Laura agitatedly checked her watch. "Twenty-five to ten. We're late again!" She paced then pointed at her husband. "Consider this your final warning. From now on, stay out of that shower when I'm in it! Apart from weekends."
"You asked me to scrub your back."
"That's all I asked for Mr Steele!"
"Yes but you asked me with bedroom eyes," he beamed as the lift steadily ascended.
"What's that supposed to mean? On second thoughts, don't answer. Don't say a word. We have business to conduct, remember? So okay, yes, we're married now but we're also a business partnership and we have to maintain a professional attitude."
"How do you suggest we do that when I know what you're wearing underneath that outfit?"
"We'll talk about it later."
As the lift doors opened, Laura strode quickly towards suite 1157 while Steele casually followed a few steps behind her. She took a deep breath and opened the door plastering a smile over her features.
"Mornin' Mrs Steele," their secretary enthused.
"Good Morning Mildred. I'm sorry we're late. Mr Steele couldn't find his grey socks and we looked all over for -"
"Good Morning Mildred. Sorry we're late. Mrs Steele misplaced her silver locket and you wouldn't believe how -"
Laura cringed and closed her eyes as the secretary chuckled indulgently.
"Mornin' Chief. Mrs Steele was just telling me that you're both late again because you couldn't find your socks this morning. Your grey socks."
"My socks?" he queried as Laura shot him a poisonous glare. He hastened to cover. "Yes-yes, my socks. Memory like a sieve."
"Mrs Steele's blaming your socks. You're blaming her locket. I got a real doozy for you - which is it?"
They answered her simultaneously.
"Neither."
"Both."
"I see," their secretary added, chuckling again. "Tea,
chief?"
"Thank you Mildred. Oh, and my paper too. Thanks love," he blew her a kiss.
"Might I have a word with you Mr Steele?" his wife gestured towards the grandest office in the suite and marched through the door. As he entered, he shut it behind him and strolled over to his desk. Laura paced as she waited for him to ease into his chair.
"Business Mr Steele, business. That's how we met in the first place and that's why we're here now."
"Yes Laura," he waved his hand indicating that she should continue.
"We have an image to uphold. It's bad enough trying to explain to Mildred why we're late every day without having to do it with clients too. So, from now on we will have a cut off point. Weekdays, after eight o'clock in the morning, my body is off limits to you and vice versa. This is our livelihood and I propose we get back to what we do best -"
"What here? In the office? Well, I suppose this desk is sturdy enough," he thumped it.
She placed her hand on her forehead. "Mr Steele, please."
"Levity Laura. Just a little levity. Where's your sense of humour, eh?"
"As long as we understand each other."
"Ah, let me see - when we were single, you insisted on a rule of not mixing business with pleasure. Now that we're married, you're insisting on a rule of not mixing business with pleasure. Message received and understood," he declared wryly.
"I'm going to catch up on some paperwork now. I think Mildred mentioned that we have a couple of new clients. I didn't get all the details but it's fairly cut and dry. Just what we need to get back into the routine of our business. Routine, Mr Steele, routine."
"Indeed Laura."
She looked at him archly before opening the connecting door to her office.
Steele's intercom buzzed. "Yes Mildred? - Really? - Send him in."
The door opened and the crumpled-faced, generous shaped man entered.
"Mr Steele!"
"George Mulch!" Steele shook his head. "What brings you here this time? Franchised my agency in outer space? Or has the household products market been seduced by the concept of 'Mr T' tea bags, eh?"
"You know Steele, the burden of being an, uh, uh, entrepreneurial genius kinda wears thin after a while but I'm not giving up. That pot of gold is just within my grasp. I can feel it and -"
"What are you knee-deep in this time George?"
"Really, Mr Steele I swear -"
The connecting door opened and Laura breezed in. "Mr Steele, we've got a postcard from - Mulch!"
"Miss Holt, how are ya?"
Steele grinned ear to ear as he walked over to his wife and placed a possessive arm around her shoulders. "George, Miss Holt is now Mrs Steele."
Mulch stared at the overtly ecstatic man then the blasé woman. He clapped his hands. "Ya got married? That's great! Mazel Tov!"
"Yes George as we say in London - this is 'er indoors', 'the missis,' 'the old lady,' 'the other 'arf', 'the old bird,' the -"
Laura rolled her eyes. "Mr Steele, would you stop the geography lesson now please? We get the point."
