House of Steele
Part One
"Happy birthday, Laura," Remington Steele said brightly, entering the bedroom carrying a tray. Laura turned over, pulling the pillow over her head.
"Umph," she mumbled.
Smiling, Remington slapped her bottom playfully. "Wake up, sleepy head. I know how you hate a cold breakfast."
Laura sat up slowly. "Breakfast in bed?" She asked as he placed the tray over her legs.
"Well, it IS your birthday, after all," her reminded her.
She took a sip of the coffee, then picked up her napkin, her eyes widening a set of keys fell onto the tray. Picking them up, she said, "What is this?"
"They're called keys, Laura. And they go to a red MG that's parked in the garage downstairs." Laura had fallen in love with the little car, and although it had taken Remington some time, he had convinced the rental agency to whom it belonged to sell it, and it was now safely in his possession.
"How did you ever talk them into selling it?"
"I simply gave them an offer they couldn't refuse," Steele said, smiling.
"What about the Rabbit?"
"Antony's offered to buy it - for a modest price, of course. He's going to have to pay it out, but -"
"We've already discussed this, Remington. Tony hasn't put in enough time at the agency to get a raise. So stop fronting for him."
"Me? Front for Antony? Nonsense. Hurry and eat. I have a few other surprises for you."
Laura smiled. "You know how much I LOVE surprises, Mr. Steele."
He bent to kiss her. "Eat. You're eating for two now, remember?"
Laura glanced at her watch. "I don't have time- Mother and I are supposed to go look at another house this morning-"
"I've already called Abigail and told her that she would have to reschedule that for this afternoon. That this morning is mine."
Laura looked at him. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"I've already had my breakfast," he told her.
Laura took a bite of the omelet and closed her eyes. "I have GOT to stop eating so much," she said. "Either that, or you have to stop cooking such wonderful food."
He watched as she finished every bite, then took the tray back to the kitchen as she dressed. He was in the living room when she came in. "Sit down."
She did, seeing the folder on the table before her, a thin red ribbon tied around it.. "What's this?"
"Another part of your surprise. Open it."
Looking at him, she slowly untied the ribbon, then opened the folder and picked up the paper it held. "It's- a birth certificate." Her eyes widened at the name on it. "Remington Daniel Harrison Steele?" she asked. "What-"
"THIS is what Jessica and I have been doing, Laura. I've legally changed my name."
"Then, you REALLY are Remington Steele," she said, smiling at him. "Why all the secrecy? You could have told me-"
"There was always the possibility that something would happen to stop it. As it was, it wound up involving Estelle Becker and an old friend of Jessica's who happens to be a judge. I was terrified that Estelle would mention it during that meeting last month."
"She's as charmed by you as I am, Remington," Laura told him. She looked again at the paper. "Remington Daniel Harrison Steele. Who else knew about this?"
"Jessica, of course, and Katherine. And- Antony."
"Which explains why you've been promoting his cause," Laura said.
"Not at all."
"What about Mildred?" Seeing his expression, Laura shook her head. "So you've ALL managed to keep this a secret from me. And I thought I was such a good detective."
"You are, my darling. But when you have a conspiracy of silence of this size - "
Laura stood up and came over to him. "Thank you for being Remington Steele," she said, sliding her arms around his neck. "You already were, you know. That piece of paper just makes it legal."
"Makes our marriage legal, too," he reminded her, kissing her. "Are you ready for the next surprise?"
"There's more?" she asked.
He took a black velvet box from the table beside him. "This is the last one."
"You really have to stop spoiling me, Remington. You know I'm not much for jewels-" she gasped as she opened the box and saw the single teardrop diamond suspended on a fine, gold chain. "It's beautiful," she managed at last. "But's it's too much-"
"Not nearly enough for you," he said, removing the necklace to put it around her neck.
"I'll be afraid to wear it," she said, looking at the gem. "It's got an unusual color-" she said, examining the stone in the nearby light.
"It's called the "Lucky Lady"," he told her. "Instead of a curse, as most jewels have, this one is supposed to protect the wearer from harm."
"I'm not even going to ask what it's worth," she decided.
"You don't want to know," he said. "But I didn't pay nearly enough to buy that look in your eyes."
Laura turned into the arms. "Thank you, Remington. But you really shouldn't have-" A sudden thought made her pull back a bit. "You DID buy it, didn't you? I mean-"
"I got it legally, Laura," he insisted averting his gaze for a moment, as if he might have said more, then thought better of it. Returning those blue eyes to hers, he smiled. "Those days are over, remember? The former owner needed some money - and I'd always wanted to own that gem, to see it where it belonged -"
Something in his tone made her examine his face. She knew him too well. "You got it legally THIS time, but you'd seen it before, hadn't you?"
