Your Heart Away
Airdate: Nov 13, 1984
from the episode written by:
02 January 2001
The episode begins at a wake, seen through a foggy lens, as if
in a dream. The deceased is laid out in a coffin, rosary clutched
in his hands, as fiddlers play and mourners dance. A little girl
is carried in a woman's arms, wants comfort after seeing the
Two men dance past, and one, a smiling man with curling brown
hair, sees the person watching and smiles a welcome. "Hel-lo!"
he says brightly, then looks on as a pocket watch is held up.
The watch swings like a pendulum.
Steele, lying on the floor, wakes, watch in hand, as voices are
heard from another room. An Englishwoman is telling a man, "An
unfortunate happening, Willard," she agrees. "But one
we must rise above. We cannot allow one intruder to alter our
Steele opens the pocket watch and it begins to play "When
Irish Eyes Are Smiling". He closes it, groaning, and slowly
sits up, only to find a dead man lying on the floor beside him.
Willard tells the woman, "We'll have to replace Paddy."
"And we will. This time with someone with a bit more- discretion."
She picks up a shotgun. "This was Mr. Armdale's favorite.
How he loved his hunting. Sneaking up on the little creatures
and blowing their heads off." Willard looks uncertain as
she hands him the gun. "Think of our intruder as a mallard
whose time has come," she orders.
Willard goes into the other room, seeing the body, but Steele
In another room, a groggy Steele peers at a movie poster for
A Day At The Races with the Marx Brothers. He sees other
small posters with that caption, hears horses running in his
mind. He backs into a life-sized cardboard cut out of James Cagney.
With Cagney's cardboard hand in Steele's back, he lifts his hands,
thinking it's a gun. Taking a cautious look, he leaves.
Outside, we find that the building is an old, run down theatre
called the "Bijou". Steele wanders across the street,
dodging traffic, car horns blaring at him. He continues wobblingly
and on unsteady feet onward as Willard, shotgun wrapped in his
At the docks, an unsteady Steele approaches a boat. "Excuse
me!" he calls to a sailor on deck grabbing on to a thick,
orange rope tying a large ship to the quay.
"I'm looking for - um. . ." he pauses, losing his train
of thought. "Ah, yes. I'm looking for Orson Welles!"
"Eh?" the sailor questions.
Steele puts a hand to his head. "Or was it Joseph Cotton?"
Willard gets closer. "Yes, yes! Xanadu!" Steele yells.
"Yes, I'm looking for Xanadu!" He sways, leaning harder
onto the rope, Willard gets the gun out, is ready to fire- but
the rope gives way and Steele falls into the water.
Willard covers the gun and takes off.
Laura and Mildred arrive at Dublin Airport and put their cases
into a rental car , a small convertible , then drive to an old
brick building. "It doesn't feel like a hospital,"
Mildred comments as they get out. "It doesn't even LOOK
like a hospital."
"It's an Irish hospital," Laura explains.
"Oh," Mildred says, following her up the steps. "I
Inside, a white haired, distinguished Irishman comes down the
stairs and walks across the salon to Laura and Mildred, who sit
there waiting. They get up and move toward him . "Laura
He asks. "I'm Dr. Tulliver. Thank you for making the trip."
"Well, your cable sounded so- urgent," Laura tells
"Yes, well, when I sent that he was - unconscious. Oh, he's
awake now- but- there are- complications. Would you step this
way, please?" He and Laura turn away, and Mildred starts
to follow them. He stops. "I'm sorry. Bearing in mind his
condition. I think that just one face is all he should be subjected
to." Mildred nods and walks back to the sofa, sitting down,
resting her chin in her left palm, watching Laura and Dr Tulliver
walk away . "My cable must have seemed very- melodramatic,"
he tells Laura as they continue on, "but you see, YOUR name
and address were about all we found on him. No wallet, no other
identification of any kind."
Laura stops him as they pause before a door. "Dr. Tulliver,
you still haven't told me what's wrong with him."
He opens the door. "Well, see for yourself." They enter
the room , a fairly large one with red armchairs with high backs
and a large fireplace, like a traditional British library room
. Steele is standing at the window at the end of the room, his
back facing the room . "We have a visitor for you."
Steele turns and looks around, then smiles blankly at Laura.
"Oh. Good morning."
"Mr. Steele." Laura exclaims.
"I'm sorry, have we met?" he asks her.
"This is Miss Laura Holt," Tulliver says.
"Oh." He senses that they expect something more, and
takes a step nearer, then smiles. "Oh. Laura. Of course.
Yes. Dana Andrews, Gene Tierney, waspish little Clifton Webb.
It's all right, doctor, I'm cured now. I remember who I am. Oh,
"You do?" Tulliver asks.
"Oh, definitely. I'm Otto Preminger." Steele says with
his hands firmly on the backrest of one of the armchairs, as
if emphasizing his statement.
"What's going on here?" Laura demands to know.
"Amnesia," Tulliver explains.
"Amnesia?" Laura repeats in disbelief.
At a payphone, Willard tells Mrs. Armdale, "That's what
I said. Amnesia. The bloke can't remember a thing. Not even his
Mrs. A is sitting in an 18th century-style armchair at a small
table in a well-appointed, huge parlor, having tea. "Poor
boy. I feel so badly for him. It must be awful, not knowing where
you've been or what you've seen."
"A nice piece of luck for us, eh, mum?"
