DESCOINE'S LAST STEELE

December 1987 and February 1988

Los Angeles and Denver

 Dusk was approaching as Murphy Michaels shoved his shoulder against the wooden door, managing to open it an inch or so before the wind slammed it shut again with a loud bang. Murphy stumbled backward into the hall, knocking Brenda, his secretary, her arms laden with bundles, backward with his momentum. She lost her grip on her tower of packages and they tumbled to the floor.

"Hey!" she cried, "there's somebody back here!" She bent down to pick up her packages and purse, and bumped heads with Murphy who had turned to help her.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Oh damn, I'm sorry Brennie," he apologized.

"Forget it Boss," his secretary replied, as she retrieved the last of her belongings from the floor, "It was my fault for not announcing my location behind you."

Murphy straightened up rubbing his head. "I don't know Brennie, are you sure you want to go out here?" It's blowing up one hell of a storm. We're going to get more snow before morning."

Brenda Bascomb grinned and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Yeah, but any snow we get will be gone in 12 hours." She shrugged good-naturedly. "You may enjoy living in your office Boss, but not me! Besides, I've got a date tonight," she added.

"Let's see, who is it this week? Larry...George...no, Lennie, isn't that the lucky guys name?" Murphy said. "I guess I can't let you miss that can I?" he teased. Brenda stuck her tongue out at him, and he winked in reply. "At least give me those packages," Murphy ordered, "you'll never make to your car alone in this wind."

She piled the packages in his arms and this time he successfully shoved the door open with his shoulder. With their heads bent against the wind, they trudged around the corner to the small-unpaved parking area behind Murphy's combination office - apartment, to her 1985 Chevy. Minutes later Murphy jogged back toward the wooden stairway that led to the second floor of the building and his apartment.

He paused on the bottom step to watch a young woman pick her way across the sidewalk outside the Dry Cleaners a couple of doors down from him. He was happily appreciating her fine form as she battled the wind, when a strong gust snatched her bag of clean clothes from her grasp and blew it toward Murphy.

"Hey, watch out!" she called to him.

He reached down and grabbed the plastic bag as it sailed past him along the sidewalk.

"Thanks a lot," she called out, "you're a life saver. I thought for sure I'd have to chase it for at least a block!"

Murphy folded the clothes bag over his shoulder and headed toward the girl. "At your service Ma'am..." he halted abruptly. "I don't believe it! Bernice Foxe! What in the name of all the Saints are you doing here?" he roared as he threw his arms around her. He stepped back. "As I recall, you hate cold weather."

"Murphy Michaels? Of all the...Honey, this has got to be an omen. Denver's going to be a good place to live in spite of the frigid temperatures." She returned Murphy's embrace affectionately, and continued, shaking her head in astonishment. "How about my luck? In a city of 500,000 people I run into the one person who's already a friend."

Murphy tossed the cleaning into the rear seat of Bernice's car. She shivered, rubbing her hands together briskly. "Are you busy?" she asked. "If you're not, come buy me a cup of coffee before I freeze to death. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

"If you don't mind the no frills look, there's a great little diner up the street, Katz's Home Cookin' Cafe," replied Murphy.

Bernice laughed. "Katz's Home Cookin' Cafe? You've got to be kidding Murph," she protested.

"Honest Injun Kemosabe," answered Murphy. "Great place, and they have the best Pastrami sandwiches in Denver."

Bernice linked her free arm with Murphy. "Lead the way. Do you hear from Laura at all? Larry and I have been here for weeks but our mail hasn't caught up with us yet."

"Who's Larry?" asked Murphy as they walked up the block, arm in arm.

"Larry's my husband," answered Bernice.

Murphy turned his head and looked at her in surprise. "Your husband!" he exclaimed. "Boy Oh boy do we ever have some catching up to do!"

A navy colored Bonneville sedan parked across from Murphy's office pulled into the traffic lane. The passenger snapped several photos of Murphy and Bernice as the car cruised slowly past them.

"He's a colonel in the Air Force," explained Bernice eagerly as they entered the coffee shop. "We transferred here from New York..."

The elevator door slid open on the hallway to the Steele's condominium apartment. Rain dripped off the umbrella dangling from Laura's wrist as they left the elevator. Remington inserted his key into the lock, held the door open for his wife and followed her into the foyer. Laura slipped out of her cranberry colored wool coat and hung it in the closet just inside the door. Remington slipped off his Chesterfield and shook it sharply, sending a spray of water out in front of him. Laura detoured around the water spatters on the floor and dropped her purse on top of the music cabinet.

"Do you have to make a mess on the floor every single time we have a little rain?" she asked wearily.

"It's only a little water Laura. Better the floor than my coat," Remington replied a trifle sharply. He hung his coat in the closet and stepped into the great room that opened off the foyer. "Mrs. Renfrew, where are you?" he called.

"Right here Mr. Steele," answered the nanny, coming out of the nursery with Katherine Mildred wrapped in an oversize bath towel in her arms. "And here's a little girl just fresh from her bath who wants to see her Mommie and Daddy."

"Well hello there little one," Laura said cheerfully as she reached out and took Katherine from Mrs. Renfrew's arms. She smoothed Katherine's tousled hair as she talked. "I'm sorry we're late Mrs. Renfrew, court ran longer than we expected. Fred will drop you where ever you need to go..."

"Now Mrs. Steele, I've told you and told you I'm perfectly comfortable taking the bus. There's no need for you to provide me with a private chauffeur," objected the older woman tartly.

"Nonsense," interjected Remington firmly. "It's a miserable evening out there and you'll have to wait nearly twenty minutes for the next bus." He favored her with one of his more intense looks. "Please Mrs. Renfrew, let us pamper you a bit. We need you to be happy and healthy. Our little Katie depends on you."

Mrs. Renfrew blushed under Remington's scrutiny. "And such a darling girl she is. You're so kind to me, that's why it's so hard for me to give you my notice," she replied sadly.

"Oh no! Please Mrs. Renfrew, don't tell me you're leaving us!" moaned Laura. "Whatever the problem is, we can work it out can't we?" she pleaded. "What is it? Do you need more money...more time off...?"

"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Steele. Please don't misunderstand. It has nothing to do with my job here. I'm truly devastated at having to leave you. It's my sister. Her health has gotten much worse and she simply cannot manage without help any longer. I feel I must go to her."

Katie began to fuss and Remington took her from Laura and began to walk back and forth, soothing her. "When are you leaving?" asked Laura as she accompanied Mrs. Renfrew toward the foyer.

"I told my sister I couldn't leave you totally in the lurch, so I'll stay until you find a suitable replacement. I hope that won't take much longer than a week or so?" she queried.

"We'll try to make it so," replied Laura firmly, giving Remington a meaningful look. "Now, Fred is waiting in the garage for you," Laura said briskly. "Don't you dare go out in that rain."

"Yes Ma'am," answered Mrs. Renfrew obediently. "What time will you be needing me in the morning?" she asked as she paused at the open door.

"About 8:15 will be fine tomorrow," Laura replied. "Today was the last of the court appearances for a while I hope." She closed the door slowly behind Mrs. Renfrew and went to the nursery where Remington was dressing Katie.

As she entered the room, he paused in his task. "Now where do we go Laura?"

She frowned in distaste. "We go back to the agencies and pray one of them will take pity on us," she said.

Remington finished dressing Katie and cuddled her against his shoulder. "Laura you don't suppose Mildred would..."

"Don't you dare suggest that Mildred take care of Katie," warned Laura sharply. "I need her right where she is."

"Really Laura! I was only going to ask if you thought Mildred might have a friend who would be interested in becoming a nanny...although Mildred as Katie's nanny isn't half bad," he mused. "I hate the thought of interviewing all those agency candidates again," he grumbled.

"I guarantee Mr. Steele," Laura replied pointedly, "they won't be wild about being interviewed by you again either. Must you behave as if every one of them is a disguised ax murderer?"

"Just trying to be through Laura. You can't be too careful today," Remington replied. "Right Katie Darlin'?" he crooned as he cuddled her possessively.

"Careful is one thing Mr. Steele, crazed is another," said Laura as she crossed the hall toward the master bedroom. "I'm going to take a long hot soak," she added.

"Did you say soak or sulk my love?" asked Remington from his post just inside the master suite.

"I said soak," repeated Laura as she entered the bathroom. "But I just might do a little sulking too," she muttered over the sound of the water filling the tub.

Miles away from the Steele's pricey condo in LA, the light from the street lamp glinted off the chrome bumper of Murphy's car as he pulled up in front of the small ranch house in the residential section of Lowry Air Force Base. He bounced across the sidewalk and up the small flight of steps to the front door. Shifting flowers and wine from one hand to the other, he reached for the bell. Before he could ring it, the door opened abruptly.

"It's about time you got here! You promised you'd be home...Oh Murphy! Welcome. Come on in here," Bernice said throwing the door wide open and stepping aside to allow Murphy to enter.

