All language subtitles for Remington Steele s02e12 Steele Eligable.eng

Please welcome Bachelor Number Four,
Remington Steele.

Aprivate investigator,
Remington tells us he loves old movies...

especially those
connected with murder-

- [ Coughs ]
- Are you all ri-

mystery... and mayhem.

Somebody's going around
killing bachelors.

In that case,
will you marry me, Laura?

I was the closest person to him.
Why shouldn't I get everything?

Including a five million-dollar
life insurance policy?

[ Screaming ]

- Good boy.
- [ Man ] Dr. Ridley?

- Yes.
- Congratulations.

For what?

Being selected one of the five
most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles.

Now, how'd you hear about that?

It's not supposed to be
announced until this afternoon.

[ Groans ]

Remington Steele,
Laura Holt.

Remington Steele and guest.

The clubhouse is up the hill
and to your left.

- Thank you.
-" And guest.''

That certainly
is an improvement.

Usually when I'm with you
it's " unidentified woman.''

Now, Laura, petulance
is uncalled for.

After all, you created Remington Steele
to stand in the limelight...

while you work behind the scenes
in mole-like anonymity.

And I've succeeded admirably, especially
in the mole-like anonymity department.

[ Clears Throat ]
Thanks.

Come on, Miss Holt.

Ah, here we are, eh?

[ Laura ] I wish you'd stop
being so damn effusive.

Laura, this wasn't my idea.
Can I help it if I was chosen...

as one of the five most eligible bachelors
in Los Angeles?

- Thank you so much.
- Quite an accomplishment-

honored for being unable
to make a commitment.

I'm only going through with this to
generate some publicity for the agency.

Do you think I enjoy
this shallow adulation...

being flung into the world of hot tubs
and saunas, surrounded by women...

subjected to casual, meaningless sex?
[ Chuckles ]

How do I look, eh? Hmm?

- Mr. Steele.
- Mmm.

Moriah Taylor,
editor of L.A. Upbeat Magazine.

It was my delightful duty
to personally select all the finalists.

Oh, Miss Taylor, I'm flattered
and humbled by this- this unique honor.

- Pictures don't do you justice.
- Oh.

Mr. Steele always looks better
under fluorescent.

May I present my associate,
Laura Holt.

A distinct pleasure.
I need you.

Oh. Don't go away,
Miss Holt.

I'm rooted to the spot,
Mr. Steele.

If you'd be so kind as to nestle
behind these curtains.

I want to give the mob the full impact
of your introduction.

Oh, certainly. Yes.

Ladies and gentlemen,
may I have your attention, please?

Could you please
all find a seat?

Thank you.

Now that you've sampled the appetizers,
I think it's time you feasted on the main course.

Ladies, feel free to drool...

and, men, don't be ashamed
of feeling inadequate.

- Bachelor Number One- Chip Carstairs.
- [ Whooping ]

A stockbroker, Chip enjoys volleyball
on the beach and long walks in the rain.

He lists his favorite books
as The Money Game and The Prophet.

Bachelor Number Two,
Arnold Baskin.

An attorney, Arnold loves sushi for two
and Ingmar Bergman films.

Arnold's favorite books are Winning
Through Intimidation and The Prophet.

And now we have
Bachelor Number Three, Butch Moran.

I'm sure we're all familiar with Butch,
the star forward of our L.A. Owls hockey team.

Besides his rugged good looks, Butch
is gifted with a fine sense of humor.

His favorite reading material
is Sports Illustrated and The Prophet.

[ Crowd Chuckling ]

And now, if you will, please welcome
Bachelor Number Four, Remington Steele.

Aprivate investigator,
Remington tells us he loves old movies...

especially those concerned
with murder, mystery and mayhem.

The ideal lady for him is one he
can work with as well as play with.

He's never read The Prophet, but he's
promised to run out and buy a copy.

Don't bother, Remington.
I have one, right beside my bed.

