Honolulu - April 30, 1971

The red bikini clung to Eva Sylvan very nicely. The congressman from California admired her swan dive into the Olympic-sized swimming pool, oblivious of the fact that she was deliberately ignoring him. Party guests crowded the pool side. Music blared, glasses and eating utensils clattered noisily, and Congressman Stanfield sipped his very dry martini and continued to appreciate the view.

A pity Eva hadn't worked out. But then, he told himself, there were other women -- and other starlets -- whose Hollywood connections could do wonders to further an ambitious politician's career. He watched as Eva finished her swim, entered the house to change and finally left the party altogether, all without so much as a glance in his direction.

Well, the congressman reflected, everything had to end some time.

He recalled seeing Caroline Moreland's name on the confirmed guest list, and wondered where amongst the one-hundred-plus guests she might be. Strange that she would have accepted an invitation to a luau in his honor, after last month, but perhaps he could take that as an optimistic sign. After all, both Walter P. Lenz and Teri Shiga were here as well, and both of them hated his proverbial guts, albeit for purely political reasons. They were all here somewhere, mingling, he presumed. Thus far, he hadn't spotted any of them.

Congressman Stanfield opted to dampen his worries with a dip in the same pool Eva Sylvan had left Just minutes ago. Party guests and other swimmers applauded his dive, waited to applaud again when he broke the surface. Except that when he did...

A senator's wife at pool side was the first to scream. Several more cries of horror followed as one by one, the celebrants turned to see that the congressman from California was dead -- floating face down in the water.

* * *

The chlorine blue of the water -- empty now that Stanfield's body had been wrapped, tagged and shipped to the lab -- stared back at Steve McGarrett some three hours later, its surface forming tiny light prisms on the deeper blue of his suit. The music and laughter were silenced; the only sound now was that of the water slapping against the pool's tiled sides. From the house several yards away, a sliding glass door opened and closed again, and Dan Williams crossed the patio toward him.

"Anything, Danno?"

Williams shook his head. "Not much to go on, at least not yet. We've questioned everyone. Sent most of them home with the usual instructions not to leave Honolulu. But so far we've got no one HPD can match with a record."

"There's no unwritten law," McGarrett said, "that states a murderer has to have a record."

"No, I guess not. You find anything out here?"

"It's all on the way to Che Fong's lab -- along with the congressman. The towel he used, the glass he drank from. Even the pool chair he was sitting in. We should have an answer in a few hours -- at least to the mystery of how he died."

Williams looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Steve, there's someone inside asking to see you. Lady by the name of Carloline Moreland."

"Caroline?" McGarrett glanced toward the house. "Caroline is here?"

"She was an acquaintance of Stanfield's. Pretty broken up about his death. We tried to send her home, but she insisted on waiting -- to see you."

McGarrett crossed paths on the way across the patio with Chin Ho Kelly, who gave Danny a questioning look as the chief of Five-O disappeared into the house.

"Steve knew this lady?"

"Yeah. They were what you could call 'college sweethearts.'"

* * *

It had been many years since they had seen each other, but McGarrett would have known her anywhere. She still had the same inquisitive eyes; the same anxious smile.

"Hello, Caroline."

"Steve--"

She moved easily into his arms; a warm but nervous embrace.

"I know your men are only doing their jobs," she said shakily. "I guess I'm just not used to being treated like a murder suspect."

"Everyone at the party is automatically a suspect, Caroline. You know that."

She sat down again, worry knitting her fingers in and out between each other. "My God... I don't believe this is happening. I can't believe Blake is... is dead. Murdered!"

"We don't know yet that it was murder. Until I get an autopsy report, I don't know that Congressman Stanfleld didn't die of cardiac arrest. Or of a stroke, or of drowning, for that matter."

"But you don't think so, do you?"

"What I think is irrelevant... until we have some facts to go on."

* * *

Chin Ho and Danny spent half an hour making radio calls, checking leads on the guest list against both HPD and Five-O's computer files. There was still very little to go on.

When they re-entered the house, McGarret was on the phone in the living room. Caroline Moreland had gone.

"That was Che," McGarrett told them when he had replaced the receiver. "Congressman Stanfleld was poisoned. We don't know yet how the toxin was administered, but from Che's preliminary tests, it was apparently strychnine. Somebody had a pretty big grudge to settle. You have any idea yet who?"