Murphy grinned broadly as he stepped across the threshold. "You'd better watch the way you open that door," he cautioned. "Any more sudden and I'd have gone in head first."

"Don't take this wrong Murph, but I was actually looking for Larry. He promised to be here by 6:00 and I haven't heard a word from him." Looking over Murphy's shoulder she waved to the woman who peeked out her curtained window across the street. "Nice night isn't it Mrs. Chatterson?" she called brightly. The woman waved half-heartedly and retreated behind the curtain. "Your arrival has been duly noted and logged, Murph. With the hour every house on this cul-de-sac will have heard all about you." She closed the door and Murphy extended the flowers to her. "How lovely," she exclaimed. "Where ever did you find these in the middle of winter?" She led him to the living room. As Bernice busied herself putting the flowers in a vase, Murphy squatted on the floor next to Laura, her 18-month-old daughter.

"Hey there, Laurie, watcha doin? Is that your pony," he asked, pointing at a stuffed toy that lay on the carpet beside her. "I bet you're going to ride him to the ranch huh?"

Laura looked up at him solemnly, "Daddy go plane," she chirped. "Mommie go too," she added.

Murphy touched a model plane nearby. "I see," he said. "Is this Daddy's plane?" he asked.

Laura reached for the plane, "See my plane!" she announced imperiously. "I go plane with Daddy!" she said, shoving the model at Murphy.

Murphy accepted the abrupt gift. "Say now, that is a nifty plane isn't it?" he agreed hastily.

Bernice set the vase of flowers on the coffee table. She watched Murphy and Laura with an amused glint in her eye. "Strong willed little thing isn't she?" observed Murphy.

"Yes, she's a great deal like her namesake, a certain Private Investigator we know," agreed Bernice. "I gave up trying to interest her in traditional little girl things months ago. She's a Daddy's girl through and through." She swooped down and picked up her daughter. "Right now Laura Elizabeth DuShaine, you have an appointment with the Sandman. Say good night to Mr. Michaels," she directed.

"Night-night Mis'r Miksh," answered Laura dutifully from Bernice's arms.

"Good night Ma'am," replied Murphy gravely, "It's been a pleasure."

"Hang in there for a couple of minutes Murphy while I put her to bed. Help yourself to a drink. In fact, make me one too, will you?" she asked as she headed toward Laura's bedroom.

Murphy moved over to the bar, poured himself a shot of bourbon, and added a splash of soda. He was just pouring Bernice's bourbon and water when the phone rang. "Answer that will you Murph?" called Bernice from the bedroom, "It's probably Larry. Tell him more than the roast is going to suffer if her doesn't get his colonel's bird back here soon."

Murphy picked up the receiver. "Colonel DuShaine's residence...No he's not in at the moment...Mrs. DuShaine? Yes. Just a minute please." He palmed the receiver and answered Bernice's questioning look as she came back into the room. "It's a Mrs. Chatterson..."

"Oh God, not tonight, please," moaned Bernice softly as she took the phone from Murphy and in her best military wife voice said, "Good evening Mrs. Chatterson...no the Colonel isn't home...still at the base yes...no, not from the base, just an old friend of the family." She listened quietly for a few minutes, then with exaggerated patience answered, "Yes, I'll give him that message...No, no problem, you're not interrupting a thing..."

While Bernice and Murphy were finishing the long delayed dinner; Colonel Laurence DuShaine walked rapidly toward the lot where he parked his car. Beside him was his friend and fellow officer, Major Bennie Lewes. "What's your hurry Larry?" as he jogged along side his much taller companion.

"Sorry Bennie," he replied, slowing down just a little so that his friend could keep pace. "What time is it anyhow?"

Peering at his watch Bennie answered, "A little after 9:00, why?"

"Oh Lord!" muttered Larry, "Bernice is going to be furious, just furious." Intercepting Bennie's knowing look, he explained. "I promised I'd be home by 6:00 tonight; we have a dinner guest."

Major Lewes chuckled softly. "My Virginia learned a long time ago never to plan a dinner party, without first she checks the General's calendar," he joked. "Who is it, my reservist again, what's his name...Michaels?"

Larry nodded. "Yes. Bernice is determined the guy spends absolutely no time alone." He grinned. "I think she's sizing him up to see who she can match him up with."

"Actually," Bennie remarked, "you ought to be grateful she's got a friend in town. She's been so busy trying to improve poor Michael's flagging social life, she's hardly noticed how much time you've had to spend away from hearth and home."

"Oh she's noticed, believe me. That's why she extracted the promise from me for tonight," Larry assured his friend.

"Oh now, Bernice won't really give you Dutch, she's too sweet," insisted Bennie, smiling impishly.

DuShaine laughed outright. "Bennie boy, you are the only person I know who has the nerve to call my darling Bernice 'sweet'. She'll be more than a little miffed, but she'll get over it. I can't say I blame her any way. We haven't seen much of each other since the transfer."

As Major Lewes unlocked the door of his Chevrolet he replied, "Cheer up Colonel, old Winslow is hardest on the new man in town. Once he gets to know you, he'll ease up." Bennie saluted jauntily as he pulled out of the lot.

Larry slid behind the wheel of his battered 1983 Volvo and murmured, "I hope to God you're right Bennie. Bernice's patience is wearing pretty thin."

"I tell you Bernice, it was awful! Part of me would rather have been a prisoner on the way to the gallows than stand next to that guy and watch him marry Laura." He shrugged and continued, "but Laura wanted the guy so..."

Bernice leaned across Murphy's lap and refilled his coffee cup. She was laughing as she talked. "Come on, Murph! It couldn't have been as bad as all that. When are you going to admit that you and Remington Steele are friends?"

Murphy shuddered theatrically, putting on a great show of distaste, and then allowed himself a rueful grin. "Yeah, well I guess he's not too bad," he admitted, "but by God if he ever hurts Laura I'll..."

Bernice cut him off. "You won't do a thing Murphy Michaels, because you're not a vengeful person, and you know it," she asserted firmly. She sipped her own coffee, pausing reflectively and added, "I really don't think he'd ever hurt her anyway. I believe Laura and Remington are truly meant for each other."

"Meant for each other!" Murphy echoed in astonishment. "Is this really Bernice Foxe I'm talking to? Never get too serious, party hearty Bernice? Lordy, we must be getting old." Murphy sighed. "I guess I'm just having trouble adjusting to the idea of wedding bells 'busting up that old gang of mine,' " he admitted. " Laura's gone and married Steele," he shook his head, "and here you are an old married lady for what...?"

"Almost three years," Bernice supplied. She stretched languidly and continued, "and I haven't regretted it yet. Larry is everything I ever wanted in a husband. I even like being an Air Force wife. Now all we have to do is get you hitched up to a nice young officer type, and we'll be all set," she finished.

Murphy drained his coffee cup and stood. "I think that's my cue to leave," he replied with a smile. "Tell Larry I'm sorry I missed him."

Bernice rose to join him. "That's right Murphy, run like a scalded cat," she teased. They walked to the door and Bernice held it open for him while Murphy buttoned his jacket. She shook her finger at him, "I'm gonna get you married yet Michaels so you'd better get used to the idea."

"It'll never happen Bernice, because I'll never find anyone as wonderful as you," Murphy joked gallantly as he ran down the steps toward his car.

Mrs. Chatterson stood at her post behind the curtained living room window. "I swear it's just scandalous! She entertains another man with her little baby right there in the house, and her husband gone, like some...brazen hussy! Poor Colonel DuShaine! I really feel someone should tell him..."

"Just make sure it isn't you that does the telling," rumbled Sergeant Chatterson from his recliner behind her. "The Colonel's got troubles enough without you adding to them. Get away from that window you old gossip. How many times do I have to tell you to keep your nose at home?"

Outside his office window the sun was rapidly sinking below the horizon, marking the end of the day watch for most people on the base. However, Colonel Larry DuShaine found himself once again working late, and once again apologizing to his wife.

"...I know Sweetheart, I know. I'm really sorry...No, don't cancel the sitter, go on without me. I'll try to catch up with you before the evening's over. If I don't make it don't worry, and don't wait up...I do too...forgive me...? I don't deserve you, you know...?" Larry laughed. "I knew you'd agree with that! 'Bye Honey, I'll see you later." Colonel DuShaine hung up his phone and returned to his work with a frown.

Bernice arrived at Mc Nichols Arena only minutes before tip off time. Her ticket stub in hand, she scanned the rows of bleachers, looking for her seat as the referee blew the starting whistle. Just as the opening tip off was made, she settled into her seat. From his seat several rows above her, Murphy Michaels cheered lustily as the Nuggets made their first point of the game.

The base offices were empty by the time Larry prepared to call it a night. He carefully locked his desk and grabbed his uniform jacket from the back of his chair. He looked up in dismay as the door to his office opened. Two people entered the room. "Captain, I'm just on my way out, what ever it is can wait until tomorrow," he said firmly. "Mrs. DuShaine is waiting for me and if I hurry I can just catch the fourth quarter."