"Memories are a lot like unwanted relations, Willard. They
have a most irritating habit of turning up at the most inopportune
"Don't worry, mum. He's still a dead duck." He hangs
Steele is sitting on the arm of one of the armchairs when Tulliver
asks Laura, "You DO know this man?"
"Yes," she assures him. "We've worked together
for nearly three years. I'm the- I'm an associate of the Remington
Steele Detective Agency."
"Oh, thank heavens," Steele sighs.
"You remember that?" Tulliver asks.
"No, but a detective agency. I mean, it sounds exciting,
don't you think? Glamorous? I might have been an accountant."
"Remington Steele," Tulliver muses. "Is that who
he is?" he asks Laura. She hesitates. "It's important
that he knows his real name. Then his memory may come flooding
"Remington Steele is the name of the Agency," Laura
hedges. "And, as far as the public at large is concerned,
he DOES head the agency," she says. Steele smiles.
"So he is Remington Steele."
"That's- what we call him," Laura confirms slowly.
"Well?" Tulliver asks Steele.
"Remington Steele," he muses, then shakes his head.
"No, somehow that doesn't fit. No, I'm sure that's not my
"What about some background?" Tulliver suggests to
Laura. "Some essential facts?"
"Two weeks ago, we completed the Parkinson case. The dog
in Malibu beach? Remember?"
Laura says as she walks by the doctor to stand on the other side
of him. He frowns. "And before that . . ."
"I'm afraid you'll have to go further back than the recent
past, Miss Holt," Tulliver tells her. "His home town,
a near relative, that kind of thing."
"Uh- well, uh-there are- gaps."
"Of course," Steele agrees leaning forward still sitting
on the arm . "And why not? After all, if I'm the head of
this company- and she merely an employee- I mean- one can't expect
an employee to remember every little intimate detail about the
boss . . ."
Laura looks at Tulliver while pointing at Steele at the same
time . "Are you SURE he's lost his memory?"
Tulliver's pager goes off. "Oh, excuse me. You two continue
on talking. Something may come back. If he can remember anything
at all, it may help," he tells her, then leaves. Laura looks
after the doctor, moving her lips as if she wants to say something,
then her arms crossed, uncertain, biting her lower lip lightly.
Steele gives Laura a look, slaps his thighs with both of his
hands and gets up. He walks up, while throwing an occasional
glance at Laura, to the fireplace, his hands in his trouser pockets,
to lean his left elbow on the mantelpiece and with his back to
Laura, he says "Yes, well, a detective agency. Yes, I know
"Why?" Laura says with her arms crossed in front of
her, looking at him.
"Because somewhere in the back of my mind is a crime. A
major crime that has to be stopped. And danger." She comes
closer to stand close to him. Steele still with his left elbow
on the mantelpiece then says, facing Laura . "But I think
you DID lie to me, didn't you? I don't have to recall who I am
to know WHAT I am, Hmm? How I feel?" Now moving away from
the fireplace to stand in front of Laura " What kind of
woman I'm attracted to. You say we worked together for nearly
what-? Three years?" He looks at her up and down, as if
"And yet there were - gaps."
"Well, after all, Mr. Steele, you ARE the employer. I'm
merely an employee." Laura says with an innocent face.
"Looking at you now, - " Steele says as he takes a
step back and looks her all over again, then stepping closer
again, "I can't believe that for nearly three years I haven't-
you know- I mean, WE haven't- you and I . . ."He takes her
into his arms, she puts her hands on his shoulders. "Perhaps-
if you'll allow me to- jog my memory?" They kiss. During
the kiss Laura first closes her eyes, then opens them as if surprised
by the intensity of it and finally she closes her eyes again,
as if determined to enjoy it. "Yes, yes."
Two more kiss es, one light, one more intense . "Yes, yes,
it's coming now. Yes."
"Now you remember?"
"How could I forget such a precious moment?" Laura
smiles. "Ah, yes. I remember it vividly. I
was- lying on the floor- you- were nearby. Yes, that's it, you
were nearby- Dead." He frowns. "Shot. Except it wasn't
you. It was- Orson Welles- or Joseph Cotton. A crime that must
be stopped. Danger. Deadly danger." Steele says, looking
Laura firmly in the eyes. Laura stares at him in confusion, still
in his arms.
Mildred is pacing as Willard, wearing a white coat and carrying
a tray with a glass on it, come from a room.
Steele sits down on the arm of a chair. "I think I should
get Mildred," Laura tells him and starts to move away .
He grabs her arm , causing her to face him again . "Mildred?"
She smiles. "The other woman in your life."
"The other woman? And you don't mind?" Steele asks,
"We have an arrangement," Laura tells him. "We
share you," she adds, her words causing Steele
to silently repeat to himself what she's just told him. As Laura
continues out through the door, Steele smiles delighted.
"Share me? If only I could remember what a good time I've
been having," he muses to himself as he sits down properly
in the armchair, his left hand on his left cheek, his pinkie
to his lips, contemplating this "fate" .
Laura almost runs into Willard as she leaves the room, causing
him to have to grab the glass on the tray he's carrying. She
does a double take as if something bothers her, but continues
on, as Willard goes into the room , where Steele now is standing,
fidgeting with some documents in his hands . "Time for your
medicine, sir," he says.
Laura goes to Mildred, tells her what's going on. "You mean,
he's lost his marbles?" Mildred asks.