"How was the wedding?"
"Which one?" Steele automatically responded, groaning as he felt the heel of his wife's shoe on his toes.
"I'm sorry?" Mulch queried.
"The wedding was great, the honeymoon was great -"
"Mrs Steele is being modest. The honeymoon was -" Steele began.
Laura shot him a warning glance. "It's good to be back George, thanks for asking. What can we do for you? Don't tell me you've franchised our agency again?"
"No Miss Holt - I mean, Mrs Steele. I was just explaining to your husband that being -"
"Mr Steele," Laura stressed.
"Excuse me?"
"It's Mr and Mrs Steele in office hours. It helps maintain focus," she explained.
"Oh, okay. I was just explaining to Steele there that my entrepreneurial bent hasn't waned. The thing is, my mistake was that I was too far ahead of my time and the -"
"Are you buying any of this Mr Steele?"
"No, not really Mrs Steele."
Laura crossed her arms. "Give it to us straight George or we'll set Mildred on you."
"I got an idea and I thought to myself, who better to sell it to than my good friends at the Remington Steele agency? Maybe they'll want to get in on this one." Mulch's eyes twinkled.
The Steele's exchanged a weary glance.
"Here's the pitch. One day, I'm walking down Rodeo Drive, the -"
"What were you doing on Rodeo Drive?"
"Inspiration Mrs Steele. Where better to get inspired than on that great tribute to the free market economy - Rodeo Drive. Picture the scene: You walk down Rodeo Drive. You see the greats. You see Chanel, you see Gucci, you see Louis Vuitton and then you see Mulch Inc. Don't it get the juices going? There'll be branches in London, Paris, New York, Utah -"
"Utah?" the Steele's exclaimed.
"Yeah, Utah. My brother-in-law Tommy diversified his, uh, uh, business venture. Remember his food establishment specialising in fine cuisine?"
"The diner serving the best meat in town," Laura proclaimed dryly.
Mulch pointed excitedly. "That's the one! You gotta love the meatloaf - moist, tender, a treat on the palette. Well, he opened up another one in Utah. His brother Charlie runs it. If you're ever up that way, feel free to, uh, patronise it."
"We'll make it a definite point to go to Utah and do just that George."
"You'll love it Steele. My personal recommendation is the 'all the meat you can eat' buffet. You haven't lived 'till you've had the loose meat pie. Now where was I? Oh yeah, so, because of my family ties, I promised my sister I'd found Mulch Inc. in Utah too - keep it in the family, if you know what I mean, give them a -"
Steele beckoned with his hand. "The pitch George, the pitch."
"Oh, oh yeah. Let me set the scene again and give you the full blast of the poetry in motion that is George Edward Mulch. Ready? I'm walking down Rodeo Drive: my senses open, the antenna out, a man on the brink of innovation. Then bam! It comes to me, the idea, the creative spark of genius. Are you ready for this? I get chills just thinking about it. Finally, the pot of gold is within reach and it ain't gonna corrode on me. I'm gonna make millions!" he burst out rapturously.
The Steele's looked at each other then at Mulch.
"The compact disc -"
"I've got news for you George. That's already been invented."
"Yes it has Steele but look at it. It's a disc. It's compact, it's technically advanced, it's innovative and it improves the sound of music - right?"
The Steele's exchanged another glance before shrugging.
"If you can put music on a disc, you gotta be able to put movies on them too!" Mulch clapped his hands. "Think of it. It's a disc, it would be compact, technically advanced, innovative and it would improve both sound and vision. Imagine your favourite movies in glorious clarity: Jane Russell's chest bigger than ever - sorry Mrs Steele, bad example. Uh, uh Star Wars is louder, Some Like It Hot is funnier - if that's possible, Gene Kelly is more athletic, The Godfather and Godfather two, more intense. It's less bulky than videocassettes, neat, easier to store and tape getting stuck in the VCR becomes a thing of the past." Thrilled, he spread his arms.
Steele got up and paced. "Mulch, the whole concept boggles the mind -"
"I couldn't agree more. George, nice to see you again but we're not interested. Mr Steele can I see you in my office for a moment please?"
"Don't go away George." Steele instructed as he followed his wife through the connecting door and shut it.
