- ReJoined
Steele
- Part
Eight
- Laura stood, waiting, as Harry took
the salad from the refrigerator, sprinkling dressing on it before
tossing it. "Harry- your idea?" she prompted.
He looked up at her with a grin. "The two of us could always
leave."
"THAT'S your idea?" Laura asked. "Because if it
is--."
"No. It was a joke. Thought the atmosphere needed a bit
of levity."
Mildred's voice reached them. "Anyone here?" she called.
"In the kitchen, Mildred," Harry replied. Tony groaned,
sitting down as Harry opened a few cabinet doors. "Where
do you keep your plates, Laura?"
"First cabinet to your left," Tony replied automatically
before Laura could as Mildred entered the room. Harry turned
to look at him.
"OOH," Mildred said, sniffing appreciatively. "What
IS that delicious aroma?"
"The Galloping Gourmet is at work," Tony muttered darkly
as Harry took a sip of his wine.
"Smells wonderful!" she sighed, coming over to filch
a piece of the chicken as Harry set it on the table. "Mmmm.
Haven't lost your touch, Chief- I mean Harry."
"At least someone appreciates my talents," Harry told
her, glancing in Laura's direction. He placed the salad on the
table. "Mind getting some forks, Tony? I've the uncomfortable
feeling you know where they are."
Tony grinned and went directly to the drawer in question, removing
the necessary items as Harry and Laura glared at each other.
"Oh, Harry, that reporter called the office right after
you did."
Laura's gaze moved from Harry to Mildred. "What did you
tell him?"
"Nada. He wanted to talk to you about Mr. Steele's being
back in town. But he DID leave me this number," she said,
holding out a piece of paper in Harry's direction. "Said
that if he didn't hear from either of you before five-thirty,
he was going to print the photograph with the promise to explain
your "return" in the next edition."
Tony found the clock on the microwave. "It's five forty."
"Damn," Harry muttered, pulling out the cell phone
and dialed the number of the slip of paper. "Mike Jackson,
please . . . Mike, Harry Chalmers here- . . ." he laughed
nervously, pointing the plates out to Mildred and indicating
that she should continue to set the table. "Yes, well, I
needed to discuss a few things with Miss Holt . . . I have to
tell you that if you insist on printing that photograph, Mike-
. . ." he winced. "There's no way you can stop it?
. . . Your editor loved the idea. Hmm . . . I wasn't lying about
that. No. Truth is, Miss Holt and I are working on a case, and
by printing that photograph, you'll blow my cover . . . I'd appreciate
it . . . Might even consider that exclusive you want. I can be
reached at this number . . ." He gave Jackson the cell phone
number and hung up. "They went to press ten minutes ago-
he's going to try and stop it, but he doubts he'll be successful."
"What are we going to do, Chief?" Mildred asked.
Laura's eyes narrowed. "HARRY was just about to explain
his plan to get us out of this mess when you arrived."
"Why don't we discuss it over dinner," Harry suggested,
holding out a chair for Laura.
"I'm not hungry," she told him.
"Well I am," Mildred said, rushing to sit next to Laura.
Harry found himself sitting across from Laura as Tony grabbed
the seat directly to her right.
Mildred passed the salad bowl to Harry as Laura said, "Okay.
We're sitting down, having dinner. Will you PLEASE tell us your
idea?"
The cell phone rang again. "Hello? . . . Yes, okay,"
he said, his expression revealing that it wasn't good news. "Thank
you for trying. I'll be in touch about the story. If I live through
it . . . Good night." Harry looked around. "No luck.
Our only hope is to convince Hepplewhite that you were an innocent
dupe in all of this."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Tell him that I blackmailed you into helping- conned you-
whatever. Just as long as he doesn't go after you for revenge."
"And where does that leave you, Harry?" Mildred asked,
noticing that Laura had gone very quiet in a way that signaled
that she was thinking.
"Directly in his sights, Mildred."
"I'll go in," Laura told him. "Convince him -,"
she began, but Harry shook his head.
"No. Too dangerous. Once he's seen that photograph, he's
going to be angry. And seeing you might set him off."
"He's right, Laura," Tony agreed. "You don't know
what that man's capable of. He's dangerous."
"He's an old man," Laura reminded them. "How dangerous
can he be?"
Tony and Harry exchanged looks before Tony answered. "People
like that don't change, Laura. Don't let that frail body fool
you. I'd be willing to bet that it's all an act."
