting down. The two began enjoying their feast.
Remington watched Laura devouring her food rapidly, amazed at the change from earlier that morning, when she didn't even want to smell food for fear of being ill. She paused and looked up at Remington curiously.
"What?" she asked. Remington snapped out of his admiration to answer her.
"I'm sorry?" he responded.
"You're staring at me," Laura said, beginning to eat again.
"Oh . . . sorry," Remington said, briefly dropping his eyes to his plate before looking again at Laura. "It's just nice to see your appetite returning."
"Don't let it go to your head. If it's just like it has been, I'll be sick as a dog again tomorrow morning. So, I intend to enjoy this meal while I can," Laura explained between mouthfuls. Remington smiled affectionately at her.
"How long is this morning sickness supposed to last?" he asked.
"I don't know," Laura responded. "Frances said she had morning sickness for about four weeks with Danny, a couple of weeks with Mindi, and she never had it with Laurie Beth. She said it differs from person to person. It can last anywhere from one week through the entire pregnancy."
"The entire pregnancy? Good lord," Remington replied, pausing to stare at her in shock before stabbing into his salad. "I certainly hope you don't go through this for the next seven months."
"So do I," Laura laughed. "I don't think I will, though. My mother once told me she never got morning sickness, so apparently it's not very prevalent in my family. I should get over it in a couple of weeks."
"You know, Laura, I was thinking," Remington said, changing the subject to make their dining a bit more pleasant. "Maybe I should go buy a couple of those books on pregnancies and what to expect. Just to prepare us. I mean, I'm not sure I want to go into all of this completely blind. I'd like to at least have a general idea of what we're in for. After all, I can already see some changes in you."
"What changes?" Laura asked skeptically. Remington looked at her sheepishly.
"Well . . . " he began delicately. "Your . . . appetite has a huge swing to it."
"That's true," Laura smiled, staring at her nearly-empty plate. "What else?"
"I have noticed a few . . . mood swings," Remington said casually, trying to avoid his wife's eyes.
"What mood swings?" Laura asked irritably.
"Like suddenly wanting to practically rip your clothes off after work," Remington pointed out.
"And you didn't want to get out of your tie and jacket?" Laura countered.
"Laura, I'm not criticizing. I'm just . . . pointing out a change. You don't normally act like that," Remington protested.
"Well, forgive me for wanting to be comfortable!" Laura snapped.
"Laura, please, don't be upset. Look, maybe I read too much into it, alright?" Remington caved. Laura stared at him, her temper flaring. She realized what she was feeling, and stared at him in amazement.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so upset," she said, hating the look of anguish on Remington's face. "Forgive me."
"It's alright, Laura," Remington replied.
"No, it isn't. I shouldn't be taking things out on you," Laura said sadly. Remington suddenly broke out in a grin. "What is it?" she asked, questioning his new amusement.
"I think you just proved my point," he said. Laura stared at him, before breaking out in her own grin. They laughed.
"I think you'd better get those books first thing tomorrow," Laura said. Remington nodded, smiling at her lovingly. They finished their meal, and were preparing for dessert when the doorbell rang.
"I wonder who that could be," Laura admonished, stabbing at the remains of her salad.
"Mm . . . I'll get it," Remington said, wiping his mouth before tossing his napkin on the table and rising from his chair. He swallowed rapidly, cleared his throat, and pulled the front door open.
A small, lovely, middle-aged woman stood in the hallway, wringing her hands in nervousness. Her dark, wavy hair was pulled loosely back into a ponytail, and her dark eyes were filled with sorrow, worry and fear.
"Yes? Can I help you?" Remington politely asked the stranger.
"Remington Steele?" the woman asked in a strong Eastern-European accent.
"Yes?" Remington asked, confused and intrigued. Laura rose from her seat and slowly entered the living room, curiosity getting the better of her desire for dessert.
"I'm Lisel Seldon, Mr. Steele, and I need your help," the woman said, her eyes beginning to water. Remington stood in shock for a moment, but quickly recovered.
"Yes, of course, Mrs. Seldon. Please, come in," he said, motioning her into the room. She cautiously entered the apartment, looking warily at Laura.
"This is my wife and associate, Laura Steele," Remington said, noticing Mrs. Seldon's guarded look to Laura. Laura walked up and shook the woman's trembling hand.
