- Forgotten Steele
- Part Two
- "What kind of
trouble, Mr. Steele?" Mildred asked.
"I found Laura," he told her as he watched the car
ahead of the limo.
"That's great, Mr. Steele. Is she okay?"
"Well, it rather-depends on what you mean by- okay,"
he said haltingly.
"I'm sorry, Chief. You lost me. Wanna try again?"
Remington took a deep breath. "She thinks she's me, Mildred.
Or- the me I was before I became Remington Steele." There
was silence on the line. "She thinks she's an English jewel
thief named Tracy Lord. And ten to one, she's going to make a
try for those gems at the show tomorrow."
"Along with every other thief in the Western Hemisphere,"
Mildred commented.
"Hmm. Don't lose her, Fred," he told the driver as
they fell back a few spaces.
"Where is she now?"
"In a taxi heading-" he paused, trying to find a street
sign.
"East on Sunset," Fred supplied.
"East on Sunset." He pulled out the contract that Burton
had given him. "Mildred, did you know anything about Laura's
decision to handle the security for that gem show?"
"Uh, well, - she DID mention something about it," Mildred
hedged.
"I thought she had agreed that we didn't need to risk this
one. With that many gems, and all the attention they're going
to generate, it's asking for trouble."
"It IS her agency, Mr. Steele," Mildred pointed out.
"Yes," he agreed tiredly. "It is. It's just that-
I'd thought, no HOPED, that she was finally beginning to consider
me a real partner in our endeavors. Apparently I was wrong."
"Oh, Mr. Steele, she does. It's just that- she has to do
what she thinks is best for the agency, too. And you're right
about the publicity. Just think of what that can do for the agency."
"Just think of what it will do for the agency when she's
arrested for trying to steal the gems she was hired to protect,
Mildred," Remington said, rubbing his eyes with his hand.
"Get started setting up those security measures, okay?"
"I will. What are you going to be doing?"
"Trying to keep Miss Holt out of any further trouble,"
he told her as the taxi came to a stop before a shop that he
recognized. "Have to go, Mildred." He hung up. "Park
it here, Fred," he said, then got out of the limo and wandered
to the rear entrance of the shop, ducking down beside the slightly
open window to listen.
***
Tracy browsed the recycled items in the second hand shop with
disinterest until the other customer left her alone with the
clerk behind the counter. "You gonna buy, lady?" he
asked after watching her for a moment. "Or you just gonna
look?"
She came to the counter. "I'm interested in buying something-
but not anything you have out here."
The clerk stared hard at her. "Don't I know you?"
Tracy laughed softly. "I seriously doubt it. I've only just
arrived in your fair city." She drew little circles on the
glass countertop. "Unfortunately, my identification doesn't
seem to have made the trip with me, so I need to replace it."
The man looked suspicious. "Uh, what makes you think I can
help you?"
"A- friend mentioned that you were someone who could counted
on in times of trouble."
"A friend, hmm?" the clerk said, still unconvinced.
"And what was this friend's name?"
"Daniel Chalmers."
"You know Chalmers?"
"I've known him for years. Now, are you going to help me-
or shall I tell Daniel that you turned me away the next time
I speak to him?"
The man glanced at the doorway, then opened the gate beside the
counter. "Back here," he told her.
Tracy knew he watched her appreciatively as she passed him. He
wasn't a bad looking little man- certainly not on par with that
dishy private detective she'd met at the museum- but she'd been
nice to worse. Now, if she played her cards right, things might
work out after all. And she was VERY good at poker.
The back room of the shop was cluttered with boxes that the man
led her through to another, smaller room. "Here we go. What
do you need?"
"Passport, driver's license, all the usual accouterments."
"That might take some time."
"How long for just the passport and license, then?"
"Oh, couple of minutes if you're not picky."
"And a business card for "Gemstone Magazine"?"
"Tell you what," he said, his eyes raking over her
as she sat in a chair. "I'll toss it in free of charge."
"You're really a dear. I'm sure Daniel will be MOST pleased
when I tell him how helpful you've been." She rose from
the chair. "And how much is your help going to cost me?"
He grinned lecherously. "I'm sure we can come up with something."
He found a Polaroid camera and took a couple of photographs.
"You got something big going?" he asked as he began
gathering the items he needed.
"Possibly. Too early to tell yet."
"You want just the passport, license and business card,
then?"
"For the moment, those will be sufficient," she assured
him.
"And what name are you gonna use on them?"
"Tracy Lord."
