Murphy Michaels was trying to concentrate on his case file, however at the moment his fiancée, Francine Desmond, was making that impossible. Her constant chatter was driving him bananas and it was all he could do not to tell her that.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in the wedding plans, it was that his boss, the legendary Perry Mason, had made it quite clear that wedding or no, he expected Murphy to have this case ready for trial on time. No excuses; Perry had little time for people with excuses.

"I’ve chosen mealworms and grubs as an appetizer for the rehearsal dinner."

He glanced up briefly and quickly returned to his reading. "Sure, okay."

"What do you think about kangaroo steaks and dried oak leaves for the entree followed by dirt pie for dessert?" She narrowed her eyes and waited for his reply.

"Sounds great, Dear."

Francine pounced. "You haven’t been listening to a word I said. I seem to recall a promise to share the responsibility of planning this wedding. We’re both busy professionals, you said, and we’ll divide the planning fifty-fifty, you said. Well Mr. Fifty-fifty, renting a tuxedo is not going to cut it! Are you even interested in this wedding?"

Murphy took advantage of the fact Francine had to breathe occasionally to get a word in edgewise. "Of course I’m interested in our wedding, Honey." He pulled her onto his lap, hoping to placate her with kisses and caresses. "Well mostly the wedding night," he admitted with a grin. "But, Sweetie, I’m swamped with the Tavish case. I trust your judgment, Fancy."

Francine exploded, slapping his hand away. "Listen you, stop that! I‘m sick and tired of this. You promised that you would make time today for us to go over the wedding plans. We have less then two weeks and now you’ve taken on the Tavish case. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I have a job to do and this is an opportunity I can not pass up. This case is important Francine; you know that I want to make a good impression on Mr. Mason."

"Mr. Mason can go to the devil for all I care. Our wedding is important to me. If I can take a leave of absence, I don’t understand why Mr. Mason can’t give you a few days off."

"Because," sighed Murphy, "the Tavish case is set for a preliminary hearing next week. If I do well with this case, maybe I can get Mason to finally sign a contract. It could mean the future of Michael’s Investigations."

"What about the future Mrs. Michaels? Think about that, Buster because if you don’t start showing some interest in this wedding. Well let’s just say the future is beginning to look pretty lonely for you." She stalked across the office and paused at the door, "I’ll leave you to your precious Tavish case."

Murphy winced as she slammed the door and the pictures on the adjoining wall shimmied. Before he could follow her the phone rang,

"Michael’s Investigations...Hello Della...No everything is great, just peachy..." He glanced at his watch. "…Give me twenty minutes." Dropping the phone in the cradle he grabbed his jacket and headed for his car.

"I am not impressed Mr. Michaels. I expect the people in my employ to be on time. I looked like a fool in court today and I will not tolerate another slip up in the future."

Murphy looked contrite. "I’m sorry, Mr. Mason, but—"

"Sorry doesn’t cut it, Mr. Michaels and I don’t like excuses. Either you are equipped to handle this assignment or not. What will it be?"

"I can handle it Mr. Mason, it’s just that—"

"Fine. One more chance Mr. Michaels. I expect the information on Mr. Tavish’s alleged mistress on my desk within twenty-four hours. That’s all. You may go."

"Thank you Mr. Mason."

Mason watched the young man leave and then turned to face a very disapproving Della Street. "Well Della? Do you have something to say?"

"Yes, Perry I do. However, since you are apparently in a foul mood and I’ve grown rather attached to my head, I think I’ll keep my opinion to myself lest you bite it off. Here are the dossiers you requested."

She slung several folders on his desk and turned to leave. Perry reached out and grasped her wrist. "Della," he said very softly, "I’ve grown rather attached to your head myself." That won him a small smile, "Do you really think I was too hard on Mr. Michaels?"

She patted his hand. "Yes I do. He’s getting married on Saturday, Perry, less than a week from now, and in spite of that he’s been working day and night on the Tavish case. It’s a wonder Francine is still speaking to him. Not everyone’s world stops when we have a court case." She perched on the corner of his desk, "And he did have the information. You can’t hold him responsible for traffic, Perry."

"I suppose you’re right, Della, you usually are. You’ll apologize to him for me?"

"Nope." She stood up and kissed his cheek, "You’ll have to do that yourself, Chief."

Francine stood in her beautifully appointed dining room and panicked. Why, she thought, why did I ever agree to this? It had sounded good three weeks ago, a pre-wedding dinner, and a chance for old and new friends to get together. Right now, standing here with curlers in her hair she was convinced she was certifiable. "Murphy!"

"Yeah?" He poked his head around the corner. "What’s up, Fancy?"

She scowled at him. "You have exactly fifteen minutes before the guests arrive, don’t you think you should change?"

"Why?"

"You are not attending this dinner in jeans and a flannel shirt, Mister. I laid out your navy suit."

"A suit! Come on Francine, I thought this was supposed to be a friendly get together."

She glared at him. "It is, but casual does not mean sloppy. Move."

She started up the stairs as the doorbell rang. A quick glance at her watch confirmed her fear; some one was arriving early. She was about to ask Murphy to get the door, but he was already gone. At least one of us will be presentable, she thought. With a sigh she went into the foyer and slowly opened the door. "Amanda!"

Amanda King enveloped her friend in a hug. "Lee’s parking the car, what can I do to help?"

Francine sagged in relief, "Can you pop the rolls in the oven while I finish getting ready?"

"Point me to the kitchen."

Remington Steele stood up at held out his goblet. "If I may have everyone’s attention?" He waited until everyone turned expectant faces toward him. "I’d like to make a toast. ‘ To Murphy and Francine, may their love grow over the years and their union be blessed with many children.’ "

Lee laughed at the look on Francine’s face. "I don’t know, Steele, I can’t picture Francine as a mommy."

Amanda smiled at her friend. "She’ll be a wonderful mother."

"I concur," said Remington as he sat down beside his wife who was watching Murphy with concern. Steele had noticed that he’d seemed distracted throughout most of dinner. He leaned over and whispered into Laura’s ear, "It’s probably just pre-wedding jitters, Love. Relax."

Laura smiled at him and nodded. But she was still worried, she’d known Murphy for years and she knew when something was bothering him.

When everyone moved into the living room, she took the opportunity to corral Murphy. "What’s wrong with you?"

Murphy looked down at her, "Nothing."

"Don’t 'nothing' me, Murphy. I know when something’s eating at you, so spill it."

"I’m just nervous."

Laura Holt-Steele looked up into the honest face of her friend. "Bull. You are the world’s lousiest liar, Murphy."

He sighed. "It’s just this case I’m working on."

Lee Stetson joined them. "What case?"

"The Tavish case."

Mildred gasped. "As in the millionaire Ronald Tavish? The one who offed his wife?"

"Allegedly offed his wife, Mildred," Remington said as he joined the rest of them, followed by Francine and Amanda. " It sounds like a high profile case, Murphy, it should do wonders for your career."

Catching Francine’s scowl, Amanda quickly changed the subject to the wedding.

Murphy half-listened to the conversation flowing around him, his mind on Ronald Tavish. He didn’t know what is was about that guy that bugged him, but something just didn’t gel. It bothered him that he couldn’t put his finger on it. The tabloid reports that Tavish had a mistress had turned out to be false. The woman he’d been seen with was his niece.

There was no evidence the late Mrs. Tavish had been stepping out on him. In fact, everyone said they had a perfect marriage.

There are no hints of improprieties in his business dealings either; the man is as clean as a whistle. And that’s what bothers me, Murphy thought. Everyone has secrets, everyone but Tavish.

"Well that was a disaster."

Murphy looked at Francine in surprise. "I thought everyone had a good time."

"How would you know? You barely said two words. Everyone noticed."

"Sorry Hon, I was preoccupied."

"With your big case," Francine sighed, "yes I know. Why can’t you let this go for one night, Murphy?"

"I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right about Tavish." He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down on the couch next to him. "He’s too perfect."

Francine snuggled against him. "Ronald Tavish is one of the most influential men in Denver. He is well respected and has very powerful friends."

"And he is squeaky clean. Come on Fancy, you’ve lived in DC; you know how the game works. How can a man achieve that kind of power and not get a little dirty?"

She sighed. "They can’t. Are you sure you haven’t missed anything?"

Murphy shook his head. "I doubt it. I started with his birth certificate. You know how thorough Mason is."

