Steele Investments
Epilogue
by Melinda
 
"--hahaha."
 
Lieutenant Larry Harris ceased laughing, and Steele also ended his forced chuckle. Male bonding with boorish types had never been his favorite activity, but he was capable of putting on a convincing show. He would not have been a consummate conman if he could not.
 
Harris stood beside Steele's hospital bed where the injured man rested. He wore a dark blue dressing gown and sat upright. He had been in the hospital for just under twenty-four hours. He had come through surgery without any complications and had spent a night in the ICU. The next morning he had been moved to a private room.
 
"Well, Steele, that should take care of it," Harris said, flipping his notepad closed. "A second Eagle 357 registered to Dorcas Bellenworth has been located in the safety deposit box also registered to Bellenworth. Prints and ballistics match."
 
The police detective paused and then flashed his teeth in a predatory grin that chilled Remington's blood. The man was a hunter; the smile never reached his eyes.
 
"Lucky for you, Steele, Junior is being charged with conspiracy to commit murder in the death of his father and attempted murder in your shooting."
 
"Ah, yes, lucky for me!" he smiled and agreed. He was not even going to ask what Harris meant; he was sure that he did not want to know.
 
"Well, Steele, it was a real pleasure to finally meet you! I've gotta say--your people are loyal!" Harris slapped Steele on the shoulder.
 
"Well then, detective," Steele said with a wince as the blow jarred his bandaged side, "was there anything else you needed?" He had stuck exactly to the facts that Laura had provided to him, making no deviations or elaborations. Their alibi should be airtight. Only--why was he sweating?
 
"I've got enough; I can fill in the blanks on the stuff that's still a little unclear." Harris located Laura lurking in the entrance of the room. "Hello there, Miss Holt."
 
Steele turned his head in time to see Laura draw herself up to her diminutive full height. "Lieutenant Harris," she said, giving the man a flinty-eyed stare.
 
"Evening, Steele!" Harris called and departed, strolling off at a lazy saunter. The hallway filled with the sharp, clear whistle of the theme to The Andy Griffith Show and gradually faded into the distance.
 
Laura literally slunk into the room. Steele stopped his partner in her tracks with a furious glare. "Laura, why does that man believe that I'm an unconscionable swine?" he demanded with a sharp stab of his finger toward the door. "I know I must occasionally play the part of the man's man to satisfy some of our more narrow-minded clientele, but the manner in which Harris believes I exploit you is not only insulting, it's revolting!" he fumed.
 
Laura's face was momentarily stricken, and then her expression relaxed into a genuine smile. She laughed and came to him, perching on the edge of the bed, settling a soothing hand on his forearm.
 
"You're right; I'm sorry," she said. "It's true; I did allow Lieutenant Harris to believe the worst of it. But I did it for a good cause--to protect you and the agency." Her explanation reminded him of exactly what she had done recently to protect him without rubbing his nose in it.
 
"You don't really think that of me, then?" he asked, still suspicious. With Laura, one never knew.
 
"No, of course not." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was yet another placating gesture; the woman had been nothing but attentive since he had been shot. It was odd, and he barely knew what to make of it. Laura Holt and TLC? He did not trust it, and he was not willing to get shot again to test it.
 
Mollified, he allowed the matter to drop. "Is that it, then? Are we done with this case?"
 
"God, I hope so," Laura said with a heavy sigh. "One thing is still bugging me," she admitted.
 
"What's that," he asked with an arched brow, "Miss Holt?" He had added up all the pieces and thought they had a complete picture. Still, Laura often had insights that escaped him.
 
"Why do you suppose that Arthur Bellenworth chose our agency for creative material in the first place?" Laura wondered. She extended her hand and stroked his wrist; he automatically turned over his hand so that she could take it.
 
"Hmm." He thought about it. "We may never know, but maybe our lives simply seemed glamorous to a man in his dreary profession."
 
