Laura curled her feet beneath her
as Remington lowered the lights and poured two glasses of champagne.
As she took it, she laughed softly, and Remington sat down, his
expression curious. "What's so amusing?"
"Just remembering the first time you and I drank champagne
together - Murphy was so surprised the next day, kept insisting
that I didn't even *like* champagne."
Remington smiled as well. "Really? I never knew that."
"I suppose it depends on the company," she told him.
"Ah." He pulled her against him, both facing the fire.
"Now. Where were we?"
"You were going to tell me about your first meeting with
Daniel Chalmers," she reminded him. "And you're not
going to weasel out of it."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he insisted. He rested his
head on her hair, his arm around her waist. "I'd been on
my own for several years, living wherever I could find a warm
place, stealing what little food I could from the shops. Brixton
wasn't an easy place for anyone to live in - especially a scrawny
little Irish lad with a hair trigger temper and no trust of anyone.
But I still felt I was better off there than with my 'cousins'
back in Ireland, so I learned the tricks of survival quickly."
"What tricks?" she asked.
"Lifting wallets, mostly. Charming people into giving me
a handout - even convinced the owner of a run down old theatre
that showed old movies to give me a back room in return for sweeping
the place out every day. It gave me a safe place to keep out of
the way of the gangs that roamed the area looking for fresh talent
- I didn't want to be part of a gang. I was going fine on my own,
surviving, anyway, and had no desire to get into some of the things
they were into."
"Drugs?" Laura questioned.
"Drugs. Most of them ran them for the crime bosses. Quick
money, easy job, but I'd seen too many strung out losers in my
time, I suppose. I'd seen what those drugs could turn a person
into, and it wasn't pretty."
"Where does Daniel come into this?"
"I'm getting to that. Besides, who's telling this story?"
Laura settled back against him once again. "I'm listening."
"I told you that I picked a few pockets to get money - I
always picked the best dressed man- the one who looked like he
could afford to lose a few quid. Well, one day, I was hanging
about in front of the theatre, looking for an easy mark - and
then I saw him. Well dressed, smiling, with a wallet that was
bulging full of money. I could see it in his pocket. I did a quick
bump and run, grabbing the wallet, then turned and ran away, toward
the back of the theatre. There was a second entrance there, but
to use it, I had to climb a fire escape that led to an attic.
I thought I'd made it, but the toff grabbed me by the ankles and
hauled me down."
"Daniel?"
"Daniel," he confirmed.
**********
"I think you have something that belongs to me, young man,"
Daniel Chalmers said in a no nonsense tone of voice, his hand
extended as the other kept a tight grip on the dirty little street
urchin who'd lifted his wallet.
"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, guv'nor","
the boy insisted. "I was j-just-"
"Trying to escape with my wallet," Daniel said, reaching
inside the worn and faded denim jacket to retrieve his property.
"'ere now. You got no right!"
Daniel looked at the young man long and hard. "You're not
British."
The boy's blue eyes widened in fear that was quickly hidden, and
he jerked his arm free. "Yes, I am."
"You're Irish, aren't you? What's your name, lad?"
"John Roby."
Daniel looked askance at his reply. "You don't look like
Cary Grant. Shall we try again?"
"Why should I tell you my name? I don't even know yours."
"It's Daniel Chalmers, if you must know. Now, it's your turn."
"Philip Marlowe," he responded.
"You're not going to tell me your name, are you?"
"I just told you-"
"I go to an occasional movie myself, lad."
"You gonna turn me in?"
Daniel looked at him for a long moment. "No. No, I'm not.
When's the last time you had something to eat?"
"Had a day old biscuit this morning -" he said.
"I meant a real meal. Where you actually sat down and ate
at a table?"
"Why you askin'?"
Daniel sighed. "Because I think you need some meat on those
bones of yours. You're entirely too thin. Where do you live?"
"Wherever I want," the boy replied.
"What about family?"
"Ain't got none. None that wants me, anyway."
"Not even back in Ireland? Did you run away from home?"
"Ran away from some so called cousins who said they wanted
me, but all they wanted was free labour for their print shop -
stole the wages I had comin' and stowed away on the ferry."
Daniel searched his face for a long moment, as if trying to see
something. He seemed disturbed by what he found. Grabbing the
boy's arm, he said, "Let's go."
"You're gonna take me to the coppers after all?" he
asked.
"No. We're going to find you something to eat. And then see
about getting you a decent place to stay."
"I'm ain't goin' back," the boy insisted, trying again
to free his arm.
