Steele had no sooner stepped foot in the Mariott that had been suggested to him by the baby-faced young dectective than then man who had suggested the hotel to him stepped forward. "Ah Detective-Hoyt was it?" Steele asked the young man as he proceeded towards the registration desk. "I was just about to check in and give you a call. Saved me the trouble." He congenially gave Woody a slap on the shoulder and continued on, but Woody stopped hiim.
"No Mr. Blaine, I'm saving you all the trouble, I'm taking you down the station myself so that you don't have to get a cab." Steele looked at the man confused. "You have the right to remain silent" the man began, pulling Steele's arms behind his back and cuffing them.
The cop finished reading Steele his rights by the time they reached the car and Steele had taken a seat in the back. "I don't understand dectective." Steele protested as they headed down towards the station.
"Your prints were the only other ones there, you were the one that found the body, and we know Rick Blaine's not your name." He had all but bodily thrown Steele into an interrogation room.
"He was dead when I got there, I told you I was there for buisness reasons. When he didn't answer I tried the door, and I poked around a bit thinking he'd be right in, after a few minutes I decided to see if he was asleep or something and that's when I found him like that. He had to be dead for at least a half hour."
"How did you know that?" Woody asked amazed.
"Professional knowledge, you get used to telling when a body's been killed really recently, semi recently or if they've been gone for a long time. And Bart was recent but not quite fresh. I wasn't even in Boston when he was killed."
"Prove it." Steele attempted to reach his jacket pocket and couldn't.
"Check the inside pocket of my jacket. There's a plane ticket in there, call the airport, they'll say my plane landed only an hour ago, I went straight to Bart's after I landed." Woody reached into the pocket and pulled out a plane ticket. He looked at it for a long minute.
"But this is made out to-" the dectective did a double take as he realized who the man before him was "Remington Steele." Woody instantly turned off the bad cop routine "You're Remington Steele?" The young dectective was incredulous. "THE Remington Steele PI extrordinare from the city of Angels?"
"Yes, yes I am." Steele said, attempting to look flattered by the baby-faced cop. "And I'd appricate it if no one would know I was here. The only one who even knows I'm in Boston is my secretary."
"Holt isn't it? You know I've read so much about you and your firm in the papers. Learned a thing or two from you, a real Sherlock Holmes." Steele smirked. If Laura was there she would have murdered the young man for thinking that she was his secretary. "But Mr. Steele-" Woody began, getting back on subject. "What were you doing in Bart's apartment. We know he was a bookie-"
"Who owes a client of mine a quarter of a million dollars."
"How did your client get a quarter of a million dollars in winnings?"
"By betting five grand on a fifty to one horse."
"Well how did he get the five grand?" Woody forgot who it was he was interviewing, this was no longer an idol of his, this was a man who had information, valuable information in a murder investigation.
"I don't know, he didn't say and I didnt ask."
"But why you? Why get a dectective from all the way in California to threaten a guy in Boston?"
"Because I've known him for a long time."
"Why, Mr. Steele, did you lie to us?" Steele rolled his eyes, this conversation was running in circles, as most police questioning tended to do.
"Because I told you, the only one who knows I'm here is my secretary who got my plane ticket, and she doesn't know WHY I'm here, just that I am. I did not want to tie Remington Steele investigations to a two-bit bookie."
"Who is this client that hired you?"
"A friend."
"Who?"
"Is on first." Steele said with a smirk and Woody sighed with exasperation. He knew he would get nothing else out of the private investigator. "Look," Steele started, "I don't know who killed Bart, but I do want to help you find whoever did, I have no stomach for murderers, and my client does need that money." Woody thought for a moment.
"Fine. You see what you can find, and we'll share. You're in this for your client, I'm in this because it is a homicide, we'll work together. But I'm telling you right now, you cannot hide from the press once they get wind of this. I'm not going to protect you from them." Steele nodded and grinned, following the young dectective out.