"Tavish was raised in Colorado Springs. His father was a mechanic and his mom was a local girl. They met when dad was in the Air Force. Little Ronny had a Happy Days childhood. He is the oldest of four children. There are also two daughters, and another son in the family. He was the star center on his high school basketball team and dated the head cheerleader."

"But he didn’t marry her."

"Oh but he did. Ronald Alexander Tavish married Kathleen Sue Perkins in 1961. She was eighteen and he was twenty. She worked as a waitress while he attended Colorado State.

Their first and only child, Steven was born in 1968 and named after Ron’s brother who was KIA in ‘Nam two months before the baby was born."

"Ron went into business with one of his brothers-in-law in 1969 and Tavish and Wisner flourished. By 1972, Wisner was running the daily operations. By 1976, he and Wisner were both wealthy men and becoming influential men as well. Tavish was getting into local politics."

Francine was beginning to see Murphy’s point. "I remember reading somewhere that he ran for Congress but dropped out days before the election."

Murphy nodded. "Yep. In 1976, six days before the election, a car driven by his brother-in-law and carrying his wife and son plummeted over a cliff near Cheyenne Mountain. All three were killed instantly.

"What were his brother-in-law and wife doing on Cheyenne Mountain?"

"The kid’s Boy Scout Troop was on a tour of NORAD. It was arranged by Tavish’s office, but at the last minute he was unable to go so his brother-in-law went instead."

"An aspiring politician gave up such a great photo op? Why?"

Murphy smiled and kissed her. "We make a great team; that was my thought exactly. According to the press reports at the time, there was a minor crisis that required his presence in Colorado Springs."

"What kind of ‘minor’ crisis?" she asked.

"Tavish’s people were delightfully vague about the specifics."

"No rumors, no innuendo about Mrs. Tavish and Mr. Wisner?"

"The cuckolded spouse motive?" Murphy shook his head. "Nothing I’ve been able to find. They two families were tight but squeaky clean.

After the crash, Tavish gave up his run for Congress to run the company and help his sister raise her three children. Apparently, Tavish also turned his grief into an advantage. He threw himself into his work, big time," Murphy said.

"By 1978 he had moved the company into electronics and computers and then the market exploded and he was sitting on a gold mine. He sold Tavish and Wisner in 1982 for twenty-five million dollars."

Francine smiled. "At which time he moved to Denver and founded Tavish Consultants."

"Which became, by 1985, another multimillion dollar company. He did pretty darn good for an ex- jock with a business degree," Murphy said.

"He’s a patron of the arts and a mover and shaker in Denver society, Murphy. I read he dated some of the most beautiful women in Denver before he got married," Francine added.

"Good thing he was married by the time you got here then," Murphy said. "He was a real ladies man until he met the recently deceased Christina DeSilva in 1987 at some fund raiser. They got married two weeks after they met and by all accounts had the perfect marriage."

"Until three weeks ago when she was found with a bullet in her brain," Francine said.

"Kinda puts a damper on the perfect marriage thing. But seriously, according to friends, relatives and staff they were disgustingly happy. Never fought about anything."

"See, there’s your problem. No marriage is that perfect. Even Lee and Amanda fight and they’re as close to perfect as I’ve ever seen."

Murphy grinned. "Well, at least as perfect as any couple who are supposed to not be married can be, eh?"

"OK, so maybe they aren’t the ideal example, but I still say no couple, married or not, can be that cooingly compatible," Francine said.

"What about Mr. Mason? Does he buy Tavish’s ‘pure as the new fallen snow’ routine?"

Murphy shrugged. "I guess. Mason has one rule; the clients story is the truth—at least until proven otherwise."

"If he proves it otherwise?" Francine asked.

"You mean if I prove it otherwise," Murphy said.

"Yes, if you prove it otherwise," Francine said.

"He won’t walk out on a client, guilty or innocent," Murphy said. "But God help the client who deliberately lies to him. Mason won’t knowingly plead a guilty client innocent. He’ll offer him a choice, either get another attorney or come clean and let Mason work the best deal he can for them."

"Either way it’s a tough play," Francine said.

"That’s the way Mason is," Murphy said. "That’s why I can’t let him down, Fancy. Win, lose or draw, I’ve got to be right this time. Mason’s no lightweight ambulance chaser. If I can get in solid with him, it’s gold bond all the way."

"Well, you’ve got until Saturday Murphy Michaels. On Saturday, Perry Mason or no Perry Mason, I’m going to marry you. If I have to, I’ll go to the judge myself and get a damned continuance, you hear me?"

Murphy stared. "Fancy! You wouldn’t…would you? Nah, you…"

"Don’t try me, Murphy," she said. "I can pick up this phone right now, and Della Street would help me get the ball rolling…"

"Do you think Francine is happy?"

Lee Stetson looked at his wife as she settled into bed. "Stay out of it Amanda."

"Out of what?"

"Whatever is going on with Francine and Murphy."

"See, you do think something is wrong."

He groaned. "Amanda, honey, I think they’re both nervous about the wedding and Murphy has this high profile case on top of that. That‘s all. Francine loves the guy and he loves her. Now butt out."

"I wasn’t butting in."

"I know you, Amanda, you were about to."

"I was not.

"Were too."

"Shut up and go to sleep." She snapped off the light and curled up against her husband. "Was not."

Francine said, "What about the rumor that Tavish has a girlfriend?"

"False lead. Turns out the blonde he was with was his niece."

"Blonde? According to Monica, he was sleeping with Suzie Wilson, she’s a red head."

"Monica told you this?"

Francine yawned. "Yes, two days ago. She saw him with Suzie the night his wife was killed. It was all the talk at the club."

"According to Tavish he was with Allison Whitney when his wife died."

"He’s lying."

"Maybe Monica was mistaken."

"Talk to her tomorrow. Let’s call it a night; I’m beat."

"Do you think Murphy is making the right decision?"

Laura Holt-Steele watched as Remington paced the bedroom of their suite. "Stay out of it, Remington. Whatever we may think of her, Murphy loves Francine."

"I know that, Love, but she’s also a barracuda in silk blouses. She’ll eat the poor man alive."

"You don’t like Francine?"

"I didn’t say that. I happen to like women with sharp teeth," he teased as he pulled Laura into his arms. "I just don’t think she is the right woman for Murphy. I always fancied he and Sherry—"

"He and Sherry broke up long ago, Mr. Steele. She was a flighty piece of work. Now promise you’ll stay out of it."

"Laura—"

"Promise."

Steele sighed. "I promise, but I still think Murphy is biting off more than he can chew."

"Shut up and kiss me, Mr. Steele."

"…Your honor, I request that I be allowed to recall a witness for further cross-examination," Perry said.

"Which witness, Mr. Mason?"

"I have just a few additional questions for Allison Whitney, Your Honor."

The judge looked at Michael Reston. "Any objection, Mr. Reston?"

Michael Reston rose and addressed the court. "None, except the usual objection to Mr. Mason using his customary delaying tactic with pointless cross-examinations of the prosecution witnesses, Your Honor," he said tiredly.

The judge studied Mason’s face carefully and then made his ruling. "The court can see no clear reason why Mr. Mason should be precluded from further cross-examination. Objection overruled. Call your witness, Mr. Mason."

"The defense calls Allison Whitney to the stand."

As he waited for the witness to be sworn in, Perry glanced at his notes. Not that he really needed to refresh his memory, but because it made his opponents think he did. He looked up briefly as the witness settled into the box and the without looking up began his examination. "Miss Whitney, are you aquatinted with my client, Ronald Tavish?"

"Yes I am."

"And how would you describe your relationship?"

"Friends and occasionally colleagues."

"Friends, I see." Perry stood up and paused for effect, "And where were you on the evening of November 29, 1989?"

"At the Brown Palace Hotel."

"And were you alone, Miss Whitney?"

The witness shook her head and looked down at her hands.

The judge leaned toward her, "Miss Whitney, please answer defense’s question."

"No," she said softly, "I wasn’t alone."

"I see." Mason picked up a slip of paper, "If it please the court, I have a receipt from Miss Whitney’s credit card for charges at the Brown Hotel on the evening in question. I’d like it entered as defense exhibit B."

The judge nodded and the bailiff took the item from Mason and placed a tag on it before handing it back to him.

"Miss Whitney, is this your signature?"

The young woman glanced quickly at the defendant and then at the receipt, "Yes it is."