"It does have a rather- interesting history - which I don't want to bore you with- Let's go for a drive, shall we?" he asked, turning.
"Hold it right there." She came to stand in front of him. "I think I want to hear this story."
"The gem was stolen several years ago from its original owner. He offered me a rather handsome reward for its return."
"And you collected that reward," she guessed.
"After being chased over half of Europe by the person who stole it," he admitted. "Nasty little man," he recalled. "I've decided that after all these years of stealing jewels and paintings for others, it's time that I started investing in them myself."
"Remington-"
"All legal and above board," he quickly assured her. "So when you DO find a house, Laura, make certain there's enough room to display an art collection properly."
Laura laughed. He was NEVER going to fully change. She might be able to tame him, but she doubted he'd ever lose that attraction to shiny objects and art. "You mentioned a drive?" she reminded him.
"I've reserved a table at Che Reve for us. I thought we could drive up the coast, then come back to the city for lunch."
"Sounds wonderful, Mr. Steele," she sighed, stretching up to kiss him.

Abigail was waiting at the office when they returned from lunch, and Remington insisted they take the limo. "I won't be needing it this afternoon," he told them. "If I need a car, I'll use the MG. Good luck."
Abigail privately thought they would need it as they drove away. "That's a VERY nice car that Remington got you for your birthday, Laura. I hope you appreciate what a wonderful husband you've got, dear. Not like-"
"I know, Mother," Laura said with a sigh. "And I DO appreciate Remington. Believe me. So, where is this house you're taking me to see today?"
"I just know you'll like this one, Laura," she began, only to have Laura sink back against the leather seat.
"You've said that about the last six houses that you've shown me. They just haven't been RIGHT somehow."
Abigail frowned, obviously frustrated with having such a difficult client- and the fact that the client happened to be her daughter- "I wish you could tell me what you're looking for, Laura. Those other houses were perfect for you and Remington. Turn here, Fred," she told the chauffeur. The limousine turned onto a tree-lined drive that opened onto a well-kept lawn - and the most beautiful house that Laura had ever seen. She sat up, surveying the white, stucco walls, rounded windows, red tiled roof and black wrought iron. There was an air old Old Mexico about the place. Abigail noticed her daughter's rapt expression, but chose, for once, not to comment on it. Instead, she waited for Fred to open the car door. "We won't be long, Fred," she told him. They weren't, usually. After one look at a house, Laura would inevitably invent an excuse - work, usually, and they would leave.
Abigail knocked once, and a gray haired, plump woman opened the door. "May I help you?"
"I telephoned Mr. Brandon about showing the house."
"Of course. Mrs. Holt. Come in." She stepped back, and Laura felt as if she had stepped from Old Mexico to an English Manor house. Dark paneled walls, not a sign of any wrought iron or stucco. "I'll go get Mr. Brandon," the housekeeper told them. "Please wait here."
Abigail told Laura, "It's a lovely old house. Built around 1920 by a movie actress- I can't recall her name-"
"Carmen Castille," a man's voice supplied, causing both women to turn. He smiled. "Mrs. Holt. It's a pleasure to see you again." He was tall, and despite his advanced years, moved easily. His full head of hair was snow white, and the eyes in his face were dark and filled with something that Laura couldn't quite identify.
"Thank you. This is Laura Steele. Laura, Robert Brandon."
Mr. Brandon bowed slightly over her hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Mrs. Steele. I'm a fan of you and your husband."
Used to hearing praises for only Remington, Laura was embarrassed. "Thank you, Mr. Brandon," she said, then, wanting to change the subject, said, "This is a wonderful house. It's so calm and peaceful-"
"Lily and I have always felt that way. From the first moment we saw it, we knew it was the house for us." He smiled again, and Laura found herself thinking that this was what Remington would look like in forty or fifty years. Still charming, handsome, but less flamboyant. He held out his arm. "Shall I show you around?"
"Please," Laura said, taking that arm. "My mother mentioned an actress?"
"Carmen was a silent movie star - I don't blame you for never having heard of her."
"I haven't, but I'm sure my husband has. He's a true movie buff."
"So I've heard. I read about his generous donation to the film archives last month. It's one reason why Lily and I agreed to let Mrs. Holt show you the house." He looked thoughtful. "Carmen Castille was a raven haired Mexican beauty- and was a smashing success in silent films. But when the 'talkies' came along, she couldn't get a part anywhere."
