We left Mr. Steele eating crow and Laura having her a-ha moment. Now …
… Mr. Steele sits, looking morose, as the guests file out. Swell party, Mr. Steele!
Visible panty line! (Not to mention that she seems to be wearing her nightgown). How would you like THAT to be your big moment on network television? And what the hell is the woman behind her wearing? Harem pants? But we digress.
Laura finds him there, and offers a comforting word. “Feeling pretty low, huh?”
Fortunately, Laura knows just the thing to perk him up:
“Why don’t we just sign those book contracts, then, and call it a night.”
Steele is skeptical. “You really think Forsythe House is gonna want to publish my book now?”
“You’re still Remington Steele.” (Laura admitting that the con man is “her” Remington Steele? You’ve come a long way, baby!)
Aw, Mr. Steele. You’re so cute when you’re hopeful.
You can almost see his little tail wagging, can’t you?
The usual suspects assemble in the
drawing room den. Looks like Charlotte doesn’t hold a grudge against Steele for destroying her career. She asks Tony to relinquish the typewriter.
Harvard gigolo serious writer goes to sit by Laura on the stairs. She asks him why he couldn’t spare even a moment to attend the party.
“Deadline pressure,” he admits. “Making revisions.”
Tony says he had one big revision and a lot of little ones. Begging the question,
Forsythe sits down to the typewriter … then realizes he doesn’t know how to type. Anybody in the room got nimble fingers?
Don’t look at
“The only Remington these nails have ever touched didn’t have keys,” she purrs, glancing toward keyless Remington.
He seems … turned on?
“Miss Holt typed – oof!” Laura discourages Mr. Steele from continuing. With her spiky, spiky heel.
Laura declares that she never did learn to type. But surely there’s someone in the room …
Hey, wait a minute. This guy can type!
Tony admits he can type 65 wpm.
“Fire when ready,” Tony says. Perhaps not a great choice of words in a room where at least one person is a murderer. But maybe Tony knows something we don’t?
“Didn’t Mitchell Knight say the scene he read describing his death was neatly typed?” Laura asks.
Steele catches on fast. “Yes. Not dictated, typed. Which would explain why there are no tapes at all for the third book.”
“Tony wrote the third book, didn’t he?” Laura accuses.
Tony admits he used his
gigolo degree BFA to write the third book “These people were in a jam,” he explains. “The stores expected a book for the holidays and there was no book. So we made a deal: they promised to publish my book if I wrote their book. They also promised not to tell anyone that I wrote it. I’m a serious writer; I have my reputation to think of. Mystery solved, case closed.”
Oh, not so fast Mr. Man! Laura’s not done with you yet.
“The case of who wrote the third book, perhaps. But not of who killed Mr. Knight.”
Tony is amused by her implication. “Laura … I thought we’d been through this.”
“No one killed Mitch; certainly not me. What possible motive could I have had?”
Steele has the answer!
“With Mitchell out of the way, you would write the Charlotte Knight books. Could be worth millions.”
I think Laura looks proud of her boy here, don’t you?
Tony reminds Steele (again) that he is a SERIOUS WRITER. He would never write sleazy books like Charlotte Knight’s torrid series.
Time for Laura to do her version of the Steele soliliquoy:
“Of course you are. Here you are, finally about to get your novel published. Is that why you killed him?”
Oh, don’t look so surprised, Tony.
Laura reminds him that Mitchell Knight had predicted the night of his death would be a “revealing evening.” “Mitchell Knight planned to tell, didn’t he? Walk out into that party and tell the world you wrote a tawdry little sex thriller. Goodbye New York Times, goodbye Pulitzer Committee, goodbye Dick Cavett.”
Steele tag-teams her: “What kind of revisions are you working on? Could it be that you had to replace a scene involving a man being thrown from a balcony?”
Tony retorts that Steele can’t prove that.
Ah, but Forsythe can! “I have a copy of the original manuscript in my office. I’ve been meaning to read it.”
His scheme exposed, Tony makes a break for it! But Steele gets his man.
Tony go boom. Laura go “Eeek!”
“Lucky I had no feeling in that foot anyway,” Steele concludes dryly.
And once again the brilliant detective triumphs!
This great scene shows just how well Laura and Mr. Steele work together. Laura figured it out first, but Mr. Steele didn’t have to have the details explained to him – he immediately saw where she was going. In the end, Mr. Steele gets to keep looking like the master sleuth (and even gets a slight dig in at Laura with the numb foot remark). I’m pretty sure he’d declare that the victory was worth the pain.
Next up, the tag!