"No Sir Colonel, we need to talk right now, Sir," replied the young officer.

Larry frowned dismissively. "I believe I made myself clear when we met this afternoon. We will talk again, but not here and not now," he replied. "Report to me at 0800 hours. And I suggest if you do not wish to be in more trouble than you already are, you get this civilian off the base immediately," he nodded in the direction of the Lieutenant's companion. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a basketball game to attend."

"You can't just brush me off like this Colonel! There has to be some kind of deal we can work out..."

"I am not Monty Hall and the Air Force does not make deals Lieutenant," countered Larry.

The Lieutenant's companion spoke for the first time. "You know everything don't you?"

"I know enough," Larry replied calmly. "I expect my officer to face up to what he's done, for the good of the Air Force, when the proper time comes." He sighed and faced the two of them. "You may as well know, I intend to bring formal charges against you. You will face a board of General Court-martial." Larry looked at the Lieutenant's companion. "If you are involved in this at all, I suggest you get yourself a good attorney. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

The Lieutenant advanced on Larry angrily, but it was his companion who spoke calmly. "We can't let you do that Sir, I'm sorry." Larry attempted to push past them, but they blocked his path.

Bernice reached her car in the parking garage just slightly out of breath from fighting her way through the crowds of Nugget fans. She pulled up to the guard shack to pay her parking check. As she took her claim check from her purse, she heard a very familiar voice shouting at the parking garage attendant from inside the guardhouse.

"What do you mean you thought it was her car?!" Murphy howled, waving his stub under the man's nose. "She didn't even have the parking stub..." He sputtered to a stop, rubbing the back of his neck to loosen the tight muscles.

"Sir, she came in here and asked for that car specifically. She said you still had the stub. I naturally figured she was your wife, and was well, you know, had a sick headache or something and I..." he shrugged helplessly.

"If she was my wife and she was sick, don't you think I would have come with her?" Murphy snapped.

Bernice honked her car horn lightly and extended her ticket to the attendant, who turned away from Murphy to take care of her. "Really Murphy, we've got to stop meeting like this!" she quipped with an amused smirk on her face.

Murphy peered at Bernice through the guard house window. "I should have known you'd be some place nearby," he accused. "What is this, one of your little sick practical jokes? Something you cooked up with Laura via the US Mail to torture good ole Murph with?"

"Hey don't look at me! This time I'm completely innocent, I swear," she protested. She gave him one of her best dazzling smiles. "Come on Murphy, you don't really think I'd steal your car do you?" she asked.

"Yes," he snapped. "I mean no. I mean, not steal it but borrow it yeah..." his voice petered out as he realized how foolish he sounded.

The parking attendant chose this moment to be helpful again. "She sort of looks like the one, I don't exactly remember...coulda been her...or not," he offered.

Before Murphy could tear into the man again, Bernice interrupted. "You do lead such an unusual life Murphy! Why don't you calm down and let me give you a lift home, and you can tell Bernice all about it," she suggested.

Murphy glared good naturedly at her. "It appears I have little choice unless I want to hoof it," he growled.

"Good!" she announced. "That will give me time to tell you all about this really nice Sergeant from Tech Training."

"I knew it!" Murphy groaned. "You set this whole scene up, just so you could talk me into another one of your blind dates."

"Oh come on Murphy! Even I wouldn't go this far to enjoy your company," protested Bernice. Behind her, the line of fans waiting to exit the garage began to get hostile. Horns blared loudly from several cars. "Last chance Murph. Are you coming or not?" she asked.

Murphy left the guardhouse, crossed in front of her headlights and jerked the passenger door open. As he started to get into the car, the attendant coughed and said, "Uh Sir, there is your parking fee..."

Murphy stopped in mid stride, whipped around and barked, "Why don't you find my wife and get it from her?" As Murphy slammed the door loudly for emphasis, Bernice shifted the car smoothly into drive and drove out of the garage.

Several miles away from the Arena at the Air Base, General E.A. Winslow stood with his arms folded across his chest, glaring at his Sergeant. He was a very unhappy man. "How did it happen?" he demanded.

Sergeant Elmo Chatterson replied stiffly, "The night duty M.P. found the body at 2272 hours Sir, when he made his regular rounds of the administration offices. He reported to his commander, who notified me. I immediately requested the base Medic Sir."

"Sergeant it is now 0125 hours and my patience is very thin. I do not recall asking when, but how," snapped the General. "I am well aware that Colonel DuShaine is dead. Now, exactly how did the Colonel die? Was it a heart attack?"

"No Sir. Base Medical says he was killed by a blow to the head Sir."

"A fall then Sergeant?" queried the General hopefully. When Sergeant Chatterson did not answer immediately, the General raised his voice. "Sergeant why am I being forced to pull this report out of you piecemeal? Out with it, Man!"

Chatterson stood at full attention. "Sir, yes Sir! It does not appear to have been an accident Sir. There is evidence of a struggle in Colonel DuShaine's office. He appears to have been struck with a...bookend, Sir."

"I see," answered the General. "Then it is murder," he stated flatly. He quickly rattled off a string of orders. "Seal off the offices, Sergeant. I want this investigation over as soon as possible. Start tracing Colonel DuShaine's movements yesterday, and contact the Denver Police."

"The offices are already sealed Sir, and I've taken the liberty of contacting the Chaplain to notify Mrs. DuShaine Sir." Chatterson hesitated briefly, earning himself another glare from his CO.

"Well Sergeant what are you waiting for? Follow your orders."

"Begging the General's pardon Sir, the civilian authorities Sir? We aren't going to handle this internally? The Public Affairs Office directive..."

The General interrupted, "Sergeant Chatterson, unless Public Affairs is prepared to declare this base a sovereign state, we have no choice. This is a homicide investigation and I expect every man on this base to cooperate fully with the civilian authorities. You are dismissed Sergeant."

It had been a tedious and boring evening for Remington Steele. He and Laura had attended another so-called benefit dinner, this one with a particularly dull after dinner speaker. Remington hoped he and Laura might still salvage a small part of their evening, so when they returned to the condominium, he wasted little time escorting the sitter from the premises. "Gloria I'll see you downstairs," he said as Laura said good night and headed toward the master suite. Remington stretched and yawned as he and Gloria rode the elevator down to the parking garage. Glancing at his watch, he exclaimed, "After midnight already! Sorry Gloria. I know you have an early class."

Gloria Mornales, Katie's sitter, grinned at Remington. "It's only 12:15, that's not so late. In fact I've got another hours work to do on my Psych paper when I get back to my dorm."

They reached her car and Remington opened the door for her. "That sounds infinitely more interesting than the evening Mrs. Steele and I just had," he grumbled. "Why is it the person who has absolutely nothing of value to say, is always the one with the most to say?"

Gloria started her car, "That's a real puzzler Mr. Steele. If you find the answer let me know. The same phenomenon happens in lecture halls too."

Remington left the elevator at his floor whistling a jaunty tune. He opened the door to his apartment, listening for the sound of Laura's movements. He smiled as he heard her humming softly under her breath. He quickened his pace and met her as she came out of the nursery. She had already changed out of her dress clothes and into her satin robe. "How's Katie?" he asked.

Laura put her finger to his lips. "Shh...she's asleep and I don't want you to wake her. I have other plans for the rest of this evening," she whispered, leading him to the bedroom.

Remington raised an eyebrow. "Just what might those plans be?" he asked smoothly.

Laura loosened his tie gently. "I plan to make passionate love to my husband," she breathed. "Interested?"

"Positively consumed with interest, my Darling," he replied. Shedding his dress shirt in a fluid motion and kicking off his shoes, he joined her on the bed.

Kneeling behind him, Laura fumbled with his belt, slipping it out of the belt loops of his slacks quickly. "Hurry up slowpoke," she urged.

"Wait half a minute my Love," Remington replied hastily, dropping his slacks over the valet at the foot of the bed.

"It had better not take any longer than that," Laura teased.

He allowed Laura to pull him down on the bed. They kissed passionately. "Yes...Oh yes, I like that," murmured Laura.

"That's the idea Laura my love," Remington whispered, stroking her hair. "What else would you like?" he prompted.

Laura slipped out of her robe and wrapped her legs around Remington's waist. "Make love to me now!" she entreated, all pretense of teasing gone.

The strident ring of the telephone pulled Remington out of deep sleep. He reached blindly for the receiver. "Steele here," he croaked. Clearing his throat he repeated, "Steele here...Wha...Mildred, yes...hello...could you repeat that? Bern...Miss Wolf...yes, yes, I understand...an hour and a half...we'll be there."

Laura blinked blearily. "Where will we be in an hour and a half?" she asked.

