We left Laura pouting in the loo and Steele out of luck. Some time later …
The sound of giggling ripples through the house.
As it persists, Mr. Steele peeks around a corner. So we can assume it’s not Laura giggling, then.
Steele returns to the Bellows/Groggins suite, apparently wondering why someone other than him is apparently getting so lucky this night.
We discover that Laura seems to have claimed the bed. Steele steals over for a look at his sleeping beauty.
He gives her a gentle brush of his hand on her check; she doesn’t stir.
Then, he bends further to drop a tender kiss on her temple.
Reluctantly, Mr. Steele leaves her side and, in the age-old tradition of men in the doghouse …
… takes up residence on the couch.
NOTE: Steele’s tenderness in this scene, when Laura isn’t awake to appreciate it, makes one wonder how deep his feelings for her run. Is the conman already in love with the lady?
After a no-doubt very uncomfortable night, the detectives are awakened by someone banging down the hall.
Get your mind out of the gutter. I didn’t mean that kind of banging.
It’s Feldman, pounding on one of the room doors. The rest of the gang hovers around him.
Laura and Steele appear, already dressed. (In Steele’s case, dressed stylishly. In Laura’s case … oof.) The detectives follow trail of feathers to their destination. Has someone slaughtered a flamingo in here?
Feldman is calling for Ambrose to open up.
Suddenly the Silent Partner appears and boorishly pushes his way to the front of the line. Feldman continues to holler at Ambrose, demanding to know what he and Cindi are doing in there. (Didn’t he read the brochure?)
“Perhaps they overslept,” Mr. Steele offers. “They were up rather late last night.”
Silent Partner silently kicks open the doors. Now THERE’S a man of action!
The party enters the room and find …
… the nekkid corpse of Miss May, with plumage strategically arranged.
“She’s dead,” Randi declares astutely. (Maybe Laura should hire her for the agency.)
Feldman asks Dr. Bellows how she died.
Mr. Steele ponders the possibilities and offers a succinct diagnosis: “Uh. Um.” (Must be some tropical disease.)
Laura steps in. “That’s probably impossible to tell without an autopsy. Am I right, Doctor?” she says.
Feldman demands that the medical expert make an educated guess. Steele is prepared to oblige him.
He picks up a deadly weapon. “Here’s your cause of death.”
Madeline seems a bit skeptical, but Steele forges on.
“It’s my sad duty to inform you that Cindi Sikes was literally tickled to death.”