"Besides which," Harry pointed out, "I counted
at least six armed servants while we were there. Including the
butler. And no telling how many more on the grounds. He's not
the type to get his own hands dirty. He'd have someone else do
the job for him."
"He'll want the gems."
"By tomorrow morning, they'll be safely on their way back
to South Africa," Harry told them. "I've sent for someone
to transport them out of Los Angeles."
"One of your operatives?" Laura asked.
"One of my best, actually. I considered sending him for
the gems to begin with- but I couldn't resist the idea of doing
it myself," Harry confessed, and his eyes met Laura's. "And
possibly seeing you again."
Laura rose suddenly and carried her plate to the sink. "I
thought you put the gems in the hotel safe?"
"Don't trust the things," he told her, holding up a
small velvet pouch that he pulled from his pocket. "They've
been on me the entire time. And they'll stay here until I hand
them over to my man."
"Oh," Laura said. "After Tony's convinced him,
what then?"
"Then Tony points him in the right direction- at me."
He gave Tony a half smile. "Should be easy to convince him
that you don't like me very much and would prefer to have me
out of the picture."
"No problem there," Tony agreed.
"Offer your services to Hepplewhite, lead him to me- and
THEN you're going to get the opportunity to do something that
you've always wanted to do: put a bullet into my heart."
"This gets better and better," Tony said with a wide
grin. "You know, Laura, he may be onto something here."
Laura sighed deeply and refilled her glass. It was going to be
a long evening.
- ***
Mildred dragged Tony out of the house with her around eleven.
"Excellent idea, Mildred," Harry said encouragingly,
"having Antony see you home to scare off any reporters that
might be lurking about."
Tony looked at Laura. "You sure you're okay here with- him?"
She didn't look in Harry's direction as she nodded. "I'll
be fine. You two be careful, okay?"
"We will, hon," Mildred assured her.
"Call if you need me," Tony said.
Harry remained in the living room, glass of wine in hand, as
Laura returned. "Laura, I want to apologize."
"For what, exactly?"
He lifted his shoulders. "Oh, for taking off the way I did,
for a start. But you were so bloody unhappy being with me, that
I thought leaving was the only way to make you happy again."
"Whoever said I was unhappy with you?"
"Oh, come now, Laura. Oh, yes, the first few weeks after
we returned from Ireland were wonderful. But after that- after
all those clients kept insisting on thinking you were simply
a secretary who slept her way into her job, no matter how hard
I tried to correct that impression- suddenly you weren't talking,
you weren't sleeping. You started drinking more than I'd ever
recalled you drinking before. I couldn't stay around and be responsible
for destroying the best thing that had ever happened to me."
"Do you mean that?" Laura asked, breaking the silence
that fell. "Or was all of that simply an excuse?"
"An excuse?" he asked. "An excuse for what?"
"For not staying. Maybe you decided that you didn't want
to be Remington Steele anymore. That you were tired of staying
in one place. That you were bored with-," she stopped, unwilling
to continue.
Harry placed his hands on her shoulders. "With you?"
He lifted her chin. "Oh, Laura, that's something that would
never have happened. It almost killed me to leave you- even for
your own good. For awhile, it seemed that I couldn't pick up
a Los Angeles paper without seeing your picture smiling back
at me. So I started the scrapbook that you probably found in
my room. You were getting the recognition that my presence had
diverted. It seems that I was right to have left after all."
"What did you do after you left? Go back to your old profession?"
He sat down. "Oh, I tried. But the edge just wasn't there
anymore. The idea of being caught was more than I wanted to risk.
Then a friend told me about the French government wanting someone
to retrieve a national treasure that had been stolen. They were
offering an obscene amount of money for the reward."
"Why didn't your friend do it?"
"He was wanted in France for something or other. Afraid
that if he showed his face he'd be arrested first. So I retrieved
the artifact and returned it to a grateful French government.
I didn't take the entire reward, though."
"You didn't?" she asked, looking curiously at him.
"Umm. I asked them to give my friend a full pardon instead.
He's been working for me ever since, treading the straight and
narrow. Says he rather enjoys not having to run from the police
anymore."
"I- did some checking on HC Retrievals," she told him.
"Really?"
"You're a very successful, respected businessman."
"Well, I offer a service, much as you do. Only, the one
I provide is just barely this side of the law. We don't go after
anything that wasn't stolen from the people who've asked us to
get it back. And they must have proof that it's rightfully theirs."
He took her hands. "I really didn't intend to cause all
this trouble by coming back, Laura. I thought I'd get the Lavulite
and leave again without disturbing the life you've made for yourself."
