The next morning, in the dining room of the Los Angeles Plaza hotel, Nigel van der Haven, his wife Constance, their son, James and his wife Tracey were having breakfast. Nigel and James were both perusing the financial pages of the newspaper, discussing various investments, when Constance commented on the idea that they should invest in a company that both men had passed over. "What about this one?" the blonde haired, portly woman asked, her accent clearly marking her as American, while her son and husband both had British accents. "Which one, dear?" Nigel asked, casting an amused glance toward James. She pointed to the name. "This one." "Amalgamated Chemical?" Nigel asked. "Really, Mother," James sighed. "You've got to be kidding." "What's wrong with it?" Tracey asked, frowning as she cut her grapefruit. "Tracey, my dear, it's not going anywhere." "But-" Constance started to say, only to stop as Nigel shook his head and closed the newspaper. He patted his wife on the hand. "There, there, Constance. How many times have I told you not to trouble your head about such things? You simply don't understand the way things work. Let James and myself handle the business." Tracey sighed deeply. "Really, James, are you going to just sit there and let him talk to her that way?" James smiled, lifting her hand to his lips. "Yes. Because I happen to agree with him." He glanced at his watch. "We're going to be late for that meeting with Corrigan Industries if we don't leave now," he told his father. "Quite right." "And what are we supposed to do?" Tracey asked, watching as Constance, from long years of habit, found the fashion section of the paper. "Go sightseeing," Nigel suggested. "Constance wanted to do some shopping, didn't you, dear?" The woman nodded absently. "There, you see?" He brought his wallet out and withdrew some money, handing it to Constance. "I'll see you later, dear," he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Sightseeing?" Tracey questioned. "Shopping?" James bent to give his own wife a full kiss on the lips. "Keep Mother company, dear." He pulled some cash from his own wallet and placed it next to her plate. His lips near her ear, he whispered, "You're on, my girl," before moving away. "Don't buy out the stores," he cautioned. "Later." Tracey left the money where it was as she fumed. "As much as I adore your son, Constance, sometimes he can be the most chauvanistic, boorish-" "Second most," Constance corrected, smiling over her paper. "But what are we going to do? They're right." "No, they're *not*," Tracey insisted. "There has to be *some* way for us to prove that we're not totally helpless. That we know a good investment from a bad one." At the next table, a red haired man sat sipping his coffee, also apparently engrossed in the financial section. The waitress approached with the pot, and smiling, he nodded when she asked if he wanted more. "And I'd like some information, too, if you can give it to me." The young woman smiled. "I can try. What do you want to know?" He kept his voice low. "That table behind me. Who are those people? Do you know them?" Her eyes lifted for a moment and widened. "Sure. They checked in last night. My roommate works the night shift, says that they had a truck full of luggage - and they've got the Presidential suite on the top floor. That's Mrs. Nigel van der Haven and her daughter in law Tracey." When the man didn't seem impressed, the waitress continued in a confiding tone. "You mean you've never heard of Nigel van der Haven? He's got businesses all over the world - lots of shipping lines, I think. Rumor is that he and his son are about to buy out Corrigan Industries for over sixty *million* dollars." Corrigan he *had* heard of. One of the biggest plastics manufacturers in Southern California, having trouble with Federal regulations, they needed a massive cash influx to stay afloat. "The man's got to be worth a *lot* of green to be able to throw that much around, right?" the waitress asked. "I've heard that he's supposed to be knighted by the Queen in a few months." The man nodded, handing her enough money to more than pay for his breakfast. "Thank you. You've been very helpful." "Anytime," she said, tucking the money into the apron and moving away. Once in the kitchen, she put the coffee pot onto the burner, and removed the apron, along with the bleach blonde wig that covered her naturally dark hair. Taking a coat from nearby, she put it on and left the kitchen, going to the lobby, where "James" and "Nigel" were waiting. "I think he