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After their less than informative
discussion with the pizzeria owner, Remington was quiet all the
way back to the office. As Laura placed the flat cardboard box
on his desk, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered
over to the window.
"What the hell's going on here, Laura?" he asked. "Who
would go to all this trouble just to set up a fake marriage? And
why?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "It DOES seem like
a lot of trouble doesn't it? And it has to be someone with access
to what we're doing, someone who is keeping tabs on our movements,"
she agreed, as she dug in a desk drawer for some napkins. "How
else would they have known that I was going out of town and that
you'd be alone this weekend? Or the reason for it?"
Remington turned his head to look at her. "What do you mean?"
She didn't look at him as she busied herself with taking two slices
of the still warm pizza from the box and placing them on the napkins.
"Rachel said you were angry that I -abandoned you to go visit
my family."
He shook his head. "I wasn't angry. It was MY decision not
to go, not to barge in on a family gathering. Heaven knows, I've
done more than my share of disrupting your life since I forced
my way into it."
Laura smiled at last. "Have you heard me complaining?"
she asked.
He returned her smile. "Not lately," he admitted.
"Come on, have some pizza."
"I'm not very hungry, Laura-"
She went around to him, turning his chair around and pushing him
gently into it, then turning it back to the desk where the pizza
was waiting. "You've got to eat something."
Remington took a deep breath, then caught her hand as she would
have moved away. "Thank you."
Laura quickly pulled her hand from his and went back to the chair
on the other side of the desk to tackle he own pizza. "Did
you tell anyone that I would be out of town this weekend?"
He started to shake his head, then stopped. "I think I might
have mentioned it to Maude last Friday-"
"Your cleaning lady?"
"She was at the apartment when I left to take you to the
airport. She'd missed on Thursday because of a party at another
client's house." Seeing her thoughtful expression, Remington
shook his head. "Laura, she's been working for me for three
years. She's a widow on a pension with two grown children, who
cleans other people's houses for extra cash and to get out of
her own little house."
"Oh, I don't think she's behind this," Laura assured
him. "But she might have told someone else. Another client,
possibly-"
Remington picked up the telephone and thought for a second before
dialing a number. After a few minutes, he hung up. "No answer.
She's probably working."
"We can try again later," Laura suggested. "Now
EAT." Remington nodded, picking up his pizza and taking a
bite as the telephone rang. Laura grabbed the receiver. "It
could be Mildred," she said. "Remington Steele Investigations-.
. ." She lifted her eyes toward Remington. "Hello, Rachel."
Remington signaled that he wasn't there. That he was out of the
office, but Laura was still speaking. "Yes. He's right here."
She held out the telephone, her hand over the mouthpiece. "You
can't run from her forever, you know."
Glaring at Laura, Remington took the phone. "Rachel. This
is an unexpected-. . .Hmm, well, as a matter of fact, Miss Holt
and I were in the middle of discussing a very important case.
And I believe we have a meeting with a client - . . .What's that?.
. .You're- . . ." He looked a bit ill, Laura thought. "Oh,
I'm sure whatever you decide to prepare will be - . . .No. No,
preferences - Rachel- Rachel, I really HAVE to go now -"
He frowned as she sent him a wet kiss through the line. "Yes.
Goodbye." He hung up the phone as if he were afraid it might
bite his hand. "Laura, we HAVE to prove that that woman is
NOT my wife," he told her. "Do you have any idea what
she's doing at this moment?" Laura shook her head. "She's
planning the dinner menu for the week!"
"I'd be careful if I were you, Mr. Steele," Laura warned.
"Why?"
She smiled sweetly. "Just because I'VE decided against killing
you doesn't mean that SHE has."
"You can't seriously believe that she would-"
She lifted her shoulders. "What better way to get her hands
on the Agency and whatever money you might have?" she asked.
Remington shook his head. "I can't picture that air headed
twit as having the brains to kill anyone."
Laura picked up another slice. "YOU didn't see her earlier,"
she reminded him. "She was all ready to march out there and-"
He watched as her face closed again and he frowned. "What
EXACTLY went on during that little 'chat' that you and she had?"
