Steele Discovering the Past Episode 1

Steele Discovering the Past Episode One
As Laura Holt-Steele entered the offices of Remington Steele Investigations, she smiled at the woman who was sitting behind the receptionist's desk. "Any messages, Mildred?" she asked, taking the slips that Mildred Krebs held out. "Did you get him delivered all safe and sound?" Mildred asked. "I had to bribe him with the promise of a reward later," Laura told the older woman, "but he finally agreed to stay for the entire Mayor's luncheon." Mildred's eyes took on a curious expression. "A- reward, Mrs. Steele?" she asked in a suggestive voice. "Maybe that second honeymoon he's been hoping for?" Laura smiled, then shook her head. "We just got BACK from a honeymoon, remember?" She and Remington had finally agreed to spend the weekend at Catalina- but in order to to pull it off properly, they had agreed not to tell anyone about their plans. "No, I promised to buy him every Humphrey Bogart videotape that I could lay my hands on," Laura confided. "And that means I'd better get started tracking them down, I suppose," she said with a sigh. "Could you get me the number for that video place at the mall?" "Sure," Mildred said, the stopped, catching Laura as she started for the door of her office. "Oh. There's someone waiting in Mr. Steele's office," she said. "A client?" Laura asked, glancing in the direction of the closed door. "I think so. She said that she needed the Agency's help to find someone for her." "Get me that number, Mildred," Laura said again as she went to the door and opened it. The woman was looking at the photographs of Remington Steele that hung on the conference area. Murphy had once dubbed it "The Wall of Shame". Laura studied her for a moment. Middle aged, probably around Mildred's age- her once dark hair was streaked with white. She was expensively dressed in a black, conservative dress, her only ornamentation a string of pearls around her neck. Her attention was so complete, that she hadn't heard Laura enter the room. Laura took a step forward, her hand outstretched. "Hello. I'm Laura Holt-" her voice faltered as the woman turned and she saw the woman's blue eyes. "Steele. Laura Holt-Steele," she repeated. *Good Lord*, Laura thought, she hadn't faltered over the name that way once since she and Remington had returned to Los Angeles from Ireland a month ago. But those *eyes*, Laura thought. "Can I help you, Mrs.-?" she prompted. The woman took her hand. "Mrs. Mitchell," she said, and Laura heard the soft Irish lilt in that voice. "Eileen Mitchell." Her eyes looked at Laura with concern- and something else as well, Laura thought. "Are you all right, Mrs. Steele?" "Uh, yes. Yes, please-" Laura indicated the sofa. "Sit down." Sitting in the chair, Laura gave Mrs. Mitchell her best smile. "What can the Remington Steele Agency do for you, Mrs. Mitchell?" "I'm hoping that you can help me find my son, Mrs. Steele." "Your- son?" "You see, I thought he was dead. That's what my father told me. And then he shipped me off, insisting that I needed a long rest. I didn't know the truth of the matter until my father died last month. That's when I found these." She picked up a folder from the table before them and handed it to Laura. Laura opened the folder and examined the papers it contained: a birth certificate for a male child, born in 1952, with only a midwife in attendance. The name of the child was Harrison O'Casey. The mother's name was Eileen O'Casey. Father- Laura peered at the faded ink. Harrison Daniels. The next document was a certificate of death, dated less than twenty four hours after the time of birth on the first one. "Those are the only ones I knew existed," Eileen said quietly. "Until after my father's death." Laura laid them aside and continued onward. The next documents were adoption papers, signing away all rights to the infant Harrison O'Casey to an adoption agency in Dublin-dated the day after the death certificate. There was also a cancelled check for a sizeable amount of money made out to that same agency by a Michael O'Casey. "Michael O'Casey was your father, then?" "Yes." Laura continued to examine the papers before her. While Michael O'Casey had gotten rid of his daughter's illegitimate son, he had apparently wanted to keep tabs on the lad's whereabouts, because the agency had sent him updates on the boy's placement in various foster homes, and on the vain attempts by the boy's father to locate him. The last record stated that the boy, who had been given many names during his placements- had run away. There were no further papers in the folder, and Laura glanced up at the woman. "He lost track of your son?" "Apparently so. That's all I have. The midwife who delivered him died several years ago. And the adoption agency was closed several years ago for improprieties in placement. I have no way of knowing for certain that my son was truly placed with any of those families. Except for the last one. I found them, asked them about my son." Laura could easily read those eyes. Obviously, she hadn't liked what she had found. Laura glanced through the names again, not quite sure what she was looking for. "They had no idea where he went?" "No. They did say that he always talked about catching the ferry to England. He might have done that- but he was only ten- the very thought of his having been in a strange place, all alone-" Eileen shivered slightly, and Laura reached out to touch the woman's hand gently. "Why did you come to the Remington Steele Agency, Mrs. Mitchell?" "Because Mr. Steele knew my son's father," Eileen explained. "He did?" "Oh, not by the name Harrison Daniels. That was the only name I had for him until I saw a photo of him on the television a month ago- when he was buried in London as a hero." "Daniel Chalmers?" "Yes. I'm not sure now that either name was his real one. But I like to think that he was honest with me about that, at least. It's why I named my son after him. Father fought that, you know. He wanted me to give the boy a proper Irish name. Not the name of a man who had lied from the moment he'd entered our lives- and who was sitting in prison for a bank robbery that he never should have been involved in." Laura's nerves felt as tight as a rubber band stretched to its limit. This woman- Eileen O'Casey Mitchell- was Remington's mother. The mother that he believed to be dead. "Mrs. Mitchell-" "I read the interview that Mr. Steele gave after Harrison's death- Father died almost the same day. Ironic, don't you think?" she asked with a tiny smile. "I hadn't seen Mr. Steele's photograph until I came into this room," Eileen continued, and turned her head to look at the photos on the wall behind her. "The pictures don't do him justice," Laura said. "They were mostly taken by news photographers-" "He reminds me of my father, in a way. He was very handsome in his youth. After my mother died, he was considered quite a catch. Even with a young daughter to raise." "But he never remarried?" "No. He dedicated his entire life to taking care of me. I thought he loved me- but finding that- to think that he was capable of doing those things. Giving his own grandson up for adoption, sending me to a rest home for almost two years-" "Two years?" "In Switzerland. The belief that my son was dead affected me deeply. Do you have children, Mrs. Steele?" "Not- yet," Laura said, hesitating to discuss such a touchy subject. "Mr. Steele- Remington and I haven't been married very long." "I suppose I suffered a minor breakdown- Father wouldn't even let me attend the funeral, I was so distraught. Now I know that it was all a part of his- plan," Eileen said as her voice broke. She reached into her leather handbag for a lace edged handkerchief, and then looked at the photos again. "If I had known-" "His picture was in the paper in London last year," Laura said, and Eileen nodded. "Yes. That mess with the Earl of Claridge. I wasn't in England. My late husband and I were in Hong Kong- Edward was on a buying trip. He worked for my father's company. We traveled a great deal And- I'm ashamed to admit that I'm not much on reading the papers and such. If there was something he thought I'd be interested in, Edward would point it out- but neither of us knew the Earl, so-" "Did your husband know about-" Laura asked, as she indicated the folder and its information. "No," Eileen admitted sadly. "After I returned from Switzerland, Father nor I ever mentioned that awful year. Oh, I made a few half hearted efforts to find Harrison, but to no avail. I finally decided that he didn't WANT to be found. And then I met Edward. There just never seemed to be a right time to tell him about my son. But I never forgot him. Now, to come here and find-" her eyes moved to the photos again. "Remington should be here in another hour- if you'd like to wait-" Eileen's eyes filled with fear. "Oh, I- I couldn't. I'm not- ready. I didn't- expect-" Laura's hand covered hers again. "It's all right. Would you like to me to- tell him about this for you? What I know, anyway?" Those blue eyes, so like Remington's, slowly began to clear. "Would you? I know it's a lot to ask-" "I don't mind," Laura assured the woman. Her mother in law, she realized. "I'm staying at the Wilshire Hilton- Suite 410. If he- wants to see me-" "I'm sure he will," Laura said with more confidence than she felt.