Chin produced his notebook and handed it across to McGarrett. "Only two real possibilities, Steve. One Teri Shiga, who's a local lipstick baroness, owner of Teri Cosmetics, Inc. She's a former business rival of Stanfleld's -- and a long-time political adversary."

"The other one is Walter P. Lenz," Danny said. "Also a bitter political enemy. He lost an election to Stanfield four years ago in California. Now he owns a printing firm in Hilo. He hated Stanfield, all right. Maybe enough to kill him. Maybe not."

McGarrett flipped through Chin's notebook before handing It back to him. "Did you find anything on Caroline Moreland?"

Chin shrugged. "We... Well we didn' check on her yet. Weren't sure you'd want us to."

"Your intentions may be admirable, Chin, but you know better. Everyone gets checked out. Everyone. And I want special attention paid to anyone who might have had access to the food and drink. Somehow, one of these people managed to kill the congressman without poisoning anyone else. That took some careful planning. We appear to have our work cut out for us, gentlemen. Shall we get to it?"

Teri Shiga's opulently-decorated office was invaded later that day by a chain-smoking Walter P. Lenz.

"McGarrett's gonna try and pin this on the two of us," he told her, pacing the plush blue carpet in front of her desk. "You know he will."

Unconcerned, Teri Shiga smirked. "What's the matter, Walt? You got no confidence in the great American justice system? You say you didn't waste the congressman, and I know I didn't do it. So what are you worried about?"

Walt paced another circle through the grey haze of his cigarette smoke. "I don't take a fall for anybody. Not anybody. You got that?"

"You're dropping ashes on my carpet."

"There are witnesses to the fact that I once threatened to kill Stanfield at a political rally in L.A. And I've witnessed all your underhanded efforts to illegally damage his congressional standing. So if I go down, dear heart, I'm gonna take you with me. Remember that."

Teri Shiga buffed a flawlessly polished fingernail, frowning. "Suppose then we find a way for McGarrett to railroad somebody else? Suppose we plant a little evidence in just the right place to solve the murder for him, all nice and neatly wrapped?"

"Yeah? How you gonna do that? You don't even know how Stanfleld died -- unless you killed him." Walt flicked more ashes onto the rug, incurring Ten's icy glare.

"I have my ways, Walter. I have my ways..."

* * *

May 1st, 1971

The door to Steve McGarrett's office swung open to admit a troubled Dan Williams.

"Steve -- the D.A.'s Just ordered an arrest in the Stanfield case. HPD found eight ounces of strychnine this morning - hidden in Caroline Moreland's apartment."

McGarrett was already on his feet, pulling his coat from the rack behind the desk. "Where is she?"

Danny followed him into the outer office. "HPD booked her into county jail about half an hour ago on suspicion of murder."

Shrugging the coat on, McGarrett was out the door long before Dan Williams finished the sentence.

* * *

"I really never thought anything like this could ever happen to me." Caroline stared at McGarrett from across the grey metal conference table in the visitor's room. "Steve, I swear to you -- I never saw that little bottle of whatever-it-was before in my life. And I certainly didn't hide it in my apartment!"

"I'm having your place searched for any sign of breaking and entering," McGarrett told her. "I only hope that HPD, in its unbridled haste to make an arrest, didn't obscure the evidence we'll need to prove that this is a set-up."

"I don't understand. Who would do a thing like this?"

"Whoever murdered Blake Stanfield.. I'm sorry you had to end up in the middle of this, Caroline. But It looks as though someone's decided to try and make a patsy out of you. And I'm going to find out who."

"How? How on Earth can we prove a thing like that?"

He gave her a thin smile. "For starters, we get you out of here. There are always political pressures brought to bear in a case like this. That means the courts are far less likely to permit bail to be set than they might otherwise be. So I'm doing the next best thing. I'm having you placed in protective custody with a trustworthy policewoman in a rented beach house we normally use to harbor special witnesses. At least until we find out who's behind all of this."

She tried to smile back at him, but only half succeeded.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," he said, and meant it. "But this whole thing will be over soon. I promise you that."

* * *

The D.A. was nowhere near as optimistic. He confronted the head of Five-O on his way out of the visitor's room, fury glinting in his eyes.

"McGarrett, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"My Job. You have some objection to that?"

"Your Job does not entail pulling strings to release a murder suspect from custody!"

McGarrett jabbed an angry finger at him. "Protective custody is not release, Mister. And the next time you accuse someone of pulling strings, be careful your own nose is clean first! Believe me, I want to solve this case just as badly as you do. But I won't hang my hopes on the first piece of manufactured evidence that comes along just because you're under political pressure from Washington to convict anyone at all for the congressman's murder! Have I made my position clear?"

