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As you can see behind me, celebrities and public officials alike have all come to pay their last respects to Richard Kingston. He was a man who built a corporate empire from the humble beginnings of a single game." The perky reporter stepped aside and the camera panned out from her close up to the vast crowd surrounding the grave site. She paused dramatically for emphasis. "A game that caught the public's fancy and turned into a multi-million dollar business. As he reached retirement, Richard Kingston sold controlling interest in his corporation to pursue what he considered his first love.
The picture on the screen switched from the live funeral coverage to taped footage.
Collecting art and rare films from all over the world became his passion. Mr. Kingston's prize collection of paintings and sculptures is considered one of the world's most beautiful... and extensive. He is someone who will...
Laura Holt reached over from her perch on the desk's edge to turn off the small television set. "They say he left his art collection to museums all over the world."
"And so he should, Laura." Remington Steele leaned back into his chair. "Art should be appreciated by everyone, not just a select few."
Laura smiled at the irony of her companion's statement. "I couldn't agree with you more. Funny, though, when we worked for Kingston, he never struck me as a philanthropist. Extremely eccentric perhaps, but..."
"People do change, Laura." Remington's eyes were on Laura, but his mind seemed far away.
"Yes, they do, Mr. Steele," she agreed, pretty sure she knew where he was at this moment.
"Besides, who else would he leave everything to? When we installed his security system, he didn't seem exactly on good terms with his family."
"Kingston's nephew did appear to rub him the wrong way, didn't he." She chuckled, remembering her own run-in with the man. "He rubbed everyone the wrong way. I suppose it doesn't matter now, though. Ancient history."
"True. Now, about present history? Dinner tonight?" he began, but the telephone's intercom interrupted. He made a face and punched the button. "Yes, Mildred."
"Richard Kingston's attorney's on the line, Boss. Name's Sabrina Dale."
"Did she say what she wanted?" Remington looked quizzically at Laura.
"Sorry, boss."
"Put the call through, Mildred." He turned back to Laura. "Maybe the past isn't the past anymore." He clicked the speaker phone on when it rang. "Steele here, Miss Dale. How can we be of service?"
"First of all, Mr. Steele. I have to ask if your associate, Laura Holt, is still employed by your agency?"
"Why, yes she is. In fact, she's here with me right now."
"Good. I'd like both of you to be present at the partial reading of Mr. Kingston's will tomorrow morning."
Laura and Remington exchanged surprised looks.
"Could you be a bit more specific, Miss Dale?"
"I'm afraid not. But I think it will be more than worth your while to come."
Laura and Remington sat in the back of the Agency limousine. As much as Laura loved a good mystery, this summoning was a bit creepy. Being called by the dead had that effect. Remington had been antsy all morning. He'd tried to get more out of the attorney on the phone, but met with only a small amount of elaboration.
"I see no reason for that woman's cloak and dagger attitude," he complained again. "After all, it's only a will."
"She's just following instructions," Laura reasoned. Now that they were almost there, her interest was piquing again and she was willing to forgive not knowing. "You've got to admit a reading that calls for a group of private investigators to be present is a little... out of the ordinary."
"Richard Kingston was more than a little out of the ordinary," Remington agreed. "But why detectives?"
"We won't know until we get there, but it's going to be an interesting meeting."
Remington lifted an eyebrow at her cryptic tone. "What aren't you telling me, Miss Holt?"
Laura smiled at his formality. It was a game they played, one she enjoyed more than she let on. "I don't know anything about why we're here, but I do know some of the players," she answered.
The car pulled up in front of the house. Laura was still impressed at the size and grandeur of the mansion, even after the endless hours they'd spent to make it secure. She turned to Remington and started to straighten his tie.
"Do you remember Clay Platt?" She paused long enough to point to a man climbing out of a BMW just ahead of where Fred had parked the limo. Personalized plates that read, "PRVT EYE" were clearly visible. "Chocolate chip cookies... likes to hide in closets?"
"Yes, of course," Steele acknowledged with a slight grimace. "And those gentlemen?" He indicated the two yuppi-ish men climbing out of a black and silver Bronco.
Laura frowned in concentration, then shrugged. "I've never met them, but I'd guess they're Sandy and Stratten." She glanced at their vanity plates, amused that it seemed to be a requirement of their profession. "CUZNS. Hmmm. They work out of Newport Beach and they're supposed to be cousins. I'm not sure if that's a sham or not, but they've got an impeccable reputation."
"They all sound perfectly harmless," Remington observed. "Why are you acting like we're about to pay a visit to your mother?"
Laura reached for the door handle and sighed heavily. "You haven't met James Caine." She got out of the car quickly with Steele close behind her.
The very proper English butler led the Steele Agency representatives down the hallway to the library. Ignoring the elegant decor, Remington's eyes focused on Laura. She seemed a little on edge -- and not as if danger were lurking. No, he'd gotten it right -- like a visit with Abigail. Laura knew her patience was about to be taxed to the extreme and was not looking forward to it. Still, ever the professional, she led the way at almost a charge-like speed. Head on, the way Laura took all things.
Remington remembered the library quite well from their work on the estate. The room was huge, with shelving lining the walls from the vaulted ceiling to hardwood floor. Half were devoted to books that Steele suspected hadn't been touched in years, but the other side -- now that was incredible. Video tapes lined the other half of the room and claimed masterpieces from the silent movie era to present -- duplicates of the original films stored in a climate-controlled vault. He silently hoped they were being called here as beneficiaries of this portion of the estate.
The double doors opened wide and they were immediately announced.
"Laura Holt! What a pleasant surprise." A handsome, forty-ish man greeted the newly arrived detectives.
Remington couldn't pin down exactly what it was, but this man bothered him and he immediately suspected he'd found the reason for Laura's reticence.
"James. Nice to see you again." Laura was all business. "I saw the limo outside. You're still with Hayvenhurst?"
"You know I always stick with a winning team." He turned towards Remington. "I see you finally ditched that second rate Michaels and went with the best after all. Is this the boss? James Caine." He stuck his hand out to shake Steele's.
"Remington Steele. Miss Holt's associate," Remington cut in smoothly, making sure this man knew his mistake. He hadn't cared for the slur against Murphy either.
A young woman immediately appeared at their side. "The Remington Steele?"
"The one and only." Shoving his antipathy aside, he presented her with one of his best smiles.
"I thought you'd be a lot older," Caine interrupted tactlessly. "And I'd heard you only work in an advisory capacity."
Before he could reply, Laura stepped in to change the subject. "It looks like you have a new team member, James."
"Oh, yes, this is my assistant, Rachel White," he replied. "Better watch out for her, Laura. She's a hot-dogger, like you."
Remington could instantly see the dislike Rachel had for the titles Caine had given her. But if this young woman were anything at all like Laura, he'd just paid her the highest of compliments. "Well, you are lucky, indeed, Mr. Caine to have her at your side," he stated warmly.
"Now that the Steele Agency is here, we can begin. I'm Sabrina Dale," the attorney began. "If you would all be seated." She beckoned them to a group of chairs circling a large desk.
Remington moved to follow Laura but was cut off as Clay Platt sidled up between them, firmly planting an arm around each of their shoulders.
"Hey, good to see you again, Laura... Steele," he happily greeted.
"Of course it is." Remington ducked under Platt's arm and deftly disengaged his hold on Laura. He steered her away from the man to a nearby chair.
"Just what we need, another Hayvenhurst alumnus," Laura whispered to him. Remington nodded agreement. He took a moment to casually study these colleagues, noting the natural pairing off in the various partnerships, though Rachel seemed decidedly unhappy with her associate. Steele suppressed a groan as Clay Platt looked from one group to the other, then decided to link up with Remington and Laura.
Sabrina gathered up some papers, then took her place at the desk. "I believe everyone knows everyone else?"
She was interrupted by the door opening again. A middle-aged man slipped into the room and took the last seat. His face wore a wary expression, as if he wasn't happy to be here. Laura recognized him as Phil Jarrod, a one-time successful investigator, who'd been on the downhill slide recently. Sabrina gave him an impatient glare, then continued where she left off.
"At least by reputation, if not personally?" she murmured.
"Could you tell us what this is all about?" Laura asked the question they all wanted answered.
"Certainly." Sabrina took one last quick look at the documents in front of her. "As you are all aware, Richard Kingston passed away this week. Most of the estate is tied up in art treasures, which have been left to museums. This house and ten million dollars make up the rest of the estate."
"So the guy was loaded? What does all that have to do with a bunch of private detectives?" Phil Jarrod interrupted impatiently.