###

When Laura returned from walking Eileen to the elevators, after giving her a brief thumbnail of what Daniel had told Remington about his past, Mildred looked at her with open curiosity as she held out a slip of paper. "I found that number for the video store for you," When Laura didn't take the paper, Mildred frowned. "Everything all right, Mrs. Steele?" she asked.

Laura nodded. "I need you to run a check for me, Mildred."

"Sure," Mildred said, turning to her computer keyboard. "Shoot."

"Michael O'Casey, Eileen O'Casey Mitchell, and Edward Mitchell." With more than one name to check, Mildred wrote the others on a notepad. "And do a check on someone named Harrison Daniels."

"You got it. How soon do you need 'em?"

"Before Remington comes back, if at all possible, Mildred." Seeing Mildred's surprise, Laura said, "It could be very important to Remington, Mildred."

"You're the boss," Mildred said, turning her attention back to the computer as Laura wandered back into Remington's office.

She sat down and began studying the file that Eileen had left. Harrison. So that's why Daniel had called him Harry, she realized with a smile. Even if Eileen hadn't seen the news photo of Remington after he and Daniel saved the Earl's life, Michael O'Casey probably had- which explained something that had seemed strange at the time.

Soon after their return from that trip to England, a check had arrived from a Dublin bank, made out to Remington Steele, paid out of a blind account that couldn't be traced- although she had tried. Remington had simply accepted it as a tribute from someone who had been impressed with the Agency's work both in Ireland- in saving a race horse involved in an extortion/murder plot- and in London, saving the Earl of Claridge's life. But the check, for a rather large amount, had troubled Laura's sensible nature for some weeks- until Remington had given most of it to the Agency to-"help make up for some of what I've -borrowed- over the years"- he'd admitted with that little boy grin of his.