"Not his marbles. Just his memory."
Steele looks at Willard. "Don't I- remember you from somewhere?"
"That you would, sir. Twas me brought you your medicine
last night, sir."
"I've seen movies like that," Mildred tells Laura.
"A good "klonk" on the head usually brings it
"Mildred, head klonking is NOT a medically recognized treatment.
This is a hos-." She pauses, seeing Willard's hand as he
kept the glass from spilling. "Dirty fingernails. That '
s IT!" she concludes firmly , looking determined straight
out in the air .
Steele is smelling the medicine uncertainly. "Not much of
a taste, sir," Willard assures him.
"Best to just . . ." Laura bursts in.
"NO!" she yells, pushing Steele away , so that he drops
the glass and ends up in an armchair .
Willard pushes Laura into Steele, who is trying to get up from
the armchair, and runs out. The push causes both to fall into
the armchair with Laura in Steele's lap.
Steele, his arms around Laura, asks, "Are you trying to
make a point, Miss Holt- or are you naturally clumsy?" They
both look down to see the "medicine" has burned a hole
in the rug.
Laura grabs his hand. "We've got to get you out of here!"
she decides. "Come on!"
As she and Mildred walk down the steps on either side of him,
Steele says, "Where are you taking me?"
"I don't know. Somewhere safe until we can talk things out.
This is the other woman, by the way. Mildred. Our indispensable
"How do you do, Mildred?" he says politely.
Mildred frowns. "How do you do?" she repeats looking
at Laura, making a swirling motion with her left hand as if Steele
has lost his marbles, as Steele looks over the small convertible.
She looks at Laura and grabs her purse, preparing to hit him
over the head. Laura stops her just in time , her hands ending
up on her head, as if trying to restrain herself . "But
I tell you," Mildred insists as Steele gets into the back
seat of the car, "it always works in the movies."
"Ah," Steele says, as he stands in the back seat, looking
around. He continues "You like the movies, do you, Mildred?"
I have the feeling I do, too." As Laura grabs her from the
back seat and gets behind the wheel, and Mildred comes around
to the passenger side , Steele sits down on the car at the back
, his feet on the seat . Mildred takes him by the arm and makes
him sit in the seat. "Sorry. And you, Miss-uh?"
"Holt. Has a nice ring to it. Holt," he says, holding
on and giving Laura a quick look as she backs up and quickly
Willard gets into his station wagon and follows them.
He follows them to a small bed and breakfast hotel. Mildred leads
Laura and Steele, each carrying their luggage, into a room with
twin beds . The former is not impressed as she looks around,
"Oh, it's the pits." Steele remains standing close
to the door, listening in on their continued conversation.
Laura , putting her suitcase on the bed nearest to the door and
continuing further into the room, doesn't disagree as she makes
the following summation, "It gets us off the street. And
they're plenty of people downstairs. They wouldn't dare try anything
Mildred continues, "Do you know we have to share a bathroom.
Hmn? What kind of hotel is it
that only has *one* bathroom? I know, I know. The Irish."
Meanwhile Laura has taken off her jacket and Steele has disposed
of his luggage and with an uncertain look peaked out through
the window. She pulls a very bright yellow hairdryer from her
bag. "Well, I'm going to go clean up." Steele opens
the door for her as she leaves. "Thank you." Laura
moves over to stand in-between the two beds.
Steele bends down to look at Laura as she starts to unzip her
suitcase on the bed, "Ah, who are 'they' that don't dare
try anything?" and then gets back to standing upright at
the other side of the bed.
"That's what we're going to try and find out. Mr Steele,
what were you doing here in Ireland?"
He looks puzzled, "You don't know?"
"All I know is I got to the office on Friday and there was
a note from you saying you were taking a long weekend and that
you'll be back on Monday."
"Mmhn. Mmhn." Steele tugs on his ear as he ponders
the scenario. "Well, obviously I must have dashed off on
some important case."
"You don't work that way." Laura looks unsure how to
explain their working arrangement.
"Alone. Without me."
Steele can't believe it. "Oh come now. Are you trying to
tell me, that I, the head of the agency, never pursue a case
alone." Laura sighs. "You're hiding something. Yes,
come here." He walks around the bed and takes her arm and
turns her to face him. Gesturing, trying to reinforce what he
has to say, Steele continues "All that gibberish about not
knowing about my background. After all we *mean* to each other.
Oh, Miss Holt. Laura, please. Don't hold out on me any longer.
You've got to tell me the truth. Please, everything you know.
Hmmn." He puts his hand to his mouth and looks at her anxiously.
Laura closes hers eyes and makes a quick decision, reaching out
to put her hands on his shoulders. "Mr Steele. You're *not*,
Mr Steele." Laura says in a whispery voice.
Steele nods then looks at her quizzically, "Eh?"
"You were *invented*." He reacts by pulling back with
a silent "Ooh." Then looking even more puzzled, his
eyes fixed on Laura's.
Outside Willard looks at their car and then looks up at a window
of the hotel.
Steele and Laura are sitting at the end of their respective beds.
"You mean to tell me that - I'm just a- figment of someone's
imagination?" he asks.
"Not just someone's. Mine."
"I HAD to. You see,- " Laura gets up, walks away from
the bed a few feet, turning to face Steele, who is sitting with
his hands on his knees, she continues, " no one would take
a female private detective seriously. So I made up this name,
Remington Steele . . ."