She straightened his tie and announced, "This postcard is from Murphy - he's coming to Los Angeles for our third wedding, that little soirée mother's throwing to show off her handsome son-in-law. There's a message for you at the bottom. He wants another picture to throw darts at. Apparently, he's completely punctured the last one you sent him: the one of you lying in bed."
Steele grinned broadly. She put her hands on her hips.
"What on earth possessed you to do that? I only snapped it to finish that roll of film and get our London and Scotland pictures developed."
"It got to Denver safely then? God bless the US postal service!"
Laura huffed exasperatedly. "Murphy left years ago. I can't believe you two are still carrying on like this."
"We've always had a beautiful friendship. Besides, I won first prize."
"First prize?" she repeated in stupefaction, "First prize? What am I? A heifer in a county fair? Never mind. Don't answer that. We'll talk about it later. Write him back while I tackle the paperwork. And don't send him any more photos!"
Smiling, Steele took the postcard from her and returned to his office. "George, sorry about that mate. Now, as I was saying, this whole concept of yours, movies on discs, boggles the mind. But as a film buff, it titillates the senses and as a man armed with an enterprising bent - I can't believe what I'm about to say - I actually think you've got something there. We should explore the possibilities in far greater depth. Consider us very interested."
"But Mrs Steele just said -"
He walked over and put his arm around Mulch's shoulders before ushering him into the reception area. "Never fear George, you let me worry about my lovely wife, eh? I know exactly how to handle her, been doing it for years. What do you say to lunch?"
"Great! Tommy's diner is just -"
"Y'know George, I'd rather wait until Mrs Steele can accompany me before I sample the delights of loose meat pie. How about Cipriani's bistro instead?"
"Sure thing. You newly weds, you do everything together!"
"That we do Mulch, that we do. Won't be a minute." Steele popped his head around the door and found his wife immersed in files and paperwork. "It seems poor George has taken the news of our disinterest to heart. He's desolate, disconsolate, bent over with dejection … so I'm just going to console him for a couple of hours at Cipriani's."
Laura stood up. "Wait a minute! We've just -"
Steele spread his hands. "No-no-no my love, it's good of you to offer but I insist on the task. You've got far more important matters on your hands. Wouldn't want to drag you away when you're making such fine progress."
"But there's a -"
"And who better than you to attack a mountain of paperwork, eh? Remember the days when we were single? Could never entice you away from it. Despite dangling ski trips, Jamaica, Hawaii, the Fiji Islands et cetera, et cetera before your eyes, you commendably and repeatedly stuck to business. Remarkable attitude."
She placed her hands on her hips. "What are you up -"
"I've finally learnt not to try and separate you from the routine aspects of our work. Another three hours or so and you'll have cleared a month's worth. To echo your sentiments expressed to me this very hour: routine Laura, routine. Carry on Mrs Steele."
He blew frantic kisses at her, ducked out the door, grabbed Mulch by the elbow, shouted a farewell to Mildred and ran out of the suite.
"Where did the boss go with George? What's going on honey?" Mildred asked as a bewildered Laura wandered out of her office.
She frowned. "I don't know but the hair on the back of my neck is standing straight up."
**********************************************
"Dancing you say?"
"Yes, Mr Steele. That's how we spent our free time. My unit was stationed in England - in Colchester to be exact. That's in a part of England called Essex Mrs Steele. This was way back in 1944 but I remember it like it was yesterday. When we got a day's leave, we'd all go into town and dance the night away. Well, the war ended, the good guys won and we all came back home. We kept in touch as best as we could for about ten years or so but I ain't seen the boys for over thirty years. I'd appreciate it if you could track down some of the old gang from my unit. It's high time we had that reunion."
Steele stood up, offered his hand and flashed a smile of supreme confidence to their client. "Not to worry, Mr Howe. The Remington Steele agency prides itself on its diligence. We will personally turn over every rock in this country, or others, to ensure you all dance together again under the same roof."
"I knew I made the right decision coming here. Your reputation is impeccable, damn impeccable. You're damn good Steele. As good as they all say you are."
Laura took a sip of her coffee and mentally braced herself for the preening she knew would inevitably follow. It always did after a client or authority figure made a statement like that. Or after some individual identified him as the great detective. Even if they were in trouble, bound hand and foot, if he was recognised he'd -
Steele flashed his pearly whites and held up a hand in a self-deprecatory manner. "The agency which proudly bears my name is here to serve, as am I. Application, persistence, industry Mr Howe: my byword, my motto. Standards must be enforced; this agency has an image to uphold. It's a policy I extend at every level, eh Mrs Steele?"