"Tell me about your friends, Mrs. Steele," said Mildred. She and Laura were the only ones still awake in the cabin of the plane bound for Denver, all the other passengers having found sleep the best way to last out the flight. "You've known Bernice for a long time haven't you?"

"Since our first day at Stanford," Laura answered with a small grin. "We were matched up as roommates. She was a wild one...and she encouraged me to be wild too...of course I didn't need much help there," she admitted. "I guess you could say we were two of a kind for a while."

"What about this Murphy Michaels character? Mildred questioned. "From what I've seen in the files, he was a pretty good investigator. Was he more than that to Bernice?"

"What?" Laura answered absently. She gathered her thoughts and answered Mildred. "No, I'm sure there was never anything between them. He was definitely not her type. But then, maybe I don't know her as well as I think I do. I never would have dreamed that Larry DuShaine was her type either."

Mildred smiled encouragingly at Laura. "Everybody changes Hon."

"God, I haven't seen Bernice since before little Laura was born!" exclaimed Laura. "And Murphy...it's been even longer than that." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the plane bounced over some turbulence and glanced enviously at Remington. "Damn him, he can sleep through anything!"

Mildred leaned over and whispered in Laura's ear. "Relax Hon, I'm sure there's been a horrible mistake made." She patted Laura's hand. "No friend of yours would ever kill anyone!"

Laura smiled at Mildred. "Thanks for the pep talk."

"Anytime Hon," replied Mildred. "They're free for the asking."

The stewardess came down the aisle. "We'll be landing in 15 minutes," she announced. "Please be sure everyone's seat belt is fastened."

Laura rose, "Wake up Prince Charming please Mildred," she said. "I'm going to powder my nose." She stepped carefully over Remington's outstretched legs.

Mildred watched Laura make her way up the aisle for a minute, then followed orders. "Boss, hey Boss, wake up!" she said, poking his shoulder lightly.

The two Police Detectives were extremely tired. It had been a very long 48 hours. The stubble on their jaws and the slightly oily tinge to their complexions bore silent witness to the lack of sufficient sleep for yet another night. "Look let's just draw straws. Short straw gets it."

"Now that's a real professional way to handle the work load," replied Kampinski. "Is that the way they taught you at the Academy in LA?"

"Look it's late, and I'm too tired to haggle with you. One of us has to go back to the base," replied Sloan, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

His partner reached into his pants pocket. "Okay we'll toss for it. Winner stays here and the loser goes out to the base."

"Deal!" said Steve. "Call it."

"Tails." Kampinski tossed the quarter. It spun twice and landed squarely in front of Sloan. "Heads!" he crowed.

"It's your lucky day kid. Michaels is in interrogation room 3," announced Kampinski.

"Thanks," Steve grinned. "Let him sit there and sweat for a while. I'll be in room 5 interviewing the widow," he replied.

"I thought Michaels was the hot suspect," observed his partner.

"He is, but I just got word from Central Booking. The lady's attorney says to play her or trade her. Perry Mason is on his way down here with a writ." answered Sloan.

Kampinski whistled. "Mason huh? That's pretty heavy artillery. A Colonel's wife does better than I thought. The lady's got a lot of pull."

"Uh huh," Sloan grunted in agreement. He pulled himself wearily to his feet. "I'd better get what I can out of her before Mason shuts her up," he quipped as he left the squad room.

"...And the Prince and the Princess lived happily ever after," Della Street finished brightly as she put the storybook down. Laura Elizabeth DuShaine was curled up on her lap, contentedly sucking her thumb. "Do you want Della to read you another story?" Della asked.

Laura shook her head. "Mama coming?" she asked, as she squirmed and tried to slide off Della's lap.

"Mama's coming very soon, Darling. Mr. Mason went to get her for you," Della explained.

Della stood, picked Laura up and walked to the front windows. "Let's go look for her shall we?" She stood at the windows and absently stroked Laura's hair as she pointed out the birds and squirrels to the little girl. "See the birdies, Laurie? They're hungry. It's time for breakfast...Oh look at the squirrel! He's pushing the birdie away from his food," she exclaimed. "We'll have to go and chase him away from there won't we?"

The little girl twisted around and looked into Della's eyes. "Daddy do it," she asserted firmly. "Where he?" she asked innocently.

The question caught Della off guard. She blinked back tears, and tried to think of a way to tell Laura Elizabeth what had happened to her father. The sudden chime of the doorbell spared her. "Well how about that!" she remarked. "Somebody's here and we didn't even see them come to the door. Some watchers we are, huh? Let's go see who it is," she said as she pulled the door open.

"Good morning, is this the DuShaine house?" asked the woman who stood on the porch.

"Yes this is the DuShaine home, but Mr. and Mrs. DuShaine are not at home presently," Della answered formally. Her eyes were wary. "May I help you with something?"

"I'm Mildred Krebs, from Remington Steele Investigations. Mr. and Mrs. Steele are down at Police Headquarters. I've come to take charge of Mrs. DuShaine's little girl," Mildred explained.

Della's formal manners melted immediately. "Oh of course, Miss Krebs! I'm Della Street, Mr. Mason's secretary. I spoke with you last night on the phone. Please come in." She stepped aside so Mildred could enter the foyer.

"Look folks," explained the Desk Sergeant patiently, "I'm sorry. Mr. and Mrs. Remington Steele or not, I can't let you in. I mean you're rich and famous Mr. Steele, and Mrs. Steele is as pretty as they come, and I'm sure she'd cheer Murphy us a whole lot, but the Captain says nobody but the Attorney gets in. Come back this afternoon; visiting hours start at 2:00."

Laura glanced meaningfully at Remington. "You know Murphy?" she asked leaning forward across the counter, and giving the Sergeant her best smile.

"Sure I do Ma'am, I'm no fan of PI's but Murphy's different. If you ask me this whole business is a lot of bunk! Murphy Michaels is a square guy. He could no more murder anyone, than you could little lady." He shrugged his shoulders and leaned over the desk conspiratorially. "Word around the station is that the Captain has to make an example of old Murph. You know him being a PI and having contacts on the inside here, and all we can't afford to show any favoritism..."

Perry Mason strode up to the desk, interrupting the Sergeant's explanation. "Good morning Sergeant, I see things are normal here," Mason remarked, noting the admiring look the Sergeant was giving Laura. Remington and Laura stepped aside to allow Mason to step up to the desk. "I'm here to arrange for the release of Mrs. Bernice DuShaine. I believe you'll find the paperwork all in order."

"Instantly the Sergeant was all business again. He accepted the documents from Perry briskly and picked up the phone to call the Jail Matron. "Yes Sir, Mr. Mason. Right away Sir."

While they waited for the Matron to bring Bernice up, Mason quietly studied the Steele's. Sergeant Curtis, aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" he asked.

Sergeant Curtis looked up in surprise. "I figured you people already knew each other," he apologized. "You're both trying to see the same prisoners. " Mr. Perry Mason, the Attorney, these are Mr. and Mrs. Remington Steele," he announced.

"The detectives," added Remington dryly.

Laura stepped forward and extended her hand to Perry. "It's a true honor to meet you Mr. Mason, and a relief to know that Bernice and Murphy have the best counsel in the country handling their case."

Perry accepted her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Steele, and I'll do all I can to live up to your expectation of my abilities," he replied, bowing slightly. He turned and shook Remington's hand. "Your reputation has preceded you Sir," he remarked. "Mr. Michaels has spoken of you often."

Remington winced. "I bet he has," he replied as he shook Perry's hand. "I see you've arranged Bernice's release, but what about Murphy? When will he be released?" questioned Remington.

The Matron chose that moment to escort Bernice out of the detention area. "Here you are Mrs. DuShaine, your attorney is waiting for you," said the Matron kindly. She nodded to Perry and the Steele's. "It looks like you have some friends here too," she finished.

"Laura!" cried Bernice, throwing her arms around Laura excitedly. "How on earth did you..." her voice cracked and she broke off, wiping tears from her eyes.

Perry began to move them toward the exit, and away from the eager ears of the Desk Sergeant. "I had Miss Street telephone the Steele's after I spoke with Mr. Michaels. He seemed to feel you would benefit from Mrs. Steele's presence." He glanced around. "Unfortunately, Miss Street has my car, so I suggest we call a cab, and delay any further discussions until we can be alone."

"I quite agree with that," said Remington, "but a cab won't be necessary. We have a limousine waiting outside."

"...Mr. Steele and I will be glad to put up Murphy's bail bond Mr. Mason," said Laura. "How soon can you arrange a hearing?"

"I'm afraid it won't be that easy Mrs. Steele," answered Perry. "The DA is determined to make an example of Murphy, and murder is not normally a bailable offense. There won't be any bail set."

"But you were able to get me out," objected Bernice, from her seat in the corner of the rear seat of the limousine.

"You were not being held as a murder suspect, Mrs. DuShaine," explained Perry, "only as possible accomplice...and on weak evidence at that. And I was able to plead that you were needed to care for your daughter. With Murphy I have no such card to play."