"Would you please read the charges for the court?"

Her voice barely a whisper she began to read, "Brown Palace Hotel—"

"Please speak up Miss Whitney," admonished the judge.

"It says, the Brown Palace Hotel, Suite 817 11/29/89. Room Service $75.00."

With a glare, she handed the receipt back to Perry Mason.

"Thank you Miss Whitney, do you recall what the charge was for?"

"Champagne."

"Were you celebrating something?"

"Yes."

Mr. Reston rose. "Your Honor, the prosecution covered none of this in our direct examination; it is clearly not proper cross-examination. If Mr. Mason wishes to delve into these extraneous matters through this witness let him call Miss Whitney as a defense witness…"

Before the judge could rule on the objection, Murphy entered the courtroom and joined Della at the defense table.

Perry turned to the judge, "I ask the court’s indulgence so that I may have a moment to confer with my colleagues, Your Honor."

"Granted. We’ll take a fifteen minute recess, you may step down Miss Whitney."

"I’m not so sure this is a good idea, Steele."

Remington looked at Lee with amusement. "Now Lee, every man should have a bachelor party."

"Did you?"

"Um, sort of. Murphy and I had a few drinks before hand."

"Just you and Murphy?"

"Well, yes, he was my best man. He said it’s the best man’s job to throw the bachelor party. I didn’t exactly give him a lot of time. Laura and I got married quite unexpectedly."

Lee grinned. "Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Amanda and I eloped, so we didn’t have any of the traditional trappings either and please remember we are not officially married. I think Billy suspects and maybe Francine, but no one else knows."

Lee took a sip of his beer and grimaced, it was warm. "I’m still not sure this is such a great idea though. Francine is wound up enough about the wedding. What if this is the last straw?"

"Do you think she’ll bolt? "

"No, not really, it’s just that Francine is skittish about weddings as it is and I don’t want anything to upset her. So no strippers, okay?"

Remington grinned. "Of course not. I have a very jealous wife, mate, and I’m rather attached to my vital organs."

"And don’t get Murphy drunk."

"Certainly not."

Steele looked offended that Lee would suggest such a thing. Remington never drank to excess and the one time he and Murphy had, he had discovered that for an Irishman, Murphy was an easy drunk.

"What if Francine has other plans for them tonight?"

"Francine definitely does. Our lovely wives are throwing her a bachelorette gathering, old man. Do you always worry like this?"

"Always."

"You are certain about this information, Mr. Michaels?"

"Absolutely. Monica Colby is willing to testify that she saw your client and Suzie Wilson on the night of the murder."

He handed Perry a packet of photos. "She was supervising a photo shoot for Carrington Cosmetics and gave me the proofs of the session."

Perry flipped through the photos; several of them clearly showed his client in the background with a striking red head.

He showed the photos to Della and then turned to his client. "Would you care to explain these to me, Mr. Tavish?"

"I was with Suzie when my wife was killed, Mr. Mason. I swear I had nothing to do with her murder."

Perry narrowed his eyes, "Then why did Miss Whitney provide you with a false alibi?"

"I asked her to lie for me, Mr. Mason. Allison and I go way back; we grew up together. She was my wife’s—my first wife’s—best friend. She and Christina never got along very well. Allison is the only person who knew about my affair with Suzie. She lied to protect me."

"Why did you need Allison to lie for you? You had an alibi in Miss Wilson."

"Mrs. Wilson," interjected Murphy. "And I suspect that is why he asked Miss Whitney to lie for him."

"Is that true? Did you ask Miss Whitney to lie for you to protect Mrs. Wilson?"

Ronald Tavish nodded, "Allen Wilson is a very powerful man, you know that, Mr. Mason. He is also a very violent man. He’s beaten Suzie on more than one occasion."

Mason glanced over at Murphy, who shook his head. "Why then, " Perry asked, "is there no evidence of this alleged abuse?"

"Like I said, Allen Wilson is a very powerful man."

"Very well, Murphy, do you know where Mrs. Wilson is?"

"Waiting in an empty jury room, Mr. Mason. She is willing to testify."

"No!"

"Why not, Mr. Tavish? You heard Mr. Michaels, Mrs. Wilson is quite willing to take the stand in your defense."

Perry reached once more for the stack of photographs. "Is the reason you don’t want Mrs. Wilson to testify that she will say that you left her at least two hours before the murder?"

"Two hours, Mr. Tavish, more then enough time to drive to your home and murder your wife before meeting Miss Whitney in her suite at the Brown Palace Hotel.

"These photographs are time stamped and date stamped, Mr. Tavish. It clearly shows you saying your good-byes to Mrs. Wilson and later photographs show Mrs. Wilson sitting alone at her table."

"This one," Perry dropped the photo on the table in front of his client, "shows the empty table at precisely the time of your wife’s murder. What do you have to say to that Mr. Tavish?"

"I didn’t kill my wife."

"Very well, " Perry turned to Murphy, "I’ll call Mrs. Wilson to the stand as soon as I finish with Miss Whitney."

Laura looked up as Amanda entered the Steele’s suite at the Brown Palace Hotel. "Wow," Amanda said, "this is something. Very romantic."

"Your rooms aren’t?"

"No, especially since they’re separate rooms, and on different floors. Well, never mind. Is everything set for tonight?"

"Yes it is. Mildred is a whiz at these things. She promised it would be sedate and tasteful."

"No stripper, huh?"

Laura returned Amanda’s grin. "No strippers. Mildred promised; she wasn’t happy but she promised. Francine doesn’t strike me as the stripper type."

"I don’t think so," Amanda answered. "I wouldn’t think Mildred is either."

"Don’t let the sweet exterior fool you, our Miss Krebs is a party animal at heart."

"Mildred? I don’t believe it. So, other than you, me and Mildred, who else is on our guest list?"

"Monica Colby, Della Street, Mrs. Melrose, Murph’s sisters, Francine’s sorority sisters—"

"Quite a mixed bag," said Amanda. "How many sisters does Murphy have?"

"Four, and one sister-in-law," Laura answered. "What do you know about Bootsie, Buffy or whatever?"

Amanda smiled at the tone of Laura’s voice." You weren’t in a sorority in college were you? "

Laura shook her head, "God no. They were too establishment. Were you?"

"Yes I was. They were still acceptable then, but I wasn’t a very active member, I had Joe."

"Ah, the first hubby. Did you have a big wedding when you married him?"

Laura was curious about Amanda’s first husband, she rarely mentioned him. Laura knew he had remarried and was living overseas, but that was about it. She surmised that Philip looked like his father, and was probably very much like Joe King. Jamie clearly took after his mother.

"Oh yeah, the whole shebang. It was exhausting. Small and intimate is the way to go."

Laura laughed, "Did you tell Francine that?"

"I remind you, Miss Whitney, you are still under oath," said the judge as Allison Whitney returned to the stand.

"Yes, sir."

"Miss Whitney," Perry spoke from his seat at the defense table, his manner relaxed as Della took notes and Murphy watched the proceedings intently. "Let’s refresh everyone’s memories. You testified that you and Mr. Tavish spent the evening of November 29^th in a suite at the Brown Palace Hotel, is that correct?"

"Yes it is, Mr. Mason."

"You further identified this room service receipt as one signed by you on the same date?"

"Yes I did."

"And how long were you and Mr. Tavish at the Brown Palace Hotel, Miss Whitney?"

"I arrived around 6:30 PM and Ron, Mr. Tavish got there about an hour later I guess."

"Do you remember what time Mr. Tavish left the hotel?"

"Not specifically, it was after midnight I think."

"Are you certain, Miss Whitney?"

"No, I wasn’t wearing a watch, Mr. Mason."

"Of course not," Perry agreed, "but you are sure it was after midnight?"

"Yes, I am."

Perry picked up three photographs and approached the bench. "I’d like to enter these photographs into evidence. I apologize to the state, but I just received them myself. "

The District Attorney, Michael Reston, stood, "May I approach your honor?"

"Please, Mr. Reston."

"I’d like to ask where Mr. Mason is going with this line of questioning."

Perry looked at the young man, "I should think it is fairly obvious; I am providing the court with evidence overlooked by the police."

"And here, Your Honor we return to my earlier objection," Reston said. "Mr. Mason is going far afield from the testimony given by this witness in direct examination. Whatever these photographs show, they are not properly part of the prosecutions case."