"Oh, you extend it all right Mr Steele," she responded with a treacly sweet smile.
"I understand that you're newly weds?" Howe observed as they moved towards the office door.
Steele beamed at his wife. "Yes we are."
"Congratulations. I've been married thirty-two years now. Having my first grandchild next month. You thought about children yet?"
Laura choked on her coffee. "Excuse me Mr Howe. Hot. I should have cooled it down first." She reached for a tissue.
Her husband answered directing a lecherous smirk at her. "Children? All in good time Mr Howe, all in good time. We'll be in touch with an update of our progress on Monday. Our secretary Mildred Krebbs will now take further personal details to aid the detection process."
"Thank you. Good day to you both." They all shook hands in the doorway.
Steele directed their client over to the secretary's desk and turned his attention to his wife. He rubbed his hands. "Well, I'd call that a good day's work Laura. Three new cases and a -"
"What are you and Mulch up to now?"
"Us?"
"Yes."
"What makes you think we're up to anything?"
"Because I've been down this road with you two already. Buckner. Does that name ring any bells? A sold Porsche, some money you both obtained for it. Am I getting through to you?"
"Laura, George is an ideas man and he had an idea. That's all."
"Keep stalling Mr Steele."
"Mrs Steele I'm shocked and just a little bit offended too! That detective mind of yours doesn't stop for a minute, does it?"
"It's not my detective mind that's in full flow right now, it's my Steele antenna!" She pointed at him, "I know you, I've known you for years, I know what you're capable of and now I'm married to you. An angle here - an edge there, that's you all over. I'm recalling a promise someone made me in Scotland, something about not keeping things from me anymore. I want to know what's going on and I want to know right now!"
Steele placed her coffee on his desk, reached for both her hands and kissed them gallantly. "You worry too much love and you shouldn't. You've got to take it easy now, what with your delicate condition. I'll get you a chair."
Her brow furrowed. "What delicate condition? What are you talking about?"
"I'll just ask Mildred to make you some tea. Best thing in the world for you. And you should be resting, putting your feet up, taking it easy."
"Have you lost your mind Mr Steele?"
"Besides, Mr Howe's generation fought tyranny, oppression, despotism. That reunion should be our main priority, getting the war buddies back together again, giving them all an opportunity to dance the night away: a foxtrot is the least we owe them. I suggest at some point we undertake a trace skip to -"
"Skip trace."
"What now? Okay my love, I'll just get Mildred."
He strode quickly to the door leaving his wife completely perplexed as she tried to make sense of their conversation.
"Mildred -"
"Oh chief, you won't believe what happened while you were out with George. Some kook came in here and tried to hire the Remington Steele agency to find Elvis Presley. He said if anyone could find him alive, it would be you," the secretary chuckled heartily. "Offered us half a million dollars to do it too."
"I need a fav - half a million dollars? What did you say?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I told him to beat it, of course."
Steele did a double take. "Mildred! You should have taken the case - we could have dragged that out for years and continuously billed the client for expenses!" He paused then frantically felt his forehead. "Good grief, I must be coming down with something. I just made a sensible suggestion about the nuts and bolts aspect of our operation."
"Don't lose sleep over it boss. Anyway, that jerk had more than one screw loose. I can tell those bozos a mile away." Her attitude was firmly dismissive.
"Hmm. Well, if you're sure. Mildred, I'd appreciate it if you could avoid mentioning George Mulch's name in front of Mrs Steele for the rest of the day."
"What are you two up to now?" she asked sternly.
"Nothing."
Her eyes narrowed. "Hmmm."
"Et tu Brutus?" he dug his hands deeply into his pockets.
"Whaddya mean chief? I'm behind you all the way!"
"That's what worries me. Stay where I can see you Mildred, okay?"
"Huh?"
"Thanks love," he bent down and pecked her cheek as the suite door opened.
"Well, well, well! If it isn't L.A's finest," Steele offered his hand to Detective Jarvis.
The straw-haired, fresh-faced young man momentarily removed his pipe from his mouth. "Mr Steele. Miss Krebbs," he greeted them good-naturedly.
"What brings you here this time Detective? The only person left inside this agency for you to suspect of a heinous crime is my wife."
"Your wife? You got married? Congratulations Mr Steele! Who's the lucky woman?"