"Yes, yes, yes. I understand all that. But- if I'm not me,
then who the devil AM I?" Steele says gesturing.
"Well, you've always been very evasive and mysterious about
"Yes, but-I must have given you a clue, I mean, some kind
of hint to my identity."
"Well, among other things- you prospected for gold in the
Yucatan, you boxed your way across South America as the Kilkenny
Kid. " Laura says as she walks back to sit on the end of
the bed. Sitting she continues " You stole a famous painting
called "The Five Nudes of Cairo", and when I met you,
you carried five passports. Each with a name of a character that
Humphrey Bogart played in a movie."
Steele , sitting with his legs crossed, his hands clasped around
a knee, listening intently, is amazed. "Good Lord. What
an extraordinary life for someone so young."
"While all the various bits and pieces are fascinating,
they fall short of telling us who you really are."
"Yes, who I really am," he muses, rising to pace the
room , scratching his right cheek, turning to face Laura . "Yes.
Somehow, that's mixed up in all of this."
"If we could just find out what you've been doing since
you got here- where you've been, then we might be nearer to discovering
why . . ."
"Just a minute, just a minute," he says, pausing. "I
see a place. There's a man, playing the piano. A black man."
"Yes?" Laura asks excitedly , standing up .
"And nearby there's another man, with a rugged, care worn
"A woman comes in. She's blonde, she's very beautiful. She
has a sad face, sad look in her eye . " Steele continues,
"Then the rugged man, he recognizes her, he's startled to
see her, and he says . . ."
"He says, `All the gin joints and all the bars in all the
towns and you had to walk into mine'! And then the black man,
he starts playing . . . ." Steele hums "As Time Goes
Laura shakes her head. "That isn't it."
"Yes, I'm sure it is." Steele says, putting his left
hand to his mouth, looking perplexed.
"Not the tune, the incident. You don't have to be a movie
buff to realize what you've just recounted is a scene from Casablanca."
Steele looks even more confused, slowly shaking his head, then
sitting down at the same time as
Mildred comes in, her hair wet from a shower. "It doesn't
"What?" Laura asks as Mildred waves her hair dryer
"My hair dryer."
"Mildred! We are in the middle of an emergency situation!"
"You're telling me!" Mildred agrees, talking about
"Not your hair! Mr. Steele's memory. We've GOT to find a
way to bring it back!" she insists.
Steele sits back, crossing his legs.
"Well," Mildred says, "You know me. I'm on the
side of head klonkers." Steele gives her a worried look.
"No, I would never do that. Never. Not unless all else fails,"
Laura insists, turning toward Steele. "Don't move,"
she tells him. Steele freezes stiff, his eyes rolling. Laura
then pulls the stub of a movie ticket from his shoe. "The
Bijou Cinema," she reads.
"AH!" Steele says, rising. "At last! A clue!"
Laura grabs her jacket as Steele and she head for the door. "What
about me?" Mildred asks.
"Stick your head out the window," Laura suggests ,
stopping momentarily at the door . "The breeze'll dry it."
Steele and Laura take off.
As they approach the old building, Steele says, "A flea
"A what pit?"
"A flea pit. It's what we called it in my youth. A crummy
little run down cinema," he says with a reminiscent smile.
"Let's have a look," Laura suggests.
"Oh, yes," he agrees, following eagerly. "Let's
Willard , who is just outside the entrance on the sidewalk, watches
them enter the building.
Inside, Steele looks at the "Races" posters again,
as Laura watches his reaction. They go into the back room, while
Willard calls Mrs. Armdale.
"A private detective?" she questions.
"Remington Steele," Willard confirms. "I got it
from the hospital. The girl is some sort of assistant."
"Oh, dear. This gets more complicated by the hour. I wish
my dear, departed husband were here to counsel me."
"Well, if you want my advice," Willard begins.
"Not in the least, Willard. I know you are my faithful servant,
but nonetheless a servant. Now, let me see. First, I think you'd
better find out who hired Mr. Steele. And how much he knows."
"Why, kill him, Willard , kill them all," she tells
him, then hangs up and returns to her needlepoint.
In the theatre, Laura and Steele enter the room where Steele
woke up. "Yes," he nods. "Yes, yes, yes. This
looks familiar." He bends to peer closely at the floor.
"Does that look like blood?" he asks her. As she kneels,
he finds a poster for Casablanca and hums the song again.
"You see? I didn't imagine it. I WAS here." They pull
the poster aside, and the body of the man who was lying on the
floor beside him falls out.
"Do you know who he is?" Laura asks.
"What? Right now, I don't even know who I am," he tells
her, as they kneel over the body.
Two policemen enter. "If you'd be kind enough to turn around-
ever so slowly. The Inspector was right."
"He said you'd come back to dispose of the body," the
second policeman says.
"Oh, but . . ." Laura tries to say, "Surely you
don't think that we . . ."
Steele jumps in as they are handcuffed to each other. "We're
private investigators," he tells them.
"That's right. We're on YOUR side," Laura insists.
"You see, there was this clue, a ticket stuck to my shoe."
"And Casablanca, well, naturally, I thought that
. . ." Laura says, still trying as they're lead outside.
Steele is humming "As times go by" as if to make sure
the police officers understand what movie they were referring
"Forget it. Tell it to the Inspector."
