"Good after noon, Mildred," Remington Steele said as he entered the office reception area. The door to Laura's office was open, but he didn't see her at the desk. "Where's Laura?"
"Hi, Chief. How was the luncheon?" Mildred asked, putting the paper she'd been looking at under a folder on her desk.
"Boring, as usual," he told her, holding up a handful of napkins. "Lots of time for doodling. Laura-?" he prompted. "Mrs. Steele?" No doubt she was gone to find the promised Bogart videos, he thought, a delighted smile beginning at the thought of sharing one of Bogie's best with Laura after dinner that evening.
"Oh, she's in your office, working on a new case."
Remington's smile faded at her words. "A new case?" They had tentatively agreed to abstain from taking on any new cases so that they could go to Catalina this weekend. He was looking forward to it. "A second honeymoon," he'd said to Laura, only to have her remind him that they had only just returned from their honeymoon a month ago. "Ah, but don't you think it was a tad bit- crowded? I mean, what with Mildred, and Shannon, and Antony-" Laura had eventually agreed with his assessment, and agreed to a couple of days in Catalina, just the two of them, no case to work on, no worry about the INS breathing down their necks.
Upon their return from Ireland, Remington had been delighted to find that Estelle Becker had been reassigned to his case, with nary a sight of the sour faced Gladys Lynch. As he turned toward his office to see Laura, Remington wondered again how much longer he and Laura were going to be looking for a suitable house. The problem seemed to be that what he deemed suitable, Laura claimed was far too extravagant. And her choices seemed so- tiny and bland to him. There had to be a happy medium, somewhere, surely.
Laura was sitting in the conference area, her brown eyes on him as he entered the room. Remington dropped into the chair. "Remind me again why I'm supposed to go to those things," he said, tossing the napkins in her direction. "You can add these to your collection." Some time ago, when she had discovered that- far from the usual inane "doodling" that most people indulged in- Remington's flights of fancy took on the form of rather amusing sketches and caricatures of those in attendance, Laura had taken to putting them in a file. She had joked that if the PI market ever fell off, they could fall back on his artistic abilities. Remington had dutifully scoffed at the idea. He frowned now when she didn't catch waht she had dubbed his "mini-masterpeices", seemingly distracted by her examination of him. Remington glanced down at his arms, then lifted a hand to his face. "Do I have something on my face?" he asked.
Laura seemed to come out of her reverie, blinking as she took the napkins from him. "No. No. I'm- sorry. I was thinking about- this case."
"Ah, yes," he nodded, sitting back with a sour expression. "A new case. Another reason for us not to get away, I suppose. I thought we agreed-"
"This isn't going to stop us from going to Catalina," Laura assured him, "because I've already solved it."
"You have?" Remington asked, sitting forward with more interest now that he knew the case wasn't going to interfere with their plans. "What kind of case is it?"
"Missing person," she told him. "Pretty C & D," she added, sitting back on the sofa. "But I do need to fill you in on the case, since you have to give Mrs. Mitchell the final report."
"I do? But you handled the case," he reminded her. "Without her ever meeting me. Which is another thing that troubles me. Lately you seem to be finding reasons to ship me off to these silly luncheons or award ceremonies while you attend to the nuts and bolts of the agency. If I were a suspicious man, I'd think that you were trying to put me back into that little box that's marked 'front man'."
"What am I supposed to do?" Laura asked. "Tell them that you can't go? That is part of your JOB, if you remember correctly."
"And that job has changed over the last few years," Remington reminded her, then stopped himself from saying anything more. It was frustration that was making them snap at each other. A few days away would do wonders. "You were going to tell me about this case, I believe?" He reached out to pick up the folder that was sitting before Laura, only to have her grab it out of his hands. "Who did this- Mrs. Mitchell, was it?- want us to find?"
"Her son."
"Her son, eh? Always makes one feel good to know that they've reunited a family, eh? Lost track of each other, did they?"
"Not really," Laura responded in a business-like tone. "She hasn't seen him since just after he was born."
"Adopted out?" Remington asked.
"She thought he was dead."
"Really?" He was doubtful that mother could make such a tragic mistake.
"Hmm. She fell in love with a man that her father considered to be totally unsuitable for her. But, being young and in love, Eileen- that's her name, by the way, made plans to marry her young man. Her father insisted that it would never work out, that he would never accept someone like that as a son in law."
"Someone like that?" Remington repeated.