"I'm getting to that, Mr. Jarrod," Sabrina continued. "Mr. Kingston was a bit of an eccentric. Which brings me to the reason all of you are here today." She paused a beat. "Mr. Kingston decided to leave all his money to only one charity."
"Which one?" Rachel inquired.
"That will be for all of you to decide," she answered, sitting back as the assembled detectives started talking amongst themselves. When the noise finally settled down, she resumed. "Mr. Kingston picked each of you himself, along with the charities you will play for."
"Play for? Like a game?" Laura asked.
Sabrina nodded. "Exactly, Miss Holt. As you know, my client made his fortune in games. You will all be given a first clue. From there it will be up to the best agency to win for the charity you represent."
"What's in it for us?" Phil demanded suspiciously.
"Two percent of the ten million dollars."
"Two hundred thousand dollars. I think I'm going to like this," Remington announced cheerily
"Is there a time limit?" Stratten stood and shifted a bit. The Newport detectives hadn't said much through this whole business and Remington had almost forgotten they were in the room until Stratten asked the important question, or was it Sandy? Remington looked back and forth for a minute and then decided it didn't really matter.
Sabrina flipped quickly through the papers and then glanced up at the young man. "As far as I can tell, there isn't one."
"That seems a bit odd. A search like this could take weeks," Laura speculated.
"It won't take me weeks," Caine announced pompously. "I don't know about the rest of you 'detectives,' but I'm the best at what I do. Right Laura?"
Laura ignored Caine's statement, but Remington's curiosity was piqued. "Why would Miss Holt possess that kind of knowledge, Mr. Caine?"
"Hey, even I know that one," Platt piped in. "Laura and Caine used to work together a lot in the good ol' days at Hayvenhurst. Isn't that true, Laura?"
"Only when I was apprenticing, Clay," Laura admitted sweetly.
"I taught her everything she knows," Caine boasted.
Laura couldn't control her annoyance any longer. "Nice to see you haven't changed at all, James. You're still a pompous..."
"Miss Holt, Mr. Caine," Sabrina refereed calmly. "If we could just get back to the subject at hand."
"So sorry, Miss Dale. Please go on." Caine smirked smugly at Laura.
Laura remained silent. Remington knew something was going on here that he didn't understand. Laura's outburst at something that seemed so simple didn't feel right, but his concern would have to wait for a more private moment.
Remington turned to the attorney. "Our apologies, Miss Dale."
"Thank you. Now, any more questions?" The woman closed the file in front of her, waiting for any response.
"Yeah, just one," Phil replied. "When do we start?"
"Right now." Sabrina opened the top drawer of the desk and drew out a stack of envelopes. "As soon as I give you your first clue, you will proceed to your cars and the game will begin."
Remington could see each packet had a name clearly printed on the outside.
"Remember, take only the one with your agency's name on it. Anyone caught cheating will be disqualified," Sabrina instructed. Her mouth quirked in amusement. "Ready, set, go."
Laura scooped up theirs, joining Mr. Steele and the other detectives as they made their way back through the elegant hallway. Remington speculated it was the slowest race he'd ever participated in. Each detective doing his or her best to maintain a dignified pace -- while trying to beat the others.
As the front doors opened and they all poured out. Phil Jarrod won the race to his tiny Opel. Remington could see him tearing into his envelope.
"The Flat Earth Society," Phil almost yelled. "Whatever!" He crumpled the envelope up and tossed it out the window before revving his engine and peeling out of the driveway.
"Filmex and the L.A. County Art Museum?"
Remington glanced over to see Caine and Rachel talking over the top of their car.
"What difference does it make to you, James. You're only interested in the money, anyway," Rachel defended their charity as she joined Caine inside the limo.
Remington circled his arm around Laura as they walked down the path to their own vehicle. Drawing her closer as Sandy and Stratten, almost in perfect sync, scooted around them on their way to the Black Bronco.
In a friendly parting gesture, Sandy leaned out the window and waved. "Save the Whales. At least we've got a good cause."
"Good luck," Laura called after the departing car.
Fred opened the door for the two, but Laura paused as she spied Clay wandering past them. She laughed as she heard him muttering something about California Condors.
"Laura, will you hurry, please." Remington impatiently patted the seat next to him, resisting the urge to grab the envelope out of her hands and rip it open. "Who do we have?"
Careful not to tear the paper, Laura slipped her finger underneath the seal, pulling out their charity. "The Hollywood Safehouse for Runaways," she announced, smiling softly at Remington. "That's somehow fitting."
"Life does have a tendency to go full circle, doesn't it?"
There was a moment of tender silence between them.
"So what's the first clue?" Remington asked, reluctant to break the mood.
Laura pulled another piece of paper from the envelope. "Gulf of Bothnia," she read.
"What? Let me see that." Remington reached for the clue and studied it carefully. "Gulf of Bothnia?" He tapped the note against his forehead thoughtfully. "What do we know about the Gulf of Bothnia?"
Laura shrugged, then chuckled. "Nothing. I've never even heard of it."
"Well, for a start, it's in the Baltic Sea," he informed her matter-of-factly.
"How do you know that?" Laura took the slip back, re-examining for something she might have missed.
"I passed through there once." He grinned at her.
"What were you doing there?"
"I don't think you really want to know, Laura. Besides, we have more important matters to attend to right here," he successfully dodged the question.
"I don't know what these numbers mean," Stratten complained to his cousin.
They'd pulled the Bronco over to figure out the clues but without success.
"They're definitely not latitudes or longitudes," Sandy announced.
"But maybe some type of map?" Stratten speculated. Before his partner could answer he suddenly grinned. Reaching under his seat, he drew out the Thomas Guide of Los Angeles.
"Our course! They're page and grid numbers." He held the digits so Stratten could read them. "Smart thinkin', Cuz."
Rachel grabbed at the map book that threatened to fly out of her lap as the Hayvenhurst limo took a corner sharply. "There it is. We're in the right grid. What's there that could be..."
"Baltic Avenue," Caine proclaimed. He tapped on the driver's glass to give the directions.
"Fred, take the fastest route to Long Beach. Baltic Avenue," Steele directed.
"Yes, Sir." Fred u-turned the large car at the first possible opportunity.
"Looks like we're not the only ones who figured out the clue." Remington pointed to the sleek Hayvenhurst limo they were rapidly passing.
"Hah! Caine can't find his backside without help," Laura declared vehemently.
Remington grimaced. "I gather you and he didn't get along at Hayvenhurst."
"I apprenticed under a number of agents who I didn't particularly care for, but Caine... he was the worst. He constantly..." Laura paused, anger stopping her words at the unpleasant memory.
"He constantly took the credit for your work, didn't he?" Remington finished gently.
"Yes, he did. How did you...?" Laura was amazed at first, but it quickly turned to pride as she realized her apprentice was learning.
"I seem to remember a conversation, when we first met, with something to that effect." He took her hand in his for support.
"And you remembered... after all this time?" She gazed deeply into his eyes.
"I remember everything you've told me about yourself, Laura." His arm went around her shoulders and he pulled her close. "I'm not the only one with a puzzling past. I'm still trying to find out who the real Laura Holt is because she's constantly changing on me."
Laura settled into the plush seats, Remington's arm still holding her tightly.
Fred navigated the limo down the pot holed street, stopping as the road ran out at the railroad tracks.
"Maybe we're the first ones here." Remington scanned the vicinity for signs of any of their colleagues as they got out of the car.
"Maybe not. Someone could have been here and gone already," Laura suggested.
"Any ideas?" He continued to search the area for possibilities.
Laura started to shake her head, then glanced up. "Well, since the clue is Baltic and the grid numbers led us here, we should probably check Baltic Avenue." She pointed to the sign, a tattered bird's nest poked out from a space that would have been invisible without its presence.
"You mean up there?" Remington asked incredulously.
"There should be a space in the middle." She removed her jacket, carefully placing it on the spotless agency vehicle. "I used to look for baby birds in them when I was a kid. Here, help me up."
Remington cupped his fingers for Laura to use as a ladder, boosting her just barely high enough to reach inside.
Laura groped around for a few seconds, finally drawing out a stack of envelopes. "I found them!" she announced excitedly, dislodging the deserted bird's nest.
Remington tried to dodge the falling debris, barely keeping Laura up right in the process. "Could you hurry please, Laura. I can't hold onto you much longer."
"I'm finished. I had to find the one with our name on it." She deftly dropped to the ground. "Hmmm. Just as I thought. It's Monopoly."
Remington had just finished dusting off the offensive sticks and dust as Laura made her announcement. "What?"
