1999, Los Angeles.
"Laura Holt Investigations," the young woman sitting
behind the receptionist's desk said into the telephone. "May
I help you?" she added as Mildred Krebs came from the smaller
office to pick up some message slips. "Just a moment, let
me find out." She covered the mouthpiece on the telephone
with one manicured, purple tipped hand. "Miss Krebs, has
Miss Holt made any decisions on whether or not to take that case
for Mr. Hepplewhite?"
Mildred sighed as she surveyed the fingernails. At least the girl
didn't go in for dyeing her hair to match, she decided. "I
don't know, Clarice. I'll go ask her."
"She's with Mr. Roselli," Clarice said as Mildred turned
in the direction of the larger office.
"Oh, she is, is she?" Mildred said archly. "Take
a message, Clarice. Miss Holt or I will call Mr. Hepplewhite after
we discuss the case." She paused at the red doorway, listening.
Hearing Laura's laughter, Mildred placed her hand on the doorknob
and walked in unannounced. "Excuse me, Laura, but-,"
she paused upon seeing Tony Roselli lounging on the sofa in the
conference area. "Why, Tony. I didn't know you were back
in town," she said with a saccharine smile.
"Just got back this morning, Mildred," Tony told her,
placing his arms behind his head and stretching out. "I was
just trying to convince Laura to join me for dinner this evening."
"But- Laura, have you forgotten that you have a dinner to
go to this evening?" Mildred asked her employer. "Another
award ceremony," she told Tony.
Laura craned her neck to look at the wall above Tony's head. Once,
it had held photographs of the man people had known as Remington
Steele. Now, those photos had been replaced with awards, kudos,
news clippings and similar photos of Laura Holt. "I don't
know where we're going to put another one, Mildred," she
sighed. "If this keeps up, I may have to start putting them
in the reception area." She looked at Tony. "You know,
you COULD go with me," she suggested, knowing full well what
the response would be. Tony was nothing if not predictable. Not
like-Laura let that thought die a natural death. It did no good
to dwell on the past.
He snorted. "Me? In a tux or dinner jacket in a room full
of snobs? No thank you. I need some sleep anyway. Have to leave
again tomorrow afternoon."
"Oh, that's too bad," Mildred said, grabbing his arm
and dragging him from the couch.
"Mildred!" Laura admonished, but the woman ignored her.
"Don't let us keep you from sleeping. You look exhausted.
Like you haven't slept in days."
"Actually, I haven't," Tony admitted, trying to turn
around to see Laura, who quickly covered the amused grin on her
face. "Talk to you when I get back, Laura," he said
as Mildred practically slammed the door in his face.
"Mildred," Laura said again, still trying to hide her
smile behind a stern façade. "That wasn't necessary.
I've already told you that I'm simply not interested in Tony -
or anyone else, for that matter. I'm far too busy with the agency."
"Just making sure," Mildred said. "I've never liked
that man. Mr. Hepplewhite called again."
Laura sat down behind the desk, dropping the folder she had picked
up. "Again? I thought I made it clear that I wanted no part
of his case."
"He just wants you to set up a security system for his newest
acquisition," Mildred said. "You should be able to do
that with your eyes closed. Hon, if you don't take this case,
someone else will- and they'll get all the publicity from it."
"There's not enough publicity in the world that would ever
make me go NEAR the Royal Lavulite again, Mildred," Laura
said in an even tone.
"It's a simple security plan," Mildred said again. "What
could possibly go wrong?"
Laura pinned her friend with dark eyes. "Those gems and I
have crossed paths twice, Mildred, and both times my life has
been turned upside down. No thank you. Call Mr. Hepplewhite back,
tell him that we're turning down the case." Having said that,
she sat down and buried her face in the report she held in her
hands.
"You're the boss," Mildred said, but her tone was doubtful
as she entered her office. If Laura would simply talk to the little
man, Mildred was sure he could convince her to accept the case.
Once the door closed behind Mildred, Laura tossed the report aside
and rose to look out of the window. She had it all- fame, acceptance
beyond her wildest expectations, her face was in the paper at
least once a week for various reasons. Why did she feel so damn
empty? she wondered. So alone? She had Mildred, she had her family-
she should be on top of the world. It was all those damn gems
fault, she decided. She'd been doing fine until Mr. Hepplewhite
had spoken to Laura about taking his case. He'd recently bought
the Royal Lavulite from a private collector and was concerned
that they might be stolen before he could get them to his home-,
which was built with more alarms than Fort Knox, by all accounts.
He knew that Laura had handled security for the gems before- when
she had been with the Steele Agency- and had wanted her to do
it again.
But she couldn't. Even thinking about those blue gemstones brought
to mind a pair of blue eyes and disarming smile. She'd simply
move on- take the next case and solve it. Put it entirely out
of her mind, she decided, turning her attention back to the report
on her desk.