"Please, Mrs. Seldon, have a seat," Remington said, motioning her to the nearest chair. He and Laura sat on the couch, facing her.
"How can we help you, Mrs. Seldon?" Remington asked, leaning back into the cushions as Laura sat forward.
"I am certain you know that the police want me," Mrs. Seldon began.
"We know they consider you a suspect in the deaths of your husband and Gerald Morgan," Laura confirmed.
"First, let me say, I did not kill my husband. I loved Marcus deeply. And despite everything, I didn't kill Gerald either. I am innocent, I swear to you," Mrs. Seldon emphasized.
"Shouldn't you tell this to the police?" Laura inquired sympathetically. Mrs. Seldon shook her head.
"No, they will not listen," Mrs. Seldon replied, on the verge of tears. "I know my husband hired you to protect me, so I thought maybe you would listen and be willing to help. I have no one else to turn to."
"It's alright, Mrs. Seldon. We'll do what we can to help," Remington comforted. "Why don't you give us your version of what happened." Mrs. Seldon nodded and took a deep breath to compose herself.
"Where should I begin?" she asked.
"Let's start with last night, before Gerald Morgan's murder," Laura said calmly. "Why did you go to his apartment?"
"I went to tell him I didn't want to see him anymore," Mrs. Seldon began. "I loved my husband, but I lied to him about Gerald and I. I didn't tell him we were seeing a great deal of each other."
"Were you and Mr. Morgan . . . ?" Remington asked, gesturing to continue the uncomfortable question.
"Oh, no. It was just a friendship, I swear," Mrs. Seldon cried emphatically. "I told you. I loved my husband. I would never have cheated on him, not even with Gerald. What Gerald and I had was over long ago. He hurt me very badly, you see. But I believed that he had changed over the years, so I agreed to renew our friendship. I didn't tell Marcus because he hated Gerald so much, and I didn't want to add to the conflict."
"But you decided to end the friendship to keep from lying to your husband," Remington clarified. Mrs. Seldon nodded. "Is that the only reason?" Mrs. Seldon appeared ready to speak, but she hesitated.
"Mrs. Seldon, we can't help you unless you're completely honest with us," Laura warned gently. Mrs. Seldon finally nodded, tears falling down her cheeks.
"No, that was not the only reason," Mrs. Seldon admitted. She paused.
"Go on, Mrs. Seldon," Laura encouraged. "It's alright. You can trust us."
"I found out that I was wrong about Gerald. He hadn't changed," Mrs. Seldon explained. "He was using me in a plot that was meant to destroy my husband. I found out that he was trying to take over my husband's company. I confronted him about it, and he laughed at me and said I was naive. I asked him if he had gotten close to me to get closer to the company. He told me that he didn't need me for that because he had other help inside the company. Then, he told me . . . " Mrs. Seldon paused, trying to stop her sobs. "He told me that he got close to me again so he could take everything from Marcus, including me. He wanted to sleep with me so he could tell Marcus, but the fact that I had lied to Marcus about us and snuck away last night to see him was enough. Marcus would never believe me if I told him that I wasn't sleeping with Gerald, after finding out that I lied to him. At least, that was Gerald's argument. I was hurt and furious, but before I could do anything, Gerald grabbed me. I thought he was going to rape me. We struggled by the sofa. I lost my bracelet in the struggle. I don't know if the police found it or not."
"They didn't, but we did," Remington told her. Mrs. Seldon nodded.
"Well, I managed to break free from Gerald, and I ran out of the apartment. I was so terrified. I went home as fast as I could. I told Marcus everything. I had to. I couldn't lie to him anymore." Mrs. Seldon lowered her head and stared into her lap. Laura handed her a handful of tissue. She accepted it and continued.
"Marcus was furious. I honestly think he wanted to kill Gerald. He even asked me where our gun was. He couldn't find it, thank God. I didn't know it was missing until then. I begged Marcus to stay with me, and he eventually agreed. He made me tell him everything all over again, especially the part about Gerald's contacts in Seldon Imports. He said he had some important documents missing, and he thought someone had given them to Gerald. He said he would find out who betrayed him. That's when the police came. Marcus wouldn't let them talk to me. He said I came in earlier than I did. He lied to the police for me, and he said he would go to you in the morning and hire you to help us," Mrs. Seldon concluded.
"So Mr. Seldon didn't leave at all last night?" Remington asked. Mrs.