"I've no intention of sending you back," Daniel assured
him. "At the moment, I haven't made any real plans past finding
some food." They came out of the alleyway and Daniel blinked,
allowing his eyes to readjust to the light. The boy tried to use
the distraction as a chance for freedom, but Daniel's grip tightened.
"Hold on, there, lad. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want
to talk to you."
"I've 'eard about toffs like you, comin' down 'ere to find
a fancy boy -"
Daniel appeared shocked at the suggestion, then laughed softly.
"Believe me, lad. I'm not looking for anything of that sort."
The boy still eyed him warily as he entered the small cafe, but
allowed himself to be led to the back, into a booth, where Daniel
sat across from him. The waitress came up, giving Daniel a smile,
then sending a wider one at the boy. "Mickey. I'm surprised
to see you in 'ere."
Mickey glowered at the man across from him. "Didn't 'ave
much choice," he said.
Daniel smiled. "Give the lad whatever he wants," he
told the girl, who was obviously charmed by that smile and those
blue eyes. "I'll pay for it."
Mickey's eyes widened at that idea, and he began ordering nearly
everything on the menu before Daniel laughingly suggested they
see if he could finish off that feast before ordering more. "What
about you, guv?" the waitress asked Daniel.
"Just some coffee," he said. "I've already eaten
lunch." Once she moved away, Daniel looked at the boy again,
and sighed. "What was it she called you? Mickey?"
"For Michael. As in Michael O'Leary," he said, as if
daring Daniel to call him a liar again.
"You've got a pocketful of names, don't you, lad?" Daniel
asked as the waitress returned with his coffee and the first of
the boy's food. "What's your real name?"
"Don't know. Don't know as I 'ad one," he said, busy
chewing his food.
Daniel sat back and watched him devour plate after plate of food,
occasionally meeting the young waitress' eyes. At last, he finished
his coffee and started to rise. The boy looked up at him. "Just
going to get a refill on my coffee, Harry."
That stopped him, leaving a forkful of food hanging in midair.
"'arry?"
"Not 'arry, lad. *Harry*. With an 'H'. Can't go around calling
you 'hey you', now, can I?"
"Harry," the boy said, as if trying it on for size.
Finally he shrugged, stuffing the fork into his mouth. "One
name's same as the others, I s'pose." Harry cleaned the plate,
and watched as the toff spoke with Molly in low tones, handing
over some of the money that was in that wallet. He wondered who
the man was, where he'd gotten that kind of money. And what his
angle was in befriending a dirty street kid who had stolen his
wallet. Hadn't come by the money legally, most likely. If he had,
he'd be in the hands of the bobbies by now.
"Are you ready for more?" Daniel asked, returning to
the table.
"No. Can I go now?"
"Hold on." Daniel took his arm again to prevent him
from getting up. "We've got to discuss how you're going to
repay me for all that food."
Harry looked at him warily again. "I *knew* it. You *are*
one of those aren't you? Well, guv, you've picked the wrong boy-"
"I meant how you could work for me to pay me back, Harry.
Nothing else."
"Work? What kinda work?"
"That's what we have to discuss. Why don't we go back to
my place - To talk. I can promise you more food there as well.
And then I'll bring you back down here if it's what you want.
You have my word."
"Don't trust people's word," Harry said. "Too many
times they don't mean nothin'."
Daniel frowned. "Harry, I think you and I could help each
other. You're a very talented pickpocket-"
"Not good enough to get away with yours," the boy muttered.
"Only because it's devilishly difficult to pick the pocket
of someone who knows the ropes, Harry," Daniel said, smiling
and nodding when Harry lifted wide eyes to him. "I started
out the same way, Harry. And I can help you learn so much more
than just lifting wallets - if you're game to try." Daniel
sat back, releasing Harry's arm. "Of course, if you don't
think you can do it -"
"What've you got in mind, guv?" Harry asked, his curiosity
piqued, as well as his inability to resist a challenge.
**********
Laura shook her head. "Why you, I wonder?" she asked.
"I've wondered that myself a time or two, then I just count
myself lucky that he got me out of there alive. I was real handful
in those days. Took him almost a year to clean me up enough to
be able to work a con with him. To- smooth the rough edges, as
it were. I owe a lot to Daniel, Laura. Almost as much as I owe
to a certain lady detective," he said, pulling her across
his lap.
"Hmm. Anyone I know?" Laura asked, tangling her fingers
in his silken hair.
He appeared to consider her question. "I'm serious, Laura.
I don't think I've thanked you for -"
"Mr. Steele-" Laura said, placing a finger to his lips,
"you're talking too much."
He smiled and lowered his lips to hers, leaving the only sound
in the room that of the fire crackling in the grate, blind to
the two lovers intertwined in each others' arms.
The End