The judge looked from Reston to Mason. "You are perhaps technically within your rights, Mr. Reston, however, this defendant is on trial for murder. In light of the seriousness of the charges, I am inclined to give the defense the widest latitude in cross-examination. In any case, we have no jury here, and the order of proof and scope of examination is within the courts jurisdiction."

He turned to Mason. "Mr. Mason, can you assure me that these photographs are pertinent to the testimony of this witness?"

"They are extremely pertinent, Your Honor."

"Very well I will admit them." He handed them to the bailiff, "Please mark these defense exhibits C, D and E. Please continue Mr. Mason."

Perry approached the witness. "Miss Whitney, do you know Mrs. Suzanne Wilson?"

"I’ve met her yes, we’ve attended several of the same parties."

"I show you this photograph Miss Whitney, marked exhibit C. Is that Mrs. Wilson?"

Miss Whitney’s smile was as patronizing as the tone of her voice. "No, Mr. Mason, that’s some model. I’m afraid I don’t know her name."

Perry smiled, "I apologize to the witness. I failed to make myself entirely clear. Look at the woman seated in the background Miss Whitney. Isn’t that Mrs. Wilson?"

Allison Whitney picked up the photograph and looked intently at it; her gaze drifted to the defendant and then back to the photograph. "It looks like her."

"Do you recognize the gentleman seated with Mrs. Wilson?"

"No."

"Please look again, Miss Whitney. Do you know who the man is who is seated at the table with Mrs. Wilson?"

Allison dropped the photo. "It’s Ron."

"Ronald Tavish?"

"Yes."

"Miss Whitney, can you please read to the court the date and time on this photograph?"

"11/29/89 2217."

"November 29, 1989 at 10:17 PM. How is it, Miss Whitney that Mr. Tavish is clearly shown sitting with Mrs. Wilson during the time you testified he was with you in the Brown Palace Hotel?"

"The photograph must be a fake."

Perry shook his head, "No Miss Whitney, is it not; perhaps it is you who are fake."

Perry turned toward the bench "I have depositions from Mr. Sam Winston, the photographer and Regina, who is incidentally Miss Whitney, the model you could not identify, that authenticate the photograph as absolutely genuine."

Perry turned back to his witness. "So I ask you Miss Whitney, how is it that you testified that Mr. Tavish was with you when clearly he was not?" Perry waited for a long moment, "Miss Whitney?"

The witness looked at the defendant. "I’m sorry, Ron. I lied."

"Why did you lie, Miss Whitney?"

"Because Ron asked me to. He said he couldn’t account for his whereabouts when Christina was murdered. He swore he didn’t kill her."

"And you believed him?"

"Yes."

"If you believed him then why did you feel you had to create an alibi for that night? Why did you lie for him? How did you know that Mr. Tavish would need an alibi for that precise moment?"

"Objection you honor. Counsel is badgering the witness."

"Sustained."

Mason took a step toward the defense table and then turned back to the witness, "Perhaps Miss Whitney, it was you that needed the alibi."

"No."

"Is it not true that you are in love with Ronald Tavish and have been for many years?"

"Ron is my friend," replied the witness.

"But you would like him to be more than a friend wouldn’t you, Miss Whitney? Isn’t it true that you had hoped to be the second Mrs. Tavish and were devastated when he married Christina DeSilva?"

Allison shook her head, "No, I only wanted him to be happy."

"But he wasn’t happy was he?" Perry asked as he grasped the edge of the witness box and leaned forward. "He was miserable and you decided to help him get out of his unhappy marriage."

"No!"

"Didn’t you plot to murder Christina DeSilva Tavish in the hopes that Mr. Tavish would marry you?"

"NO!" Allison Whitney said as she blinked tears back.

"Isn’t it true Miss Whitney," Perry asked softly, "that you loved Ronald Tavish so much that you killed his wife and set up a false alibi for him? Isn’t it true that you had no idea until he came to you that he was having a relationship with someone else?"

He paused and waited for the witness to answer him. "Miss Whitney, isn’t it true that you sacrificed everything for Ronald Tavish only to find out he was in love with someone else. That you murdered Christina Tavish for the love of a man who never loved you? Isn’t that true Miss Whitney?"

"Yes," she sobbed, "yes, I killed her. I killed her! "

She looked at the defendant. "I loved you Ron, why couldn’t you see that? I did this for you! I did it for you—"

As the witness sobbed, Michael Reston rose to his feet, "Under the circumstances, the People ask for a dismissal of all charges against Ronald Tavish."

The judge nodded, "So ordered. Mr. Tavish, you are free to go. Bailiff, please take Miss Whitney into custody. Court is adjourned."

As the bailiff led the sobbing woman away, Ronald Tavish shook Perry’s hand, "Thank you Mr. Mason. " he said, "please excuse me, but I have to make sure Allison will be all right."

Murphy watched him go with a small frown, "She murdered his wife, let him go on trial for that murder and he wants to make sure she’s okay? I don’t get it."

Della patted the young man’s arm. "It’s called friendship Murphy." She turned to Perry, "Ready to go?"

"Yes," he said as he picked up his briefcase, "you did a fine job, Murphy. "

"Thank you, Mr. Mason," he answered. "Uh, Mr. Mason, my friends are giving me a bachelor party tonight after the rehearsal and I’d like it if you’d join us—"

"He’d love to," said Della with a smile. "Wouldn’t you Perry?"

Perry grinned and wrapped an arm around Della’s shoulder. "The boss has spoken, just tell me when and where?"

"That went off without a hitch," Amanda said as she and Francine exited the elevator and walked down the hallway toward the Steele suite, "so it’s smooth sailing from here."

"Do you think so?"

Amanda stopped and looked at her friend. Francine’s brow was furrowed and she looked upset. "Of course I do, Francine. The rehearsal was flawless, the dinner was superb and everyone had a wonderful time."

"I don’t know Amanda, I’m not sure Murphy’s family was ready for my mom or my aunt. And what about that man my mother brought with her? There’s something about him—"

"Mrs. Michaels and your mother got along just fine, and your aunt is a delight."

"And mother’s boyfriend?"

Amanda shrugged, "I agree there is something about him, but don’t worry about it tonight. I’m sure Lee or Remington will find out all about him at the bachelor party. Now come on before Laura and Mildred think you’ve run out on them."

"Only sixteen more hours of freedom old man," Remington clapped a hand on Murphy’s shoulder, "how do you feel?"

"Nervous as hell," he answered taking a large gulp from his beer. "How did you manage to stay so calm before your wedding?"

"I’m Remington Steele, icy calm is my specialty."

"The truth," hissed Murphy, "can’t you ever tell the truth?’

"I didn’t have time to get nervous." Steele answered honestly, "and afterward it didn’t matter. I married the woman I loved and I have never regretted it for a minute."

"I love Francine."

"Then you have no worries, mate." Steele lifted his glass and clinked it against Murphy’s beer mug. "No worries."

Lee joined the town of them at the bar, "What’s the story with that old con with Mrs. Desmond?" He grabbed a mug of beer and took a swallow, "the one talking to that tall guy over there."

Murphy glanced across the room, "That’s my brother-in-law Bill. The old guy is Archie something or other. Francine’s never met him before, apparently Ada met him on a cruise."

"Odd," murmured Remington, "he looks familiar to me."

"That," replied Murphy, "is not good news."

"…So then Francine and I climbed back up the trellis and guess who was waiting in our room?"

"Mrs. Franklyn!" chorused the rest of Francine’s sorority sisters as Bootsie Caldwell finished telling tales about her and Francine’s escapades in college. Bootsie, along with Connie Richardson and Christina Chambers had been among the first to arrive at the party. Since then Bootsie had taken up residence near the bar and regaled the rest of the guests with her tales of sneaking out and parties.

Laura joined Francine on a small settee that was isolated from the rest of the room, where she was watching the festivities. "You’re supposed to be the guest of honor, any reason you are hiding in the corner?"

Francine tried to smile. "Nerves, I guess." She glanced across the room as a burst of laughter followed the latest tale of college high jinx. She frowned. How could she have ever been a friend with those women? "Were you nervous before your wedding?"

"Only right from the time we made the decision until I said my vows." She smiled. "Thank God Remington and I didn’t have much time between our engagement and wedding. If I’d had to endure all of this, I might have changed my mind. As it was, Mildred did all the planning, all I did was show up."

"No dinners, no parties?"