"Now listen! You're making a big mistake," Steele insists
as they're taken to a police car. "When your inspector find
out who I am- Well perhaps he'll be kind enough to tell me,"
"Who was that man back there?" Laura asks, but the
men don't answer. "The dead man? You could at LEAST tell
us who we're supposed to have killed!" she insists as they
put her and Steele into the car.
As the car drives along a country lane, Steele asks the policemen,
"Uh, which station house are you taking us to?"
"O'Connell Street," one answers.
"Ah," Steele says, sitting back and looking out over
the green countryside before quietly informing Laura that, "O'Connell
Street's in the heart of Dublin. They're not police."
A policeman turns. "Something wrong?"
She lifts her arm, wincing. "Cuff bit into my wrist."
"We're almost there," he tells her.
Steele leans toward her again. "I'd venture to say we have
a short time left, Laura."
When the car nears a railway crossing, a crossing guard has just
finished closing off the road.
The car has to stop. One of the police officers gets out to argue
with the crossing guard. As the steam train passes the crossing
making quite a lot of noise, Laura and Steele look at each other,
then use their cuffs to choke the other officer into unconsciousness.
Laura opens her door, Steele opens his, and they each try to
get out their own side. Laura finally follows Steele and they
start running into the bush .
The officer returns from the crossing, checks his partner and
then pulls a gun, firing at the retreating couple, who duck and
After having run along a road for a while, they run into the
forest to end up hid ing near a bridge until the car appears
again, then start off- each pulling the other. "Laura,"
Steele says, frustrated, "one of us has to lead."
"Right," she agrees with a quick nod. "Follow
me." She jerks his arm nearly out of its socket as she takes
off. The officer sees her, fires. They run through a stream and
glade. When the officer gets to the glade, they are out of sight.
The other officer comes with the car to pick him up and they
take off with spinning wheels .
As they run, Steele says, "I just thought of something."
"A quotation. Something about the right hand not knowing
what the left hand is doing." he finishes as they stop to
rest for a short while on a small field with sheep. Then the
police car appears again. Steele motions Laura to run and they
jump behind a low stone wall. "This is worse than being
married," he moans .
"Now look," she begins. Laura then find s herself on
the ground beside him as the officer comes into the field for
a closer look. Steele looks up, so does Laura, with leaves in
her mouth. "Will you . . ." again he pushes her face
into the ground. The officer finally leaves, and they get up.
"Don't you think we should call a truce?" he asks as
Laura is resting her back against a tree, trying to catch her
breath . Steele then puts his hand above Laura's head to lean
against the tree, pulling Laura's arm up. "Excuse me!"
he says as he lowers his arm again. "For both our sakes?"
She nods tiredly. "Good." He gently turns her toward
a barn. "Agreed? Before my arm leaves its socket one more
They try to use the door, but it won't open, so Laura climbs
up Steele's back and into a narrow, arched window, pulling him
in after her. They are in a hayloft.
"Ah, now," Steele says, smiling. "This sets some
Laura hears a car, and they duck into the hay as the two officers
come into the barn. One gets a pitchfork and sticks it up through
the loft a few times, the last time mere inches from Steele 's
and Laura 's faces, causing them to give each other a startled
look . "They must've headed back to the road," he tells
his partner. "Let's go."
Steele coughs as he gets out of the hay and moves to sit on the
edge of the loft, helping Laura. "Well, we'll wait until
dark," Steele tells her. "Audrey Hepburn, Alan Arkin,
Warner Bros. 1967."
"I don't think so. It just popped into my head." Laura
sighs. "Oh, come now, it's not all bad news. Pretty soon
now, you'll want to make yourself comfortable and then do your
Madeline Carroll routine." He grins. "Yes, yes. I'm
looking forward to that."
"What Madeline Carroll routine?"
"The 39 Steps? The Hitchcock movie? Oh, even I remember
that. I mean, Robert Donat, Madeline Carroll, on the run, together,
handcuffed? Then she removes her stockings, one by one she undoes
them from her thigh- and ever so slowly rolls them down her-
glorious legs . . ."
Steele says, his eyes admiring her legs.
Laura folds her arms, brings Steele's hand to rest on her knee.
She removes it. "I'm wearing panty hose," she tells
"Oh, well, never mind. I expect love will find a way, eh?
Speaking of love, do you think this might be the appropriate
time to renew our very, very- close acquaintance?"
"You and I- we have never . . ."
He frowns. "You mean to tell me- after all these years-
the time we have been together, that you don't want me as much
as I want you?" She sighs. "You're awfully silent."
"It's a long, complicated story, Mr. Steele." Laura
says, her eyes down, trying to avoid looking at him.
"I DO remember that I hate long, complicated stories,"
he tells her, kissing her as they lay back into the hay. He lifts
his head as the pocket watch starts to play. "When I hold
you close, I hear music."
"So do I." They sit up and Steele finds the watch,
which Laura takes from him. "Where did you get this? I've
never seen it before."
"I-I-I'm not sure."
She opens it and finds an inscription. "To S.J. from K.L.
"I don't know. Someone who knows K.L., I suppose. Whoever
that is. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." He looks
stunned. "Why on earth did I say that?"
"Rhett Butler's last line to Scarlett O'Hara. Oh, I DO hope
this has something to do with Gone With The Wind. Now
that's one movie I DO know about. I've seen it a dozen times."