***
Luckily, Laura's award was presented early, allowing her to slip
from the podium and start toward the exit unnoticed. Or so she
thought. A little white haired man opened the door for her, then
followed her into the corridor of the hotel. "Miss Holt.
Allow me to offer my congratulations."
"Thank you," Laura said, starting to slip her arms into
her jacket. She was used to strangers offering their regards,
so she thought nothing of his words. When he took her jacket and
held it for her, she smiled. "Thank you again," she
said.
"It is my pleasure to help such an attractive young woman,"
he assured her smoothly with a hint of accent. Dutch, she thought.
Perhaps German.
She felt herself start to blush at the compliment. "Do I
know you?" she asked him.
"We have never been introduced, but I have been to your offices."
He bowed slightly, stiffly, as if his joints fought the movement.
"Lucas Hepplewhite, at your service."
"Mr. Hepplewhite," Laura repeated, seeing Mildred's
hand in this. "Surely my associate told you that we simply
don't have the time at the moment to take your case. I can suggest
several other agencies that might be able to-," she said,
but the old man shook his head, his ice blue eyes gleaming.
"But I don't want another agency, Miss Holt. I want you to
handle this case. Getting these gems safely to my home is very
important to me. And I want the best. That is you. I noticed that
you did not eat dinner inside."
Laura smiled slightly. "I'm not fond of rubber chicken,"
she confided.
"Nor am I," he agreed. "But the restaurant here
at the hotel makes an excellent veal scaloppini. Would you care
to join me? Allow me to convince you to take my case?"
"Mr. Hepplewhite- I can't agree to do that."
"All I ask, my dear, is that you listen to what I have to
say. Then, you will be free to say yes- or no. Whichever you prefer."
Laura took a deep breath. "I'll listen," she agreed.
There was something about this little man that made her relax,
made her feel at ease. She took the arm he offered and followed
him into the hotel restaurant.
***
He saw her the moment she entered the room at Hepplewhite's side.
Hell, how could he not see her? She practically owned the damn
room. Every head turned recognition evident. God, she looked wonderful.
Thinner, perhaps, but she was smiling. Quickly, before she could
look in his direction, he hunched down in his chair, placing a
hand to his face.
"What is it, Harry?" the blonde next to him asked, frowning.
"Just someone I'd rather not see," he muttered, signaling
for the waiter to bring the check as Laura and Hepplewhite were
seated on the other side of the room. He signed the ticket, then
escorted his companion from the room, being careful to keep her
between himself and Laura's line of sight. "I'll call you
a cab," he told her.
"But- I thought we might go up to your room for a nightcap,"
she pouted.
"Some other time, perhaps," he said, hailing a cab and
handing her into it, pausing to placed a light kiss on her palm.
"Thank you." He gave the driver some money and then
walked back into the hotel lobby, his gaze on the restaurant once
again. What was she doing with Hepplewhite? He wondered. Were
the rumors true? HAD he hired her to protect the gems between
the airport and his home?
He hadn't thought Laura would accept the case again. She'd said
once that she never wanted to see the Royal Lavulite again. If
the bloody South Africans had been able to protect them, she wouldn't
have had the chance. Once the gems had found their way back there,
they should have stayed. But it seemed that they were fated to
cross paths again, he decided, sitting in the lobby, hiding behind
the newspaper to wait for Laura and Hepplewhite to finish their
dinner.
If Laura DID agree to take the case, it would make things difficult.
Not so difficult that he couldn't accomplish his mission, of course.
He could easily get around any set up that Laura put into place.
The trouble was, did he want to jeopardize her reputation by causing
her that kind of embarrassment? Having the gems stolen while in
her custody would wreak havoc. He smiled. So he'd just have to
do it AFTER she finished her part of the job. Hepplewhite's mansion
was rumored to be impenetrable. A challenge if Harry ever heard
one. And Harry Chalmers wasn't one to resist a challenge.
***
"What makes you so certain that someone is going to try and
steal the gems, Mr. Hepplewhite?" Laura asked as the waiter
poured their coffee after dinner.
"Lucas, please," he said. "The gems were bought
from the South African government by the former owner- when he
died, ownership reverted back to them. They were stolen again,
and changed hands several times before I was given the opportunity
to purchase them. I have it on good authority that the South African
government has hired someone to steal the gems back for them."
The story sounded familiar. TOO familiar, Laura decided. Surely
they wouldn't have hired . . . she took a deep breath. "You
wouldn't happen to know who this man is that they've hired, would
you?"
"A name? No. But it's rumored that he makes his living as
a bounty hunter- retrieving stolen articles for a sizeable fee.
He's the best as what he does, Miss Holt. So you can see why I
want the best Private Investigator protecting my investment."
Laura was getting chills up and down her spine. She really should
walk away from this, she kept telling herself. Just say no, get
up, and walk away. But instead, she found herself saying, "You
have a deal, Mr. Hepplewhite," and holding out her hand.