[ Crowd Chuckling ]

Our fifth bachelor, Dr. Harold Ridley,
noted plastic surgeon...

is unable to join us
at this time.

No doubt dispatched
on an urgent medical matter.

And there you have it,
ladies and gentlemen...

the most eligible bachelors in Los
Angeles, courtesy of Upbeat Magazine.

All right, boys and girls.
That's enough for now.

You'll get plenty of opportunities
as the day wears on...

because we've planned
an action-packed agenda...

crammed with tennis, golf,
swimming, sauna and hot tub.

But these activities wouldn't be very meaningful
without someone to share them with.

And Upbeat Magazine
wants this to be...

one of the most meaningful
days of your lives...

so we've taken the liberty of selecting
companions for our fortunate four...

each of them chosen for their unique gifts
of beauty, poise and intelligence...

and each, incidentally, members of the famous
L.A. Owls cheerleaders, the Owlets!

Ladies.!

Grab your guys, girls,
and let's get to it!

- Hi, I'm Millicent Fairbush.
- Mmm. Of course you are.

- Dreadful bore.
- Ooh. Ooh.

[ Chattering ]

Aren't you joining
the hedonistic horde?

I'm sure they won't miss me.

You don't seem to be in the spirit
of these festivities.

Well, watching grown men act like
a bunch of adolescent schoolboys...

isn't my idea of
a stimulating afternoon.

- I agree.
- Although I'm sure it sells magazines.

All of us liberated ladies
fighting for a copy...

so we can ogle the bachelors and dream
of entrapping one of them.

- Don't you have those fantasies?
- Sometimes.

- Are you connected with any of this?
- In a way, yes.

- You work for Upbeat Magazine?
- Not really.

Unfortunately, I publish it.

- VictorJanoff.
- Laura Holt.

If the foot protruding
from my mouth is a size six, it's mine.

If it's any consolation to you,
Miss Holt, I totally agree.

This entire bachelor campaign is merely
a tawdry excuse to promote sales.

- Oh.
- I wouldn't do that if I were you.

The water reaches
over 1 00 degrees.

If you're not prepared for it,
it can give you quite a...jolt.

Thanks for the warning.

I'm sure our paths
will cross again.

Could we get one of you
hitting the ball, Mr. Steele?

Oh, yes, of course. Yes.

Magnificent form, Mr. Steele!
All right, Millicent.

He's just whipped
Jimmy Connors six-love.

Give him a great big
victory kiss!

Such enthusiasm is to be
commended, Miss Fairbush.

Perhaps even, uh, rewarded.
[ Clears Throat ]

Okay, everyone,
on to the hot tub.

Uh, Butch, please.

[ Shouts, Laughs ]

You're supposed to be
in the hot tub!

We mustn't keep
the photographers waiting!

Is that the fine sense of humor
Miss Taylor was talking about?

It's just the way he plays hockey-
all brawn, no brains.

Oh, Mr. Steele,
what a hairy chest you have.

So macho, so manly.

Laura, I find this as distasteful
and degrading as you do.

- Yoo-hoo, Mr. Steele.!
- Hello, Millicent.

Are you ready to try
the hot tub experience?

I know. It's a dirty job,
but somebody's gotta do it.

- [ Clears Throat ]
- [ Moriah ] Last call, Butch.!

Miss Taylor, I'd be happy
to take Mr. Moran's place.

In fact, I'd consider it a blessing.
Anything to speed this up.

- You just lost your turn, Butch!
- No! No, no! No!

- The last one in is a rotten egg!
- [ Screaming ]

[ Mouths Words ]

It's so senseless, so tragic.

Nothing like this has ever happened
to Upbeat Magazine.

When did you first learn
of Dr. Ridley's death, Miss Taylor?

Shortly before the ceremonies.
His office called...

said he'd been killed
in a riding accident.

Kicked to death by his horse.