Laura handed him the second clue, smiling just a bit smugly.
Remington examined the small piece of cardboard. "The deed to Reading Railroad?" He turned the card over to see if there was anything on the back. "Well, Miss Dale did say it was a game. I suppose Monopoly is as good as any." A slight frown crossed his features. "Actually, I've never played. Is this all there is?"
"Yes, but I think I know where the next clue is," Laura answered. She set off determinedly toward the train tracks at the end of the block.
"Of course," Remington acknowledged following right behind her. He motioned for Fred to keep up in the limo, but stopped suddenly as he almost ran into Laura.
Phil Jarrod had beaten them to the switchbox, helping himself generously to all the envelopes.
"Hey, Mate. Hand 'em over," Remington yelled. Reaching the cheating detective at a run, Remington grabbed the man's arm, holding out his hand for the clues.
Caught in the act, he didn't bother to protest and gave them up.
"What do you think you're doing, Jarrod?" Laura accused as she caught up to her partner.
He stared defiantly at the Steele team. "Nobody said fair play was part of the game, Holt. The best detective wins and I'm the best by fair means or foul." He jerked out of Remington's grasp, stomping off towards his car... and the next clue.
Remington shook his head. "Nice fellow, but I think we'd better follow his lead and get going before the others show up." He handed their packet to Laura, returning the others to their hiding spot.
Remington shifted through the pages of the Thomas Guide looking for B6-22. "Free Parking." He sighed. "Numbers aside, Laura, there is no free parking in Los Angeles."
Laura glanced over his shoulder. "Oh yes there is." She grabbed for the book, quickly circling a spot with her pen.
"Fred... Mulholland Drive," Remington announced, grinning widely at the spot Laura indicated.
Laura reached for the car phone.
"Who are you calling?" Steele asked.
"Mildred. I want her to pick up a Monopoly game." She dialed the numbers. "It never hurts to anticipate the next move."
"Have I told you recently that you're the best, Miss Holt." He gave her a quick peck on the check.
"Not recently, Mr. Steele. I guess you'll just have to remember to keep telling me."
Visible from the San Diego Freeway, the Park 'N Ride boasted a huge parking area designed for harried commuters to leave their vehicles... so they could partake of California's attempt to mitigate traffic congestion.
Laura sighed heavily. Just getting there had been an enormous task. The aforementioned freeway, not-so-affectionately nicknamed by the locals as the San Diego Parking Lot, had lived up to its reputation. They'd been stuck in the mother of all traffic jams and just getting off that roadway had taken forever. Exhausted by the whole ordeal, she sat up wearily as Fred pulled the limo into the lot.
Climbing out of the car, Laura couldn't help but laugh as she watched the Hayvenhurst car, black Bronco and BMW all drive in one after the other, and find spots side by side, pulling in almost like a precision driving team.
"Jarrod's over there, heading towards the phone bank." She pointed out the detective to Remington. "Quite a following."
"Nothing like a California freeway to even up the game," he stated ironically.
"Hail, hail, the gangs all here," Laura announced, continuing their walk towards the next set of clues.
"Laura, look out!" Remington grabbed Laura, pulling her between the parked autos.
A car had come out of nowhere. Before anyone could react further, it increased its speed, swerving unmercifully towards Phil Jarrod. It hit him dead on, sending the hapless detective flying, then sped off toward the second exit, disappearing up Mulholland Drive.
No one moved. The ensemble of detectives just stood for a brief, stunned second... unbelieving. Laura and Remington finally led the race towards the fallen man.
The police photographer finished taking his last shots of the chalk outlined body, the skid marks and anything else that appeared suspicious. He motioned for the Coroner's people to take over. They quickly lifted the remains of Phil Jarrod onto the gurney and zipped it into its plastic bag.
Detective James Jarvis watched the doors close on the body, signaling the driver. The body leaving seemed to be a signal to most of the on-lookers that the excitement was over and the crowd dissipated quickly. Jarvis hoped they might actually get some police work done now.
He studied the assembled group of detectives. Something was up, but they weren't talking -- to the police, or each other. In his line of work he'd met most of them. They usually had a good working relationship, but he could tell by the suspicious looks they were exchanging, he might as well just give up on any hope he might have had.
"Okay, folks," Jarvis announced, walking up to the investigators. "I guess that's all for now. I find it a little amazing though, that out of an entire convention of private eyes, no one saw anything."
"You sound like you don't believe us, Jimmy," Laura stated.
"Let's just say Big Foot and The Loch Ness Monster are looking pretty good right now," he responded.
"Really, Detective," Remington began. "When have you ever known us to be anything less than totally open and honest with you?"
"Don't push it, Steele," Jarvis warned. "I'm not in the mood." He turned to leave, pausing and snapping his fingers as he remembered something. "Just one more thing. I'd appreciate it if none of you went on any long vacations. I wouldn't want to start jumping to any conclusions." He left the group standing alone by the telephones.
"Don't worry, Detective," Laura called after him. She surveyed her colleagues quickly. "I don't think anybody's going to get too far from anyone else," she whispered to Remington.
"Not with two hundred thousand dollars up for grabs... and now a murderer running loose." He took her arm to lead her away from the others. "I'm sure the Brothers Parker never planned anything this exciting for their little game."
"Suddenly this doesn't seem like such a little game anymore." Laura wandered closer to the fence that surrounded the lot. Something glinting in the sunlight caught her attention and she stooped down to pick up the small fragment of what had to be a car headlight.
She pocketed it quickly as James Caine purposely marched towards them, followed far more sedately by the rest of the players.
"I suppose now that Jarvis is gone, we can get back to the business at hand," he announced.
Laura turned to face him. "Is that all you're worried about? The game?" she declared disgustedly.
"That does seem a bit cold considering poor Jarrod just got taken out of the game permanently," Remington added icily.
"And we don't even know who took him out," Clay stated, a worried expression clear upon his face.
"You don't know that this accident..." Caine began, but was interrupted by his partner.
"Accident?!" Rachel was almost shouting at him. "Being run down by a car that swerves right towards you is hardly..."
"... unusual at all," Caine cut her off. "This is Los Angeles. There are hit and runs every day. Nothing connects this with our search." He gestured over his shoulder at a departing squad car. "Let the police do what they get paid for. We weren't hired to solve Jarrod's death."
"None of us were hired to do anything," Laura reminded him. "But if a man has been killed because of what we're playing, then I think we owe him something." She searched the faces of those around her. "We owe it to Jarrod to find out who killed him and why."
"Isn't the why pretty..." Sandy started.
"Obvious?" Stratten finished for him.
"The money, right?" they declared in unison.
Remington shook his head, trying for just a second to figure out which one was which. He gave it up. "We don't know that for certain. All we really know is that the man was killed while playing Kingston's game."
"Something we're all still involved in," Laura pointed out.
"What are you trying to say, Laura?" Clay pointedly asked her. "That one of us killed Jarrod?"
Laura started to reply, but one of the few remaining police officer's had finally noticed the assemblage and their outbursts. He slowly moved towards the group to check out the problem.
"I suggest we move this discussion to somewhere a little more private." Remington indicated the approaching peace officer.
"That's absurd!" James Caine paced frantically in front of Remington Steele's desk. "We were all together at the time."
Laura leaned against the edge of the desk, trying to stay out of the way of the assembled detectives who were crowded into the Steele Agency's office.
"He's right there, Miss Holt," Stratten agreed. "None of us could have been driving the car."
"Haven't you ever heard of an accomplice, Mr. Sandy," Remington suggested.
"I'm Stratten. He's Sandy," Stratten declared, pointing at his cousin.
"Of course you are." Remington peered at the two through squinted eyes, trying to figure a way to be sure. "In any case, two hundred thousand dollars, even split with someone, still comes out to a tidy sum."
Laura stood up straight to address the group. "I agree. I don't think anyone can be ruled out just because he wasn't behind the wheel of the car. And if money is the motive, then we're all suspects."
"This interrogation is absolutely ridiculous," Caine declared disgusted. Without warning, he swung around to pound his fist on the desk, knocking over a lamp in the process.
Remington jumped to his feet, ready if the attack turned from innocent office furniture. "Do you mind? This is my office," he attempted to calm the man.
"That's another thing. Why are we in your digs," he demanded.
"That's simple." Remington smiled sweetly, pulling the envelopes out of his jacket pocket. "I had the clues."
Caine seemed upon the brink of another outburst. "I suppose next you're going to start asking us where we've been."