"Gone With The Wind? Tara? Citizen Kane? I
think I'm losing my marbles. I'm going out of my mind."
Laura turns toward him, wanting to comfort him. "I know
how you fell, believe me, but- uh," she freezes.
"Have you thought of something?"
"No. Someone just kissed my leg." They look down to
find a horse there, with a star shaped blaze on his forehead.
"Well, he has taste, I'll give him that. Horses. It has
something to do with horses. And- and a man named Flanagan, and
he lives in the village of- uh," Steele says, starting to
"I'm trying. I'm trying. In the village of- Kerry, Kerry
. .." he takes out the watch. "That's it. Kerry Clare.
That's why I came to Ireland. To go to- Kerry Clare," he
tells her excitedly, giving her an impulsive hug and kiss. "Sorry."
Mrs. Armdale is having her dinner sitting at an enormous table
with silver candelabras and candles lit as Willard makes his
report standing at the other end of the table, his cap in his
hands . "So they lost them?"
"Well, there's no cops bangin' on the door- so what does
"How I wish Mr. Armdale were here to guide me through these
treacherous waters," she sighs.
"The horses not running well, taxes eating up every little
reserve we have . . ."
"And the servants haven't been paid for ever so long."
"Is money all that's on your mind, Willard? I'm talking
about saving Armdale Stables."
"Well, tomorrow it'll be over," he tells her. "And
we'll all have enough green t'live out our days in quiet splendor."
"Just the same, have Clancy and Foster keep following Steele
and the girl. As Mr. Armdale liked to say: Better safe- than
Laura and Steele arrive in Kerry Clare in a cart , sitting on
top of a pile of bric-a-brac . "That house there,"
the driver tells them as he stops.
"Thank you," Steele says, as he and Laura get down.
"Thank you very much." The go into the house, and Steele
"Anything familiar?" Laura asks him.
He points to a table. "Yes, yes. There was a dead man here."
"Oh no," she groans. "Not another corpse."
The man who welcomed Steele to the wake in the opening scene
comes down the stairs. "Ah, Mr. Steele. A pleasure t'see
you again," he says, with a bright smile.
"Is your name- Flanagan?" Laura asks.
"That it is."
"And you know me?" Steele questions.
"Sure, wasn't it just Saturday last that y'stood this self
same room? Surely y'can't have forgotten the dancin', the singin',
the jollity . We were havin' a funeral, y'see," he explains
"Then there WAS a dead man here," Steele says.
"Aye. Flaherty O'Flynn. And a fine man now never bent his
elbow t'a glass of ale. Oh, and we gave him the very devil of
a send off. Such a wake. Do y'know, I reckon it was the best
party any of us ever attended."
"This- O'Flynn- did I know him?" Steele asks.
"This O'Flynn," Steele repeats. "Did I . . ."
Laura stops him. "Mr. Steele is suffering from amnesia,"
she tells Flanagan.
"Oh, dear. That would be an unforgettable experience,"
he comments, causing Laura to look at him strangely.
"So," Steele says, "if you could just tell me
what I was doing here . . ."
"Uh, sure, wasn't it, uh, wasn't it about the watch?"
Steele takes it out. "You mean - this one?"
"Aye. That's it. That's what brought y'here. That the letter
that went with it."
"The letter?" Steele questions.
"Aye. That'd be in your wallet. Which reminds me- I have
that right here," he says, pulling it from his pocket. "Y'must
have dropped it in the general fun. The money must've dropped
somewhere else- that is, if you can remember carryin' any."
He takes the note out and hands it to Steele, who starts reading
it as he reaches with his other hand for the wallet- revealing
the handcuffs. Laura jerks his arm back down, but Flanagan has
Steele reads the note. "Your father wanted you to have
this. Signed, Patrick O'Rourke."
"Aye," Flanagan says. "That's what brought ya
"Did he find him?" Laura asks.
"Well, before we go into that, aren't ya a mite uncomfortable
in those handcuffs? I can have those off in a twinkle,"
he tells them with a smile.
In his workshop, he makes short work of the handcuffs. "Some
of m'friends are a bit wayward, y'see, getting' in scrapes w'the
law. They always come t'Flanagan."
"I see," Steele says. "Tell me about O'Rourke."
"He moved on," Flanagan explains. "I told y'that-?"
"Moved on where?" Laura asks.
"Dublin. Bought hisself an old cinema. Goin' t'turn it into
a bettin' shop or a bingo parlour or somethin'," he explains,
removing the cuff from Laura's wrist. "Me speciality,"
he tells her, then bends to take care of Steele's cuff.
"The Bijou Cinema?" Steele asks.
"That's right. So you were there, were ya?" he asks
as Laura begins to pace around the room.
"Yes. I think I was. I got there and it was empty. I heard
a shot, I went to a room, something hit me on the head and everything
Laura is reading a newspaper. "That's very good," she
tells him, coming toward him. "Now try this: the movie,
Steele thinks for a moment. "Orson Welles, Joseph Cotton,
RKO, 1941. An old man lies dying in a decaying mansion, gasping
the word `Rosebud', which sends a reporter off on a determined
mission to discover the meaning of . . ."
"Never mind that. What was the name of Kane's mansion?"
He thinks again. "Uh-Xanadu."