"A charming ne'er do well," Laura explained. "Before they could marry, he made a mistake and wound up in prison for a year." Remington sat forward again, his attention caught as Laura wove a painfully familiar tale. "Eileen discovered that she was going to have a baby, and told her father that once the child's father was released from prison, they would marry. Her father didn't approve, but rather than let her leave, he agreed to let her stay there- even hired a local midwife to take care of her and deliver the child." He saw Laura's eyes on him as she paused in her narrative, as if trying to gauge his response to what she was saying. "Eileen clearly recalls the birth of her son- remembers holding him in her arms. But a day later, her father came to her and told her that the boy had died suddenly." Remington sat back, closing his eyes, then opened them as he heard the rustle of paper to find Laura pulling two items from the folder before holding them out to him. "These were the only proof that Eileen Mitchell had of her son's existence for a very long time," she told him.
"Over thirty years," Remington noted, reading the birth certificate a second time before frowning at the accompanying death certificate. It didn't look real, somehow. Oh, the form was right, yes. But the person who had certified the infant Harrison- *Harrison*-O'Casey's death hadn't been a doctor. It had been the midwife who had delivered him. "And she had no reason to question her father's word?"
"She was in no shape emotionally to question ANYTHING," Laura explained. "She had a complete breakdown. Her father shipped her off to a rest home in Switzerland for two years. And he was her father, for goodness sake! She thought she could trust him."
"What makes her think that he lied?"
Laura watched him carefully as she pulled more papers out. "Her father died a month ago, and she found these in his effects," she said, handing the paper assigning custody of Harrison O'Casey over to the Sister of Mercy Foundling Home, then the others that she held.
Remington's frown deepened. "He signed away his own grandchild?" he asked, then found the cancelled checks made out to the Home. "Hell, he SOLD his grandchild," he muttered in disgust as he began scanning the reports that Michael O'Casey had received from the Home. Toward the end, he began recognizing names, addresses. Especially the last name on the list. "The Shaunessys," he muttered, a bitter taste in his mouth at the memory of Paul and Elsie Shaunessy's tiny house which always seemed to need cleaning. Even today he could remember the rats and- Even living on the streets of London had been preferable to the conditions he'd faced back in that house. He lifted his blue gaze to Laura. "Laura- are you telling me that- contrary to what I've always believed- my mother is ALIVE?"
Laura nodded. "Apparently. You never knew for sure, did you?"
"No. I remember that the one time I asked, that's what they told me. That my real mother was dead, and that I should forget about her." He tossed the reports onto the table and stood, needing to move. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he ended up at the window. "Damn it, Laura. None of it makes sense. Why would Daniel think she was dead? Why didn't he find her?"
"Because Michael O'Casey probably told Daniel that Eileen was dead to KEEP him from doing just that."
"And why not show Daniel the death certificate that he had forged to show to Eileen? Why tell him that I was alive, but that he'd -sold me for adoption?"
"I don't think the money was for the adoption. I think it was to buy their silence, and the right to keep tabs on where you were," Laura said, hoping to dull some of his anger. "He hated Daniel, according to Eileen. Telling him you were dead would have been too easy, from what I've learned about Michael O'Casey. He would want Daniel to know that his son was out there, somewhere, forever just out of Daniel's reach." Laura joined him at the window, a hand on his back, more papers in the other one. "This is the research that Mildred did on your grandfather and Eileen. She was waiting to hear more on Harrison Daniels."
"Humph. Harrison Daniels," Remington said, taking the printouts. "At least we know why he chose Harry. I wonder if that was his real name?"
"Eileen doesn't know for sure. She likes to think he told her the truth about that, at least."
"Where is she?"
"At a hotel here in town. She didn't come here expecting to be confronted with a wall of photographs that revealed the truth," Laura said, glancing back at the wall in question.
"Then why did she come here at all?"
"She saw that photo of Daniel on the television when he died- and then she read the interview in which you said that you'd known Daniel for the better part of twenty years. Her father died within days of Daniel's death- and it was another couple of weeks before she found those papers."
Remington put an arm around Laura. "I need to see her-"
"She hoped you would want to. I think she was afraid that you would somehow blame her for everything. Or that you wouldn't believe that she didn't know."
He pulled her into his arms. "Oh, Laura. Thank you."
"For what?"
"For finding both of my parents for me."
"I didn't do anything," she insisted. "With Daniel, it was an accident that I discovered the truth. And Eileen came to me. Why don't we go and see her now? I'm sure she's on pins and needles, waiting to find out how you took the news."
"We'll take the Auburn," he told her. "I feel like driving to relieve some of the tension."
Laura slid her arms around his neck. "I have a better way to relieve that tension, Mr. Steele," she reminded him, standing on tip-toe to press a kiss against his jaw.