"That's not a bad idea, mate." Remington didn't even try to conceal his growing irritation, moving closer to the annoying investigator. Laura stepped smoothly in between the two men, keeping her partner from starting anything.
Remington let his eyes flicker briefly to Laura before returning his attention to Caine. "Let's start with you, mate. Where've you been the last few hours?"
Caine started to bristle at the question, but Rachel's interruption forestalled any further explosions. "He was with me," she declared unenthusiastically.
"Naturally you'd alibi each other?" Laura announced.
Rachel lifted her chin defiantly. "The same goes for you and Mr. Steele, now doesn't it?"
"Touché, Miss White," Remington declared.
Sandy stepped forward from the corner he and his partner had been quietly conversing in. "In case anyone cares," he pointed at his cousin, "we were together all day."
Caine turned to Clay, smiling dangerously. "That only leaves you, Platt."
Panicked by the accusation, Clay backpedaled from the menacing private eye. "Hey, wait a minute. You can't pin this on me just because I work solo," he declared vehemently.
"Maybe you'd better start looking for a partner," Caine suggested. "Oh, wait. That's right. No self-respecting investigator would really want to work with you."
"Like you have so much room to talk, Caine." Clay gathered up his courage to confront the bully. "Everybody knows you request rookies so you can work 'em to death and grab all the glory," he spat out.
Caine lunged at Platt, landing on top as the two hit the floor. Trying to stop the fight, Remington grabbed for Clay, while Sandy and Stratten took hold of Caine, separating the combatants.
The two restrained men glared at each other from opposite ends of the room. Laura finally stepped into the center.
"Could we all please just stick to the subject and leave your personal grudges out of this," she demanded. "Now, did any of you even know Phil Jarrod?"
For a moment, the only sound that greeted her was the heavy breathing of Caine and Platt. Finally, Sandy spoke up.
"I didn't really know him. I've heard rumors -- some big to-do a year or so ago. Phil had his license suspended."
"Something about raising his rates after he'd gotten evidence on a client's wife," Stratten finished.
"Some people get so upset over a little blackmail," Steele elaborated.
"Yeah, I guess that's what it was, all right," Stratten agreed.
Laura glanced around the office. "But none of us ever dealt with him before this case." She sighed. "I guess that leads us back to square one."
"Aptly put, Laura." Steele grinned at his associate.
Caine shrugged off the light hold the cousins had on him. "Speaking of squares," he began, "the rest of you can sit around discussing Jarrod's excuse of a career all you want. But Hayvenhurst doesn't pay us to sit around doing nothing." Caine held out his hand expectantly.
Remington and Laura exchanged looks, knowing they couldn't deny him the clues. Caine grabbed his envelope and stomped dramatically out of the room. Rachel had to practically run to keep up with him.
Without a word, Clay Platt sidled up next to Steele for his clue, then trotted out. In unison, Sandy and Stratten looked at each other, then picked out theirs and walked out the door.
Remington stared at the remaining envelope. "Well, Laura?"
"What else can we do," she returned, exasperated. "For the moment this game seems to be the only connecting factor to Phil Jarrod. We have to keep playing, if only to see where it leads us."
"And if by chance we happen to win," he asked expectantly, "and collect the prize, far be it for me to complain." He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the condition of his office. "Maybe we can buy a new lamp."
"Just open it," Laura directed impatiently.
Remington tore it open and dumped the contents on the desk. Laura picked up the tiny wheelbarrow token and the deed to Marvin Gardens, then began to pace in front of Remington's desk.
"Marvin Gardens... Marvin Gardens... What could that mean?" She paused to look at the items in her hand.
"'King of Marvin Gardens.'" Remington declared. "Columbia, 1972. Jack Nicholson, Bruce Dern."
"I saw that one," Mildred announced, walking into the room, barely avoiding a collision with Laura as she began to pace again.
"So did I, but can we stick to the subject?" Laura began. "I assume we're looking for something or someplace named Marvin Gardens, but I've never heard of anything around here. And the wheelbarrow..."
"Well, you do use one in a garden," Steele speculated. "Perhaps he means a famous one like Madison Square or Covington or..."
"Yeah, but which one?" Mildred asked. "Those are all pretty far from Los Angeles, Boss."
"Surely there's a patch of soil left in this city where a fellow could grow a few roses," Remington muttered dejectedly.
Laura re-examined the deed in her hand. "It's got to have something to do with Marvin Gardens. He's been very specific this whole time. I don't think he'd change his pattern now." She turned to their secretary. "Mildred, see if you can find a listing of businesses on your computer. Look for any place that even sounds like Marvin Gardens."
"No sweat, Miss Holt." Mildred waggled her fingers in the air like a surgeon. "Just give me ten minutes alone with it," she promised, leaving the two detectives alone.
"Now that's what I like to see," Remington stated. "Mildred's fingers doing the legwork."
"I thought you might like that." Laura smiled at him. She moved to the desk to ponder the Monopoly game they'd set up on it.
"I suppose the Mansion was 'Go'." She picked up the race car token and placed it on the board. "He sent us first to Baltic, then to the railroad."
Remington reached out, moving the game piece along. "Then on to Free Parking and now we're heading towards Marvin Gardens. Looks like we're getting close to passing 'Go' again."
"And finding out who killed Phil Jarrod," Laura continued. "I wonder why anyone would want to kill him. It can't really be the money. The only agency represented in this contest who needed the money was Phil's."
"Perhaps Mr. Jarrod had something on one of our colleagues," Remington speculated. "We know he wasn't above blackmail."
Laura absently toyed with the car token. "Well, I know Clay and Caine. Although neither one would qualify for sainthood, I'd hesitate to accuse them of murder."
"What about our cousins from Orange County?" Remington asked. "We don't really know them."
"No, we don't." Laura shook her head. "But Yuppies aren't usually into murder."
"Eureka! Boss, Miss Holt!" Mildred cried from the other room. She rushed into the office, waving a print-out in the air. "I found it! I found Marvin Gardens!"
"A nursery." Laura gazed up at the entrance sign. "That explains the wheelbarrow."
"And on Illinois Avenue, as well." Remington chuckled. "Mr. Kingston is consistent if nothing else."
"Now all we have to do is find out where he hid the clue," she stated.
"Not to worry, Laura." He patted her confidently on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find it in record time."
Laura rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." She paused while searching the area. "When all else fails," she declared, pointing towards an abandoned wheelbarrow. "Go for the obvious."
She started toward the object, but stopped when she realized Remington wasn't following. "What's wrong?"
"What? Oh." Remington stared off down the street distractedly. "Oh, nothing." He returned his attention to Laura. "Just thought I recognized someone on the corner."
Laura craned her neck to see where he had looking. "I don't see anyone."
"He's gone now," he told her. "Probably nothing."
"We're not the only ones with the clue," she reminded. "Someone else could have figured it out."
"Or else let us figure it out for them," he suggested.
"There was nothing in the will that said you couldn't follow someone else's lead," she advised. "Of course, if you do that, you aren't the first to find the money."
"You've got a good point there, Miss Holt," he agreed. "Shall we press on?" He held out his arm in a gallant gesture.
"Definitely, Mr. Steele." Laura took the invitation, moving on to the wheelbarrow to begin a thorough search. After a few moments, they both straightened from their task, disappointed.
"Nothing," Laura announced. "You don't suppose someone beat us here and stole the clues?"
"Possibly," Remington conceded. "But there's got to be more than one of these things around this place. Let's go." He pointed toward the back of the lot, around the corner of a building.
Clay Platt skulked through the nursery, following the Steele team as close as he dared. He paused as he reached the corner of the building, glancing behind him quickly to make sure he wasn't being watched. He turned just in time to have a pair of hands grab him by the shirt, whirl him around and slam him into the wall.
"So nice to see you again, Clay," Steele declared between clenched teeth. "You weren't, by any chance, following us, were you?"
"Steele..." Clay sputtered. "Fancy running into you two like this." He tried to worm out of Remington's grasp but gave up after a moment. "Following you? Uh, no, of course not. Laura, you know I wouldn't dream..."
"I know you wouldn't, Clay." She put her hand on Remington's arm. "Let him go, Mr. Steele."
Remington reluctantly released his hold.
Clay tried to straighten his dignity by straightening his shirt, but gave it up quickly. "I was just following the clues, same as you. Can I help it if we got here at the same time?" he complained.
"Then that wasn't you following us since we left our office?" Remington inquired.
Laura shot him a why-didn't-you-tell-me-sooner look, but remained silent.
Clay shook his head. "I only saw you when I pulled up. Believe it or not, Steele, you're not the only detective around town."