"Nope," Laura shook her head and glanced across the room to where Mrs. Murphy and Mrs. Desmond sat with their heads together, "just a small ceremony. My mother still hasn’t forgiven us. I figure one more grandchild should do it."

Francine laughed as Amanda joined them. "Now that’s the sound I wanted to hear, having fun?"

"I’m trying, I really am," sighed the nervous bride, "but I’ve got a huge case of butterflies. What if Murphy—I mean what if it happens again? Damn." She wiped at the wine she spilled on her skirt.

"Murphy isn’t Jonathan, Francine; he won’t run out on you," soothed Amanda with a low voice. "It’s not going to happen again."

"I know, I know," sighed Francine as a puzzled Laura tried to follow the conversation, "but I still have a bad case of nerves." She stood up, "excuse me."

Laura watched Francine make her way to the bathroom and then turned to Amanda who was watching her friend with a slight smile, "Care to fill me in?"

"I just knew you were going to say that." Amanda smiled and took a sip of her drink, "I don’t think Francine would mind if I told you. She was engaged to a man named Jonathan several years ago and he left her standing at the altar."

"Ouch," Laura said, "I’d have been nervous about a wedding too if that happened to me. What kind of idiot walks on a woman like Francine? She’s every man’s centerfold dream."

"I know, I asked Lee about it once, and he just laughed and said I didn’t understand men." Amanda glanced around the crowded room. "And it gets worse," she continued. "Jonathan showed up a year or so ago and wormed his way back into her life. Only this time is wasn’t only romance he was after."

Amanda leaned forward and whispered, "he was blackmailed into getting some highly classified information from her. Then she forgave the slime ball and they got back together, and then she found out the SOB was married."

"Poor Francine. Some men don’t deserve to live."

"On the other hand, I think he was a big part of the reason she moved to Denver and met Murphy."

Laura grinned. "It’s karma, fate; Francine and Murphy were meant to be together."

"They’re each other’s destiny," put in Amanda, "that would explain why two such different people are so right together."

"That girls, is called love." Laura and Amanda looked up guiltily to see Della Street smiling down at them. "Where is the bride?"

"She spilled some wine on her dress," answered Laura. "Della, have you met Amanda King? Amanda, this is Della Street."

The bachelor party was in full swing when Perry Mason entered the bar. He was glancing around looking for a familiar face when a hand was thrust out. "Hello, you must be Mr. Mason, I’m Timothy Michaels the groom’s father, it’s an honor to meet you."

"Likewise, Mr. Michaels, you have a fine son." Perry smiled. "You must be very proud of him. "

"I am, Mr. Mason, I am," Timothy Michaels answered, his cops gaze assessing the attorney. Perry Mason was somewhat of a legend among the boys in blue.

"Perry, how are you doing you old shyster you!"

Mason turned at the sound of an old friend’s voice. "Bob Clayton! How the devil have you been?"

"I can’t complain, although Uncle Sam says it’s time for me to hang up my wings."

"Please tell me you aren’t still flying, Bob."

"Hell no," Lee’s uncle grumbled, "haven’t been in the pilot’s seat for nearly four years, they’ve got me flying a desk now."

Perry grinned. "That’s much safer for those of us on the ground, no doubt. Have you met Timothy Michaels, the groom’s father?"

"I haven’t had the pleasure." Robert shook Timothy’s hand. "Colonel Robert Clayton. My nephew Lee, speaks highly of your son."

"Nice to meet you Mr. Clayton, if you’ll excuse me, I have to give my boy some wedding night advice."

Perry and Robert watched the ex-cop wind his way through the room and then sat down at a small table, "So," said Robert with a smile, "still keeping company with the delectable Miss Street or has she finally come to her senses?"

"Find your own woman, Bob."

"How is it the two of you have never made it legal?"

Perry shrugged. "Never got around to it I guess."

Bob Clayton peered at his old friend. "You never got around to it? I know you are a busy guy and all that Perry, but I’d think after what—more than 30 years—you’d find time to ‘get around to it.’ "

"You are a fine one to talk Bob. How come you never found the right woman and settled down?"

"I had Lee," answered the Colonel, "and we never stayed in one place for very long. "

"Lee has been out of the nest for nearly 20 years."

Bob smiled, "tell you what, you make an honest woman out of Della and I’ll find myself a wife."

"How about you find yourself a wife and then I’ll think about it?"

Bob laughed. "What is it you have against the institution of marriage?"

"Finest institution there is," said Remington as he joined the two men. "Bob, Mr. Mason, are you enjoying yourselves?"

"Yes we are," answered the attorney, "but please, call me Perry, Mr. Steele. Bob and I were just discussing the merits of bachelorhood versus marriage."

"Remington, please. There is nothing like marital bliss I always say," Steele said. "Of course, bachelorhood had its allure, although I suspect I’d not easily adjust to being single again. God forbid. I can’t imagine my life without Laura and Katie."

"So it’s your opinion that the married state is more acceptable than being single?"

"It is for me."

"But you can’t give one concrete reason for that opinion?"

"For crying out loud," exclaimed Bob Clayton, "are you always the attorney?"

Perry looked puzzled for a minute and then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry Remington, I guess I got carried away for a second there."

"No problem," Steele said. "But why are two such confirmed bachelor’s so interested in the joys of wedded bliss? Does this have anything to do with your Miss Street?"

"No. It has to do with Bob’s big mouth."

Colonel Clayton laughed. "Don’t mind Perry, Steele, I think I hit a nerve when I mentioned Della and marriage in the same sentence."

"Shut up Bob."

"Did the florist get the flowers done? Did they get the white lilacs? I just know they didn’t. Amanda please go check for me, I’ll go crazy if I don’t know if the flowers arrived--"

"Miss Desmond, please!" The exasperated hairdresser picked up the brush she had dropped when Francine had leapt to her feet. "I won’t be able to finish this if you don’t sit still."

"Francine," Amanda took the nervous bride by the shoulders and gently pushed her back into the chair, "sit. The flowers are here and the sanctuary is being decorated as we speak. Laura and Mildred are out there making sure everything is just like you wanted it. Now please let this poor girl do her job. Monica will be here soon with the makeup artist."

"Monica is here. Nervous, Francine?" she asked.

The always-elegant Monica Colby strode across the room followed by one of Colby Cosmetics makeup experts.

"Hello, Mrs. King, it’s very nice to see you again."

"Please, call me Amanda; how are you, Monica?"

"How," cried Francine, "can you just stand there and exchange pleasantries when I just know that something is going to go wrong today!"

"Because we’re not the bride, so we get to enjoy the party," answered Monica. "Now I’ll leave you in Pam’s capable hands. Break a leg." With a breezy wave, she left the room.

"Not funny, Colby," hissed Francine. "Amanda please go see if the florists are doing it right."

"They are," said Laura from the doorway where she and Mildred stood holding several boxes, "the sanctuary is gorgeous, Francine, don’t worry. Here are the bouquets. "

"Did they get the white lilacs?"

"Yes they did, and here are the ones for your hair." Laura handed a small box to the hairdresser and smiled at Amanda, "how long has she been like this?"

"Since I picked her up this morning."

"The florists are finished and the guest’s are arriving, isn’t it about time you got dressed, Hon?"

"Thanks Mildred, I’m going to change right now," Laura said.

"Is Murphy here yet?" Francine asked in a very soft voice.

Mildred walked over and took the young woman’s hands. "Not yet sweetheart, but I talked to the boss just a minute ago and they are on the way. Don’t worry, everything is perfect."

Francine had chosen gowns the seamstress said were suitable for mature bridesmaids. The color suited Amanda, a deep copper satin and the dress was simply cut with a full skirt. Laura wore the same dress in a glowing bronze.

Laura helped Amanda zip up her gown and smiled as she watched Mildred soothe Francine. Sometimes Laura had nightmares about what her life would be without Mildred, chaos, utter chaos. No one was cooler in a crisis or more organized.

Laura took a step back and grinned at Amanda, "You look good."

"Do I? I don’t look silly?" Amanda twisted and turned in front of the full-length mirror. "Not bad," she admitted, "for the mother of two teenagers."

The hairdresser finished with Francine and began working on Laura’s upswept style weaving lilacs through her hair. Francine sat perfectly still as Pamela worked quickly highlighting her cheekbones and eyes.

Amanda stepped over to a nearby coat rack and carefully straightened Francine’s wedding gown, a masterpiece of simplicity in white satin and lace.