Then they called back and said,
"No, all signs pointed to murder.''

- Why didn't you say something?
- I didn't want to dampen the festivities.

Besides, there was nothing
any of us could do for poor Dr. Ridley.

Or now Butch.

You said you personally
selected the finalists, Miss Taylor.

Was there any connection
between them?

Well, their paths
cross occasionally.

These type of men tend
to travel in the same circles.

All, that is,
except for Mr. Steele.

The circles he travels in
are quite obscure.

Frankly, that's one of
the reasons I picked you.

That element of mystery
was quite alluring.

Hmm.

Yes, the mystery of Mr. Steele
has intrigued a great many people.

Ladies, could we
get back to the case?

You may be the case.

Are you saying someone killed
these men because they're bachelors?

At the moment,
it's the only link we have.

Dear Lord, what'll that do
to our photo session?

You're supposed to be cooking dinner
for your companion tonight.

Canard au vin rouge,
as I recall.

Under the circumstances,
I think that's out of the question.

On the contrary. If you are the target,
then you'll beJohnny-on-the-spot.

Really? And what will you be doing while I'm
playing clay pigeon over my dead duck, eh?

Checking out
the two remaining bachelors.

Perhaps they can provide us with
a more tangible motive than misogamy.

- Oh, Mr. Steele, you're so very, very brave.
- Mmm.

Now, could we go over
some of the details?

For instance,
what color are your walls?

For instance,
what color are your walls?

I wouldn't want Millicent
to wear something...

that would make her
blend into the background.

I'm sure Millicent would stand out
in anything she wore.

- Call me if something turns up, will you?
- You'll hear from me.

- Count on it.
- Good night, Mr. Steele.

Night, Mildred.

That's a barracuda.

Looking for a hot lunch.

Aren't you gonna do
anything about it?

Unfortunately,
there's a case to pursue.

- Not for me.
- Where are you going?

I think Mr. Steele needs a little help
with his canard au vin rouge.

- Mildred!
- Don't worry, Miss Holt.

The only thing that gets
sampled tonight is the duck.

[ Doorbell Rings ]

- Hello there!
- I'm Laura Holt, Mr. Carstairs.

Call me Chip.
Have you eaten?

- Not yet.
- Neither have I.

- Am I interrupting anything?
- This is for the picture session.

- You know, Upbeat Magazine.
- Mm-hmm.

Have a look at this.
Lemon chicken.

I'll just, uh,
warm it up a little.

I'm beginning to see why they
chose you for Upbeat Magazine.

Women are attracted
to me, Laura...

because...
I understand them.

Did you know Dr. Ridley
or Butch Moran?

Terrible about Butch, huh?
What a way to go.

[ Classical ]

The guy who really has to be
in mourning is VictorJanoff.

The publisher
of Upbeat Magazine?

Let's have some wine.

It's bottled in small quantities
by a private vintner in Napa.

I only open it on...

very... special... occasions.

[ Clears Throat ]

- Why would Butch Moran's death
affect VictorJanoff? - [ Sighs ]

-Janoff owns the L.A. Owls.
- Ah.

- Listen.
- [ Continues ]

- What do you hear?
- Violins.

Spring. Rebirth.

The newness of life.
The earth thawing...

and then blossoming.

- You're a very beautiful woman.
- I'm here on a case, Mr. Carstairs.

Call me... Chip.

Talk to me about VictorJanoff.

The brokerage firm I work for handled
the stock issue when he went public.

Do you, uh, like capers?

- Not really.
- Neither do I.

Are you able to talk
and cook at the same time?

I got a peek
atJanoff's financial report.

No matter what you've read,
he's skating on thin ice.

- A little, uh, cracked pepper?
- Suit yourself.

Butch Moran was
the only real asset he had.

He was the franchise.

Without him,
it's over and out.

- Hardly a motive for murder.
- Who said it was?

Here. Wrap your tongue
around this.

It'll tingle your taste buds.