"This is insane!" insisted Laura. "Why would Murphy kill Larry? They were good friends...what possible motive could he have?" she protested.

Perry glanced at Bernice. "The most obvious motive would be Mrs. DuShaine," he answered. "Two old friends, reunited after a long period of separation, drift into an affair...the husband finds out and confronts them and gets killed for his efforts." he explained.

"That's a bloody damned outrage!" spat Remington. "Murphy Michaels is as honorable a man as there is in this world, and to think that Miss Wolf...that is Mrs. DuShaine would consider an affair...well it's not possible!" he finished explosively.

Bernice turned away and stared steadily out the window of the limousine, shaken by the blunt force of Remington's support of her. "You have quite a temper Mr. Steele, observed Perry dryly. " I only wish that would help Mr. Michaels. It would make my job much easier."

"What exactly do we have to deal with Mr. Mason?" asked Laura.

"Mrs. DuShaine has told me, of course, that there is no affair between herself and Mr. Michaels and I believe her. The police, however, are not hampered by what you and I believe. She has only been released because they can't actually place her at the scene of the murder."

"I take it they can put Murphy there," said Remington.

"Steele, as a detective you know how this works as well as I do," declared Mason. "The police don't have the benefit of your long association with the suspects as proof of their innocence. What they do have however, is physical evidence that places at least two people at the murder scene. The evidence implicates Murphy specifically, and may possibly implicate Mrs. DuShaine as well," he said. "They'll build their case around means and opportunity and stretch for motive if they must."

"Where do we go from here?" asked Laura.

"We dig for the truth," answered Mason. "In the meantime, I'll petition for an immediate preliminary hearing. It's usually best the hear the prosecutions evidence before it's etched in stone."

"Could you use a couple of good detectives," asked Laura.

Mason eyed Remington speculatively. "As a matter of fact I can, that is if they can keep their tempers in check," he replied. "Mr. Michaels needs solid help and credible witnesses, not irresponsible hot heads. Are you up to the job?" he asked bluntly.

"Mr. Steele's temper is one of his charms," said Bernice softly. "Don't let it put you off. I have complete confidence in the Steele's. And I know I speak for Murphy too."

"Well then, It seems you're hired," announced Perry with finality.

While the limousine made its way from the Police Station to Bernice's bungalow on Lowry Air Force Base, Mildred and Della sat waiting in Bernice's kitchen. Laura Elizabeth played contentedly at their feet. Mildred reached for the coffeepot, and poured herself a cup. "Want another?" she asked Della.

"No thanks, I've reached my limit for the week this morning."

"Sure is taking them a long time to get here," grumbled Mildred.

"It's only 9:30. You know the police. They probably made Perry wait until shift change to see her," explained Della.

"Terrific," moaned Mildred. "The Boss is not exactly known for his patience...neither one of them is for that matter."

Della smiled. "Neither is mine. He's gotten a little better with age, but he'll be in a fighting mood by the time he leaves the precinct house. Which is a good thing," she mused. "It's what he'll have to do to get Murphy and Mrs. DuShaine out of this."

"I've never met either of them. Tell me what they're like," Mildred said.

"Actually I don't know Mrs. DuShaine. I only met her briefly last night when the police picked her up for questioning. Murphy I know well though. He does investigative work for Perry. He's a fine young man. I will never believe that he committed a murder," Della declared.

"I take it the evidence is pretty bad?" questioned Mildred.

"The police found Murphy's car parked on the Air Base the evening of the murder and the sentry on duty swears he cleared Murphy on to the Base that night," Della said. "Also his ID badge was found in the office next to the body."

"I don't know Murphy," Mildred remarked, "but doesn't that sound like overdoing it to you? Somehow I can't believe he'd be quite so stupid as to leave so many clues behind."

"That's exactly how it seems to me," Della agreed. "But it gets worse. Murphy's prints are all over the murder weapon, a bookend from the Colonel's desk."

"Sounds pretty flimsy to me," Mildred insisted. "Everything you've mentioned could have been planted."

"Unfortunately the police also believe they've found the perfect motive. They believe that Murphy and Mrs. DuShaine, Bernice, were having an affair. Neighbors here in the cul-de-sac say he's a frequent visitor here when the Colonel is not home, and they've been seen together in public often in the last six weeks without Mr. DuShaine."

"People like to gossip," declared Mildred. "What does that mean?"

"Well then there are the pictures," Della added. "Photos found in Colonel DuShaine's locked desk drawer, along with a letter from a Private Investigator, showing the two of them together."

"How together?" asked Mildred hesitantly, "Are they intimate pictures..."

"No nothing like that," said Della. "They could just as easily be construed innocently, but to the police they are corroborating evidence. It's all totally circumstantial, but I've been a legal secretary long enough to know that circumstantial evidence can be the most damaging of all," she explained.

"Don't I know it!" muttered Mildred. "Everyone likes a juicy sex scandal. It won't look too good to a jury will it?"

"No," Della admitted, "but if I know Perry he'll blow the prosecution's case out of the water at the preliminary hearing," she said confidently.

"Gosh I don't think I ought to let you look at the files Mrs. Steele, Mr. Michaels is awfully fussy about confidentiality." Brenda Bascomb brush her bangs back with an irritated flick of her hand, giggled, and looked around the room self-consciously.

Laura smiled at the young girl. "I understand exactly how you feel Brenda, but I assure you, Murphy would make an exception this time. Some seemingly insignificant detail in one of those files could be vital to Murphy's defense. You don't want to make his defense tougher for Mr. Mason do you?" Laura argued reasonably.

"Well I guess I could let you look at his current files if I stay right with you," Brenda agreed reluctantly.

Leaving Laura to continue working on the secretary, Remington wandered into Murphy's office. Idly he checked the answering machine on the desk. There wasn't much on it. Somebody offering to make Murphy rich if he invested in their latest product, and an offer of tickets to the next Nuggets game from a friend. He reached to turn it off, and stopped abruptly as one more message played. "Laura," he called, "you'd better hear this."

Followed by Brenda, Laura entered Murphy's office. "Hear what?"

"This," said Remington, as he rewound the tape. "It seems that Murphy and the Colonel had something going on between them."

"Murphy this is Larry. We've got together soon to work out our minor problem. MY wife is quickly losing her patience with both of us, and if we let go on any longer, it could wind up costing us both big time...call me buddy."

"Do you recognize the voice Brenda?" questioned Laura. "Is it Colonel DuShaine?"

"It could be the Colonel, but I'm not really sure. The tape kind of distorts voices you know?"

"Did he call here often?" asked Remington.

"No not often." She wrinkled her nose in concentration. "But the Boss was over at the Base a lot lately," she added. "That's why he only had a few cases he was working on I guess."

"Something to do with his reserve commission?" asked Laura.

Brenda shook her head. "Nah, the Boss only had to put in two weekends a month for that. I got the feeling this was something kind of personal between him and the Colonel. He wouldn't tell me anything about it," she pouted. She brightened suddenly. "You know you just might ask some of the people at the Base. Maybe the Boss told someone there what was up. He always got on well with the Reserve Commander, Major Lewes."

Remington straightened his tie. "That sounds like the first sensible idea of the day," he remarked as he and Laura headed for the exit.

An hour later, Laura and Remington sat with Major Lewes in the base commissary. "Do you know you're the first person on this Base who doesn't automatically believe the police theory?" questioned Remington.

The Major shrugged. "Some things are more important than esprit de corp."

"So you're not afraid to buck command," Remington remarked. "Why don't you buy the official line?"

"You mean the gossip about Michaels and the Colonel's wife?" he scoffed. "You must understand, Mr. Steele, I'm probably one of the only people one of only people on the base who really knew everybody involved. Regular Air Force and Reserve Units don't normally mix much. I knew Larry DuShaine well, and Murphy Michaels is one of my top reservists. And," he added dryly, "I know Bernice. No way on earth any of these people would do what the police claim they did."

"What I want to know," Laura said, "is why nobody on this base will talk to us."

"It's just that most of the personnel on this base feel that they owe Larry more than they owe a reservist they barely know. It's the military mind set, pulling together in a crisis." Taking a sip of his coffee, the Major shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything that would help. Mr. Michaels is a good recruit who put in his two weekends a month and that was it."

"Major," argued Laura, "base records show that Murphy was on this base two or three days a week over the past two months. Are you telling me you were unaware of his activities?"

"Look Ma'am," replied the Major, "I'd like to help. But I don't make a habit of policing the off duty activities of my men. If he was here, he wasn't here on any business connected to his reserve duties. Besides, he was a friend of the Colonel's. He probably came here to see Larry."

"You said you knew Colonel DuShaine well," Laura remarked. "Just how well is that?"

"I've been Larry's closest friend since I served under him at NATO Headquarters in Brussels in 1978. I was a green Captain, and Larry was a brand new Major. We supported each other through some tough times...in fact," he added sadly, "I was the one who encouraged him to request a transfer here three months ago. He was too good a man to be wasted on recruiting and public relations."