He touched her cheek. "But the moment I saw you again, it
all changed. I'm sorry for taking advantage of you last night.
I-," his words were silenced by Laura's hand on his lips.
"It wasn't entirely your fault, Harry," she said, sitting
down beside him.
"I didn't think you'd agree to have anything to do with
the Royal Lavulite," he told her.
"I didn't. I turned Mr. Hepplewhite down- until he mentioned
that someone was trying to steal the gems. Someone who was supposedly
the best in his profession."
"And you just couldn't resist the challenge," Harry
guessed with a smile. "I thought I had a way to keep the
agency out of things. I should have known those gems would find
a way to keep that from happening. I'm sorry about leaving the
way I did, Laura, but right now, even with all the trouble, I
can't be sorry that I came back." He remained on the sofa
as she rose and began to move around the small room.
"You know, I didn't even realize how angry I was at your
leaving the way you did until you came back. I should thank you
for that interview you gave Jackson twelve years ago. If you
hadn't done that, I don't think the Laura Holt Agency would have
been open six months."
Harry held out a hand toward her. "Come here." When
she returned to his side, his arm around her shoulders, he said,
"Don't sell yourself, short, Laura," he said softly.
"Even without that endorsement from Remington Steele, you
would have proven yourself. It might have taken a bit longer,
but you would have made it happen. After all, you invented Remington
Steele, you can do anything you set your mind to do." They
moved closer, and her lips were almost on his- and then his cell
phone began to ring. "Damn," he sighed, a feeling of
déjà vu overtaking him.
"I agree, Harry," Laura said, not moving as he opened
the telephone and answered it.
"Hello?" Seeing the way his eyes lit up, Laura pulled
back slightly. "Excellent. Did Jeannie fill you in? . .
. Where do you want to meet?" He nodded, making a mental
note of the address. "Got it." He glanced at his watch.
"An hour. I'll meet you there. Take care, mate."
"Your operative?" Laura asked.
"Yes. I have to meet him. Hand the gems over to him so he
can take them back to Johannesburg. I called the national museum,
they're expecting them. I just hope they can hold onto them this
time."
"Did Hepplewhite REALLY engineer both robberies?"
"I know he did the second one. Rumor has it that Kessler
and Neff were working for him when the courier stole them the
first time. Of course, Hepplewhite hadn't set himself up in Los
Angeles then. He only moved here six years ago from Brazil."
"Probably thought his past had been forgotten about,"
Laura said.
"Sometimes the past can be pretty hard to live down,"
Harry told her. "Want to come with me?"
"Where to?" she asked.
He smiled as she picked up her purse. "The bus station."
He smiled at her surprised expression.
- ***
Laura sat back in the passenger seat of her car- wondering if
Harry was remembering the white Rabbit convertible that she had
driven all those years ago. She had cried when it had finally
given up the ghost.
Harry maneuvered through the late evening traffic with smooth
efficiency. "She handles well," he commented. "You're
not going to believe this, but- I miss the Rabbit."
Laura laughed softly. "All you ever did was complain about
how small it was. At least it had a back seat. That Auburn that
you went crazy over didn't have that." She noted his glance
behind them, indicating his having noticed the same thing about
THIS car.
"Ah, but the Auburn had such style, such flair. I miss that
car, too. Haven't been able to find another quite like it. Whatever
happened to it?"
"Oh, it's- around, I suppose. Somewhere," she said
airily. "I really hated to get rid of the Rabbit. But when
it was declared DOA on the Malibu Freeway, I decided that it
was time to move on."
He touched the dash of the silver gray Miata. "You made
an excellent choice."
"I don't drive it very often. I use the limo most of the
time."
"Such a pity. It's a nice car. Not as nice as the Auburn,
but, one can't have everything. Ah. Here we are," he said
as he turned the car into the parking area for a bus station
that seemed very familiar to Laura.
He made sure the car was locked, turned on the built in alarm,
then took Laura's arm to lead her into the almost deserted station.
"I've been here before," Laura said, looking around
at the wooden benches, the vending machines across the way. "When
that miniature version of you picked your pocket and -,"
she saw Harry smile as he nodded to someone else and turned to
see a dark haired, good looking young man with a killer smile
just entering the waiting area. Laura couldn't believe her eyes
as Jackie Crawford- a grown up Jackie Crawford, crossed to the
ticket counter.
TO BE CONTINUED>>>
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Original
content ©1999 by Nancy Eddy