I'm not particularly interested in
having my taste buds tingled, thank you.

After all the trouble
I've gone to?

Believe me, one bite...

and you're in heaven.

- [ Gagging, Coughing ]
- Oh!

Are you all ri-

Ah, voil�!

- Oh, wonderful.!
- Hey!

- [ Chattering ]
- There we go, my little-

[ Moriah ]
You don't have to eat it, Millicent.

People don't look good
with food in their mouths.

Just make like
you're feeding her, please.

Do you know how the tradition of the host
taking the first sip of wine came about?

- It began with the Borgias.
- Oh, I've eaten there!

- [ Sputtering ]
- These Borgias lived in the 1 5th century.

- Oh.
- They poisoned anybody who stood in their way...

so that whenever somebody
shared a meal with them...

they insisted that one of the Borgias
take the first sip or the first bite...

to prove it wasn't poisoned.
[ Clears Throat ]

And in their honor- Mmm.

- Well?
- Mmm. I think I'll live.

[ Laughing ]

All right. Let's pack it in.
We still have Arnold Baskin to shoot.

- Oh, good. I'll let you out.
- Oh, call me sometime.

I'll read you selected passages
from The Prophet.

I hope you don't think me piggy...

but I would love
to devour your duck.

- Mm-hmm.
- Here's your wrap, honey. Sorry you have to rush.

- But, I haven't eaten yet. [ Coughing ]
- I'll pack you a doggy bag.

Mildred, please.
Miss Fairbush is our guest.

- Maybe a glass of wine?
- Perhaps the living room would be less crowded.

This way, Millicent.

- Does she live in?
- It seems that way, doesn't it?

Okay, here you go, honey.

- Take it home with you.
- Thank you, Mildred...

for your extraordinary
sense of presence.

You can leave now
with a sense of achievement.

- I have dishes to do.
- They can wait until morning.

They might attract bugs.

And I never leave anything around
that can cause problems.

Tragic turn of events today,
wouldn't you say?

Oh, you mean
Butchy getting fried.

I suppose that's as concise
a way of putting it as any.

Poor Butchy.

He had some great moves.

And he wasn't
a bad hockey player either.

I take it you were acquainted
with Mr. Moran.

Oh, sure. I was acquainted
with the whole starting lineup.

That's one of the great things
about being an Owlet.

- A who?
- A cheerleader for the Owls hockey team.

I see. Then you weren't acquainted
with the other bachelors, were you?

Not yet.

But there's one I'd
like to get to know better.

So, don't you feel
a little like a slut...

parading around in those skimpy costumes
in front of all those people?

- Mildred!
- I was just trying to make conversation.

Would you excuse us?
Miss Krebs and I have to confer on dessert.

Mincemeat pie, wasn't it?

- What do you think you're doing?
- I have two words for you.

- I hope they're " good night.''
-" Miss Holt!''

Ah, so that's it!

- She cares for you.
- And I care for her.

What are you cavorting
around with that bimbo for?

You're trying to protect me
from betraying her, are you?

Let me tell you about
my relationship with Miss Holt.

On second thought,
let me not tell you.

- I know all I need to know.
- Oh, really?

Did you know that Miss Holt
and I are merely friends?

- Friends?
- Well, more than friends.

- How much more?
- Not that much.

What kind of
a relationship is it?

The kind that's filled with promise,
but otherwise unfulfilled.

I love you, Mr. Steele,
and I love Miss Holt.

I just don't wanna see
either one of you get hurt.

An admirable intent, but standing guard
over me isn't the way to accomplish that.

Whatever course our relationship
takes must be set by Laura and me!

Should I apologize
to the bimbo?

Finish the dishes.

Don't want to
attract bugs, do we?

You leaving so soon?

It's getting late, and I have
pom-pom practice tomorrow.

Oh. Well, at least
let me drive you home.

- I was counting on it.
- Good.