Remington pondered Clay's answer for a moment, finally deciding to believe him. "Very well, mate. But considering recent events, I'd think twice about following anyone too closely."
Remington and Laura continued in the direction they were headed. Clay paused for only a few seconds before joining the two on their search.
Dustier than when they began, Laura and Remington surveyed the nursery grounds, looking for any wheelbarrows they might have possibly missed.
"Really, Laura, I didn't see much point in alarming you," Remington defensively stated, again. "I wasn't sure if I was just being a bit paranoid."
"Considering a man has been killed, paranoia might be considered a healthy state of mind," she reminded her companion. Laura stretched her arm across Remington's path, pointing off across the lot to something that caught her attention -- Sandy and Stratten bent over a half hidden, upside down wheelbarrow.
Laura and Remington exchanged a look of panic as they watched the cousins grab something and hurry off. "Come on." Laura raced towards the prize, Remington at her side. Relief apparent when she confirmed the envelopes were still attached. She handed Remington one and then pulled another to give to Clay who puffed up behind them. Waving his thanks, he stumbled off to examine it in private.
"Really, Laura," Remington protested, "you don't have to make it quite so easy for him."
"He was here anyway." She shrugged. "What difference does it make?"
"It's the principle of the thing," he declared. "We're not supposed to help the opposition."
"Right now I'm more concerned with solving a murder than winning this stupid contest," she informed him.
"Of course you are." He paused, chagrined he'd allowed himself to forget. "So am I. But can it hurt if we get some small reward for our efforts?"
For an answer, Laura tore open the envelope, taking out the deed to Atlantic Avenue and a library card belonging to Richard Kingston.
"Yes. All right," Remington answered into the limo's car phone. "Thanks anyway, Mildred." He hung up the receiver.
Laura intently peered out the window at the passing mansions. One after another went by as Fred made another sweep of Atlantic Avenue.
"There's got to be something along here," she announced, her nose practically pressed up against the glass.
"Mildred's trusty computer came up empty-handed this time," he informed her. "'Bupkis' is how she put it, I believe."
"But there's got to be a library of some kind on this street," she stated. "That's the only possible meaning of that clue." Turning briefly to look at her companion, returning her gaze in time to see the Bronco pass by slowly going in the opposite direction.
"At least everyone agrees with you, Laura." He nodded at their fellow contestants. "But there's nothing we can do. There just isn't a library on this whole bloody street."
"But it's got to be here!" Laura stubbornly insisted.
"Look around you." He pointed at the expensive homes. "Do you see anything that even remotely resembles a library? If fact, most of these places look more like mortuaries. I wonder if there's a minimum salary level to move into one of these. Laura, these people don't go to libraries, they own them."
Laura's face lit up at his words. "Fred, Go to 325 Atlantic! Hurry!" She waved the clue in her hand frantically.
Remington frowned slightly. "That address has a familiar ring to it."
"It ought to," she replied cryptically.
"Somehow I get the feeling I've missed something here."
She grinned delightedly at him. "On the contrary, Mr. Steele. True to your marvelous reputation, you've just unraveled the mystery."
"I did? How clever of me." He leaned back in the seat, still confused. "Would you mind explaining how I did it?"
"Not at all. It was staring us in the face the whole time," Laura explained. "This isn't just any library card. It's Richard Kingston's."
"And that address..." Remington realized.
"... is the Kingston Estate," Laura completed. "The clue was for the library at the mansion. I just hope we're not the last ones to figure it out."
"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Remington whispered, opening the double doors to the deserted library.
"I'm not sure... something out of the ordinary," she responded.
"This whole house is out of the ordinary," he declared. Laura just nodded, indicating Remington should search off towards the right while she took the left. Remington dutifully began his systematic peering behind photos and examining the bottom of odd objects. "Laura, I..." He stopped abruptly, horrified by the sight of a dark, wet stain near the desk.
"It doesn't look like anyone beat us here," Laura hissed from her end of the room.
"I wouldn't be too sure." His tone was enough to bring Laura to his side.
"What...?" Laura began, but halted in her stride as Remington stepped aside to reveal the body.
"It's Rachel." Laura bent down to get a closer look, careful not to touch the bloody candlestick lying by her head.
"Miss White, in the library with a candlestick," Remington recited absently. "Laura, are you sure we're playing the right game?"
"Really, Mr. Steele, this is hardly the time," Laura chastised.
"Sorry, Laura," he apologized, transfixed by the death of the poor woman.
"I'll just bet you are." The voice from behind caused them to whirl around. Armed police officers stood on either side of Detective Jarvis. "I must admit, I never expected it would be you two."
Laura and Remington exchanged looks, knowing they'd been set up royally.
"I suppose it's Monopoly after all," Remington stated ironically, his hands being cuffed behind his back. "We're going to jail, directly to jail."
"Do not pass go," Laura sighed, as the were led off.
"Do not collect two hundred thousand dollars..."
Remington paused at the top of the stairs, breathing in the air of freedom. He hurried to catch up to his companions.
"Bet you guys are glad to be out of there," Mildred declared, walking towards the parking lot.
"That's an understatement, Mildred," Laura replied. "At least Jarvis couldn't hold us without any real evidence."
"Probably the fact that all the others showed up right behind us helped our situation," Remington added.
"The looks on their faces when they realized Jarvis was going to take everyone downtown was almost worth the inconvenience." Laura giggled, suddenly embarrassed she'd actually emitted that kind of sound. "I don't think Jimmy believes we did it, I think he just doesn't know what's going on and that bothers him," she announced with more dignity.
"You want the low down on the other contestants?" Mildred was obviously anxious to share what she'd learned during their incarceration.
"Please, Mildred, what did you find out?" Remington asked.
"Sandy and Stratten are just your average O.C. detectives. No problems with creditors, reputation or the law."
"What about their comments about Phil Jarrod? Their allegations of blackmail?" Remington imperceptibly slowed his and Laura's steps, having noticed Mildred's difficulty in keeping up with his long stride and Laura's determined pace.
Mildred wrinkled her nose in disgust. "They were right about that bum, Boss. My sources confirmed it."
"What did you find on Rachel White?" Laura asked sadly.
"She just finished her apprenticeship two months ago." She shook her head. "Everybody liked her. She had a pretty promising future."
"When did she start working with Caine?" Remington inquired as they reached the limo. He noticed the Hayvenhurst car parked nearby, waiting for its passenger to be sprung.
"She was assigned to him last month. From Caine's history, it would be a privilege for a rookie to work with him," Mildred enthusiastically declared. "His reputation for solving cases has been unbelievable over the years. I can see..."
"Thank you, Mildred," Laura cut her off. "But Mr. Steele and I already know all we need to know about James Caine."
"That only leaves Clay Platt, and we already know his history," Remington stated. "Any one of them could be guilty. Any ideas, Laura?" He glanced over at Laura for her much needed expertise.
"No, we really are back to square one on this thing," she conceded.
"Getting back into the Kingston's home certainly isn't going to be easy. It's now considered a crime scene. There's bound to be at least one police officer on guard." Remington ran his hand through is hair in frustration.
"Well, we won't be the only ones trying to get in." Laura gestured up the walkway. Clay Platt, Caine and the cousins were heading towards them with Sabrina Dale.
"You two got cut loose awful fast," Play accused, reaching them first.
"The Remington Steele Agency has always had a good rapport with the police," Steele announced in his best advisory-capacity voice, usually saved to impress clients.
Caine stepped up to challenge him. "Are you intimating that one of us is guilty, Steele?"
"You can take it any way you like, Mr. Caine." Remington stared Caine down, almost daring him to take a swing.
Sabrina Dale broke in as the two men bristled at each other. "Gentlemen, this is neither the time nor the place to settle your differences."
"Miss Dale is right." Laura stepped in between the two men. "We have other concerns to concentrate our energies on."
"Now that we're all out of custody," Sandy began, "I'm sure we're all anxious to get back into the game."
Sabrina frowned, shaking her head. "I don't know if that will be possible... for a few days at least. I assume the next clue was at the Kingston Mansion?" She continued after everyone's nods of consent. "None of you were able to find it before the police arrived?"
"No, ma'am," Stratten finally spoke up. "But since there's no set time limit, I suppose there's other business...
"...we've been neglecting," Sandy completed. "Guess we'll be seeing you all later. Our cab should be here any minute."
"Yeah, lots of work," Clay muttered, wandering off with the cousins to find his own ride.
"Let me give you a lift, Miss Dale," Caine offered, indicating the Hayvenhurst vehicle at their disposal.