In the alleyway, Remington remained at the window, listening
to the conversation, wondering what the blazes was going on in
Laura's mind. "I like the name Tracy," the man said,
and Remington could hear the lustful tone from here. He risked
a glance inside to find Laura examining some boxes while the
man- whose name, if he recalled correctly, was Sam - worked.
"Never heard Chalmers mention you before."
"It's been awhile since he and I crossed paths," she
said.
Sam pulled a card from the machine before him. "There you
go. One driver's license- good enough to fool any cop."
"And the passport?"
"Need more info. Where'd Tracy Lord come from?"
"England, of course." She watched now while he finished
the booklet and pasted her photograph inside. Within moments,
he had also handed her several business cards, which Tracy stuffed
into her purse. "Thank you. You've no idea how much help
you've been."
"Yeah, well, you're not finished just yet." He scurried
around to stand between her and the door. "We still gotta
talk about payment."
Tracy smiled at him. "Name it."
"A hundred- unless I get a better offer." Remington
fought his instincts as she moved closer to the little man and
gave him a kiss that would have knocked HIS socks off. When she
drew back, Sam grinned. "NOW you're talkin'."
Tracy placed a finger on his lips. "As much as I'd like
to stay and finish this, I really have to get back to work. Would
you consider a rain check, perhaps?"
"And when would I pick up this- rain check? Don't get to
London very often."
"Oh, I'll be back," she promised and gave him another
kiss. "Consider that a downpayment," she said, turning
to walk out of the room while Sam was still in a dazed condition.
Remington shook his head, then hurried down the alley to rejoin
Fred at the limo. He watched as she got into the cab. "Stay
with her, Fred."
"Yes, sir." The cab pulled over two blocks away. Laura
got out, and the cab left. Remington watched as she entered the
Italian restaurant, then told Fred to let him out and find a
place to park.
There was no sign of her when he entered the dimly lit room.
His gaze took in the round tables, red checked table cloths and
candles in wine bottles. An overweight but smiling woman came
from the kitchen. "May I help you, signore? Some wine, perhaps?
Fettuccini? It is the specialty of the house."
"Uh, no, thank you- did you notice a rather attractive young
woman in here a moment ago? About so high, dark hair?"
"Ah, si. The signorina asked to used the ladies room."
Remington smiled, pressing a bill into the woman's plump hand.
"She's my girlfriend, I'm trying to surprise her. Which
way?"
"Through that doorway," she told him.
"Is there another way out of the bathroom?" he asked
her.
"There is a window. A small window that opens onto the alley,"
she said.
Remington ran towards the bath, knocking on the door before entering
the cubbyhole of a room. Sure enough, the window WAS open. He
managed to get his head out enough to see, but his shoulders
refused to fit.
Laura- or "Tracy", as she was calling herself, was
running down the alley toward another cab. She turned back to
him with a bright smile. "Just for future reference, handsome,
don't try to tail people in that limo. Sticks out like a sore
thumb. Ciao!"
"Come back here!" he called after her, but her only
answer was another laugh as she waved before getting into the
cab. "Damn!" he muttered, then froze as he heard the
door open behind him. He pulled his head back into the room and
turned around to find an ashen faced matron with blue hair, her
eyes wide as they looked at him. Remington ran a hand over the
lavatory. "All clean. Restroom inspections. City permits,
and all that," he said hurriedly edging toward the door.
"They passed. Goodday, madam." He closed the door behind
him and returned to the sidewalk.
Fred drove up, turned to look at him as he got inside. "Did
you find her?"
"She's given us the slip, Fred," he said. "Back
to the office."
***
Tracy smiled as she remembered the expression on that face during
the drive to the hotel. Checking her purse, she discovered that
she was lower on funds than she'd first thought. A hotel was
out of the question. Spotting a telephone booth, she told the
driver to pull over for a moment and checked out an address in
the telephone book, then returned to the cab and gave him instructions.
She had tossed out the bait, now it was time to set the trap.
***
"I don't know what happened, Mildred," Remington told
the woman. "All I know is that the only thing I found in
that alley were these." He pointed to the items on his desk:
Laura's ID, her wallet, lipstick, and business cards. "From
the looks of things, she might have been trying to catch up with
someone and lost her footing on the fire escape ladder."
"Which caused her to fall and hit her head," Mildred
finished the speculation. "And when she woke up, she thought
she was this- Tracy Lord person. Who IS Tracy Lord, Chief?"
"The name of the character that Katherine Hepburn played
in "The Philadelphia Story", MGM, 1940. Also starred
Cary Grant and James Stewart."