She shows him the headline on the paper. "Xanadu, The
World's Most Valued Horse to Run at Curragh". "Right,"
she says, pointing to the photo of the horse, who has a star
shaped blaze on his head, just like the one they saw in that
They borrow Flanagan's ill-running, ancient car and bounce down
the lane. "Ah," Steele says,
"Kind of Flanagan to lend us this, eh?"
"To SJ from KL," Laura says, looking at the watch as
he drives. "The inscription on the watch. One of these must
be your father."
"Perhaps? You can't have forgotten your father," she
"I don't think so. It might be the amnesia, of course, but,
uh, I have a- uh- I have a . . ."
"That's right. That's right. I have a feeling that I never
knew who my real father was, actually. In fact, I don't think
I ever saw my birth certificate."
"Good Heavens," Laura declares. "That would explain
the sudden dash to Ireland. A man without a father is a . . ."
"Careful, Miss Holt," he warns, "Careful."
"I was going to say is a sad and lonely man. Abandoned-
and best of all- vulnerable," she tells him with a smile.
He looks confused. "Best of all?" She just grins back
They return to the barn, but it's empty. "He was here and
it was Xanadu," Laura insists. "I'm SURE of it. A horse
with a star- shaped blaze."
"Why vulnerable best of all?" Steele asks, obviously
still caught in their earlier conversation.
She is suddenly shy. "Oh, I don't know. Makes you more human.
Simpatico. Easier to understand. I mean, now that I know that
your father . . ."
"Walks with a loping crouch?" Steele asks suddenly.
"Wears a painted mustache, smokes a cigar? Cracks wise?"
"Your father is Groucho Marx?" Laura asks , seemingly
confused by the change in conversation .
"The Marx Brothers, Laura! Of COURSE! The stills outside
the cinema pointed the way all the time- only I didn't connect
them until now." Laura looks at him as if he's taken leave
of his senses. "A day at the races." He grabs her hand.
"Come on, come on."
At Curragh, where there are a lot of people attending the races,
talking and shouting, making it quite noisy, we see a man using
hand signals. "A tic tac man," Steele explains to Laura.
"They're signaling the odds to the other bookies. They raise
or lower the price accordingly."
"Haven't they ever heard of the telephone?" Laura asks
him. Steele does a double take at her lack of understanding.
After the horses for the present races have passed the grandstand,
she glances at the board, finding Xanadu's name. "Scratched,"
"Yeah. It means he's been pulled from the race. He's not
"It might mean more than that," Laura tells him.
Mrs. Armdale , dressed appropriately for the occasion and her
"presumed position in the racing community" in a nice
dress, pearl jewelry, an elegant white hat and white gloves,
approaches a impeccably dressed white haired man. "Oh, Mr.
Carter. How terrible! How utterly terrible!"
"What are you talking about, Mrs. Armdale?" Carter
"Oh, nothing serious. My trainer tells me he has a touch
of colic, that's all. And with a horse as valuable as Xanadu,
well, we don't take any chances."
"Oh, you're so staunch. So brave. If anything like that
were to happen to me, I'd hope to be half the man you were."
"I- don't seem to be following you this morning, Mrs. Armdale."
"Oh, I know what you're going through. Absolutely know what
you're going through. A man called," she confides. "Sinister,
rough- and the things he threatened against Xanadu- I never heard
such words ever since Mr. Armdale passed away."
"Why would he call you?" Carter asks.
"No doubt they know the position Mr. Armdale held in racing
"What do they want?" Carter asks.
"Eight million. Otherwise, you'll never see Xanadu alive
again," she tells him sadly.
Laura and Steele see a truck outside, with the words "The
Armdale Racing Association," Laura reads, "T. A. R.
A. Tara." As t he truck pulls away, they follow it running
for a moment , then stopping, realizing that it is too far away
to catch up with. Shortly thereafter Steele watches as a Rolls
Royce pulls up, driven by an expensively attired English gentleman,
with a blonde all dressed in black on his arm. Steele runs up
to him as they get out.
"Good day t'ya, sir, uh, Let me park y'car, there,"
he says with an Irish accent.
The man hands him the key and some money. "Oh, and get y'self
"Pleasure, sir. Pleasure," Steele assures him.
"Come on, me darlin',' the man says to the woman.
"Have a lovely day, have a lovely day," Steele calls
after them. He opens the car door for Laura as she comes up.
"This is STEALING!" she insists.
"Yes, well, I said I was going to park his car, and I assure
you, that's what I'm going to do- later," he explains as
she gets in. "Anyway, I made myself a quid." He looks
at the car as he moves around it. "Lovely body." They
follow the truck, and are forced to stop by a herd of sheep crossing
the road near an old stone bridge . "Xanadu. Tara. The threads
are coming together," he says as he stops for the sheep.
"This NEVER happens in Los Angeles," Laura frets, watching
as the truck moves farther away.
"Go through them," she tells him. "Go."
He honks the horn and the shepherd gets the sheep off the road,
allowing them to pass.
At the Armdale house, Mrs. Armdale pours champagne for Willard,
Clancy and Foster. "I didn't think he'd bite just like that,"
"Oh, he places great value on that horse, Willard,"
she tells him.
"Yes, but- eight million. And to raise it so soon."
"Xanadu is owned by a consortium," she explains to
them. "More than a dozen involved. In fact, any one of them
could raise a half million at very short notice. I counted on
them for that."
