Chapter3:

The evening had an abrupt end. Just when things seemed to be working, Laura broke the spell, and a case was again between them. They kept watching the tapes for about an hour. Nothing else caught their attention in them. The next day, they'd have to make a visit to Mr. Shaw, to identify the guard. That would help them to set the time of the theft, too. When a tired Laura said her goodnights to Mr. Steele, he decided to stay in the living room for some extra moments savoring a glass of scotch.

Why were they always interrupted? He was wondering. Why was Laura always eager to escape from his arms? If the interruption was not from the outside, she was the one always ready to jump away from him. They would have to talk about it at some point. She'd said in Mexico that she was terrified of losing herself in him, afraid of falling too deep and being left like her mother. And he didn't have an idea about what to do to convince her that he was there to stay, not to leave. Half an hour later, he decided to go to his room but stopped at her door. Breathing deep, he knocked. Laura opened slowly, and he noticed she was ready for bed. She was looking beautiful with no makeup, her hair loose on her shoulders. It was the real Laura, not businesslike Miss Holt. He stared at her... When he realized she was getting impatient; he decided to put off the issue, and wait for a better opportunity. "Ahh, I only wanted to say goodnight…," he told her, looking straight into her eyes. She then looked down, guessing his feelings. They were her feelings too. But it wasn't the place or the time. With an extraordinary effort, she looked back into his eyes, and told him, "Goodnight to you too," and standing herself on tiptoe, she gave him a peck on his mouth. They both had their eyes closed and time stopped just for a while. Neither of them wanted to waste a second of it. They were saving it into their memories, just to be sure that the moment did exist.

The next morning, after breakfast, they visited Mr. Shaw's office. Once there, they talked with Agent Norton, Security Chief Officer, and with the tape operator. They identified the guard: a man named Roberts. After taking a look at the videos, they set the hour of his rounds. The man was called to the office, and after an insistent interrogation, they decided he didn't have anything to do with the facts. He was an honest man doing his job. But when the guard left the office, Mr. Steele asked Shaw, "Where do you recruit your staff, Shaw? What are the requirements to take the job?"

"Well, I knew a lot of penitentiary agents at my last job. I selected a few and trained them on other abilities related to security systems. They are all people I know. Honest people. Nobody here is related to the heist. I trust them. Why do you ask?"

"Just curiosity." Mr. Steele said. "See you later Shaw." With that, they left the office.

"You know Laura; all the guards involved in the security of the Castle have been in touch with criminals at some point through their work. I am not saying that they remain in touch with them, but what if some information about the security system leaked, unintentionally to dangerous people? Maybe just a comment would be enough to send a lot of wires in action."

"Hmmm… you could be right. Money and power are magnets to send sensitive wires into action. And we have both here in this place. We need to get a list of the guards, the prisons they worked in, and the names of the prisoners they were taking care in there. If there is something to find, this will give us a clue to start." They returned to the security office and asked Shaw for that list. He would get it ready for them in a couple of hours.

The next step would be a stroll at the Castle's park, trying to find a place for somebody to get in and out of the property without being seen. There was a perimeter fence all around the estate, with cameras strategically located. Every place was in sight from the camera room. It was almost impossible to make an escape through the gardens. That left only one thing to review. The drain pipes. By the information they had from the plans, there were two master drain lines for all the buildings. And they flowed directly to the ocean. There, they had a possibility... But there have to be an access to the pipes from inside the gardens.

They returned to their bedrooms to re-check on the plans. There was a treatment plant, but outside of the property. Another dead end.

The list they asked for in the morning was on the living room table. Agent Norton left it there, with a note, making himself available for anything they would need. There were a lot of people working in the security staff. The group was divided into three shifts, 8 hours each. An ordinary guard day began at the changing room. Every employee had to pick up his weapon at the armory, and then, after signing up, go to their workplace. They had to score their rounds in several devices set all around the grounds. Once they finished their shifts, they'd sign out; leave the gun, so the work day would be over. Everything was perfectly scheduled. They didn't find anything out of place. The guard's records didn't have anything suspicious catching their attention either.