"What was his current assignment?" Laura asked.

"He was a member of General Winslow's staff," Major Lewes replied with a rueful grin, "among other things, he was in charge of Tech Training Administration."

"Then I guess General Winslow is the next man we need to talk to," announced Laura, rising decisively.

"Whoa there! Hold on. I sure can tell you're Bernice's friend," said the Major with a grin. "You've got that same no nonsense way about you. You won't get anywhere with General Winslow by just barging into his office. Protocol requires you request an appointment through his second in command."

"Fine," Laura answered. "Who is that? We'll make an appointment then."

"It was Larry," responded the Major softly. "I'll see what I can do Mrs. Steele, but I can't promise the General will cooperate with you. He's a by the book kind of man, and as far as he's concerned, the police are the only ones who warrant his cooperation."

"Major Lewes," said Laura, "when you talk to the General would you be kind enough to remind him of one more rule that should be in his book?"

"What rule is that, Mrs. Steele?"

"The one that says a man is presumed innocent until he is proven guilty in an official court of law," she answered firmly.

Seventy-two hours after their early morning arrival in Denver, Laura and Remington sat flanking Bernice in the courtroom. From their vantage point behind the defense table, they could see Murphy sitting stoically beside Perry Mason. Twenty four hours earlier, the judge had, as expected, denied Murphy's bail petition and granted Mason's request for an immediate preliminary hearing. All afternoon they had listened to the prosecution present evidence concerning the discovery of the body and the time and cause of death.

Up to this point, the DA had allowed his assistant to present the evidence and question the witnesses. Now he rose to question the next witness himself. He smiled unctuously at the Airman on the stand. "Now Mr. Beadle, you were on sentry duty at the main gate of Lowry Air Base on the 9th day of February, is that correct?"

"On that evening, yes Sir."

"Please tell us what your duties were at that time Mr. Beadle."

"I was to visually verify the identity of all persons requesting entry to the Base and to assist all cleared visitors in locating their destinations," replied the young man.

"And at what time did you clear Mr. Michaels on to the Base?" asked the DA.

"Objection!" inserted Perry Mason. "The District Attorney is leading his witness, and the question assumes facts not yet in evidence."

"The objection is well taken, Mr. Mason. The District Attorney will rephrase the question," ruled the judge.

"Very well, your Honor I will get to this rather obvious point via the long route." The District Attorney walked to his counsel desk and retrieved a paper from the case file. Returning to the witness on the stand, he presented the paper to Airman Beadle. "Airman Beadle will you tell the court what this document is, please."

"Yes Sir. It is my log sheet for the night of February 9th. It contains the names and destinations of all persons I cleared through the gate that night."

The District Attorney paused briefly for effect and then announced, "Whose name appears one third of the way down that list, Mr. Beadle?" he asked.

"The Airman scanned the list, "Lieutenant Murphy Michaels, Sir."

"And is Lieutenant Michaels in the courtroom at this time?"

"Yes Sir, he is," replied Beadle.

"Please point him out to the court," requested the District Attorney.

The Airman pointed at Murphy. The District Attorney turned to the bench and spoke to the Judge. "If your Honor please, let the record show that the witness has identified the defendant, Murphy Michaels."

"The record will so show, Mr. District Attorney."

"Thank you your Honor." Turning back to his witness he continued, "Now Mr. Beadle, at what time did you clear Lieutenant Michaels on to the Base on the night of February 9th?"

Beadle scanned the list once more and answered, "He cleared my station at 9:52 PM."

The District Attorney smiled. "9:52, just 20 minutes before the coroner estimates Colonel DuShaine died. Thank you Mr. Beadle," he said as he turned toward the defense table and nodded.

Judge Mc Connell eyed the clock. "It is now 4:30. Do you anticipate a lengthy cross examination of this witness, Mr. Mason?"

"I do your Honor," replied Perry.

"In that case I believe we'll adjourn for the day. As the court has an urgent matter to dispose of at 8:00 am, this case is continued until 1:00 PM tomorrow afternoon." He rapped gavel and left the courtroom.

As they left the courtroom with Bernice, Major Lewes stopped Laura and Remington. "I've been looking for you," he explained. "I finally got you that appointment with General Winslow. He'll see you right now if you can get over to the Base right away."

"Oh Bennie, thank you so much, you're an angel!" exclaimed Bernice.

"I'll see that Bernice gets home," Bennie assured them. "Just don't keep the General waiting."

Major General Winslow wasted no time with preliminary chitchat. As soon as Laura and Remington were seated in his office, he made his position crystal clear. "I admit that I didn't want to see you. I liked Larry DuShaine a great deal, although we hadn't known each other long. He was a fine officer and a good man. I am determined to see to it his murderers are brought to justice. However, you were completely correct to point out that Lieutenant Michaels should be given his day in court without prejudice," announced General Winslow.

"We also want to see his killer brought to justice General," Laura agreed. "We just don't happen to believe that Murphy killed Larry. We're hoping you can tell us something that would shed some light on a possible motive for the crime."

"Other than the police theory of an affair between Mrs. DuShaine and Murphy," added Remington.

Winslow cleared his throat. "If that's the case, then you won't like what I'm about to tell you. This Base is experiencing thefts of enormous proportions in our Technical Training Division. I ordered Colonel DuShaine to investigate. I have reason to believe he had found the culprits, and was murdered because of what he had discovered."

"That's terrific then," said Laura. "That gets Murphy off the hook."

"I doubt that," replied the General sourly. "I have notified the police, but I see no reason why you can't see the evidence I'll be turning over to them." He produced a computer disk from his desk drawer. "Colonel DuShaine's secretary found this disk wedged in the back of Larry's desk drawer this morning."

He inserted the disk into his computer. "As you can see, it has an ID code on it," he waved his hand at the screen.

Remington read the code. "AFR-MMR/Lw 2-06-88." He glanced up at the General. "I presume this has some earth shattering significance?" he questioned.

"Indeed it does, Mr. Steele," replied Winslow. "The first six letters are Lieutenant Michaels personal ID code for the modem at the Base. It shows that it was received here at Lowry, and that it was received just three days before the murder of Colonel DuShaine." He punched in another command, and the contents of the disk displayed on the screen. It contained a letter addressed to Murphy, detailing the disposition of a shipment of goods due to leave the base. Dismay flooded her face as Laura leaned over the General's shoulder and read the closing paragraph aloud:

"...In closing Mr. Michaels, while we recognize your tenuous position, and will protect you until your current negotiations with the Libyans are completed, you must also be aware that once done, including 'major coin' payment to you per our agreement, the problem of your affair with the Colonel's wife is outside our concern. That he has discovered it, is both unfortunate and careless of you. You have jeopardized our relationship beyond the point of redemption. Therefore, we will sever our ties with you following the final exchange."

"This is preposterous! This is talking about committing treason. Murphy would never be involved in treason!" she protested.

"On the contrary, Mrs. Steele," announced Steve Sloan as he entered the room accompanied by a young Captain. "A man who would commit murder and adultery would probably consider treason all in a days work."

The Captain saluted the General and announced, "General Winslow Sir, may I present Officer Sloan of the Denver police department."

"At ease Captain, Officer Sloan and I have already met."

"General, I'll take that disk off your hands now," announced Steve.

Winslow removed the disk from the computer drive and handed it to Sloan. He turned to Laura and Remington, but spoke to his Captain. "Captain Martensen why don't you show the Steele's out?"

As Captain Martensen led Remington and Laura out of the complex, he apologized for the General's temper. "The old man is really on the hot seat with this one. He normally not this nasty."

"I can see objectivity isn't his strongest attribute," said Laura. "Did you know Colonel DuShaine, Captain?"

The Captain looked surprised for a moment and then answered. "Yes Ma'am didn't you know? I was the Colonel's secretary. He was a tough boss, but fair. He didn't deserve to die."

"No one deserves to die Captain, except in bad western movies," said Remington. He took Laura's arm and they left the Captain frowning behind them.

The lunch time crowd had already filled the Trinity Grill by the time Laura and Remington arrived to meet Perry and Della during the noon recess on the third day of the hearing. They were immediately ushered through the dining room to one of the private booths at the rear of the restaurant.

"Since you are alone, I assume you could not convince Mrs. DuShaine to join us," said Perry as Laura and Remington settled into their chairs.

"She just wanted to go home to Laurie," Laura explained. "She said she couldn't enjoy her lunch anyway, knowing that Murphy was eating jail food."

Della shook her head in sympathy. "I feel so sorry for that poor child." Everybody was quiet for a few minutes while the waitress served the food. "I hope you both like veal chops," Della said. "I took the liberty of ordering for you. It's a house specialty."

"Veal chops will be fine," answered Laura.