She remembered how elaborate her wedding gown had been when she married Joe; flounces of lace and beadwork had adorned both the gown and her veil. Quite a contrast to the simple suit she’d worn when she’d married Lee. A soft tap at the door brought her back to the present.

"Can the mother of the bride come in?" Ada Mae Desmond poked her head around the corner and smiled at her daughter and her friends.

"Of course you can mother," answered Francine, "is Aunt Honey with you?"

"No sweetie, she’s out front with Archie. Don’t you all look lovely!"

"Thank you Mrs. Desmond."

"Ada, girls, just plain Ada."

Amanda smiled. "Of course. Francine, are you ready to get dressed?"

Francine stood and took a deep breath. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

"Stop fussing Murphy!" Remington slapped the groom’s hand away from his tie. "You’ll muss your tie."

"Maybe I want to muss my tie," he snarled as he stepped back from the detective.

"Settle down, old man; no harm meant."

Murphy managed to look contrite. "Sorry Steele, I guess I’m nervous."

"It would take a very extended person not to be nervous on his wedding day."

"Ha! So you admit that you were nervous when you and Laura got married!"

"Of course not," said Remington. "Okay, maybe a little; mostly I was afraid she would back out."

Murphy laid his hand over his chest. "Be still my heart. You told the truth."

"I do that a lot now, marriage and fatherhood changes a man, you’d do well to remember that."

"Steele," sighed Murphy, "all your talk of changes and fatherhood is making me more nervous so please, just shut up." He glanced in the mirror and swore under his breath as he noticed his tie was indeed mussed.

Remington took him by the shoulders and swung him around reaching up and re-tying the silky black tie. Thank heavens, he thought, that Francine won the battle and they were wearing black tie. If Murphy had had his way, They would have been wearing plaid shirts and sport coats. "There perfection! Now don’t touch it."

A rich chuckle from the doorway caught their attention and they turned to see Lee Stetson leaning nonchalantly against the door jam. "You two make quite a pair you know that," Lee strolled into the room and checked his own image in the full-length mirror. "How did Laura survive with the two of you always bickering?"

"Murphy and I do not bicker, we discuss." Steele said as he reached over and straightened Lee’s tie. "Why is it that you two can not keep your ties on straight?"

"Guess we don’t have your style, Steele," Lee said as he winked at Murphy, "you might say we are more substance than style."

"Hogwash, just because you have an overabundance of muscles does not mean you—"

He stopped short when he realized that the odd sound he was hearing was Murphy and Stetson choking on their laughter. "Why," he moaned, "do I let you do that to me?"

"S-sorry Steele," gasped Lee, "you are such an easy mark that sometimes I just can’t help myself. So Murphy, all set?"

"All set." Murphy glanced into the mirror, "Steele you got the rings?"

"Of course I have the rings. " Remington held up the simple platinum band, "you’ve asked me that every five minutes since we arrived."

"That’s because he’s heard the story of how my best man had to race home to get the ring five minutes before I married his mother."

Timothy Michaels stood in the doorway and grinned at his son and his friends. "Mind if I have a minute alone with my boy?

Ada Desmond smoothed her daughter’s skirt and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over her lashes. Where did my baby girl go, she wondered. Francis would be so proud of her. She smiled at the thought of her blustery overprotective husband.

"Mother? Are you all right?"

"Just fine, baby. I was just thinking about your daddy and how proud of you he’d be."

Francine smiled tremulously. "I miss him too, Mom."

Laura and Amanda exchanged glances, "We’ll be right outside Francine," said Amanda as they left the room, softly closing the door behind them.

Ada Desmond dabbed at her eyes, "Oh good heavens! I must look a sight."

"You always look beautiful, Mom," Francine wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders, "always. When I was little I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world; I still do."

"Not today darling, you are. You have your father’s eyes, he had the most beautiful eyes."

"You loved him very much didn’t you?"

"I still do," Ada looked at her daughter, "and I miss him every single day. We loved each from the day we met and we never stopped loving each other all the years we were together. I hope you and Murphy can have that kind of love.

Marriage isn’t easy Francine, you have to work at it, learn to compromise. You were never very good at compromising. Your Murphy reminds me of your father sometimes, he has a few rough edges, but he is honest and kind and he loves you. I couldn’t ask for more for my precious baby girl."

Francine hugged her mother and whispered, "I love you, Mom."

"So," Timothy Michaels looked up at his youngest son, "are you ready to take the plunge?"

Murphy looked at his father, "Why does everyone say that like I’m going to the gallows? I love Francine and I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life with her."

"Then you’re a lucky man, Son." Timothy sighed, "not every man goes into marriage with such sentiment. It’s a big responsibility, or at least it was in my day, taking care of a wife and children. Maybe it’s different now; women can take care of themselves. All I know is that marriage is the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done. You know, your mom and I have had our problems, but we worked them out and I have to say we’re stronger because of them."

"Do you love Mom, Dad?"

"What kind of question is that?" Timothy Michaels sputtered. "Of course I love your mother; I loved her the minute I set eyes on her. She was all of fourteen and fresh off the boat, but I knew that one day I’d marry her."

"You and mom met when she was only fourteen? But you didn’t get married until after the war."

"Because of the war, Son, I didn’t want to marry your mom if I wasn’t going to come home. I told her she was free to see other men while I was gone. Damnedest thing I ever did, but I loved her and it wouldn’t have been fair to her to force her to sit and pine for me, but she waited for me. She wrote me every week and those letters kept me going during my darkest days. When I saw her standing at the dock I thought my heart would bust I was so happy. ‘Course I didn’t know then that your mother would make me even happier."

"How come you never told me any of this before?" Murphy looked at his gruff father with a slightly bemused expression.

Timothy shrugged. "Never came up. Now about your Francine—"

"I love her, Dad and she makes me happy."

"Then you’ll do fine, Son; just remember to let her win most of the skirmishes and you’ll win the war. She’s got a good heart and is a fine woman underneath all those society airs. Ready to go take your vows?"

"I am." Murphy slung an arm over his dad’s shoulder. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime, Son," answered the senior Michaels. "I’m proud of you, Boy."

"I love you too, Dad."

Della Street settled herself in the pew and glanced around the chapel. The sun was streaming though the windows and the scent of lilacs perfumed the air. A perfect setting for a wedding, she thought. To her surprise she’d enjoyed the party last night and was looking forward to the reception. She and Perry hadn’t been dancing in quite a while and she loved to dance, especially with Perry. Dancing with Perry was, well Della couldn’t quite put words to how she felt when she was in his arms gliding around a dance floor to their favorite songs. She looked over at him, he was a handsome man and even after nearly thirty years together her heart beat a little faster when he looked at her and smiled like he was now.

"The chapel looks lovely," she whispered.

"So do you," he answered as he reached over and twined his fingers with hers. "That color suits you."

"Why thank you, Mr. Mason," Della flirted, "you look pretty nice yourself." She reached up and straightened the handkerchief that poked from his suit pocket. It was as blue as his eyes and matched the dress she was wearing. "We make a pretty good couple."

"The best—"

The first notes of Bach that floated through the room cut off his words.

Murphy and Remington Steele stepped out to stand near the altar as Lee Stetson escorted Laura-Holt-Steele down the aisle.

Della watched Steele as his wife approached the altar; his gaze spoke of a deep and abiding bond. She knew that their relationship and subsequent marriage had been anything but traditional, but, of all the young couples she knew they were without a doubt, committed to each other.

Her attention was drawn away from the Steele’s to Mrs. King as she walked serenely up the aisle. Della had only met Mrs. King once before, but she knew that she was Francine’s closest friend and was always accompanied by her ‘partner,’ Lee Stetson. She didn’t quite have that figured out yet, but she was sure that ‘a partnership’ wasn’t all that was between them.

Della’s eyes drifted to Mr. Stetson as he took his place beside Mr. Steele. He loved his Mrs. King, Della was certain of that; you only had to see them together once and you knew that their bond was as strong as the one she shared with Perry.

The music changed to the traditional wedding march as Francine, a vision in satin and lace, stepped into the chapel with Billy Melrose.

Della rose with the rest of the guests and they began their trek down the aisle. Della smiled slightly as Perry grasped her hand once more, as the bride passed them. Taking their seats, she turned her attention to the front of the chapel as the chaplain began the service.