"Why not?"
"Her accent. And her English was terrible. She had this house built in 1922, at the height of her career, believing she would always be a star. But ten years later, her career gone, no money left - she had squandered every last dime - she was deported back to Mexico."
"How sad."
"Yes. She was a broken woman. I believe she -" he paused before continuing, as if something about the subject bothered him. "Killed herself a few years later. I purchased the entire estate for delinquent taxes- a mere pittance of it's worth- in 1940."
"You're- English, aren't you, Mr. Brandon?"
His smile was full of charm. "I've been in America for almost fifty years, Mrs. Steele. I'm surprised you heard any accent. Most don't."
"I suppose it's because of Remington," she explained. "You came to America BEFORE the war?"
"Before your country officially entered the conflict, yes. I had already served a couple of years in the RAF. I came here on business - and I had a personal need to get away from England for awhile. I didn't intend to stay on. Lily's father and mine had been business partners before he immigrated to America. My father had just recently died, and Lily's father became- unbalanced when he lost virtually everything in a bad deal. I came over here to convince him to accept a loan." He sighed. "But the day before my ship docked in New York, he -committed suicide. Lily was devastated - understandably so." His smiled was filled with a gentleness that Laura understood. "It was love at first sight. For me, at any rate. Lily took a bit longer to come to the truth."
"So the two of you came to Los Angeles and bought this house."
"Yes. And we've been very happy here," Robert told her.
"Is you wife here?" Laura asked, looking around. "I'd like to meet her."
"Laura-" Abigail said, her face red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Mr. Brandon. I didn't tell her-"
"No need to apologize, Mrs. Holt."
Laura frowned. "Tell me what?"
Robert took a deep breath. "My wife is quite ill. She's- dying, Mrs. Steele." Laura could feel the man's deep sorrow, and put a hand on his arm, but withheld her pity. She could tell that he would want none. He covered her hand. "It's the reason I've put the place up for sale. Anyone who buys it must do so with the understanding that they cannot take possession until she is gone. I promised that she would live out her final days here, in this house that we both love."
"She's- here, then?"
"Yes. There is nothing the doctors can do for her. She refuses to let them keep her alive past her--her time," his eyes filled with tears. "Forgive me, Mrs. Steele."
"Forgive that you're understandably upset by the idea of losing the woman you love? I don't see anything TO forgive in that, Mr. Brandon," Laura said softly.
Robert Brandon drew a shuddering breath as he regarded Laura, then turned to Abigail. "I think we need look no further for a buyer, Mrs. Holt." He turned that smile upon Laura again. "That is-if you don't mind waiting for the house, Mrs. Steele. You don't need the house before- say, two months? Three, at the most, according to the doctors."
Laura wanted to say yes, wanted to do anything this man asked, but she forced herself to retain some small semblance of sanity. "I'll have to discuss it with Remington- and I'm sure he'll want to see the house."
"Of course," Robert said, patting her hand again. "I should like to meet Mr. Steele. Could you come 'round tomorrow? Perhaps Lily will be feeling up to a brief visit," he told her hopefully.
"I'd like that," Laura was saying as a young woman appeared in the hallway, pausing as she saw that Robert wasn't alone.
"Excuse me, Mr. Brandon."
He turned. "Ah, Pamela. Mrs. Steele, allow me to introduce Pamela Craig, my wife's nurse. Pamela, this is Laura Steele. Quite possibly one of the future owners of the property."
"Hello, Mrs. Steele," Pamela said, then turned her attention back to her employer. "I was wondering, Mr. Brandon, if you had forgotten that I have to leave for a while?" When the elderly man didn't respond, Pamela came nearer, her words a tone louder than before. "Your hearing aid is turned down again, Mr. Brandon," she scolded gently.
He smiled sheepishly and removed the small mechanism from his right ear- the side Laura had been on, and adjusted it. "Sorry."
"No, you're not," Pamela said, smiling. "You always have to be reminded about it, and you enjoy it. I have an appointment this afternoon- and if I don't leave now, I'll be late. Mrs. Hobbs is sitting with Mrs. Brandon at the moment-"
"Of course. I'll go at once." He turned to bow over Laura's hand, lifting it to his lips. "Until tomorrow, Mrs. Steele. Good day, Mrs. Holt. And thank you for bringing us together." He turned to Pamela. "See them out with you, please, Pamela."