Mr. Steele started pacing. "We have the facts in front of us, and we can't find anything yet. We have to change strategies, Miss Holt. Try to think as the thief thinks. Try to get into his mind. "

"Well, I don't think we should have any problem with that. Just think like your old self would. Let's put our minds at the crime scene." She stated the idea with intent and rose up. He was still pacing, thinking about her idea while Laura was walking off from the room. "Care to join me, Mr. Steele?" In a second, he was behind her, walking straight to the Gothic Study, inside the castle.

"I have a theory," said Miss Holt.

"Be my guest," answered Mr. Steele suddenly relieved. She was good…

"We should think as a possibility the painting never leaving the mansion. It could be hidden here, at any place. Let's begin a short routine. Maybe if we put the facts upside down, we could find something. The thief is ready to leave the room once the job is done. He can do it carrying the painting with him or simply leaving it hidden here. Before that, he should have been at the room alone for enough time to take the original from its frame and to replace it with a fake. Before that, he had to come to this room with the replacement copy he was going to use with him. Before that, he had to bring the copy into the mansion. That's it! We have to look at the staff entries surveillance videos, looking for someone carrying an item the size of the painting. Any idea, Mr. Steele?"

"Awww, Laura…Tapes? Again?" He said without hiding his displeasure

"Tapes, Mr. Steele. Again. Entry's tapes. Let's go ask for them." With a triumphant smile plastered in her face, Miss Holt led the walk, followed close by a very tired Mr. Steele. It was going to be another of those nights, in front of the TV screen, just without the pleasure of Casablanca, or any other classic movie. Another evening full of tapes of employees getting into the castle. The sad part was that Laura was going to be at his side, in full work mode, wasting a romantic place, wasting the joy of a night full of opportunities, but only paying attention to the boring tapes. Frustrating? That was the kindest word he could think of, at this very moment. He was genuinely disappointed, on how the events were keeping them together but not together.

Late in the evening, they were studying the tapes for the umpteenth time. Just when they were starting to worry, because they weren't getting anywhere, somebody knocked on the door. The butler gave them an envelope. Mr. Shaw had received it. It was directed to him. There was a note inside. Laura read it:

Mr. Bernard Shaw:

I have one thing you are looking for. You have one thing I am looking for.

We need to make a deal. Refusing is not a good idea. You'd lose everything.

Stop your detectives. Send them home. I'll send you new instructions soon.

No signature, no stamps, no clues.

"My instincts are telling me the author has left the painting inside the castle, Miss Holt. Which means, it would be in a place where our thief could move with ease avoiding the cameras. I think a stake-out is in order, Miss Holt."

They were dressed all in black as always. Mr. Steele was picking the lock at the guard's wardrobe room. The round guard had just passed by, and they'd have about 15 minutes before the next one. The lock clicked, opening the door, and they got in. It was a large place, with lockers on both sides of the hall, against the walls. The lights were off, and they were lighting their targets with a flashlight. The cameras were set to start working with the light switch turning on. The room was empty. Nobody was authorized to be there during work hours. The doors could be opened only when they were changing shifts, and once the guards ending their duties were out, and the new ones were already on their rounds, the door was locked until the next round change. The lockers had names on their fronts. The detectives found the name of the guard they interviewed on one of them. Mr. Steele peeked inside, and after a brief look, he smiled at Laura. They'd finally found something. A stapler. A handy stapler to clip the forged painting to the original frame. Just when they were closing the locker, they heard a click on the lock, and the door opened. They turned off the flashlight, and ran as quickly as they could, to hide in the only place provided with doors in the whole room: the bathroom. They were praying to not have the luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when the intruder that was inside the dressing room went directly to where they were hiding. The lights were still off. They were paralyzed, standing awkwardly with their feet over the toilet, when the intruder, after a brief stop at the lockers, went to the very same room they were hiding, put on the lights, walked to the sinks and opened the taps. They weren't even breathing. Now that the room was illuminated, the camera should be working. Laura was starting to slide off her support. She had the stapler in her right hand, and her left one was on the tile wall, trying to maintain her in place, in front of Mr. Steele. He knew at that very moment that a bold move was urgent to stop her from slipping down. Keeping himself in place with his left hand on the wall, he caught Laura from behind by her waist, and in one strong pull, they were pressed against each other from head to knees. She warned him with a look that any further bold moves would be extremely dangerous for them, but he answered by kissing her hard, trying to keep her mouth shut and her mind occupied. But of course, taking advantage of the moment as well, just in case it was one of the last for them together. After a second into the kissing, Laura seemed to change opinion and sank into the sensations. When the light went off, they were still with their lips locked. They disengaged themselves, and while making them presentable, Mr. Steele said, "By all means, Laura, that was… I'm speechless."