"Family and friends, we are gathered today to celebrate the joining of Francine Mary Desmond and Murphy Timothy Michaels…"

Della’s attention wandered as the familiar words of the wedding ceremony were spoken. She glanced around the room at the friends and family that had gathered to watch this couple declare their love to each other.

Billy Melrose now sat with his wife, Jeannie. She watched as Billy gently touched her cheek. Nearby, Murphy’s mother dabbed at her eyes and smiled at her husband. These couples had been together for many, many years and yet the love they shared was still palpable.

She sighed softly. Did she and Perry have the same aura about them after all these years? Glancing at him, she smiled. As usual, his face was solemn and to most people here, no doubt, his thoughts unreadable. There were still times when even she had a hard time reading him.

Years of practice in the courtroom had made it second nature for him to conceal his emotions.

Her attention was drawn back to the ceremony by the sound of Francine’s clear voice as she began her vows.

Unlike many young couples, Francine and Murphy had chosen to speak the traditional wedding vows. For better or worse, in sickness and in health…

Della glanced once more at Perry who caught her gaze, rewarding her with a smile that set her pulse racing. After all was said and done, he was the only man who had ever had that effect on her, one glance, one word could make her tingle in anticipation, even now.

Her gaze wandered back to the couple who stood before the chaplain as he explained the meaning of the wedding band. She watched as Murphy slid the band on his bride’s finger, his whole being radiating love.

Why, she wondered, had she continued to rebuff Perry’s proposals over the years? Times had changed; Francine wasn’t giving up her career for marriage. And it wasn’t like when they were young. If she’d married her boss, she would have been expected to sit at home while another secretary worked beside him.

Della wasn’t by nature a jealous woman, but the thought of another woman working with Perry made her blood boil. It was funny, she accepted that there had been other women in his life, but another secretary—no way.

The newlyweds kissed, the chaplain introduced them for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Murphy Michaels and they walked down the aisle into their new lives as the triumphant played.

As Della gathered her purse and gloves, she wondered if she’d accept Perry’s proposal if he were to ask her today. Of course, she thought, he’d stopped asking nearly ten years ago. She took his arm and answered his questions about the ceremony wondering with each step how he would react if she asked him to marry her.

"It was a perfect ceremony Francine," Della said as she embraced the newlywed, "you look beautiful."

The radiant bride smiled. "Thank you, Della; so do you. Thank you so much for being here."

"We wouldn’t have missed it for the world," said Mason as he leaned over and kissed the bride, "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Mr. Mason."

Perry nodded and took Della’s arm as they wound their way through the crowd toward the exit, only to be stopped by a grinning Bob Clayton.

"Della, darling! You look stunning!" He took the flustered Miss Street into his arms.

"I thought I told you to find your own woman, Clayton."

Bob laughed at Perry and released his hold on Della, "Easier said than done, old pal. Could there possibly be another woman alive with Della’s charm, beauty and brains?"

Della’s merry laugh echoed across the room, "You are such a flatterer, Robert Clayton."

"No he’s not," grumbled Perry as he took Della’s arm possessively, "he’s an old woman stealing reprobate and I’ll thank him to stay away from mine."

Della smiled and snuggled against Perry enjoying the closeness and the fact he was jealous of the attention she was receiving from another man, even one as harmless as Bob Clayton.

"Will you be at the reception, Bob?"

"Only if you save me a dance, Darling."

"Of course." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "But only one, the rest of my dance card is full."

"Mason, you are a lucky man, I hope you know that."

Grinning at his old friend, Mason smoothly pointed Della toward the door, "I do old man, I do."

Dinner was winding down; the waiters removed the guests’ plates replacing them with cups of coffee.

Rising, Remington Steele tapped on the side of his wine goblet, "If I might have your attention! Ladies and Gentleman, please."

He waited as the conversations died down. Once he had everyone’s attention he spoke, "As the best man, it is my honor to make a toast to the new couple. However, as my own lovely bride tells me I am often longwinded and pompous," he paused waiting for the laughter to die down, "I will endeavor not to be either today."

He turned to Murphy and Francine and held up his glass. "Murphy, Francine. May your marriage be modern enough to survive the times, and old fashioned enough to last forever. May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward, and may God bless you both and keep your hearts as one." He took a sip of champagne and sat down.

Murphy stood up and held out his goblet, "Thank you Remington. Seven years ago if anyone had told me that you would be the best man at my wedding, well I’d have probably thought they were nuts. Since then you have proved yourself a true friend, and I have been lucky enough to find the most wonderful woman is the world to share my life. Francine I love you." He bent down and kissed his bride tenderly.

As the applause died down, Amanda stood up and smiled at the assembly, "I’m not quite as, um, glib, as the verbose Mr. Steele, but here goes."

"Francine, Murphy, thank you for allowing me to share the joy of this day with you and I wish you love and happiness for the rest of your lives."

It was Francine’s turn and she stood up and smiled. "Thank you Amanda. I will always cherish our friendship." She turned to the rest of the guests. "And I thank each and everyone of you for joining us today."

She looked down at Murphy. "When I came to Denver, I was resigned to spending my life alone. Then some idiot rear-ended me at a red light." She smiled as Murphy choked back laughter. "Clearly it was a sign, because I found my soul mate. I love you, Murphy Michaels."

Murphy jumped to his feet and planted a very passionate kiss on his new wife much to the delight of their family and friends.

When he finally let go and the laughter and cheers died down, his father stood up. "Despite my Irish heritage, but mostly because Mr. Steele stole the best toast, I’ll be brief. To my son and my new daughter: Love, peace and happiness."

As he sat down, Billy Melrose took his place. "I promise, this is the last toast of the evening."

The guests laughed as Billy looked over at the glowing couple.

"Francine’s father passed away and she gave me the honor of standing in for him today. Thank you." She smiled and blew him a kiss, "Francine, Murphy, may you remain as happy as you are today for the rest of your lives, may you be blessed with healthy children and may your love be strengthened through the years."

The band began to softly play as Billy sat down and Francine and Murphy walked onto the dance floor. Taking her in his arms they swayed to the music and for a moment it seemed to Murphy that they were the only people in the room. He tightened his arms around her and whispered, "We did it, Fancy."

She settled her head on his shoulder, savoring the strength and safety that surrounded her. "I guess we did…no regrets?"

"Never," he answered as the music slowed and changed.

Remington and Amanda joined the bride and groom on the dance floor as the first strains of It Had To Be You, filled the air. Lee and Laura followed moving with graceful ease. With a flourish Steele danced Amanda over to them, "Mind if we change partners mate? I have an overwhelming urge to dance with my wife."

"My pleasure, Mr. Steele," answered Lee, taking Amanda in his arms.

Murphy’s parents and Billy and Ada Desmond joined them on the dance floor. Soon the floor was crowded with couples as the rest of the guests joined them

Della dropped gratefully into the chair Bob Clayton pulled out for her, "Thank you for the dance, Bob, but I’ll sit this one out," she said as the band swung into a lively rendition of The Twist.

"Chicken," he teased as Perry returned with his dance partner. "Hey, Miss Krebs, care to take a spin around the dance floor with this old fly boy?"

"Only if you call me Mildred," she answered with a grin as he took her hand and they joined the gleeful group on the dance floor twisting the night away.

"Whew," sighed Della as she took a sip of water, "where does Mildred get all that energy?"

"I suspect playing detective, along with mothering Laura and Remington, keeps her young."

Della smiled at Perry. "You’re probably right. Are you having fun?"

"Of course I am," he said returning her smile. "I’m dancing the night away with my best girl; what more could I ask for?"

"A cold drink?"

Perry laughed, "Is that a hint, Miss Street?" He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and wandered off in search of the bar.

Della watched him go with a pensive look on her face and then turned her attention to the dance floor. The band had slowed the beat down to a popular love ballad and she watched as Mildred and Bob glided by. They make a charming couple, she thought, as she caught a glimpse of the contented look on Bob’s face. The corners of her mouth turned up in a tiny smile; it looked to her like he’d finally met his match.

"Hey, Della." She looked up to see Ken Malansky standing at her elbow with a very pretty young woman on his arm, "Mind if we join you?"

"Of course not, Ken." She smiled as the couple sat down. "Hello, I’m Della Street."

"Hi, Miss Street, I’m Tiffany Ames; Ken talks about you and Mr. Mason all the time."

"Funny," said Perry as he handed Della her drink and sat down beside her, "he’s never mentioned you, Miss Ames."