After they had been left alone for a few minutes, Remington broached the subject that was on everybody's mind. "My experience with the American legal system being as mercifully limited as it is," he paused and sipped his coffee, "I still get the feeling that the evidence is going badly against Murphy."

Mason nodded his head. "Unfortunately Mr. Steele, your feeling is accurate."

"You did a marvelous job of cross examining that sentry Perry," said Della. "You certainly proved he paid more attention to the ID badge than the face of the person wearing it. That should count for something."

Perry smiled at Della. "In a jury trial, yes I could turn that to our advantage. But Judge Mc Connell won't be swayed that easily. I wasn't really able to weaken the identification at its core."

"How much will that computer disk hurt us?" asked Laura.

"If the judge accepts it at face value it will be very damaging," replied Perry.

"Can you keep it out of the record?" questioned Remington.

"Probably, but I won't try," answered Perry. "I don't like to fight cases on technicalities. An innocent man deserves a clean acquittal."

"Somebody's framing Murphy I know it," insisted Laura. "Every time we turn around a new damning vague bit of evidence pops up. All of it is circumstantial, but none of it can be completely explained away..." She began ticking off the points on her fingers. "Pictures and a bill from a PI nobody in town seems to know, nobody at the Nuggets game remembers Murph, except the parking garage attendant, who places him with Bernice, a sentry who positively places Murphy at the scene of the murder...and then there's that damn computer disk. It's like there's someone watching our every move, and creating evidence on demand."

Perry shook his head. "For what reason, Mrs. Steele?" he asked. "Everything you've uncovered seems to tell us that Michaels was well liked, he doesn't collect enemies. Nobody frames someone for sheer sport."

Laura frowned at her glass of tea, rattling the ice in the glass. "He's out there somewhere, I know it. Something keeps nagging at me...I can almost put my finger on it, the key to the whole mess..." She abruptly slammed her glass down on the table in irritation. "Do we have to hear that song everywhere we go this town?" she snapped.

"Oh that's the theme song to a very popular revue running in town right now. The Blue Angel, Lili Marlene, a retrospective about Marlene Dietrich," explained Della. "Perry and I saw it last week. It's really a lovely show."

Laura looked at Della in astonishment. "Did you say Lili Marlene?" she asked.

"Yes, why?" asked Della.

Remington met Laura's eyes. Mr. Steele, I think we've found our key," she announced.

They both leapt up. "Where is the tape from Murphy's answering machine?" Laura asked.

"In the evidence room at the court house," Della began, "but..."

"If what we think is there, is on it, Murphy's on his way home," cried Laura as she and Remington darted out of the restaurant.

In the evidence room of the courthouse, a short while later, Della Street inserted the tape into the answering machine. Once again, they listened to the message allegedly from Larry to Murphy. Laura looked a Remington. "There it is, the reference to Minor Descoine, 'minor problem.'

As the message ended, Della reached out to turn off the machine, but Remington stopped her. "Wait, let it run please Miss Street." Turning to Laura he said, "and in that bogus letter, provided by General Winslow, 'major coin' for Major Descoine, Laura? Aren't we reaching just a bit?"

"Not if we're right about what's on the rest of the tape," insisted Laura. Seconds later the melody 'Lili Marlene' filled the room. "There it is," breathed Laura triumphantly.

"A charming rendition of a classic melody," rumbled Perry Mason, "but what has it to do with this case?"

"If we can find a man named Descoine, it has everything to do with this case," replied Laura.

"It's a lure fashioned by a twisted psychotic to get revenge," explained Remington hastily.

"I think it's time we tested the hook Mr. Steele," said Laura. "Della, where is that revue running?"

"The revue? Oh about Marlene Dietrich...at the Galleria in the Metroplex at 14th and Curtis."

Then that's where Mr. Steele and I are going!" Laura exclaimed.

The court bailiff stuck his head into the room, "Court's in session in five minutes folks."

"Stall things for as long as you can," Laura instructed as she and Remington left.

Della watched them leave, open mouthed with amazement. "What in the world..." she exclaimed.

"Della I want you to make a phone call," instructed Perry as they left the evidence room to go to court.

Remington slowly pulled open the door of the Galleria Theatre. "Laura have you given any thought to we're going to do if we actually find Major Descoine in there?"

"We'll take our cue from the Major. If he's here he'll be anxious to direct the show I imagine," she replied.

"I for one would feel a great deal better if we had script approval Laura," whispered Remington as they entered the theatre.

"My high school English teacher always said improvisation was one of my best things," Laura assured him.

"Indeed Mrs. Steele," boomed Descoine's baritone, "you have shown a particular flair for the extemporaneous."

Remington wheeled around in the direction of the voice. "Descoine, you bloody twit, we knew you had to be behind this!"

"True, true. Behind every superior campaign stands a visionary genius," agreed Descoine.

"What kind of visionary genius cowers in the dark like a sewer rat? asked Laura. "Come Mr. Steele, let's go. I don't deal with cowards."

"You are a worthy opponent Mrs. Steele, and you are correct of course." Descoine stepped out to center stage. "Let's shed the brightest light on everything. I for one, have nothing to hide." The fierce light of the orchestra spots flared, pining Laura and Remington in their glare. Laura ducked behind a row of seats, and Remington threw his hands up to shield his eyes. "Oh excuse me," apologized Descoine. "I have such trouble with these complicated electronic panels." The lights facing the seats disappeared, and the stage lights came up, revealing Descoine.

"What kind of game are you playing this time Descoine?" demanded Laura. She blinked to clear her eyes and advanced toward the stage.

"This time I have succeeded beyond even my highest expectations. You've come, as I knew you would. We have almost reached the end of our journey together. Once it is finished, my beloved Lilli will rest in peace at last. You see my dear, I've decided to join my Lilli in her eternal rest, and I felt it only fitting that the people responsible for her death should come along."

Remington stepped in front of Laura. "If you think we're going to stand here and let you kill us Descoine, you are bloody well crazy."

Descoine laughed, a low eerie chuckle. "Mr. Steele, you know me better than that. Nothing worth doing is worth doing in the ordinary way." Descoine jumped down from the stage, brandishing a small hand held electronic control. "Don't bother to run, the entire floor of this theatre is wired with 25,000 volts of electricity. When I press this button, we all will die. And this time you cannot stop it."

He advanced on Laura and Remington. "In a way, I shall be sorry to leave this life...I've so enjoyed watching my daughter perfect the craft I taught her. She did such a fine job...until the murder...but I took care of that. Michaels became the perfect patsy and the perfect bait..."

"Then Murphy is innocent," asserted Remington, "you filthy bugger!"

"Of course. But we three will take that knowledge to our graves. Michaels will pay the legal price for murder. I will succeed with him where I failed with you."

The sound of a muffled struggle in the wings interrupted Descoine. "Dad...run!" Minor Descoine shouted as she struggled against the hold a police officer had on her.

Descoine whirled to run and pulled up short as Steve Sloan moved in on him, his gun drawn. "Hold it right there, Descoine."

Laura caught the control box as Descoine dropped it from his hand, his head bowed in resignation.

As he cuffed Descoine Sloan said, "Perry Mason thought you two might need some help. I see he was right. Come on folks," he gestured at the assembled group, "let's go down to headquarters and see if we can sort this out."

"Of course, Detective," replied Remington. "But before we leave I recommend you have this buildings electric power shut off."

"The electric power? What are you talking about Steele?" he questioned.

"Just do it Sloan," urged Laura, tossing him the abandoned control unit. "We'll explain later."

"Mr. Mason, the prosecutions case appears to be meritorious. Unless you intend to put on a defense at this time, I will bind the defendant over for trial in Superior Court." announced Judge Mc Connell.

Della Street entered the courtroom and walked rapidly to the defense table. She whispered to Perry and handed him a note.

Perry rose and addressed the court. "If your Honor please, at this time I would like to recall Captain Dane Martensen for further cross examination."

"Oh your Honor I object!" snapped the District Attorney. "We have already made our case and would like to close it in an orderly manner. We are all well acquainted with these tactics. Mr. Mason intends to go on another of his well-known fishing expeditions! Let him call the Lieutenant as his own witness if he wishes to waste the courts time."

The judge looked to Perry for rebuttal. "Mr. Mason?"

"New information I have received relates directly to matters covered in Captain Martensen's direct testimony. If I am allowed to cross examine this witness, I believe the court can avoid a grave miscarriage of justice."

Judge Mc Connell studied Mason's face intently for a moment. "Mr. District Attorney, do you wish to withdraw your objection?"

The DA waved his hands in the air in weary resignation. "What can I say your Honor? Let Mr. Mason have his chance. After all, I wouldn't want to be accused of standing in the way of justice. I'm satisfied that the prosecution's case can withstand this last minute act of desperation by defense counsel."

"Very well, I will allow you to cross examine Mr. Mason," declared Judge Mc Connell. "However, I must warn you against any fishing expeditions. If the testimony is not relevant, it will be stricken from the record."