took the bait, Harry," she told them. Remington Steele gave the young woman some money. "Thanks, Josie." "You know I'd rather you give me a call," Josie said. "But I know it's hopeless." She put the money into her purse and turned away. "Ciao." Daniel gave Remington a smile, then said, "I suppose it's up to Laura and Mildred, now." ********** Tracey van der Haven picked up the money from the table and counted it. "How much did Nigel leave you?" Constance glanced at the money. "The usual amount. Five hundred." Tracey frowned. "That's a thousand right here. How much more can you come up with?" "How much more?" Constance looked thoughtful. "I don't know. The last time I looked at anything, I believe there was just over five hundred thousand in my personal account." "And I'm sure it's still there," Tracy said. "All that money in the bank, and Nigel gives you *more* to spend here." "James is the same way. How much is in your account, Tracey?" Constance asked. "Almost as much as yours." The man behind them dropped his spoon, and it clattered loudly as it hit the table on the way to the carpeted floor. Tracey turned to look at him, nodding at his embarrassed blush. "Clumsy today," he said, turning around again quickly. Tracey looked back at Constance. "Between us, that's almost a million. Just *sitting* there, not doing anything." She grabbed the financial section. "What are you doing?" Constance asked, surprised at the sudden activity. "I thought we were going to go shopping." "We *are*," Tracey told her. "For a sure fire investment that will prove to those two that we're not babes in the woods." "Oh, Tracey, I'm not sure that's such a good idea. I mean, I've never done anything like that- and neither have you-" "I watched my father wheel and deal," Tracey reminded her. "But- didn't he - lose everything? I thought that's why Nigel bought his company -" Tracey glared at her. "Thank you for reminding me of that, Constance. I'll just be really *sure* it can't go wrong," she insisted. "How about this one?" she said, laying the paper out and placing her finger on a stock. "That's a mistake," a male voice said, causing Constance to gasp and Tracey to turn around. The man who dropped his spoon was smiling at her. "Excuse me?" His blue eyes sparkled as he said, "Forgive me, but I couldn't help but over hear you ladies - that stock isn't going to give you the return you need to prove to your husbands that you can - 'wheel and deal'." "And how would you know that, Mr.-" "O'Malley," he said, bowing slightly, the Irish accent becoming more pronounced. "Terrance O'Malley, at your service. And the reason I know about that stock is that it's my business." "You're in investments?" "Private investments. I find people who need money invested, then match them up with people who have money *to* invest." He tapped the paper. "What you need isn't something from here. You need something that will at least double- if not triple your investment in a matter of days, not years." Tracey looked at him. "Sit down, Mr. O'Malley," she invited. "Tracey, dear,-" Constance began nervously, but Tracey shook her head. "Now, Constance. The least we can do is hear the gentleman out. I'm Tracey van der Haven," she told him. "And this is my mother in law, Constance." "Mrs. van der Haven," Terrance said, nodding first at one, then the other. "Oh, my. This could become confusing, couldn't it?" "Just call me Tracey," she said. "Do you have an investment like the one you were talking about, Mr. O'Malley?" she asked. ********** Remington returned to where Daniel was sitting, reading a magazine. "Well?" Daniel asked. "He's sitting at the table with them." "I knew she could do it. Just think of what we could have accomplished if Laura had been with us in Europe, my boy. The entire continent would have been our oyster." "Laura's not much for that side of the street, Daniel. Her sense of right and wrong runs pretty deep." "No gray area, eh?" "Not much. I'm not saying that's bad. It's kept me on the straight and narrow for the most part for the last four years." Daniel smiled. "With a few side trips occasionally?" Remington scratched his ear. "Nothing I haven't repaid the agency for." He pretended interest in another magazine. "Just what are you up to with Laura, Daniel?" he asked at last, wanting to get things out into the open. "Up to? Why, nothing, my boy. I'm not sure what you're referring to." "That little tête a tête yesterday at lunch in your hotel room," Remington pointed out. "Ah. Well, you would have been invited as well if