Laura finished her pizza and closed the box before tossing her
napkin into the trash with slow, deliberate movements before she
answered. "She had the impression that you and I- umm, that
we were, uh-"
"Lovers?" Remington finished for her.
She nodded. "It took some fast talking to convince her that
we're just good friends."
"The idea bothered her?"
"She thought that you were trying to play us against each
other. Wanting your cake and eating it to, so to speak."
"Why the need for the fast talking?" Remington wondered.
"I'm sure she's not the first person to make that assumption."
He lifted his hand to forestall her angry response. "However
erroneous and far-fetched it might be."
"I wondered the same thing myself. Until a newspaper headline
flashed before my eyes. "New Bride of Famous Detective
Remington Steele Sues For Divorce- names Associate Laura Holt
as Co-Respondent."
"Hmm," Remington muttered, understanding.
"The entire reputation of the agency would be at risk. I've
worked too long and too hard to let that happen now."
"YOU'VE worked?" Remington repeated in a disbelieving
tone of voice. "What about other people's contributions?"
he asked. "Mildred's? Mine? You're forgetting that it's MY
name on that door out there -"
"It's NOT your name!" Laura reminded him. "You're
only USING it!"
"Is that so?" he returned. "So we're back to that
again, are we? Why is knowing my name so bloody important to you,
ey? Why does it always come down to that little problem?! For
your information, MISS Holt, I've put in almost as much time to
keep this agency functioning as you have these last few years,
and I would appreciate a little more respect-"
"RESPECT?!" she shrieked. "For being a front man?"
"I thought I was a LITTLE more than that, by now," he
pointed out in that soft, quiet way he had before turning and
walking away as the telephone rang.
Furious at the interruption more than anything else, Laura grabbed
the receiver. "HELLO?!" She took a deep breath. "Remington
Steele -"
"Miss Holt?" Mildred asked in a worried voice.
"Mildred," Laura said, hoping her voice sounded suitably
perky as she glanced across the room to where Remington was trying
to calm down himself.
"Is everything okay, Miss Holt?"
"Yes, Mildred. Everything's just- fine. Mr. Steele and I
were just having a- discussion."
"Uh-huh," Mildred agreed. She'd overheard one or two
of those "discussions". "What is it with you two
kids?" she asked. "I'm out of the office for all of
four hours and already you're arguing."
"Mildred, have you talked to anyone about Mr. Steele or Rachel?"
"I'm at the Eldorado now, Miss Holt. I haven't been able
to track down the guy who hired Rachel, but I showed the picture
of Mr. Steele to several people in the casino. I got one no, one
yes, and a LOT of not sures."
"Not sure? How can someone be not sure-?"
"It's kinda weird, Miss Holt," Mildred said. "None
of them could positively say that the man they saw with Rachel
was Mr. Steele - but they DID say that if it wasn't him- then
it could have been his twin. Only - Mr. Steele doesn't HAVE a
brother. Does he?" she asked, uncertain.
"I don't know, Mildred," she said. "Keep asking
around. See if you can find out anything else."
"I will. I'm going over to the Chapel now to ask around there.
The minister had to have witnesses at the wedding ceremonies.
They would know if it was him, wouldn't they?"
"You'd think so, Mildred," Laura agreed. "Keep
in touch."
"You're sure I can't spend a LITTLE time at the tables, Miss
Holt?"
"Sorry, Mildred. We need this finished up as soon as possible
and back here. You know how the office falls apart when you're
not here."
Mildred sighed. "Okay. How's Mr. Steele handling this?"
"About the same. Later."
"Good bye."
Laura hung up the telephone and found herself tracing a finger
around the buttons. "I'm - sorry, Mr. Steele. I guess I was
out line-"
"What did Mildred have to say?"
Laura winced. She's hurt him, and that was the last thing she'd
wanted to do. Damn her temper, anyway. "Whoever was in Las
Vegas this weekend pretending to be you evidently looked enough
like you that he could be your twin."
"I don't have a twin, Laura," he told her.
"How do you know that?"
He sat down heavily. "You're right. I don't. You know, Laura,
you keep hounding me about my past, and the truth is, sometimes
it's as much a blank to me as it is to you. For all I know, I
could have an entire houseful of brothers and sisters somewhere
and not be aware of it."