"Uh, well," Ken stammered, "It just never came up I guess."

"Of course not." Perry held out his hand to the young woman, "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ames. This certainly explains Ken’s, for lack of a better word, distracted manner at the office these days."

"Perry," Della’s voice held a warning note, "you’re embarrassing Ken, now stop teasing."

"Thanks Della." Ken took a gulp of his own drink. "Um, Perry, I’d like to discuss something important."

"Business?"

"Sort of." He looked around quickly, "I understand that this might not be the place, but it can’t wait for later."

"Very well, what’s on your mind?"

Ken took a deep breath, "I’ve been offered a position in a law firm in Chicago. They want me there yesterday."

"Is this an good opportunity for you, Ken?"

"Yes it is, they’re offering me a junior partnership."

"Is this what you want?"

"My family is in Chicago and I want this chance to prove myself, but I don’t want to leave you high and dry."

Perry smiled, "I suspect we can muddle through without you, but Ken," Perry clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder, "I’ll miss you."

Della who was blinking back tears threw her arms around Ken, "So will I Ken; when will you leave?"

"There’s a redeye flight tonight. Tiff will pack up my things and drive out next week."

"Alone?" Perry asked.

Tiffany smiled at the concern in his voice, "No Mr. Mason, my brother Tommy is going with me. He and Ken went to law school together. I came out here to help Tommy pack and that’s how I met Ken."

"Are you from Chicago dear?" Della asked with a small smile.

"Actually, we’re from Plainfield, south of Chicago, but I live in Chicago now."

Perry and Della exchanged smiles, "Good," she said, "then I know Ken will be well taken care of."

Ken and Tiffany stood up and Ken held out his hand to Perry, "Thanks for everything, Perry. I couldn’t have had a better mentor or friend."

"Best of luck, Ken," Perry said, "call if you need anything."

"I will." Ken turned to Della and hugged her.

" ’Bye Della, take care of him, okay?"

"I always do; you be happy Ken," she answered making no effort to hide the emotion in her voice. "I’ll miss you."

"Me too." Straightening up he wrapped an arm around Tiffany’s shoulder and walked away. Della watched him go and then reached blindly for a napkin to wipe her eyes. Her fingers touched Perry’s handkerchief as he held it out to her.

"I’ll miss him too, Della," he said as he patted her on the back, "but it’s time he go out on his own. He needs to be his own man."

I-I know that," she sniffed, "but that doesn’t make it any easier."

"No, it doesn’t."

"Excuse me while I go fix my face."

She rose and made her way across the room and once inside the ladies room she gripped the edge of the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She wiped the tearstains from her cheeks and repaired her lipstick, all the while thinking about the changes everyone was making in their lives.

Ken was striking out on his own, Murphy and Francine were starting a life together and even Bob was changing his life and thinking about retirement.

And she was stuck in the same old rut; going down the same road she’d been traveling for the last thirty years. She ran her hands through her hair. Well, she thought, it was time for this old broad to make some changes in her life.

By the time Della made her way back to the table, Bob and Mildred and Billy and Jeannie Melrose had joined Perry.

Perry rose as she approached, "One last dance Della, the band is about ready to call it a night," he held out his hand, which she took, and he swung her onto the dance floor as the band swung into I Can’t Give You Anything But Love.

"They are a handsome couple," said Jeannie. "How is it they never married?"

"According to Perry, they just never found the time. But they’ve been together longer than some married couples I know," said Bob Clayton.

Mildred smiled up at him. "They behave just like young lovers though, look at them." She watched as they moved gracefully around the floor.

"You must be talking about Perry and Della," said Laura as she dropped into an empty chair and kicked off her shoes with a sigh. "Mildred is fascinated by their relationship."

"Well, honey, you have to admit it’s unusual, they’ve been together for years and years, but—"

She stopped short when Remington joined them, "Here you are, Love. Is Mildred gossiping again?"

"Of course she is, Darling, " answered his wife. "She’s almost as bad as you are about it."

"There is no one badder than this guy," Murphy said as he and Francine joined the group, "especially when it comes to gossip."

"Badder is not a word Murphy," pouted Steele "and I’m wounded by these attacks on my character!"

"Oh, character assassination, can I play?" Lee asked as he and Amanda joined the group. "Not that Steele has any character."

"Who’s a character?" Perry asked as he and Della sat down.

"Never mind," answered Remington as the band began to pack up. "Are they done? The evening’s still young."

"I guess so," Lee said.

Laura got up and wandered over to the bandstand. She spoke briefly to the leader and then settled down at the piano and began to pick out a few notes. Billy negotiated with the sax player and then joined her and together they worked their way through standards from In The Still Of The Night to Sentimental Lady.

As Laura and Billy entertained their friends, Perry held up his glass and smiled, "Now that it’s just us, I’d like to make a toast. To new beginnings, to old and new friends and to a long happy life."

Remington and Lee joined in. "Here, here."

Della pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to Francine. "This is from all of us. We wanted you to have a proper honeymoon when you can find the time."

Francine opened the envelope as Laura and Billy swung into The Love Boat theme song. "Murphy, these are tickets for a two week Alaskan cruise!"

Looking over her shoulder, he gasped, "Guys, this is to much!"

"Don’t worry, Michaels, I intend to work you so hard in the next few weeks that you will really appreciate the break. Stop by the office next week and I’ll have the contracts ready for Michaels Investigations to become my sole investigating agency."

"I can’t believe this." Murphy looked at Remington, "I think the luck of the Irish here is rubbing off on me."

Laughing, Jeannie got up, joined her husband and Laura on the bandstand, and softly began to sing along with them.

As they began How Do You Keep The Music Playing, Della held out a hand to Perry, "They’re playing our song," she said as she led him out onto the dance floor.

Lee and Amanda joined them along with the newlyweds and Bob Clayton and Mildred. Remington joined Laura at the piano and they watched as the couples swirled around the dance floor. Jeannie switched to Our Love Is Here To Stay and smiled at Billy.

On the dance floor, Della looked up at Perry with a soft smile. "It was a nice wedding wasn’t it?"

"Very nice."

"And it looks like Bob may have met his match in Mildred."

"Could be," he answered nonchalantly.

"It’s been a wonderfully romantic night hasn’t it?"

"Every night with you is, Della."

"There’ve been a lot of changes in our friends lives recently haven’t there?"

"Yes."

"Do you ever think of making any changes in your life, Perry?’

He stopped and held her out at arms length. "Are you going somewhere with this line of questioning, Miss Street?"

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with innocence. "Just making conversation, Perry."

He looked at her suspiciously and pulled her close again and they danced silently for a moment.

"It’s been a while since we’ve gone dancing hasn’t it?" he said.

"We’ve been busy," Della said.

"It feels right."

Della tipped her head back and looked up at him, "What feels right?"

"Dancing with you, holding you, especially tonight."

"Why tonight, especially?"

"I don’t know, it just feels right, us, together." He leaned down and brushed his lips gently against hers. "Have I told you recently how much you mean to me?"

"You don’t have to say anything," she whispered, returning his gentle caress, "you show me everyday."

"I do love you, Della."

"I know you do."

She glanced over at the other couples who had stopped dancing and were watching them with bright smiles and open interest. "Perry?’

"Yes, Della."

She cleared her throat and spoke loud enough for their friends to hear. "Will you marry me, Perry Mason?"

Perry stopped dead, looked from Della to the group gathered at the bandstand, and then smiled. "This, Miss Street, is what is known as entrapment!"

Della arched an eyebrow "So—your answer is—"

Laura softly played the Wedding March and Billy’s mellow sax joined in as the rest of their friends waited for his answer.

When the suspense had built to a suitable level, Perry answered her, "Yes Della, I will marry you."

As he gathered her into his embrace and kissed her, the room exploded into applause and cheers. Perry bowed as their friends gathered around them offering congratulations and good wishes.

Finally, when one of the waiters very noisily began to clear away the table, Remington wrapped an arm around Laura’s shoulder. "That, it would appear, is our cue to leave. Good night everyone."

One by one, each of the other couples said their good-nights and headed for the exit.

Della and Perry watched, as hand in hand, each couple left the ballroom, until only he and Della were left with the weary waiter.

As the waiter extinguished the final light, Perry took Della’s hand in his and pressed a kiss into her palm. "I guess it’s our turn," he said as they walked across the darkened room.

The End