"Thank you, Mr. Caine. Could you drop me off at my office?" Sabrina nodded a farewell to the Steele staff.
Standing patiently by, Fred realized this was his cue to open the car door.
"Well, what do you think?" Remington looked out at the darkening city.
"I think we had better get changed and head over to the Kingston house immediately," she said.
"My thoughts exactly," he agreed.
Mildred gave her boss a quizzical glance. "Why? You heard everybody. They don't plan to do anything until the police leave."
"I'm surprised at you," Laura declared. "You don't really believe any of those detectives are going to wait a few days, let alone until tomorrow, before they try to recover the next clue."
"Mildred, you must cultivate a more devious mind if you intend to make it in this profession," Steele continued.
"Mr. Steele understands all about deviousness, Mildred," Laura stated proudly. "He's had a lot of practice.
Dressed for night work, Remington and Laura got out of the limo down the block from the Kingston's estate. Laura immediately moved closer to the hedge bordering the sidewalk.
"Come back in an hour, Fred," Remington instructed the chauffeur.
"Will do, Mr. Steele," Fred promised, driving away slowly.
Remington joined Laura, doing a quick check of their equipment. "It's a good bet the guard is in the front." Upon Laura's acknowledgment, they began the short walk to the rear wall. Scaling it with ease, they reached the back of the mansion in no time.
"Where should we go in?" Laura hissed at her associate.
Steele pointed. "Why don't we just follow those two?" he whispered in return.
Two flashlight beams bobbed up and down a short distance away.
"Shall we make them welcome?" Laura suggested.
"Wonderful idea, Laura. After you." He gallantly bowed to her.
The Steele team crept up on the two intruders. Using his own flashlight as though it were a gun, Steele poked it in the back of the nearest one.
"Hands up... police," he announced quietly.
Whirling around, Sandy and Stratten looked like twin deer caught in the headlights.
"I thought you had business that needed tending?" Laura asked innocently. "What could you possibly be doing traipsing around in Mr. Kingston's garden?"
"We could..." Sandy started.
"...ask you the same thing," Stratten completed.
Remington waved his hands in a carefree manner. "Miss Holt and I really had nothing pressing so we..."
"Right," Sandy cut in. "So why don't we..."
"...do this together," Stratten suggested.
Remington looked from one to the other, still unsure which was which.
"Sounds good to us," Laura replied. "But I wouldn't try breaking into the house where you two were planning."
"Why not?" Sandy asked.
"Miss Holt and I installed the security system." Remington led them to the side of the house. "There's a special alarm, you won't get past it without setting it off."
"Unless you know where it is and how to bypass it," Laura advised. She opened a concealed panel behind the shrubs and punched in a code. "Voila!"
Within a few minutes, Steele had the window opened and was boosting Laura inside. With a quick check to make sure no one had spotted them, Sandy and Stratten followed Steele inside.
"Anybody got any ideas what we're looking for?" Stratten flashed his light around the room.
"No, but we should probably split up," Remington said. "Cover more ground that way."
"Good idea, Mr. Steele. I think I'll take that side." Laura made her way to the desk, careful not to step where Rachel's body had been.
The others picked sections and began their search. A sudden noise at the window froze everyone, then sent them scurrying towards cover. Clay Platt unceremoniously scrambled through the window, landing on his backside as he stumbled over something in the dark.
Remington tapped the clumsy detective on the shoulder. "Obviously you had nothing better to do this evening, either."
Startled, Clay dropped his flashlight, falling on his rear again. Looking around he realized who had found him. Seeing the others approaching from their concealment, he recovered his composure. "Well, I see we're almost all accounted for. Where's Caine?"
As if on cue, a rustling from outside sent the detectives to their hiding places again. Clay sat frozen for a second unsure where to go. His eyes finally found the only closet in the room, and he scrambled for it.
James Caine dropped lightly into the dark library. But within seconds, five flashlights were turned on him.
"Guess we're all here now." Laura led the group's convergence on the last detective.
Caine glared at them belligerently. "You didn't expect me to believe any of you would give up so easily?"
Remington addressed the two newest arrivals. "Gentlemen, we were just now searching the library. Would you care to join us?" Remington turned to Clay. "Would you care to re-check the closet, old chap?"
Platt rolled his eyes, but went dutifully off to investigate his most recent hiding place.
In silence, the searchers thoroughly picked through every portion of the room.
Laura had exhausted her territory when she glanced over to Remington. He was staring at some video tapes. She shook her head in amusement at his obvious distraction and made her way across the room. "I know Kingston had a great video library, Mr. Steele, but this is hardly the time..."
"It's a Mad, Mad, Mad..." He waved his hand to indicate more, "...World. United Artists, 1963. Countless famous top-rate, actors engaged in finding stolen money." He peered through the alphabetized titles. "I just thought..."
Laura started to help.
"Damn," he declared. "It's not here." He sighed in frustration.
Laura patted his arm consolingly. "But a good idea, Mr. Steele," she assured him. "We are on a sort of scavenger hunt, it would have made sense..."
Remington snapped his fingers, moving further along the shelving. Grinning widely as he pulled out a tape and handed it to Laura. "Scavenger Hunt. Twentieth Century Fox, 1979," he announced. "A myriad of television and character actors engaged in finding items to become the heir to a millionaire's fortune, built on games." He grinned widely at his partner.
Eagerly opening it, Laura found the envelopes. "Good work, Mr. Steele."
"Thank you, Laura." Remington located the one with their name on it. "Coming from you that is high praise indeed, but I could never have found it without you." Remington raised his voice to be heard by all in the room. "Gentlemen, we have found the items."
The other detectives gathered around Laura, silently accepting their clues. Laura opened theirs, shaking out a Deed to Pacific Avenue, a tiny steamship token and a pair of dice.
"Any ideas?" Laura asked puzzled.
The Queen Mary loomed majestically in front of them. Pacific Avenue had gotten them to Long Beach, and then dead-ended at the famous tourist attraction.
"Well this is Pacific Avenue." Remington toyed distractedly with the dice.
"Yes it is, Mr. Steele," she agreed. "And I think we've found the only important ship connected with the street. Too bad we had to wait for it to open."
"It's also the only nearby ship that has a gambling casino on board." To punctuate his remark, he flipped the dice up, catching them handily and then pocketing them into his jacket pocket. "Shall we, Miss Holt?" He offered her his arm.
"I'd love to, Mr. Steele." Laura took his arm and they proceeded up the walkway to the ocean liner.
At the entrance, they were almost run over by Caine, who waved the clue in their face. "Good luck kids," he greeted cheekily. "You'll never figure this one out." He bounced passed them and out of sight.
Remington shuddered with annoyance. "I really don't like that man."
"Join the club!" she announced bitterly. "Let's go get our next destination."
Laura sat on her favorite spot of Steele's desk, watching him examine the twenty dollar bill. None of the other clues had been "hidden" but they weren't quite sure what should have been staring them in the face. She rubbed the car token between her fingers and then replaced it back where it belonged on Pacific Avenue.
"Is that all you found, Boss?" Mildred inquired, craning a bit to see it.
Laura signed. "Yes, Mildred. I'm afraid that's all there is to this clue."
"But it's money!" she exclaimed. "That really isn't much to go on."
Remington glanced up from contemplation. "We assumed this would get harder as the game wore on." He shrugged. "We were right."
Hopping of the desk, Laura moved around to take the bill. Then she started to pace, turning the twenty over and over in her hand while walking.
Remington rolled his eyes at Mildred as Laura began her accustomed mode of thinking that drove them both crazy.
"There isn't much on a twenty," she began, not really talking to anyone in particular. "A picture of Andrew Jackson on one side and the White House on the other."
"Maybe it has to do with the fake money in the game... or one of the cards?" Mildred speculated.
Remington leaned over to get a better view of the game and Laura joined him.
He shrugged. "I don't think so, Mildred. That would deviate from the way the other clues have been working." He pointed to where the car token was. "There seems to be a chosen route on the board." Remington sat up straight, remembering something. "Isn't the White House on..."
"Of course," Laura exclaimed, moving the game piece to Pennsylvania Avenue. "Makes sense. Now all we have to do is find something called the White House on the appropriate street. Mildred..."
"On it," Mildred cried, already halfway to the door to warm up her computer. "Hey," she paused briefly, turning to look at her bosses. "I know a White House Realty in the Valley. I'll check it out first." She continued on her assigned task.
"Good," Laura announced. "And while Mildred's doing that, I think a visit to Rachel White's apartment is called for."