"Thank you your Honor," replied Perry.

"Bailiff is Captain Martensen present in court?" asked the judge.

"He is not, your Honor," replied the bailiff. "It will take him approximately thirty minutes to arrive here."

"Very well," answered the judge. "This court stands in recess until 3:15."

During the recess, Laura and Remington arrived, and filled Perry in on the events that took place at the Galeria Theatre. When court was called into session, they took their seats with Bernice, behind the defense table.

"You have already been sworn Captain," Judge Mc Connell reminded Martensen as he took the stand.

Perry Mason approached the stand with deliberate steps, smiling affably at the witness. "Good afternoon Captain, I am sorry we had to interrupt your duties to call you back to these proceedings."

"It was not a problem Sir. I am always happy to accommodate the cause of justice, Mr. Mason," replied the Captain solemnly.

Perry stifled a smile and said gravely, "I'm sure the court appreciates your sentiments Captain, I know the defense certainly does."

He turned to retrieve a document from the defense table and faced his witness. "Now that we have the amenities out of the way, there are matters I'd like you to clarify for the court," announced Perry.

Martensen looked expectantly at Perry. "In your direct testimony you stated that you had been stationed at Lowry for the past five months, is that correct?"

"Yes Sir, it is."

"You were Colonel DuShaine's secretary, a post that is often filled by a civilian. Isn't that an unusual assignment for a man of your experience in the Armed Services?" asked Perry.

Martensen shrugged non-commitally. "I'm sure I couldn't say Sir."

"Of course not. A good serviceman simply does what is needed," agreed Perry. "Tell me Captain, has your name always been Martensen?"

"Sir?" the Captain said with a puzzled frown.

"Has your name always been Martensen?" repeated Perry.

The Captain stiffened. "I changed my name seven years ago," he admitted flatly.

Perry smiled kindly at him. "From Martin, I see here," he remarked. Mason consulted the paper he held in his hand. "Because a member of your family, your Mother, Lilli Martin, had been implicated in a criminal proceeding, and you feared repercussions in your career, is that correct?"

"Yes Sir," replied the Captain sullenly.

"Your career is very important to you," Perry continued. "And you seem to have done quite well in it. You are quite young to have reached the rank of Captain. Tell me, are you happy in your current assignment?"

"Oh your Honor," exclaimed the District Attorney, "I fail to see the relevance of this line of inquiry. Whether Captain Martensen is happy in his career, indeed whether he has changed his name or not, is hardly germane."

"I will connect it up, your Honor," answered Perry. "It is vital as foundation."

"I will allow the defense same latitude here, Mr. District Attorney. Mr. Mason, on your assurance you can connect it up, you may continue," ruled the judge.

Mason turned back to the Captain. "Prior to this post where were you stationed?"

"I was stationed at SAC Headquarters in Omaha," answered Martensen.

Perry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Where, according to your service record, you had responsibilities of considerable more importance than those you carry here," he mused.

"I requested a transfer here. It isn't unusual for an officer to move around a great deal," explained Martensen.

"Captain," asked Perry suddenly, "do you know someone named Samuel Hassid?"

Martensen looked around the courtroom nervously. "Come now, Captain. Surely, that's not a difficult question. Either you know him or you don't," prodded Mason.

"I...I may have heard the name," answered Martensen levelly.

"According to police authorities in Omaha, Samuel Hassid is known to operate an extensive gambling operation there. I have here documents provided to me by my investigators, showing that you owed Mr. Hassid a considerable sum of money, Captain. Didn't you leave the Omaha area to avoid paying those debts?" challenged Perry. "And isn't it also true that if the Air Force were to discover those debts, your future in the service would be seriously jeopardized? Isn't it true that you have been desperate these past five months to cover these debts?" Mason pressed.

Martensen lunged at Mason. Halfway up he caught himself and lowered himself into his seat. Breathing heavily, he struggled to regain his self-control. The District Attorney intervened to help his witness. "Your Honor, this may be a matter for the military authorities at Lowry, but I fail to see how it affects this case," he asserted.

"On the contrary your Honor," said Perry, ''this relates directly to motive."

"The objection is overruled. The witness will answer the question."

Captain Martensen seemed to slump in the witness box. "I was heavily involved in illegal gambling in Omaha," he admitted. "But Colonel DuShaine didn't even know about that. I couldn't have killed him because of those markers," he declared with some bravado.

Perry stared hard at the Captain, until he began to fidget. "Isn't it true that Mr. Hassid sent collection men to Denver to extract payment from you in a highly creative manner? Isn't it also true that you were selling vital Air Force technology to the Libyans through Mr. Hassid, rather than repaying over 10,000 dollars in gambling markers?" he thundered.

"No," Martensen denied sullenly.

"Shall I introduce the documents into evidence, Captain?" Perry pressed.

Martensen looked around the courtroom helplessly. "Yes!" he croaked. "I had to; Hassid was going to have me killed if I didn't come up with the money somehow...I don't have access to that kind of money."

"Now that we have that out in the open Captain," replied Perry, "isn't it also true that Colonel DuShaine had discovered your activities, and that you argued with him about his findings, and that in a fit of temper, like the one you exhibited here today, you killed him to prevent him from ending your career in disgrace?"

"I swear I didn't mean to kill him! It was an accident. We were only trying to get him to listen to reason...we only meant to frame Michaels so we could get out of town...but the Colonel would have turned me in... Then she said the Major would know what to do..." Suddenly Martensen straightened up and turned to the judge. "I think I'd better get an attorney. I won't say anything else, your Honor."

Judge Mc Connell eyed the witness sternly. "If I were that attorney I'd agree with that course of action, Captain."

He pounded his gavel to quiet the excited buzz in the courtroom. "Mr. Mason, if you don't move for dismissal, the court will so move," declared Judge Mc Connell.

"The defense moves for a dismissal of all charges against this defendant, your Honor," replied Perry.

"The motion is granted. The bailiff will take this witness into custody. Mr. District Attorney you are directed to see to the matter of Captain Martensen immediately. This court is adjourned."

As spectators crowded around Perry and Murphy, eager to congratulate the winners, Della leaned over and kissed Murphy on the cheek, before she and Perry left. Laura and Bernice hugged Murphy excitedly and Remington stuck his hand out to Murphy. "I said you didn't have a thing to worry about," he said softly.

Murphy grinned broadly, as he pumped Remington's outstretched hand, "By God, right this minute I'm even glad to see you Steele," he admitted. "Thanks mate," he added sheepishly.

The DC 10 taxied along the runway and lifted off smoothly into the air. Laura Holt-Steele fidgeted restlessly in her seat as she struggled to find the most comfortable position for the Redeye flight back to Los Angeles.

"Go ahead and sleep if you want Hon," said Mildred. "I don't need company as long as I have my book."

"No, no I'm not the least bit sleepy," protested Laura. "You know I can't sleep on a plane anyway."

Mildred glanced over at Remington, already sleeping peacefully beside Laura. "How does he do that?" she asked with a chuckle.

Laura grinned lopsidedly. "I haven't got a clue. Must be some kind of conditioned response. All I know is he could sleep through an ICBM missile launch."

"Do you think Bernice will stay in the Denver area?" asked Mildred softly.

Laura shook her head. "I don't know. When I asked, she said she wasn't sure what she was going to do. She's taking Laurie to see Larry's family for a couple of weeks while she thinks things over. General Winslow told her she could stay in Base housing for another six months if she wants to," Laura explained.

"Well I'd say he owes her at least that much, the way he behaved," huffed Mildred.

Laura sighed. "He was as much a victim as Murphy, Mildred. Major Descoine was calling all the shots there for a while."

"What a weird ending to a case!" Mildred exclaimed. "Who'd have thought Minor Descoine would turn on her father, or that Descoine would end it the way he did? Hanging himself in his cell! What a kook."

"Apparently Minor Descoine is really in love with Captain Martensen," Laura observed. "The murder may well have been an accident just as he claims. In any case she was willing to betray her father to protect Martensen, and that's a first for her." She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

"Here Hon, take this," Mildred spread a blanket over Laura, "and try to get a little sleep." She tipped Laura's seat back.

Laura smiled and stretched. "Don't worry about me, Mildred. I'm fine, bright eyed and bushy tailed."

"Why would a man as smart as Descoine, let himself be drawn into a stupid scheme to frame Murphy?" Mildred asked. "It was bound to fail from the beginning."

"Descoine was brilliant all right Mildred, but also completely obsessed, and without a conscience," Laura replied. "He saw his chance to get his final revenge against Mr. Steele and me, and nothing else mattered. He never intended to live through the game, win or lose." She closed her eyes, but continued to talk. "It is sad though Mildred. All that potential wasted. Larry is gone...Bernice is alone...a little girl has no father..." Laura's voice faded to nothing as she fell asleep.

"In other words," whispered Mildred, "he was a kook." With a satisfied nod, she picked up her book and began to read.