"I am."
"Miss Holt!" Jarvis exclaimed.
Laura walked over to her husband and calmly corrected the detective.
"It's Mrs Steele now. How are you?"
"I'm fine, fine."
"Well, to what do we owe the honour of your presence?"
"I'm just in the neighbourhood Mr Steele. How's business?"
"It's been a banner year for crime but I don't have to tell you that, eh?"
"No you certainly don't."
Steele studied the detective's countenance and his droll mood changed to deadly serious. "Y'know, I've always admired your kid-gloves approach Jarvis. Such an effective way of masking the wolf in lamb's clothing. What really brings you here?"
Jarvis shook his head. "I should have known. It's a waste of time trying to pull the wool over the great Remington Steele's eyes." He scratched his head and then announced, "Major Descoine has escaped. I just wanted to assure you that we're doing everything we can to make sure he's apprehended as quickly as possible."
Laura caught the expression on her husband's face. "Thank you for informing us detective. We know you'll catch him and if you require our assistance, just ask."
"That's good to know Mrs Steele. Say, how was the wedding and the honeymoon?" He turned towards a suite door.
"Wonderful. Thanks for asking and thank you again for keeping us informed. We appreciate it."
The detective waved and left. Steele immediately marched towards his office and shut the door leaving the women exchanging apprehensive glances.
"You'd better go to him honey."
"Hold all our calls Mildred," Laura requested with a sigh as she headed in his direction. She took a deep breath outside, then entered.
Steele was loading bullets into the agency gun with a determined look on his face.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"What do you think I'm doing?" he responded.
"A little precipitous, don't you think? L.A's finest are doing their job. They'll catch him soon, I'm sure of it."
"Laura, I had my father for an hour, then I lost him. I'm not losing you too."
"You had your father for twenty years and I'm not going anywhere," she soothingly stated.
He picked up another bullet. "And just what do you think that crazed psychopath, that twisted nemesis of mine that I've inherited, just what do you think he'll do when he finds out that we're married, eh? That you're my wife now?"
"I'm sure we'll -"
Steele stood and shouted. "He lost his wife because of me and I know he'll make damn sure I lose mine! An eye for an eye - that's how the bloody bugger thinks! It'll be his perfect revenge unless I get to him first."
Laura fully absorbed his heightened decibel level, his emotional outburst and kept her own tone matter-of-fact. "He didn't lose his wife because of you."
He pointed at her. "You know what I mean."
"What I mean Mr Steele is that he lost his wife because of their greed. They committed the crime - unfortunately, they paid a very high price for it. Her life, his sanity. You can't go up against him armed with just your temper and that gun. He's too clever for that. Don't you see?"
Her rational manner took some of the fight out of him. He spread his hands out on his desk, head bowed. "How do I protect you Mrs Steele? How do I keep you safe for me?"
Without missing a beat she responded, "How do I protect you Mr Steele? How do I keep you safe for me?"
They stared at each other.
"We're in this together, the long haul. Have been for a very long time now. Nothing's changed really. He was out there when we were single; he's out there now we're married. Film at eleven, 'Atomic Man' in syndication, another politician makes promises he won't keep, you and me on the floor in front of the fire. Except now Mr Steele, it's you and me on the floor in front of the fire making love. Having rampant sex. And me wearing you out."
At last she coaxed a smile from him.
"Put that fiery temper of yours away for now. If we have to cross the Descoine bridge, we'll do it together. Like we do everything else."
Her words had the desired effect. He emptied the gun and returned it to the drawer in his desk. Then he walked over, put his hands on her face and kissed her. He drew back but left his hands where they were, comforted by her warmth.
"Mrs Steele, did I ever tell you about the time I tried to steal some precious jewels? It was nearly five years ago, Royal Lavulite they were called. Exquisite gems - like pieces of the sky."
She looked into his eyes. "No. I don't think you did."
"Didn't I? How remiss of me. I'll correct that immediately, let's see now … I left Europe and followed the stones here, getting closer to them than I'd ever been before. But a bloody ridiculous woman kept getting in my way. Holt, I think her name was. Slender, strong-willed, headstrong, terrible temper but beautiful with it."
"Whatever happened to her?"
"I hear she got married a few weeks ago."
"She did?"
"Hmmm."
"Really?"
"Truly."
"Who's the lucky man?"
"Ah, now that would be telling."