Between that and another case invading her thoughts, the check had slipped out of her mind, only to be recalled now, when the pieces were beginning to come together. But why had O'Casey sent the money? Guilt? Then why not simply tell Eileen where her son was- admitting what he'd done?

But if he had, he would have lost his daughter, Laura realized. He'd felt guilty for what he'd done, yes. But not enough to risk the loss of his only child's love, obviously. The money had been a sop to that guilt, meant to salve his conscience and nothing more.

Why did this have to happen now, she wondered, going to the window that overlooked the street below. She and Remington had been married- REALLY married, this time- in a small ceremony upon their return to Los Angeles- "This one for the family," Remington had told Estelle Becker and everyone else. "No time to invite anyone to the first one."

Laura had rented out the loft and she and Remington had set up housekeeping in his apartment for the time being- Estelle was pressuring them to buy a house- insisting that it would "lend a further air of stability to their marriage".

So far, they hadn't had time to really look for a place- however. The press of clients and other agency business kept them occupied too well, Laura sighed. They needed some time alone- or so Remington kept saying. "A real honeymoon," he had said again only this morning en route to the luncheon where he was supposed to be receiving yet another award from the Mayor's office. She glanced at the wall, wondering where they were ever going to put another one.

Looking at those pictures reminded Laura again of Eileen Mitchell's eyes- and she sat down at Remington's desk to make some telephone calls before Remington returned from his luncheon. She wanted all of her ducks in a row before she had to face him with the news that his mother was alive.

###

Laura looked up as Mildred entered the office. Lifting her hand to ask the older woman to remain quiet, Laura finished her telephone call. "And what happened to their records?" she asked. "I see. Thank you." Hanging up, she asked, "What did you find, Mildred?" It had been nearly an hour since she had left Remington at the luncheon. He'd be back soon. "Some of it's still coming in," Mildred said. "But I have the preliminary stuff. Michael O'Casey was a well to do businessman in Dublin. Owned an import house that he inherited from his father in law. It supplied shops all over that part of the world. He was born in Navan, went to Dublin to find work. He ended up marrying the boss' daughter, then took over the company when her father died. His wife, Carol, died when their only child, Eileen, was six. Never remarried, raised Eileen alone. He died a month ago as the result of a stroke." It never ceased to amaze Laura how much information Mildred could dig up on a person. "What about Eileen?" she asked. "She was the Little Princess," Mildred said. "You know the type- doting father, not a care in the world. Silver spoon in her mouth. At least until just after her twentieth birthday, anyway." "What happened then?" Laura asked. "She got sick, required around the clock nursing care. A few months later, she was shipped off to a rest home in Switzerland for two years to recuperate. She married her father's American assistant- Edward Mitchell three years after her return to Dublin. They traveled extensively until Mitchell's death six months ago. After that, she lived with her father in Dublin until his death." "You say that Edward Mitchell was American?" "Born and raised in Boston. Not much in the way of money, though, before he went to work for O'Casey Imports- guess he took a page out of his boss's book." "I guess. Any family?" "Nope. A few cousins, maybe, still back east-" Mildred shrugged. "What about the last name on the list?" Laura asked. "Now that's a strange one. Harrison Daniels has a police record in Dublin. He was convicted of bank robbery in 1952 and sentenced to a year in prison. I'm waiting for some more information and a mug shot to come through right now." Laura knew what that mug shot would reveal: the man she had known as Daniel Chalmers. "Anything else?" He served his time- and left Ireland six months later- after almost being arrested again for threatening Michael O'Casey's life. Mr. O'Casey refused to press charges, and apparently used his influence to have Daniels deported." Laura winced at the term. "Oh, I'm sorry, hon," Mildred quickly apologized. "But that's all behind you and Mr. Steele. Estelle Becker's back on his case-and she's very sympathetic-" "I know, Mildred," Laura nodded, gazing at the printouts that Mildred handed her. "Are you going to tell me what's going on, Mrs. Steele?" "Not just- yet, Mildred," Laura said, placing the reports inside the folder. She wanted to tell Remington first. "But soon, I promise. Let me know if you get anymore information." Mildred sighed, then returned to her desk, leaving Laura to study the notes she'd made regarding the adoption agency that Michael O'Casey had signed his grandson over to. After hearing the horror stories that had been revealed to her, Laura understood- perhaps for the first time- why her husband was so reluctant to discuss his childhood. If he had gone through anything like the things she'd been told about- Laura shivered in the warm office. Little wonder that he'd held such anger for his missing father- but Laura could never recall hearing him discuss his feelings about his mother- what if his anger was just as deep for the woman who had given him life and then apparently abandoned him to strangers? Laura heard someone enter the reception area, and then a familiar voice. "Afternoon, Mildred. Where's Laura?" She was about to find out the answer to her question, Laura realized. To Be Continued---
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