Laura hesitated only a moment before she knelt beside the chair,
her hands on his arm. "It might not be a brother, you know.
It could just be someone who looks a lot like you. They DO say
that everyone's got a double somewhere, don't they? Maybe this
is yours- and for some reason, he's decided to bring you down.
We'll find out, Mr. Steele. And we'll do it together. Because
we're a team."
"A damn good team, ey, Miss Holt?"
"The best there is, Mr. Steele," she agreed. He moved
closer, and Laura raised slightly, only to pull back and rise
to her feet before their lips could meet. She turned away. "This
is insane. I know that you're not really married to that woman,
yet-"
"It's all right, Laura," he said softly. "I'm going
to call Maude again. See if she's home. And if not, I think we
might try driving out there and waiting for her to return,"
he suggested, dialing the number again.
"Where does she live?"
"Canoga Park." He listened, then hung up. "Let's
go."
"But- it's getting late. And I promised Rachel that you'd
be home for dinner-"
"You promised that her husband would be home," he reminded
her. "Since I'm not her husband, you can't be held to that."
Seeing her worried look, he said, "We'll stay at Maude's
until four, okay? And if she hasn't turned up then, I'll see her
when she comes to the apartment tomorrow morning." He touched
her cheek. "It's okay, Laura. Really." He opened the
door for her. "Shall we?"
**********
Mildred watched as a middle aged man leaned over to kiss his bride-
who didn't look much older than eighteen, she thought. She wasn't
sure who to feel sorrier for: the bride or the groom. As the couple
left the chapel, Mildred approached the two people who had signed
the marriage license as witnesses. "Excuse me-?"
The man and woman turned, smiling, then realized Mildred was alone.
"Can we help you?" the woman asked. "Of course,
you DO know that marriage requires two people-"
"Oh, I'm not here to get married," Mildred said quickly.
"Were either of you here on Saturday evening?"
"Sorry," the man said. "I was over at my other
job. Now, Edie here-" he broke off as Edie elbowed him into
silence.
"Why are you asking?" she
wanted to know.
"My daughter got married here Saturday night, and I'm trying
to find out about the guy she married. All I have is this picture
of the man I THINK she married- and I was wondering if you'd seen
him. But, if you weren't here - is the minister here?"
"Oh, Reverend Jacobs wasn't here Saturday," Edie said.
"He's just taking over for Rev. Martin."
"Where can I find Reverend Martin, then?"
"He- had an accident Sunday. A hit and run driver."
"Oh, my. Is he-"
"He's in a coma, but we're hoping he'll pull through,"
Edie told her. "I was here Saturday night. Maybe I can help
you."
Mildred held out the photo. "I don't have a recent picture
of my Rachel. But -"
"Rachel?" Edie repeated, looking closely at the photograph
of Remington Steele. "We DID have a Rachel in here Saturday
night, I think. And the man she was with looked almost EXACTLY
like this."
"Almost?" Mildred asked.
"It's hard to tell from a picture, you know, but - this guy's
hair was maybe a little longer- and lighter. And his eyes weren't
as blue." She looked thoughtful. "Steele. That was the
name. Remington Steele. I remember now. She kept going on about
how he was a big Los Angeles PI or something."
"Steele?" the man repeated. "He's big, all right."
He looked at the photo as well. "She's right. I had a guy
at one of my tables at the Eldorado Saturday night- he looked
a lot like this guy, but there were differences."
"Did he have an accent?"
"Irish," they both answered. "Sounded like he'd
just stepped off the boat," Edie said.
"Thank you," Mildred said.
"Good luck," Edie called after her.
"Thanks." Mildred put the photograph back into her purse
and went to find the closest pay phone. This was news that Miss
Holt and Mr. Steele needed to hear. Maybe it would keep them from
strangling each other, she thought as she dialed the number for
the office, only to have the answering service pick up. Mildred
left a message, then glanced at her watch. It was almost five.
She'd try to call Miss Holt at home, later, after she asked around
a little more. Maybe she would get lucky and find someone else
who saw the differences and could tell her a little more about
the impostor who was using Mr. Steele's name. Mildred suppressed
a giggle at the idea of someone usurping the identity of a man
who was only borrowing that identity. This case was getting really
weird, she mused.
To Be Continued ---