The D.A. fumed. "I can haul you up on charges of obstructing justice for this, McGarrett."

"Try it."

"Maybe I won't have to. Maybe all I need is to have the governor take you off the case on a conflict-of-interest order. You can hardly be objective, after all, about a suspect with whom you've been romantically involved."

McGarrett's face was stone. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. And I intend to solve this case no matter what you, the governor or the president of the United States may have to say about it Good day -- sir."

In front of the jail building, McGarrett found Danny, Chin and Duke getting out of a black Five-O staff car.

"What have you got?" he asked them expectantly.

"Nothing good, I'm afraid," Duke replied. "Che says the congresman died of a strychnine-laced martini. No lead yet on how it got into his drink. But there is something else we came across." He hesitated. "It looks like Caroline Moreland was romantically linked to Stanfield not more than a month ago. He broke it off for another woman; she moved to Honolulu to forget about him. At least, until yesterday."

"That may be all the fuel the D.A. needs for a conviction," Danny added. "Opportunity, means, and now motive."

McGarrett's face had fallen. "Why didn't she tell me about all this?"

"Probably afraid to," Chin suggested. "It's bad enough to be accused of murder without helping to dig your own grave."

"They're taking her to the beach house under protective custody," McGarrett said. "Let's meet them there. I have a few questions I need to have answered -- without the D.A. looking over my shoulder."

* * *

"Withholding evidence -- any evidence -- is a serious matter," he told Caroline some minutes later at the cottage. "You can stand on fifth amendment rights in a court of law, but not with me. In case it somehow escaped your notice, I'm trying to help you."

Caroline gazed at the circle of police officers -- McGarrett, Dan, Chin, Duke and the assigned policewoman. "I'm sorry, Steve," she said finally. "I guess I should have known you'd find out sooner or later, but I... just didn't know how to tell you."

"When the D.A. gets his hands on this information -- and he will -- it's going to give him all he needs to indict you for murder one. He'll have established a credible motive for you to have killed

Blake Stanfield."

Frightened, Caroline merely shook her head and looked miserably down at the mottled formica of the small kitchen table.

"I'd make book that either Teri Shiga or Walter Lenz planted the strychnine in her apartment," Danny said.

McGarrett considered that, then added, "Or both of them did. They both hated Stanfield. Maybe together they found a way to eliminate him and pin the blame on someone else entirely."

"That's a good theory," Danny agreed. "Now how do we prove it?"

The head of Five-O circled the table, thinking. "Chin -- I want you and Duke to see that word goes out on the street we're scheduled to meet with a secret witness to the Stanfield murder. Someone who supposedly saw the murderer poison the congressman's cocktail, and who can identify him. Tell 'em our arrangement is to meet this witness at nine tonight on the beach below Waialae."

"Steve, you can't," Caroline objected. "You'll be setting yourself up as a target."

"Not if I can help it. The 'target' is Stanfield's murderer; not the other way around."

"Please, don't do this. There's got to be some other way."

"Can you think of one?" Receiving no answer, McGarrett looked to the policewoman. "Keep her here until you hear from us. I'll report to you as soon as we have anything concrete in the way of evidence -- or as soon as we're sure there isn't going to be any. Unfortunately, this trap doesn't come with any guarantees." To the others, he said simply, "Let's go."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Walter Lenz was again dropping ashes on Teri Shiga's carpet. "They say McGarrett's got a witness that can clear Moreland," he fretted. "You know what that means?"

Teri stared at him from her upholstered chair, resolutely refusing to allow his anxiety to infect her. "It means McGarrett's trying to ferret out a murderer. What's it to me? I told you --

I didn't kill Stanfield. So unless you did, my friend, what are you worried about?"

Walt slammed an impatient fist onto her desk, making the cosmetic samples jump. "What are you, stupid?" he shouted. "McGarrett's gonna figure who planted that strychnine the minute he can prove it wasn't Moreland killed the congressman!"

"If you hadn't hung your brain out to dry somewhere along the line, you'd know better," Teri seethed. "He's going to figure what any good cop would figure -- that the murderer planted that stuff to divert their suspicions away from him."

Walt blew foul smoke at her, coughed, and paced away from the desk. "Why don't you just level with me, damn it?"

"Level??"

"You killed the old goat. Admit it."

"Don't make me laugh."