"What's wrong with you?" she asked him furiously, but still in a whisper.

"Nothing you can't fix, The Big Sleep, Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Warner Brothers, 1946. You'd play a wonderful Vivian, Laura!" he answered in a whisper too, arching his eyebrows with a wicked smile.

"I can't believe you can think about movies in a situation like this." And making a gesture just wanting to strangle him, she left the bathroom stall visibly angry, her fury able to be watched even in the dark.

"And I thought the dangerous part was the kiss," he said following her and checking for cameras on their way out, just to be ready for another fit of her rage. But the bathroom was the only room of the place without them.

They returned to their rooms, Laura still furious, and made plans for the next day. They should call Mildred to run a search about that guard. Maybe the guy was in need of money or something like that. There were a lot of temptations in there for a man with money issues, or for a man with the desire for another one's possessions. Just after the last word about the case was spoken, Laura walked back to her room, without even a goodnight word getting out of her mouth. Business must be the matter in her mind from that time on. But Mr. Steele's thoughts were different ones. His mind didn't remain on the case. The memories of their brief interlude would still exist in his dreams, and with some luck, the night would be less lonely for him.

After breakfast, they went to Shaw's office to break the news to him. Steele wasn't sure if they were good news or bad news.

On the one hand, they had found the stapler, and it seemed that they were getting closer to the guilty party. But on the other hand, the man that was being implicated was Shaw's employee. A man he trusted on. And that wasn't good at all.

Mildred's response arrived fast. The guy didn't have any trouble in the past. No record at all. Nada. He didn't even exist. It was a problem in itself, and they would have to discover it. As the case was getting more dangerous by the hour, they would have to be extremely careful. They would start the man's inquiry checking on the information that was in his files, as an employee of Mr. Shaw's security company. A working afternoon in San Simeon was in order.

They arrived at the address Roberts filled in his application. It was a small house, in the east part of town, in a modest neighborhood. They started their routine at the store at the end of the street. When they asked about him by his name, nobody knew the man. But then, when they showed his picture to the store manager, he recognized him, but not as Adam Roberts, but as Adam Blum. He was a very charming man that had moved there about two years ago. After some juicy answers, their job there was done.

"I think we've found something here, Mr. Steele," Laura said. "Let's return to the Castle to make another call to Mildred. Why don't you play boss for a while? You know she always works in overdrive when the order comes from you."

"I'll call the lady right from the next phone we find. In the meantime, what do you think about spending some time at a table in that lovely bistro, Miss Holt? I think I'd work better after having a palatable incentive."

"Let's go incentive your mood, Mr. Steele," she rolled her eyes and sighed, knowing that he would be insufferable without some food in his stomach. The man was always hungry… for everything but work.

"Allow me, Miss Holt." They made their way to the restaurant, and when they were waiting for their table to be ready, Steele took advantage of the free moment to make the call from the pay phone on the lobby. "Hello Mildred, Steele here. I need to ask you a favor. We need something about a guy named Adam Blum. Last known residence: San Simeon. Blum, B-L-U-M. Yes, call back to the Castle as soon as you find something. It's urgent. Thank you, Miss Krebs. Bye, bye."

Laura was sitting at their table already, trying to choose something light from the menu when he came back. A green salad with brie cheese sounded perfect. Light, but tasty. Mr. Steele didn't think anything green would do it, as always. Once the waiter arrived to take their order, he dispatched himself with a salmon salad, as a first course, and some light pasta: Striped Cheese Ravioli with lobster, wild mushrooms, and a lobster cream sauce as the main one, and a red Californian wine bottle to color the menu. He was not in a rush.