"Of course. I'll be back in about three hours." She watched him move down the hall, then shook her red curls. "He'll be with her the entire time."
"He's very devoted to her, isn't he?"
"She's the most important thing in his life, Mrs. Steele," Pamela said, moving toward the door. "Watching her die is killing him as well, little by little. Perhaps she's right-" as they exited the house, a young man in faded jeans approached Pamela.
"M-Miss Cr-Craig, you g-g-goin s-s-somewhere?" he asked in a halting stutter.
"Into town, Harley. I won't be long. Mr. Brandon is sitting with Miss Lily. Why don't you go keep him company?"
He smiled, the smile of a child. "I-I-I'll c-c-cut her s-s-some r-r-roses. S-She'll l-l-like that."
` "I'm sure she will," Pamela agreed, watching as he turned and ran toward the back of the house, rather like a small boy rushing to please a favored teacher. "That's Harley Grange. He's as devoted to Mrs. Brandon as anyone. He works as the gardener, but he's more like the son Mr. and Mrs. Brandon never had." She glanced at her wristwatch. "I really have to go," she apologized. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Steele."
 
 
Laura breezed into the offices of Remington Steele Investigations smiling, exclaiming, "I found it, Mildred!"
"Found what, Hon?" the woman asked, smiling at the glow on her employer's face. "Mr. Malcom's painting?"
"No, Mildred," she exclaimed. "The house. The PERFECT house, Mildred. And the man who owns it- you're going to absolutely LOVE him, Mildred. It's in the Hills- three acres, a beautiful English style garden - I can't wait until Remington sees it."
"Sounds wonderful, Mrs. Steele, " Mildred agreed, smiling. She hadn't seen Laura this excited about something in a long time. If ever.
"Is he in there?" she asked, starting toward the office door.
"He's with a client," Mildred warned, too late, since Laura was already opening the door.
"You'll never believe-" she said, then froze, realizing that Mr. Malcom was sitting in the conference area with Remington and Tony.
"Laura," Steele said, greeting her. "I wasn't certain that you would be able to join us -"
Laura took several deep breaths, drawing her cloak of professionalism around her. "Mr. Malcom. What a pleasure to see you."
"We were just discussing the latest news on the painting was stolen from Mr. Malcom's home, Laura," Remington told her, indicating that she sit next to him.
"What news?" Laura asked, turning her mind back toward the case at hand.
 
 
When Malcom left, Tony did as well, saying he had to check an informant. Remington looked at Laura, his blue eyes filled with questions. "From your earlier mood, is it safe to assume that you've finally found a house that you approve of?"
"It's PERFECT," she told him. "Mr. Brandon- that's the current owner- has invited us out to meet his wife tomorrow. He's very interested in meeting you, as well."
"Indeed?" he asked, watching the way her eyes had lit up, the way she moved.
"He's evidently followed your career- and it's strange, but- in some way, he reminds me of you. After being with him for two minutes, I was totally at ease. It was as though I'd known him forever."
"Where was his wife?" Remington asked.
Laura's enthusiasm faded a bit. "She was there, but- she's very ill. She doesn't have long to live, and Robert- Mr. Brandon, wants whoever buys the house to understand that he can't move until she's gone."
"Laura- need I remind you that we're expecting a baby in a little over six months? The idea of finding a house was so that we could be moved in and settled before then."
"He said she hasn't more than three months at the outside. It's so sad, Remington. He loves her so much. You can see it in his eyes- the way he talks about her. He's really a wonderful man."
"He must be, to have charmed you this way."
Laura smiled up at him. "Jealous?"
"I might be- how old is this pinnacle of devotion?"
"At least- seventy," she said at last. "Oh, I forgot. The house was built by a silent movie actress."
His attention was caught. "Oh? Which one?"
Laura's eyes narrowed in concentration. "Carmen- Casill-"
"Carmen Castille? The Mexican Bombshell?" he asked.
"That's it. But Mr. Brandon didn't describe her that way. So, will you go with me tomorrow to see the house? I just know you'll love it as much as I do."
Remington leaned down to kiss her- just as the door opened and Mildred entered. He glared at her, and she shrugged. "Sorry, Chief- but Tony's on the phone-"
"You couldn't have used the intercom?"
"It would still have been an interruption," she reminded him.
Laura giggled. "I have a desk full of paperwork, anyway," she told her husband. "Don't keep Tony waiting." She turned toward her office door.
Remington sighed, feeling very frustrated, and picked up the telephone. "Steele here. This had better be important, Antony."
 
To be Continued----
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