"I remember the movie, Mr. Steele," Mildred told him.
"What I don't understand is why Miss Holt is using the name."
"She's used it as an alias on various cases. She likes it.
Mildred, we have to find her. BEFORE she does something she'll
regret, preferably."
Mildred watched him pace the room. "You said she mentioned
Daniel to the guy she got the fake ID from. Do you think she
would call him?"
"I doubt she knows HOW to contact him."
"Okay, so let's look at this from another angle, then. If
YOU were her, what would you be doing right now?"
"What?" Remington asked, turning to look at her, a
frown on his face.
"If YOU were planning a major jewel heist, and had just
evaded the private eye that was following you, what would you
do?"
"Lay low, make some plans." He paused. "And gather
information. When I first met Laura, I was pretending to be a
South African detective here to protect the Royal Lavulite."
He smiled at the memory of that first day. "I bought Laura
a magnum of champagne and used it to get information from her."
"Then all you have to do is wait and let HER come to YOU."
"I hope you're right, Mildred," Remington said. "I
really hope you're right."
"Well when we find her, I think a good clonk on the head
is in order." She didn't see the pained looke Remington
gave her as she picked up a file. "In the meantime, why
don't we go over these security arrangements for the show's opening
tomorrow?"
Remington sat down heavily. Head clonking didn't sound like such
a bad idea at the moment.
***
It was later than usual when he let himself into his apartment.
He had stayed at the office longer than usual, hoping that Laura
would call, make some kind of contact. The thought of her being
out there, alone, thinking of herself as someone else troubled
him. Once inside the apartment, he removed his jacket and loosened
his tie before falling back onto the sofa. Where the bloody hell
was she? Between trying to cover for her with Burton, who had
called just before he'd left the museum, and setting up the security
for that damned exhibit, Remington had been busy all afternoon.
The thought of dinner wasn't even appealing. All he wanted was
a quick shower and bed.
He got up and headed toward the bedroom, not bothering to turn
on the light until he was sitting on the bed. Just as his hand
touched the switch, arms went around him from behind, and a low,
throaty voice said, "Hello, there, handsome. Thought you'd
never get here."
Remington switched on the light and turned around to find Laura
perched on his bed, wearing only a black lace teddy that left
very little to the imagination. "Uh-what- I mean-"
"I felt guilty for ditching you earlier today. I shouldn't
have, I suppose. It's just that I have this aversion to someone
following me in a strange city. Why would you be following a
simple magazine reporter?" she asked, looking up at him
with eyes intended to melt his cool exterior.
Remington regained his equilibrium- most of it, anyway, and smiled.
"Perhaps I simply wanted to ask you to have dinner with
me," he said.
She smiled, sliding down onto the bed. "In that case, I've
just managed to save us both some time. Why don't we skip dinner
and jump right to the good part?" she suggested.
"Why don't I prepare something for us here?" he returned.
"And we can-discuss your work."
"Oh, but YOUR work is SO much more interesting," she
told him, moving from the bed to stand before him, her fingernail
tracing the line of buttons on his shirt. "I'd LOVE to hear
all about it."
"Oh, I'm sure you would. Like the security plans for the
gem show tomorrow, I'll wager."
"It IS what I'm here to write about, after all," Tracy
reminded him.
"Ah yes," he said, capturing her hand as it threatened
to move past the top of his slacks. "Gemstone Magazine.
I did some checking on that publication. They've never heard
of you."
She laughed. "That's because I don't write for them under
my own name."
"Then what name DO you use? Perhaps they'll recognize it."
"Eve Kendall," she told him.
Remington shook his head. "North by Northwest," he
said. "Eva Marie Saint, Cary Grant, M-G-M, 1959."
"What are you implying, Mr. Steele?" she asked.
"Only that you need to think a little better about your
aliases. Never know when you're going to run across an old movie
buff." She grabbed her clothes and started for the door,
but Remington took her by the arm. "Uh uh, not so fast.
You've got some questions to answer first."
"I don't have to tell you anything," she said. "Now
unless you're willing to explain to the police when I start screaming-"
Remington crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against
the bedroom door. "Go ahead. The doorman knows I came upstairs
alone. I'll simply tell them that you broke into my apartment."
She looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether
or not he was bluffing, then opened her mouth.
Remington caught the scream before it escaped, capturing it with
his lips, pulling her close against his body . . .
To Be Continued . . .
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- Original content ©1999
by Nancy Eddy