"I thought your palatable incentive was going to be an incentive, not a meal like the last one you would eat," said Laura, not without a hint of irony.

"You have to always be prepared for pleasure in this life, Miss Holt. Why leave the most enjoyable experiences for later? Besides, we are in a lovely place; nobody is trying to kill us, yet …"

"Don't be so sure, Mr. Steele. Just wait until we arrive at a private place, and you'll feel the experience of my killer hands on your throat," she threatened him with a critical gaze.

"Let's enjoy the moment then, Miss Holt," and with a smile, he raised his glass trying to make a toast, but only realizing he was alone in the attempt.

Once they returned to the mansion, they made a stop at their rooms, and just when they were starting their way to Shaw's office to deliver the news about his employee, the call from Mildred arrived. Mr. Steele answered the phone and listened in complete silence to all the data Mildred had found for them. "You are not going to believe this, Laura: Adam Roberts, also known as Adam Blum, does exist. He is a private investigator. He has a License from the State of California."

"A private investigator? What is he doing working here as a security guard?"

"Well, maybe he is working undercover, don't you think? Private investigators use to do that."

"But what would he be investigating? Our case is supposed to be secret. Nobody but Shaw and the expert that made the check on the painting actually knows about the theft."

"I think our friend Shaw can give us an answer," said Steele. They started their way toward their client's office, with Mr. Steele giving thanks for their previous meal. The day was getting longer every minute.

"I don't know anything about it," said Shaw. "Just wait a minute. I'll call him, and the four of us will have a talk." Roberts arrived at the office a couple of minutes later. He was noticeably nervous. One of the ugliest things that could happen to a PI working undercover was actually, to be discovered. He knew he was in trouble, and confessed who his clients were. Or maybe he should call them bosses. The Board sent him there, to keep an eye on Shaw. They used to do that in every Hearst Company, to watch the internal operation, and have a direct inside source of information.

With Roberts out of the equation, they were at square one again; and time was running out. The case was getting more complicated every minute.

About an hour after a late dinner, they were in their living room, trying to figure out something in the middle of a brainstorm, when somebody knocked on the door. It was Mr. Shaw. He came in, and Steele offered him a scotch. Glass in hand he started with the speech he had decided to give them.

"Mr. Steele, Miss Holt, I am sorry, I am very sorry. I want you two out of the case now. Things are getting very dangerous here, and I don't want this blowing up over all of us. I am going to call the Board, and give them my resignation. I received a second message this afternoon, and I don't like how things are happening."

"A second message? What does it say? "Asked Laura.

"I have it right here." He said. And taking it out of his pocket, he gave the piece of paper to Mr. Steele.

We are dated to make our exchange tomorrow, 9:00pm, at San Simeon Rd at W R Hearst Memorial State Beach. I'll return the painting to you, and you'll pay a ransom for it. But money is not what I'm looking for. Your wife is... Be sure she gets there in time.

"Oh my God!" said Laura. "He wants your wife."

"Yes," said a defeated Mr. Shaw. "I can't allow this to happen. I'll never allow my wife to be in such danger. She doesn't deserve that. I'll quit the job, take all the responsibility, and ask for a divorce. Then she will be out of danger, far from me, far from the painting, and far from this insanity. Maybe the Board will understand, after all, and she should not be disinherited because of my mistakes."

"Wait, wait, wait," said Steele. "I think you are hurrying things a bit, Shaw. You aren't going to fix anything with your resignation to your job or to your wife. If the one that is claiming her as a ransom wants her, he will not give out just because you are out of the picture. He 'd try to get to his target anyway, and this time your wife will be all alone, trying to understand why the man that loved her through the saddest times, left her just at the moment she needed him the most. You have to stay with her, and together, you'll find a solution."

Mr. Shaw was looking at the floor, his face full of sadness. "Do you have any suggestions?" he asked.

"Tomorrow, 9:00pm, at the Beach… Let me see. We have one entire day until then."