Be back shortly, Mildred.
Uh, leave a light on in the window.

Well, Millicent, uh-

I'll see you around, eh?

- Next time I'll fix you a meal.
- Okay.

Hopefully breakfast.

- Here.
- [ Mouths Word ]

[ Clears Throat ]

[ Car Engine Starts ]

[ Tires Screeching ]

Wha-

[ Sighs ]
Where's the keys? Come on.

Excuse me.
Do you have a patient, Remington Steele?

Uh, he's in Emergency.

Doctor- Oh, thank God!

[ Groaning ]

- How is he?
- Lucky.

No internal bleeding,
no apparent concussion.

What you see is what you got.

A broken leg, three broken ribs
and lots of cuts and abrasions.

We spent the last 20 minutes
picking glass out ofhim.

Well, I was certainly
Johnny-on-the-spot, eh?

- What happened?
- I was engaged in a game of follow the bouncing ball.

- I played the part of the ball.
- Did you see who it was?

Ow. It's very difficult to see anything
when you're running for your life.

- Can he go home?
- Yeah.

I'll prescribe some pain pills.

But I do want whoever's staying with him
to wake him every couple hours...

just to make sure
he's all right.

I'll call Mildred.
We can take turns.

Oh, that's okay.
I'm gonna stay with him.

Here's your tea.
I didn't know how you want it...

so I put in a little lemon
and a little sugar and a lot of milk.

- Thank you, Millicent.
- You're going to stay with Mr. Steele?

Well, it happened
practically on my doorstep.

- I kind of feel responsible.
- Why is that?

It wouldn't have happened if I'd accepted
Remy's invitation to spend the night.

Millicent, would you be kind enough
to make a cup of tea?

- Whatever you want.
- And this time, don't put anything in it. Ouch!

[ Groaning ]

Oh! Oh, steady, Laura, please.
Oh, my bed.

- Are you all right?
- Oh, yes. Thank you. Here you go.

- Can you take this? And these?
- Certainly.

- [ Groaning ]
- Easy. Watch the leg.

Don't jostle the ribs.
Careful.

Find my shoes. Very expensive shoes.
[ Groaning Continues ]

Laura, I did not invite
that woman to spend the night.

Please. We have more
important things to talk about.

There's nothing more
important than the-

- You want a pill?
- No. I need to talk to you.

Look, you're a grown man.
I'm a grown woman.

- Then why are we acting like two children?
- Will you listen to me?

Somebody poisoned
Chip Carstairs's lemon chicken.

That's three out of five dead.
Now this.

Obviously, something
is emerging here- a pattern.

Somebody's going around
killing bachelors.

In that case,
will you marry me, Laura?

- It doesn't make sense.
- Perhaps it's not supposed to make sense.

- What does that mean?
- The A.B.C. Murders.

I think I saw that one.
William Powell and Myrna Loy, right?

I'm afraid it was never
made into a movie.

It's an Agatha Christie novel
in which " A'' wants to kill " C''...

but kills " B'' first
to divert suspicion.

- Because he has no motive to kill " B.''
- Precisely.

- The police attempt to connect the two deaths-
- And " A'' gets away with murder.

If your theory is correct,
we still have to figure out...

what would make
one of these men a victim.

- Oh, my God!
- What?

The fifth bachelor, Arnold Baskin.
I was supposed to see him after I saw Carstairs...

only I had to talk to the police,
and then the hospital called.

- [ Busy Signal ]
- Busy.

- At least you know he's at home.
- He may be next on the list.

I've got to warn him.
I'll be back as soon as I can.

Just try to stay away
from lemon chicken.

I never invited Millicent
to spend the night.

- We'll talk about it later.
- All right.

I have to go out for a while.

The pain pills are on the stand
next to the bed.

If he falls asleep, make sure
you wake him every few hours.

If you can't,
call an ambulance.

[ Sighs ]
That's a lot to remember.