Glancing warily to either side, Remington pulled out his pick, opening the ill-fated investigator's door without problem. He and Laura entered quickly.
"I'll take the living room and kitchen," Remington volunteered.
"Bedroom's mine." Laura started to make her way through the small, tidy apartment. "This was a nice place. It's such a shame..."
"Don't worry, Laura." Remington stopped his search to assure her. "We'll find out who did this. I promise." He put his arms around her.
"I know we will. It's just that she was so young with such a promising future," Laura quietly replied.
"She reminded you of someone we both know, eh?" He smiled genuinely at her.
Laura returned the smile. "Maybe a little." She reluctantly withdrew from him. "Let's see if we can find anything useful."
Remington checked out the cabinets and drawers and pictures, finding it much easier to search during the light of day, even if he still didn't know what he was looking for. Exhausting all possibilities, he peeked in the bedroom. "I didn't find anything. How're you doing?"
Laura held up a gold locket from Rachel's jewelry box. "I think I may have just found something of interest. What do you think?"
Remington held out his hand to get a better look at the necklace.
"RW and JM," he read. "Well, it doesn't take much of a detective to figure out that one."
"Caine!" she declared. "I knew he was involved in this somehow, but I would never have believed murder. I guess he's more of a creep than even I knew!"
"Laura, we don't know Caine killed anyone," he reasoned. "All we do know is he might have had a relationship with Rachel. We shouldn't be jumping to conclusions from just this."
"You're right," Laura admitted. "I'm letting my personal feelings get in the way of my professional judgment. But we do need to find Caine and ask him some questions."
"The best way to accomplish that is to solve our present problem," he stated. "We know Caine was ahead of us at the Queen Mary, he may already be at the next location."
Laura carefully replaced the locket. "We'd better call Mildred and find out if she's got any leads. The sooner we get there, the sooner we confront Caine."
"And the closer we are to the next clue," he added. "And possibly the final prize."
"What's the address?" Laura asked into the phone. "2340 Pennsylvania... Good work, Mildred. Yes, we'll be fine."
Remington picked up the Thomas Guide, flipping through to the index. Scanning the numbers, he found the right page and turned to it. "Encino, Fred," Steele instructed their driver. "2340 Pennsylvania. Mildred is still worried, I see."
"She says that our numbers are dwindling and she doesn't want either of us on the growing list," Laura repeated.
"She does have a point," Remington reminded Laura. "The ranks are definitely thinning. Did Mildred say what kind of business this White House is?"
"It's a restaurant specializing in Japanese-French food," Laura said. "I wonder if Caine has already been there yet?"
Remington took her hand in his, patting it reassuringly. "We'll know soon enough."
Remington squinted in the contrasting darkness of the restaurant from outside. His eyes finally adjusted and he spotted Caine at the bar. But Caine must have seen them at the same time. Without waiting, Caine bolted for the back exit through the kitchen. Laura reached the door ahead of Remington, just as shots rang out. Coming through, she almost tripped over Caine's fallen body.
Remington bent over to check for a pulse. "He's dead, Laura," Steele announced grimly. "I'm afraid we'll get no answers from him."
Before Laura could even react, the swinging door flew open. She had to backpedal away from it and the dead body to avoid getting slammed into by Platt, Stratten and Sandy.
The remaining detectives huddled in a corner of the bar, away from the frenzied police activity in the kitchen, no one quite sure if they were about to be arrested again... or not.
"It's weird, you know," Clay finally spoke up. "I would have bet money that Caine was the one behind the murders."
"I guess he proved his innocence..." Sandy speculated.
"...the hard way," Stratten agreed.
Laura took a step to pace, but glanced over at the police and thought better of it. "I hardly think Caine could be termed an innocent bystander in all of this."
Remington shot her a quizzical look. "Come now, Laura. You can't honestly think the man planned those other deaths and then shot himself."
"Wouldn't have been much sense in that," Platt reasoned.
"I didn't say he shot himself," Laura began. "I'm just not sure he didn't know something we don't."
"And that would be...?" Remington prompted.
"Who really is responsible for the murders," Laura started but spied Jarvis on his way over. His grim face didn't give her any hope of their being free to pursue the investigation for quite some time.
The Police Detective stopped in front of them. "You'll be happy to know we finally got a break," Jarvis informed them. "We found what appears to be the murder weapon."
At this unexpected turn of events, Remington moved forward to shake Jarvis' hand energetically. "That's wonderful, Detective," he praised. "As usual, you've done a bang up job. Does this mean we can all go home?"
"He doesn't look quite that pleased, Mr. Steele." Laura walked up to the two men. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Laura," Jarvis replied. "I just never enjoy situations like this. I really didn't think it was any of you, not for a moment."
A general murmur arose amongst the remaining private eyes, Jarvis' meaning quite clear.
"Everyone can go, except Mr. Platt. The gun we found was registered to him." Jarvis motioned for two uniformed officers to take the startled man into custody. "I'm afraid he's got a lot of explaining to do."
The police cuffed him and began to read him his rights.
"This is crazy!" he protested. "I didn't kill anybody." He turned to Laura. "Please, tell 'em. You know I couldn't do that!"
Clay Platt was led out of the room, his protests heard clearly for a few more seconds.
"Jarvis, the fact the gun was his doesn't mean he pulled the trigger," Remington defended. "Anyone could have gotten his gun and used it."
"Sure, but not everyone hated Caine as much as Platt did." Jarvis absently put his casebook in his pocket, ready to follow after his suspect. "Hate makes a pretty good motive."
Laura stopped him. "Aren't you forgetting the other two victims? They're obviously connected somehow and I don't picture Clay planning that far ahead."
"I didn't forget," Jarvis said "But I have to take it one step at a time. We'll do a ballistics match, but for now I'm not taking any chances." He walked out of the restaurant, leaving the door open as an invitation for the others to depart as well.
No one moved until Laura finally gave in to the urge to pace. She stopped after a bit of an awkward silence, then smiled at Sandy and Stratten. "Well, here we are. The Four Musketeers."
"One for all and all for one, eh?" Remington asked, then frowned. "I was thinking more along the lines of And Then There Were None."
"Then you don't think Clay..." Sandy stepped up to Laura.
"...killed anyone either." Stratten followed his cousin.
"Of course he didn't," Laura stated firmly. "Somebody set him up, like they set us up at the mansion."
Stratten shook his head. "That means..."
"...the killer's still out there," Sandy finished.
"Cheery thought," Remington agreed. "It also means the killer was never one of us."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Stratten said.
"It works both ways," Laura stated.
"So, now that we trust each other, what do we do next?" Sandy asked.
"We do this together. Has anyone found the last clue yet?" Laura inquired.
They exchanged looks, then Remington pulled an envelope from his pocket, while Sandy did the same, both opening theirs to reveal the same things in each.
Laura held up the red plastic piece that fell out of the pouch. "The deed to Park Place, a hotel and an "Advance to Go" card... this shouldn't be to hard," she announced.
"So what are we waiting for," Steele declared. "Let's go collect the two hundred thousand dollars."
The four detectives spread out through the plush lobby of the Park Place Hotel. With every obvious hiding place searched thoroughly, they were now trying to appear inconspicuous as they checked through the unlikely possibilities.
One by one, they had all converged on a sofa in the lobby, plopping down exhausted and discouraged.
"This is ridiculous," Stratten stated. "We could look for weeks and never find exactly where that money is."
"This isn't a hotel..." Remington indicated the vast structure around them, "it's a bloody estate."
"Maybe we read the clue wrong," Sandy suggested. "Maybe we're not even at the right place."
"I think we're wasting our time just sitting around here," Stratten announced.
"Well, if you've got a better idea...." Laura paused. She'd caught Stratton's expression. An enigmatic smile was slowly creeping across his features.
He stood up, slapping his cousin on the knee. "Come on, Cuz. Let's get going!"
Sandy shrugged wearily and joined his partner.
"Do you think they really found another answer?" Remington scooted closer to Laura on the couch.
"No," Laura answered. "I think they're bluffing. They probably just went somewhere to think this out."
Laura rose, immediately picking a route to start her think-pacing. "This has to be right. All the other clues have led us to some place specific. And we always got the message from the clue itself."
"Well, we're here." Remington stretched out his tired legs, careful to keep them out of Laura's path. "A hotel called Park Place. But while he was being so clever, why couldn't he have included the room number... or something?" he groused.
Laura stopped, staring down at the deed. She smiled slowly. "Maybe he did."
"He did? Where? Which one?" Remington sat up to get a better look at the deed, but Laura snatched it off the coffee table.