"Too bad, then, that he decided to turn his idol into a sacrificial goat," Laura mused with a faint grin. He grimaced and made a sound of agreement. For a time there, it had been his neck in the noose. If it were not for Laura, he might have paid the price. It was a debt he would not be forgetting any time soon.
 
"Did you bring the movie?" he asked a little over-eagerly because the tedium of hospitalization had been getting to him.
 
"I'm sorry. To Catch a Thief was checked out."
 
"Not a problem."
 
Laura loaded And Then There Were None into the VHS player. Then, to his delight and amazement, she crawled into the bed beside him and curled against his good side. "Am I hurting you?" she asked.
 
"No, I'm fine." He would never have admitted it if she was, not if it meant having her retreat to one of his visitor's chairs.
 
They spent ninety-seven heavenly minutes cuddling in front of Agatha Christie's timeless murder mystery. She remained tucked against him as the credits rolled. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and hers snaked about his waist. Her head was tucked beneath his chin, and her cheek turned into his chest. She sighed.
 
It was Laura who broke the silence. "It's been difficult for me since Bernice and Murphy left," she said into the dark of the room. Her tone was quiet and told him nothing about her emotional state.
 
He hesitated, approaching the loaded topic with care. "Yes, I know. I've been trying to help."
 
"I can see that and I do appreciate it," she said. "First thing Monday morning, I'm going to call the temp agency again and try to find a replacement for Bernice."
 
He almost bit his tongue but was unable to refrain from asking, "And for Murphy?"
 
Laura did not answer immediately. "Murphy's not so easily replaced."
 
He nodded, sullen and a little bitter, ego stinging from the rejection. He had tried being her parnter; he wanted to be her partner. But it would happen if she would not allow it. Still, it seemed, there were preconceptions Laura held of him that could not be overcome.
 
"You have excellent people skills, and the clients love you," Laura said thoughtfully.
 
Startled, he sat up straighter. "Laura?"
 
"You lack hard investigative skills that come with formal training, but your instincts are good and some of your other, less--"
 
"Lawful?" he suggested.
 
"In a word," Laura agreed. "Talents such as lock-picking and the knowledge of security systems have proven invaluable."
 
"Laura, exactly what are you saying?" He was impatient, like a child, exuberant and hopeful, because it sounded as if Christmas morning had arrived at FAO Schwarz.
 
"It would mean more work for you," Laura warned in a very serious tone.
 
"Well, I had been thinking about taking a more active role in the agency." The bed bounced with his excitement.
 
"You'll have to shoulder a lot more responsibility as a partner, and I mean in more than just an advisory capacity."
 
"Not a problem," he assured her.
 
"Of course, I'm still in charge. I make all of the final calls."
 
"Wouldn't have it any other way," he lied. Someday he would, but change for Laura had to come gradually.
 
"Longer hours."
 
"All right."
 
"Legwork."
 
He remained silent, knowing the dark concealed his grin, letting her twist in the wind for a few seconds. "Well," he finally deadpanned, "at least I know that I'll never be in charge of autopsy reports!"
 
Laura rose neatly to the bait. "How do you figure that?"
 
"Why, Murphy passed along all of his vaunted secrets to you, of course!"
 
He pounced then, swooping in to steal a kiss. He found Laura's mouth well-enough since he possessed excellent night vision but was unprepared for the lancing pain that stabbed his side as he strained the stitches.
 
His yelp of pain ended the kiss, and it was Laura who eased him back onto the bed. Her hands stroked his face until the pain ceased, and he rested comfortably. Her hands were cool upon his face as were her lips, and it again amazed him that she lingered, administering comfort with a gentle touch and softly murmured words much longer than was strictly necessary.
 
"I learned something about myself--about us--while you were in surgery," she finally admitted to the dark.
 
"What's that?" he asked.
 
He heard her smile. "That I've already got a partner. There's no sense in trying to hire another."
 
He took her hand and held fast. "Damn right! On that, Miss Holt, I wholeheartedly agree."
 
End
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