I'm sure you can handle it.
Stay close to him.

But not too close.

[ Clock Chiming ]

[ Doorbell Ringing ]

[ Ringing Continues ]

[ Ringing Continues ]

All right, all right.

I'm sorry to disturb you
at this hour, Mr. Baskin.

- Call me Arnold.
- I don't mean to shock you...

but three of your fellow
bachelors have been murdered.

You could be next.

That kind of news
calls for a drink.

-Join me?
- No. No, thanks.

Is there any connection,
no matter how vague...

how prosaic,
with the other bachelors?

My law firm has a department
that specializes in sports figures.

[ Same Classical Piece ]

Contract negotiations, commercial
endorsements, that sort of thing.

Was Butch Moran a client?

Oh, yes, and he was gonna
pay off handsomely too.

You're sure you don't want to join me?
This is very special.

It's bottled in small quantities
by a private vintner in Mendocino.

How was Butch going to pay off?

[ Arnold ]Janoff didn't have
the bucks to pay Butch...

so he was gonna go
the free agency route anyway.

He even gaveJanoff
a letter of intent.

What is the significance
of that?

I read once that when the atom bomb
was dropped on Hiroshima...

the shadows of people who
were vaporized were etched...

permanently into the concrete sides
of the buildings.

You can still see them now.

I'm trying to keep you alive,
Mr. Baskin.

Call me Arnold.

Won't you give me
a sporting chance, Arnold?

The letter meant that Butch had officially taken
the first step in making a deal elsewhere.

Leaving Mr.Janoff without
a star attraction for his team.

- Don't you see the implications?
- I'm beginning to.

If nuclear war comes-
and it could come at any time-

imagine the two of us locked together
in those final moments...

our death bittersweet,
but the image of us intertwined...

living for all eternity.

- On a wall? Like graffiti?
- Think of it.

I'd rather think
ofJanoff's motive.

With Butch dead,
he still has nothing.

Well, if you call
five million dollars nothing.

- Five million?
- Hmm.

The insurance policy
he had on Butch's life.

It's common when you have a piece of
merchandise that valuable to insure it.

So that's the motive.

Well, maybe for killing Butch,
but what about the other two?

Or me?

It's as simple as A.B.C.,
Mr. Baskin.

Lock your windows.

Where are you going?

Hey, we were just getting into
the significance of nuclear love!

[ Door Slams ]

[ Heavy Breathing, Grunting ]

[ Breathing, Grunting Continue ]

[ Man On TVShouts ]

- [ Gasps ] Who's there? Oh!
- Go back to sleep.

Oh, Laura. Oh! I took one of
those pain pills. I hate pills.

- Where's Miss Fairbush?
- Huh? I sent her home.

Couldn't make tea worth a damn.

- Where've you been?
- Getting the goods on the murderer.

- Congratulations, Laura. Whodunit?
- VictorJanoff.

Excellent work. Excellent work, Laura.
What proof did you come up with?

Butch Moran sent something
called a letter of intent toJanoff.

If we can find it, it'll go a long way
in establishing motive.

If a man's clever enough to
conceive of a plan like this...

he would've destroyed
that letter by now.

- Not necessarily.
- Why not?

Because without it,
we can't prove he's the killer.

Hmm.

- Rear Window.
- I know that was made into a movie.

James Stewart, Grace Kelly,
Paramount, 1 954.

All I can remember
is Stewart had a broken leg.

And he passes the time
watching his neighbors.

Slowly, he begins to believe
one of them's a killer.

When the killer realizes that Stewart
knows, he tries to kill him.

You wantJanoff
to try to kill you?

It would certainly prove his guilt. Would you
hand me over the directory there, please?

I'll tell him
I've located a witness-

someone who saw him kill
Dr. Ridley at the stables...

someone who saw him rig
th-th-that hot tub at the country club...

and someone who saw him
run me down.

Okay, here we go.
Here we go. See?