"Right here." She pointed at the cardboard. "The numbers for the rent. How much is it for landing on Park Place with one hotel?" She handed the clue to Remington.
"Fifteen hundred!" he exclaimed.
The detectives raced to the elevators, but even the semi-dignified dash brought curious stares from the hotel clientele. Remington pushed the button once, then twice. Finally he and Laura ran for the stairway. Finding the proper floor, they paused a moment to catch their breath, then began the search for Room 1500.
Laura rapped lightly on the door. As expected, no response came. Remington tried the doorknob in hopes it might actually just open, but ended up pulling out his lock pick. Laura watched for any possible interruptions while he worked the door. Within moments he had it unlocked, holding it gallantly for Laura to proceed him.
Within sight sat a table with a large chest upon it. A banner above it read "Congratulations!" Laura moved over to pick up the card.
"So you've made it past 'Go,'" she read. "You may now collect your two hundred thousand dollars. Inside this Community Chest is the same amount of Monopoly money. Take it to my attorney to exchange it for the real thing."
Remington hugged Laura enthusiastically, which she returned excitedly.
"Please, Laura," he began. "Will you do the honors?"
Laura beamed at her partner, ceremoniously lifting the box's heavy lid. "It's gone!" she exclaimed. "Somebody beat us here!"
"That's impossible!" Remington reached for the container. "We're the only ones left."
Laura shook her head. "Not the only ones, Mr. Steele. The killer is still around somewhere. He's been right along with us the entire time."
"But this time he got ahead of us." Remington sat on the edge of the table dejectedly, tipping the empty chest over in annoyance. "So now what do we do?"
Laura took the room in with a quick glance, searching for some inspiration, her eyes finally resting on the barren container. "We start from the beginning," she stated determinedly.
Pouring over the legal documents for hours, Remington ran his hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair wearily. Laura picked up another one from her perch on the corner of his desk and began reading again.
The smell of hot coffee preceded Mildred, getting their attention before she even entered the office. "Found anything yet?" she asked, handing each a steaming cup.
"I think were definitely on to something." Laura took the offered coffee.
Remington frowned. "How can you tell? Personally, I've been contemplating borrowing the Rosetta Stone to decipher all this legal double talk." He spread his arms wide, indicating the entire paper mess.
Mildred chuckled. "Borrowin', huh, Boss?" she inquired slyly.
"Of course, Mildred." Remington attempted a wounded puppy expression. "You know I long ago gave up that art."
"And we're grateful," Laura impatiently interrupted. "But can we stick to business." She picked up a few more of the offending documents, rifling through them for the hundredth time. "According to this copy of Richard Kingston's will, everything was on the up and up. We followed the rules of the game straight down the line. Except for one small detail."
"What's that?" Mildred asked.
Laura handed the paperwork to the secretary. "Apparently there was supposed to be a time limit on the hunt. I guess he wanted it to be a little more exciting and competitive."
"More!" Remington exclaimed. "I guess murder is a bit dull after you get used to it."
Mildred handed the items to Steele. "So what happens if nobody wins in the time he gave?"
Laura sighed wearily. "The money reverts back to the estate."
Contemplating the implications of this, Laura and Remington came to the same conclusion simultaneously, the knowledge obvious in their exchanged expressions.
The intercom buzzed loudly, causing Sabrina Dale to jump. "I asked not to be interrupted, Janie," she barked into the offending office equipment.
"I'm sorry, Miss Dale. But two of the detectives are here. It's about the Kingston money," her voice filtered in.
Sabrina frowned. "All right, send them in." She straightened the paperwork on her desk, putting on her best friendly, professional smile for her unscheduled guests.
Sandy and Stratten walked through the door, the Community Chest tightly gripped under Sandy's arm.
The detective placed his burden on her desk, grinning widely. "Looks like we won," he informed her. "Here's the money!" He opened the lid with a flourish.
"Congratulations, gentlemen." Sabrina stood to come around the desk and shake their hands. Her smile never faded.
Parting the hedge slightly, Laura and Remington squeezed through onto the grounds of the Kingston Estate.
"Are you certain this plan of yours is going to work, Laura?" he whispered.
"Don't I always know what I'm doing?" she responded confidently.
He considered it for a moment. "That's hardly a fair question to ask."
Laura chuckled at his discomfort, gesturing towards the large garage where the estate vehicles were kept. Inside they began their search of the front headlights. Drawing Remington's attention over to one that was broken, Laura pulled out the glass fragment from the first murder site and placed it like a puzzle piece.
"A perfect match, Mr. Steele," she announced.
Sabrina's Mercedes pulled out onto the street at full speed, followed immediately by the cousins' black Bronco. After arriving at the Kingston estate, Sabrina headed straight for the library, and a huge painting. She swung it out to reveal the hidden wall safe. Twirling the combination impatiently, she finally got it open. She grabbed the satchel, dumping the contents out on to the desk. Confusion apparent, she sifted through the Monopoly money.
"Surprised, Sabrina?" Laura declared.
Sabrina whirled to see Laura and Remington step out from hiding to confront her. "Mr. Steele... Miss Holt," she stuttered. "What are you doing here?"
Remington shook his head. "The game is over, Miss Dale."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she denied.
"Give it up, Sabrina," Laura reasoned. "What happened to Caine? Did he get a little too greedy?"
"Maybe Caine wasn't the only one suffering from that weakness," Remington added. "Maybe you planned to kill him from the start, eh?"
Sabrina's eyes grew desperate. Suddenly, reaching into the desk drawer, she drew out a small pistol and aimed it at the two detectives. "I could kill both of you," she hissed through clenched teeth. "With all the murders, the police wouldn't even think to question me. The obvious suspects are those two Newport Cousins."
"Maybe," Laura replied calmly. "But Detective Jarvis is a pretty smart man. You won't fool him for long."
"It'll be long enough." She raised the gun threateningly, about to make good on her promise.
Suddenly, the library doors burst open. Sandy and Stratten rushed in, disarming the startled Sabrina.
"The game really is over," Remington concluded happily.
Sandy and Stratten leaned on Mildred's desk, trying to explain the whole mess to the befuddled secretary.
"So the dame lawyer killed everybody?" Mildred asked again.
"Not everyone, Mildred. She was the one who ran Phil Jarrod down. She used one of the Kingston cars so it wouldn't be traced. And she killed Caine as well," Laura explained
"But why? If they were lovers like you said, and in it together." Mildred held her head in confusion.
"Basic greed, Mildred." Remington walked around the desk. "In this case love couldn't conquer all. If that money reverted to the estate she would have had complete control over it. Pretty heavy temptation there."
"Besides, she couldn't trust Caine not to give her away when it looked like we'd caught him," Laura joined him.
"You know, I'm not too clear on what happened to Rachel White," Stratten began.
"If Sabrina didn't do her in..." Sandy shrugged.
"Caine did that himself," Remington said. "She'd caught onto his little scheme. He had to keep her from talking."
"Well at least Clay got out of jail." Stratten stood up, preparing to leave.
"He must've been plenty worried," the two cousins declared in unison.
Laura glanced from one to the other, bemused as she could see Remington trying to figure out which was which -- again. "He'll recover when he finds out we all get to split the money from the will."
"You know, you don't have to do that. You solved the case, fair and square." Sandy shook Steele's hand, then Laura's.
"Nonsense," Remington assured him. "We never could have lured Sabrina out to the mansion without your help, gentlemen. It's only fitting that you reap the rewards of your labors."
"Yeah, well thanks anyway. Let's get goin', Cuz." Stratten said his good-byes to Laura and Remington, and headed out the door, with Mildred leading them to the elevator.
Laura and Remington moved to Steele's office. Laura made a point of closing the door after her. She studied Remington suspiciously. She wanted her own explanation.
"Okay, Mr. Steele. What gives?" she demanded
Remington assumed an innocent air. "Laura, I don't know what you're talking about."
"The entire time we've been on this case you couldn't stop talking about the money. Now suddenly you've become a philanthropist and you're giving the money away." Laura put her hands on her hips.
"I'm not giving it away. Those two really did help. Don't you think they deserve a little something for their trouble?" Remington defended.
Laura moved closer to Remington, a smile on her face. "Sure I do. I just never thought you would."
Remington tried to keep the devilish grin from his face, but couldn't quite do it. "Well, I didn't want anyone to think that the Remington Steele Agency wasn't a 'winning team.'"
"This free agent would gladly sign on your team any day, coach." Laura grinned at him.
Remington slid an arm around Laura's waist and pulled her tighter. "I think you already have." He moved in for a kiss.