Walt dropped his cigarette butt to the carpet, purposely grinding it under his heel. "I don't want anyone tracing that frame-job to me. And if I have to silence McGarrett's witness to see that they

don't--"

"Like you silenced Stanfield?"

"Very funny."

"Don't be an idiot, Walt. There isn't any witness. I told you--"

Lenz hurled a vile obscenity at her and stormed from the office. Teri Shiga responded with a rude one-fingered gesture that Walt never saw.

* * *

The beach was a picture postcard in the moonlight; a ribbon of sand caressed by lapping waves and gentle winds. Concealed in the foliage, McGarrett and his team waited, listening for footsteps, an automobile engine -- anythinq that might signal the approach of Congressman Stanfield's murderer.
 

At 9:17, they heard a car pull into the parking lot above them. Someone got out, slammed the door and moved quickly down onto the beach, walking swiftly, obviously searching. Not precisely the clandestine approach a desperate killer might be expected to use...

McGarrett motioned for the others to stay put and moved silently out after the intruder. With one hand on the .38 caliber pistol in his shoulder holster, he moved within earshot before voicing his
challenge.

"Hold it right there."

The startled face that spun to meet him belonged to Caroline Moreland.

McGarrett's hand fell away from the gun. "Caroline! What in God's name are you doing here?"

"I had to try and stop you. I had to! I slipped past your guard when she went to the john and... I just knew I couldn't let you all walk into this for my sake. Steve, please!"

From their concealment in the shrubs, Dan, Chin and Duke could hear snatches of McGarrett's heated reply. But it was another sound that caught Danny's attention; made him turn to look back across the stretch of beach behind them, where a lone figure had just broken from the cover of another stand of bushes to run in the opposite direction. The figure was holding a gun in its hand.

McGarrett's angry reprimand was cut short by Chin Ho's cry. He wheeled to see a shadowed form fleeing down the south beach with Danny Williams close behind. Williams executed a flying tackle that downed the runner and landed them both in the night-chilled water. He got a vicious kick in the face for his efforts, and narrowly blocked a hand that had intended to hit him with the flailing business end of a Saturday night special.

McGarrett and the others caught up just as Danny had disarmed his attacker and dragged the struggling figure back to a standing position. Only then were they able to make out a face in the moonlight: the face of a beautiful young woman.

"Eva!" Caroline gasped. "Eva Sylvan!"

The woman in Danny's grasp broke free to lunge at Caroline with an animal shriek. McGarrett caught her, pulled her away, wrestled both her arms behind her. He accepted Duke's hastily-offered handcuffs to secure her hands behind her.

"I should have killed you too!" she screamed at Caroline. "I hate you! I hated you both!"

McGarrett pushed her none-too-gently Into Duke's restraining hands. Beside them, Dan Williams nursed a badly cut cheek where she had kicked him.

"Let me guess," McGarrett said with open contempt. "You were the other woman in Blake Stanfield's life. Until recently, anyhow. What did he do to deserve that lethal cocktail, Miss Sylvan? Throw you over for another dime store starlet? Was that it?"

Eva spat at him, fighting Duke's grasp. "For her!" she screamed. "He was planning to go back to her!"She kicked sand at Caroline, twisting to avoid Duke's efforts to restrain her.

Tears glittered in Caroline's eyes. "You killed him. And then you planted that strychnine in my apartment to accuse me."

Eva looked genuinely confused. "I dunno what you're talking about."

McGarrett shook his head. "My hunch is that little frame was compliments of Congressman Stanfield's political enemies. I'll leave it to them to explain why. Chin -- pick up Lenz and Shiga; suspicion of breaking and entering and conspiracy to interfere in a police investigation."

As Chin departed, he glanced back at the still squirming Eva Sylvan.

"You can book this one, Danno," he said. "Starting with assault on a police officer... and ending with murder one."

Danny took one of Eva's arms and with Duke, hauled her off toward the hidden Five-O cars. "It'll be a pleasure," he said.

When they had gone, McGarrett and Caroline walked in silence down the whispering beach. "I'm sorry I was so reckless," she said after a long time. "I nearly ruined everything."

McGarrett smiled faintly in the dim light. "I know exactly what your sentence should be."

"My sentence?"

"Yes. Dinner. Tonight. With me."

She laughed. "I see. You had a particular place in mind, did you?"

"M-hm. Mine."

He put one arm around her as they continued down the deserted beach. "I make a mean beef teriyaki..."
 

THE END