Remington looked around the office, specifically toward the door that Mildred invariably came through to interrupt their private moments. "Sounds delightful," he sighed. "But I'm not sure that it's a good idea. Mildred-"
As if on cue, Mildred knocked once and opened the door to enter the room. "I got the rest of that- " she stopped, seeing Laura's arms around Remington's neck. "Guess my timing's still bad. Sorry, kids."
"That's okay, Mildred," Remington assured her, ignoring the sound of Laura's stifled laughter as he took the reports that Mildred was carrying from her. "What else did you find out?"
Mildred looked at Laura before answering, as if making sure it was all right. "Well, the picture of Harrison Daniels is clearly of a much younger Daniel Chalmers. But Chalmers wasn't his name."
"Daniels?" Remington asked.
"You got it. There's a fax of his birth certificate in there somewhere," she told them, as Laura looked over Remington's arm at the papers in his hand. "Harrison Daniels."
Remington's eyes widened as he looked at Daniel's birth certificate. "Good Lord."
"What?" Laura asked, trying to read the faded writing.
"He was born in New York-Daniel was American."
"And that means that Mr. Steele's problems with the INS are overwith," Mildred told them triumphantly. When they both looked at her, she went on, "IF we can prove that you're Harrison Daniels' long lost son, you'll be considered an American citizen."
"But he wasn't born here," Laura reminded Mildred.
"Doesn't matter. As long as one of his parents WAS- then Mr. Steele is, too."
Remington grinned, giving first Laura, then Mildred a hug. "OH, you're amazing, Mildred! Now, all that's left to do is go and meet my mother."
Mildred looked at him. "She seemed nice, Chief."
There was something in her voice that made Remington look at her closely. "Mildred? What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing. I guess you- won't be needing me as much anymore- now that you've found your mother and all-"
Remington pulled the woman closer. "Oh, Mildred. You're always going to be important to me. Like a favorite aunt."
"My lot in life, I suppose," She sighed, but her mouth was curved into an indulgent smile. "Go on, you two. Mrs. Mitchell's probably worn a rut in that hotel room carpet with all of the pacing."
Remington gave Mildred a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks."
Once they were in the Auburn and Remington turned it toward Eileen's hotel, Laura said, "You know, Mildred's investigative instincts have really grown. For her to put all of that together as well as she did-"
"You didn't tell her?"
"I wanted to tell you first," Laura said.
"What's she like?" he asked.
"You heard Mildred. She's very nice. Beyond that, I think you should make your own determination."
"Does she know about- I mean, how much does she know about what I did before- you know, before I became Remington Steele?"
"All I told her was that Daniel finally caught up with you in London and took care of you the best way he knew how."
"A version of the truth, anyway."
"I prefer to think that it glosses it over. It's up to you how much you want to tell her about your mysterious past," she said, smiling slightly at the oft-used term.
"Let's see how it goes, shall we?" he said. "What's she like?"
"Why don't I let you make your own decision?" Laura asked, touching his arm.
"I'd like to hear your impressions about Eileen Mitchell, Laura. I trust your instincts."
"I liked her. She seemed nervous, just a little angry, and determined to find her son."
"Why angry?"
"With her father, more than anything. She lived her entire life believing that he loved her, only wanted what was best for her- and then finds out that her life has been built on lies."
Remington saw the sign for the hotel and turned into the parking lot. He handed the Auburn over to the valet, then took Laura's arm to escort her into the hotel. "What room?" he asked as they went to the elevators.
Laura pressed the button to call the elevator. "Suite 410," she informed him.
Two other people entered the car when it opened, giving Laura and Remington no further privacy until the doors opened on the fourth floor. "Maybe I should wait in the lobby," Laura decided, watching as Remington shined his already spotless shoes on the backs of his pants legs. The nervous habit always made Laura smile a little, but she found that she was just a bit nervous herself this time.
Remington grabbed her arm as if to forcibly keep her at this side. "No. I'd rather you be right here. I mean, what if she doesn't like me?"
"Won't happen."
"How can you be so certain?" he wanted to know as Laura removed a speck of lint from his jacket, then smoothed the fabric.
"Because you're a very loveable person," Laura reminded him. Lifting a hand, she smoothed a lock of his dark hair back into place.
He took a deep breath, and started to knock, then stopped. "I'm not sure I can do this, Laura-"
"Nonsense. You faced the Earl- and then Daniel-"
"And Daniel died," he reminded her.
"According to everything that Mildred was able to find, Eileen's in good health for a woman her age. Now go on," she urged, pointing him to the door again- just as it opened- and Eileen O'Casey Mitchell stood there.
To Be Continued---