We've located
three witnesses already...

and we haven't even
left the apartment.

Ouch. [ Sighs ]
Uh, Mr.Janoff?

- Yes?
- Remington Steele.

- Really?
- Surprised to hear from me?

I'd be surprised to hear
from anyone at this hour.

- Do you know what time it is?
- Yes. I couldn't sleep either.

Perhaps we both have
the same thing on our mind, eh?

- How's the leg?
- Broken.

- And the ribs?
- Uh, the same.

Shouldn't you be trying to get
as much rest as possible?

What would you say
if I told you I'd found a witness...

who saw you kill
Dr. Harold Ridley the other day?

I'd say I haven't the vaguest idea
what you're talking about, Mr. Steele...

and I suspect neither do you.

- Aha.
- Well?

Well, he was shaken
but determined to bluff it off.

- Well, then, it's time to launch plan " B.''
- Which is?

I sneak intoJanoff's apartment
and try to find the letter.

I just woke the man up.
He's wide awake.

He has to sleep sometime.

- [ Glass Shatters ]
- [ Sighs ]

Oh!
[ Groans ]

- [ Door Opens, Closes ]
- Oh!

Ah, Laura.!Just in time.
I'm beginning to run out of glasses.

- What are you doing?
- I'll admit.

It's a little early for champagne,
but this is a special occasion.

It's not every day
we solve a case by phone call.

You mean Janoff's suicide?

Obviously, the thought that the great
Remington Steele had unearthed a witness...

pushed him over the edge.

- I'm having a tough time swallowing that one.
- Wash it down with this.

He doesn't even ask
who the witness is...

where you found him or her, why this
person hasn't come forward before.

He just says to himself, " He has a witness?
Aw, hell, guess I'll kill myself''?

The man is found with a bullet hole
in his head, a gun in his hand.

That hardly qualifies as one of
the century's most puzzling mysteries.

There's something missing here.
I just don't have a bead on it.

Laura, I don't mean
to be overly critical...

but you have an exasperating habit
of not letting go.

- Sort of the bulldog-terrier syndrome.
- Wait a minute.

IfJanoff is beneficiary
to a five million-dollar policy...

then who's his beneficiary?

I've been asking myself
the same question.

See-
[ Shouts ]

- Doing a little housecleaning, Miss Taylor?
- [ Scoffs ]

- What are you doing here?
- Probably looking for the same thing you are.

- I doubt that.
- You and VictorJanoff...

were more than editor
and publisher, weren't you?

I suppose there's no harm
in admitting that now.

Why did you keep
your relationship secret?

Victor didn't want it
to look as if he was...

starting a magazine
for his girlfriend.

But as soon as it was successful,
we were gonna be married.

Now all I've got
is Victor's promise...

that if anything ever happened
to him, I'd be taken care of.

Just looking for confirmation.

Then you were the beneficiary,
so to speak?

Victor didn't have
any close family.

I was the closest person to him.
Why shouldn't I get everything?

Including a five million-dollar
life insurance policy?

Oh, my God!

Why, that rotten...

two-faced slimeball!

A marriage license?

VictorJanoff
and Millicent Fairbush?

He strings me along
for eight years...

and then runs off
and marries that pom-pom girl!

What the hell am I supposed to do now?
I'm 36 years old! Thirty-two.

You didn't happen to see an insurance
policy on Butch Moran anywhere, did you?

I invested the best, most fertile years
of my life in that creep!

Miss Taylor, the insurance policy Victor took
out on Butch Moran-Where can I find it?

If it had anything to do
with the hockey team...

he kept it in his office
at the arena.

Without Victor's backing,
the magazine'll fold...

and I'll be
walking the streets.

- I'll kill him!
- Sorry, Moriah.

Millicent beat you
to that too.

[ Door Unlocking ]

If you don't stop
running away from me, Miss Holt...

I'm gonna get the feeling
you don't enjoy my company.