Lucas took her hand, lifting it to her lips. "Thank you.
You won't regret it, I promise."
"I hope not," she said, more to herself than to him.
***
Harry saw them leave the restaurant, discussing where they would
meet to discuss Laura's plans to protect the gems. So she was
going to do it. Harry put down the paper and followed them to
the curb, where he watched Hepplewhite escort Laura to her limo
before getting into his own. Peering closely, Harry was certain
he recognized Fred's profile behind the wheel of the car.
He watched the limo until it turned the corner, then turned back
to the hotel and went up to his room. He had plans to make. He'd
lay low until Laura delivered the gems to Hepplewhite, then get
into the house and get what he'd come to Los Angeles for and leave
without Laura ever being the wiser.
But it was going to be damn hard for him to leave her again- having
seen her in person after all these years. Ignoring the plans on
his desk, Harry dug out the scrapbooks that he carried along with
the Bogey movie book. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he began
to leaf through the pages, reliving Laura's rise to fame after
his departure twelve years ago.
She'd done well for herself. But had he imagined that there seemed
to be something missing in these photos? That her zest for life
had been just a little dimmer than it had been before? He closed
the scrapbook and sat back, recalling how she had looked earlier.
He'd only heard her voice for a few seconds as she and Hepplewhite
had passed- and that voice had seemed to be imbued with the spirit
of taking up a challenge of sorts. Purposeful.
Taking a deep breath, he put the books away. The plans were waiting.
And mistakes weren't something he could afford to make. Not this
time. As much as he wanted to see her again, to hear her voice,
touch her-he couldn't risk the distraction. This job would set
him up for life if it went as planned. He could retire to that
villa in the South of France that Daniel had always talked about.
But somehow that idea held less fascination for him than it had
just a few hours ago.
***
Laura was already in her office the next morning when Mildred
and Clarice arrived. That wasn't an unusual occurrence. But seeing
her before the computer terminal on her desk brought Mildred up
short. "How did the award ceremony go last night?" she
asked.
"The ceremony went well," Laura told her, not looking
away from the screen before her. "The award's hanging over
there beside the last one. Did you know that Mr. Hepplewhite was
on that committee?"
"Really? What a coincidence," Mildred commented.
Laura looked up at her. "But he wasn't planning to attend
the ceremony- until you spoke with him yesterday, was he?"
"Well, I just thought that if he could talk to you directly,
you might change your mind about taking his case."
"It worked, Mildred. We're officially on Mr. Hepplewhite's
case."
"Oh, good. He seems like such a nice little man."
"A little man who's worth enough to buy and sell the entire
city of Los Angeles," Laura replied, her attention back on
the computer monitor once more. "He's certain that someone's
going to try and steal the Royal Lavulite between the airport
and his home."
"Any idea who?" Mildred wondered.
"A bounty hunter."
"A- Bounty hunter?" Mildred repeated. "You mean
like Steve McQueen in "Wanted-Dead or Alive"?"
Laura looked at her with a frown. "No. This one doesn't recover
people. He recovers THINGS. Art, jewels- Evidently it's become
quite a business among the filthy rich- even a few countries have
gotten into the act."
"How exactly do they "recover" the goods?"
"The same way they were lost to begin with, usually: by stealing
them. Then, they return it to the original owner for a sizeable
finder's fee. Anyone we know who's big into finder's fees, Mildred?"
she asked, looking up again.
Mildred shook her head. "Oh, hon. You don't think HE would-surely
he'd know that it would cause problems for you."
"I don't know WHAT he knows anymore, Mildred. But I can't
find ANY of his aliases ANYWHERE in this database of known hunters.
Or- retrievers, as they're called in the trade. Mr. Hepplewhite-
Lucas- said last night that this guy is the best at what he does,
never comes back empty handed."
"Have you done a trace on his aliases from the time he left
here?" Mildred wanted to know.
"Not yet. I was hoping to find something here. But I guess
he's using another name."
"Right after he left," Mildred confessed, "I traced
him to London. He used the name Michael O'Leary to leave this
country, then vanished. There hasn't been a trace of him since.
None of his aliases come up anywhere."
Laura rose and went to the window. "He's out there, Mildred.
I can sense it."
Mildred watched her for a moment, seeing the renewed sense of
purpose in those shoulders and in that expression. Laura Holt
looked more alive than she had in twelve years. "Maybe he
found out his real name," Mildred suggested.
"His real name," Laura repeated, and then whirled to
the computer, typing. "Of COURSE." Seeing Mildred's
confusion, she said, "Daniel Chalmers was his father. It's
only logical that he would use that name and the one that Daniel
called him by- Come on," she said the screen as it indicated
that it was searching the database. "Come on- YES!"
There, flashing on the screen, was the name " Chalmers, Harrison-HC
Retrievals."
"We've GOT him!" Laura declared.
TO BE CONTINUED---