"And they didn't suspect you were involved?" Clancy
"Why should they suspect me, Clancy? I'm just a doddering
old woman," she says, and they all laugh at the little joke.
She lifts her glass. "To The Armdale Racing Association
and its late, great founder." They drink.
Steele and Laura see a fine house. "Ah," he says with
a smile. "Civilization."
"Someone there may have seen the horse trailer," Laura
suggests. He drives up to the house and stops in front of the
main entrance . As they get out and start walking towards the
front steps , they hear a horse whinny.
They go in search of the sound, and find Xanadu in a barn, inside
a stall. "Easy boy," Steele says, patting him. "That's
it. In Xanadu did Khubla Khan the stately pleasure dome decree,"
"It's he, all right," she says, then hears something,
climbs on top of some bales and looks out the window. "Mr.
He closes the stall. "Stay," he tells the horse, then
joins Laura to watch as Clancy and Foster come closer. "Leave
this to me," he tells her, turning toward the door and adopting
a karate pose.
Seeing Laura's expression as she crosses her arms, he frowns.
"Am I a karate expert?"
"I've never seen you use it," she tells him.
He looks around, picks up a shovel as Laura picks up a broom
and climbs onto a bale of hay.
"Well, then, it's the good old blunt instrument routine,
isn't it?" he asks. They wait for the men to come in. Laura
hits the first man with the broom, and when the second goes after
her, Steele hits him with the shovel.
Willard is walking along a wall of the main hall with a rifle,
notices the Rolls, and turns back the
way he came.
Laura tells Steele, "There'll be others. We have to get
"Well, we can't put him in the Rolls," Steele says.
"Play havoc with the upholstery." He grins as he gets
Mrs. Armdale looks at the car, curious as to how it got there.
She and Willard both look up as a small cart is driven down the
road, Xanadu in harness. "Ah, yes!" the driver, Steele,
disguised in a hat and a coachman's coat, calls out. "It's
a lovely day!" After a turn is taken at full speed,
Laura comes up from the back of the cart, bracing herself hard
as the horse dashes down the
Mrs. Armdale and Willard smile in greeting, until they recognize
the horse and jump into a truck to follow. Willard shoots at
them until she grabs him. "Stop it, you fool! That's eight
million on the hoof!"
Down the road, along a straight stretch, Steele calls out, "This
one can run! I wish I had a quid or
two riding on him!"
"You'd lose!" Laura calls back.
"They're gaining on us!"
"Get into the back and throw the oil drums into their path!"
he tells her.
"Right!" Laura replies, turning to the back of the
cart, only to stop. "Oil drums? There aren't any oil drums!"
Steele looks confused. "There were in From Russia With
Love!" He comes upon a tree lying across the road and
goes around it, hitting a bump in the field. He loses his balance
and falls backward, hitting his head on the edge of the cart,
and pushing on the rear door, leaving him dangling near the road
until Laura saves him and closes the door. She takes the reins
as Steele looks around, dazed and confused.
Laura stops the horse just past the bridge where she and Steele
had to stop for sheep earlier , jumps across a ditch into a field
and herds the same sheep back out onto the roadway behind them.
They watch as Mrs. Armdale steers the truck into the creek to
avoid the sheep. As Laura and Steele watch, Mrs. Armdale and
Willard crawl from the wrecked vehicle.
Steele looks at her. "Miss Holt, it all comes back to me
"So Mildred was right after all. A good klonk on the head."
Laura says with a gentle smile.
"It's a terrible disappointment." Steele says, his
face clearly supporting his statement.
"To remember that you and I are still just- good friends."
She smiles and climbs back into the driver's seat and flicks
the reins- almost throwing Steele from the cart again.
At the police station, Willard and Mrs. Armdale are being taken
inside, but at the door she pauses before Steele as he and Laura
are leaving. "If my husband were alive, he'd give you a
good thrashing!" she declares.
The police man drag s her off, as Laura and Steele step away
toward the street. Flanagan approaches them.
"Mr. Steele. I found Patrick O'Rourke for you. Your father's
Laura and Steele drive up to a house, parking across the street.
From inside, the sound of music and laughter can be heard. "Well,"
Steele says, "that must be the house over there. Sounds
like they're having a party."
"Perhaps they know you're coming," she suggests. "The
return of the prodigal?"
He smiles, straightens his tie. "Well, c'mon."
Laura shakes her head. "No. This is your moment." She
says patting the back of his shoulders in a supportive gesture.
She watches as he knocks, then enters the house.
Inside he enters the room where the party is taking place, and
makes his way across the room, only to find the same man he was
with at the Bijou, the man who was shot. He grabs a passing man.
"Patrick O'Rourke?" he asks, needing confirmation.
"Aye. Dear old Paddy. He'll be sorely missed. Are ya a friend
of the family?"
"I wish I knew," Steele muses. Still contemplating,
h e moves toward the door, stopping to look at the watch before
When he comes out , he hesitates at the doorstep, as if his mind
is somewhere else. When he gets to the sidewalk, Laura joins
him, her expression expectant. "Well?"
He shakes his head looking straight ahead . "Uh-uh. Dead
end," he tells her, opening the watch.
"I'm sorry," she says gently , rubbing her arms as
if comforting herself .
He closes the watch and looks at Laura . "Home, Miss Holt?"
"Home, Mr. Steele," she agrees, taking his arm as they
turn back toward the car.
"Indeed." Steele says, patting her arm, reassuring