I just didn't wanna interrupt
whatever it is you're doing.

You're so accommodating. But then,
I've always found women accommodating.

Including the ever-popular
Miss Fairbush?

Were you two engaged
in a little nuclear love?

A delightful girl, don't you think?
So energetic.

And the only one able
to get close enough...

to shootJanoff
at point-blank range.

Who'd ever suspect
a ditzy cheerleader of murder?

Well, Millicent's deficiencies
do have their advantages.

I should've realized
she needed someone to plan this.

Actually, I think it's quite
a wonderful plan.

You see, all the evidence,
albeit circumstantial...

points toJanoff
as the killer...

thanks in great part
to your boss's expert sleuthing.

Hounded by the relentless
Mr. Steele, he commits suicide.

Leaving the grieving widow
to collect on his estate...

along with a five million-dollar
life insurance policy.

As soon as I rectify
one slight technicality.

As you've already pointed out, Millicent
is not the brightest lady in the world.

She mistakenly signed
a prenuptial agreement...

limiting the amount of money
she could get from Janoff.

Once that's destroyed...

I'll be what
I've always wanted to be-

a mogul.

- Get your boss over here.
- He doesn't know anything about Millicent or you.

You expect me to believe
you're aware of something...

the great Remington Steele isn't?

You're obviously
just an errand girl.

Dial.

[ Phone Ringing ]

[ Grunting ]

- Yes. Steele here.
- Laura Holt, Mr. Steele.

I've come across something
I think you might find very interesting.

- Fine. Bring it over.
- I'm not able to do that, sir.

Uh, perhaps you could come down
to the arena.

Perhaps you haven't noticed, but I'm
somewhat incapacitated at the moment.

It can't be helped, sir.

You sound very formal.
Is someone there?

No. I'm alone.

- Ow!
- Laura!

Laura!

[ Groaning, Muttering ]

- [ Bangs ]
- Oh, God!

Come on, come on, come on.
[ Groaning ]

[ Groaning Continues ]
The keys, the keys, the keys!

[ Shouts ]

[ Shouts ]

[ Groaning Continues ]

Turn the chair!
Turn the chair!

- Open that door! Back up!
- Hi, Remy.

[ Gasps ] Oh, Miss Fairbush!
Oh, thank heavens!

You're a godsend.
Please, get me to the car, quickly.

Quick. Thank you.
Thank you so much. Quick.

You know, Millicent, a few things have
been nagging me all the way over here.

For instance,
the car that ran me down.

- What about it?
- It didn't follow us.

It was parked at the curb when we arrived,
as though it were waiting for us.

No kidding?

And then when I spoke toJanoff
and he inquired about my injuries.

It never dawned on me at the time,
but I wonder how he knew...

so precisely, that I had broken
my ribs and broken my leg.

Since there were only
four people aware of that-

myself, of course,
the doctor who treated me, Miss Holt...

and you, Miss Fairbush.

Boy, you really are smart, Remy.

That's not the most
eloquent confession I've heard...

but under the circumstances,
I'll have to accept it.

Well, so much for lasting relationships.
Bye-bye, Remy.

[ Laura ]
No.!

All right! That's my girl, Laura!
Get up, girl!

Get up, please!
Come on! That's it!

Laura! Laura!
[ Screaming ]

[ Groaning ]

[ Door Closes ]

Here we are.
Some fresh reading material...

- something to satisfy the sweet tooth-
- Mmm.

and something
to brighten the surroundings.

I'm really sorry
about your other leg.

Oh. You saved my life
but broke my limb.

Some might call it
poetic justice-

the way you carried on
with Millicent and Moriah.

That's all behind me now.

All I wanna do is stay at home
with that special someone.

- When you find her, give her my best.
- Where are you going?

Moriah's chosen
another set of bachelors.

She wants me to check them out,
see if they deserve the honor.

Laura!

Don't wait up.

[ Mews ]

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