you hadn't had a previous engagement." So the young man was jealous of Laura spending time with him, was he? Might not be a bad idea, to give him some competition, Daniel thought. Make him worry a little that he might - just might have waited too long to declare himself. "Laura and I had a long talk last night, Daniel," Remington began. Daniel took refuge behind the magazine once more. "Indeed? What about?" "The future." Was it his imagination, or had Daniel just given a sigh of relief? "Yours and Laura's, I hope?" "I told her how I felt - tried to reassure her-" "And what did you decide?" Daniel asked, looking over the magazine. "Laura's agreed to think about things - about a permanent commitment -" "You actually proposed marriage and she turned you down?" "Not in those words. But things are definitely looking up." "Who knows, perhaps it won't be long before I'll be back in Los Angeles for your wedding," Daniel suggested. "About that, Daniel- have you considered moving here, to Los Angeles?" "Here? Why?" "It was Laura's idea- I told her that you'd never consider it -" Daniel appeared thoughtful. "I don't know, Harry, my boy. I've never really considered living anywhere else but Europe-" "The climate's good -" Remington said. "And you can always find yourself a nice place down in Malibu with a view of beach - " Daniel's smile reflected his son's. "With all those bikini bottoms," he recalled. "It *could* be a possibility. Of course, it would mean my having to give up my position with the Earl -" His eyes focused on Harry again. It *would* be nice to have his son close again, he mused. But if Laura managed to force him into telling Harry the truth, remaining here might not be an option. "Let me think about it, Harry, if you don't mind. I'll give you my answer in a few days -" "All right, fair enough." He stood up. "I'm going to go check on our pigeon," he said. ********** "It sounds wonderful," Constance enthused. "A tropical island resort. Doesn't it sound wonderful, Tracey?" "I've been to Hawaii, Constance," Tracey pointed out. "I didn't think much of it," she told Terrance. "You've seen one beach, you've seen them all." "But not like the beach on this island. And it's not in the Pacific, it's in the Caribbean. Climate's just as good, and it's more centrally located, since we're really aiming for the high powered American businessman and his wife." "What about telephones?" Tracey asked. "If there's a telephone within ten miles, James will find it and call to check on something or other." "Well, of course, there are telephones,-" Terrance began. "That's that, then. Not my idea of fun to go somewhere like that and end up sitting by yourself while your husband's on the telephone twenty four hours a day." "You didn't let me finish, Tracey," he scolded ever so gently, taking the sting out of his words with a brilliant smile that made Laura want to laugh in his face. "While the hubby's doing his thing with the telephones, the missus will be treated to a personal massage and facial-" "Massage?" Tracey asked, interested. "Swedish?" "Is there any other kind?" Terrance asked. Tracey closed her eyes. "Now *that* sounds wonderful, Constance. Is there anyway we can see this place?" she asked him. "I have some photos in my room - I'd be glad to show them to you both over lunch- my treat, of course." "How much would we have to invest?" Tracey asked. "Tracey, I'm not sure if we should-" "Your mother in law is right, Tracey. Look at the photos this afternoon, then we can discuss money. Shall we meet back here at say, twelve?" "We're having lunch with Nigel and James," Constance said. "James and Nigel are having lunch with Mr. Corrigan," Tracey reminded her. "We'll be here, Mr. O'Malley." "At which time, I shall be the most envied man in the room, to be in the company of two such lovely ladies." He bowed, then moved toward the doors, a spring in his step. This one was going to almost *too* easy, he told himself. With the take off this one, he could go back to Ireland for awhile, lay low. ********** Remington hid behind the newspaper, listening as O'Malley's whistle faded toward the elevators. Peeking over the edge, he saw the doors close behind the man, then looked at Daniel, nodding. Laura and Mildred came from the dining room, all smiles. "I think we've done it," Laura announced. "He's meeting us for lunch to show us the photos of the resort." "Did he mention an amount?" Daniel asked. "Not yet. But he will," Mildred put in. "He's hooked. Now, all we have to do is reel him in." To Be Continued----
