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Remington's eyebrow shot upward as
he took the roses from Bernice. "For me?" he questioned.
"You're certain?"
"Your name's on the card," Bernice said again, turning
the white envelope over for him to look at the name written there.
"Who sent them, Boss?" Mildred asked as Laura leaned
against the desk, her gaze filled with suspicious speculation.
Remington opened the small envelope and pulled out the card inside.
His lips curved into a smile as he read what was written there.
"It seems I have a -secret admirer," he told them. "There's
no name."
Bernice held out her hands again. "I'll go find a vase for
them and put them in your office," she offered.
"Thank you," Remington said, sliding the card into his
pocket. "A secret admirer," he repeated, looking at
Laura. "I wonder who it could be?"
"Probably an old girlfriend from your mysterious past, Mr.
Steele," Laura suggested archly. Pushing off the edge of
Mildred's desk, Laura went to the doorway as Bernice returned
from Remington's office. "Bernice, what time is the appointment
with Mr. Baxter?"
The woman went to her desk and opened the appointments ledger.
"You and Mr. Steele are supposed to be there in thirty minutes,"
she said.
"Then we'd better get a move on," Laura told Remington,
moving past him to her own office, where she picked up her purse.
"Ready, Mr. Steele?" she asked when he hadn't moved
from Mildred's office. "Or are you going to stand there like
a statue all day?"
He nodded, giving her an apologetic look. "After you, Miss
Holt."
*****
In the limo, Remington maintained his air of consideration. "I
wonder," he mused.
"WHAT do you wonder, Mr. Steele?" Laura asked a bit
sharply.
"That young woman who works at the cinema, in the ticket
booth. She's always been quite friendly," he pointed out.
"She's also seven teen if she's a day," Laura countered.
"And there's no way that she could ever afford two dozen
long stemmed roses. Not on what they pay her to sell tickets."
"Hmm. I suppose you're right. I'll just have to look elsewhere
for my secret admirer, won't I?"
Probably won't have to look very far," Laura commented softly,
fixing her gaze on the traffic outside the tinted windows. Remington
picked up the telephone and started to dial a number. Laura turned
to him. "Who are you calling?"
"Felicia. You might have been right the first time. It's
possible she sent the roses," he said, only to stare at Laura
as she took the phone from his hand and hung it up. "Laura
. . ."
"You're NOT calling that woman to ask her if she sent you
roses. Of COURSE she's going to say she did, just to get her claws
into you again. Besides, I didn't know you had a telephone number
for her."
"She sent me a card from Cannes a few weeks ago," Remington
told her. "Besides, it's not Felicia's style. She wouldn't
send roses. She'd be here in person."
"Thank heaven for small favors," Laura muttered as he
picked up the phone again. "What now?" she asked.
"I was going to make dinner reservations for us," he
said. "You know that little Italian place? Guido's?"
Laura nodded slowly. "The one with the bleach blonde hostess
who hovers over our table as if you were the crown prince or something?"
"Natalie," he recalled. "That's her name,"
he said, then turned his attention to the telephone. "Natalie?"
he asked, and smiled when the woman responded. "Remington
Steele here - Really? Just thinking about me, were you?"
he said, glancing at Laura's glowering countenance. "Uh,
Natalie, I was wondering if it's too late to make a reservation
for dinner this evening? Wonderful. Oh, say, seven? That's right.
For two. I'll see you then." He hung up, grinning widely.
"All set."
"You can go by yourself," Laura told him as the limo
stopped and Fred got out.
"By myself?" Remington repeated, scowling. "But
Laura . . ." he said as the door opened.
"I refuse to tag along with you while you make this pathetic
attempt to find your so called `secret admirer', Mr. Steele,"
Laura told him, then got out of the limo. "Come on, Mr. Baxter
is waiting for us."
Remington followed her. "And we mustn't keep the client waiting,
must we, Laura?" he asked rhetorically. "Wait here,
Fred," he told the chauffeur.
"Yes, Mr. Steele."
*****
Laura was quiet on the way back to the office after the meeting,
refusing to be drawn out by anything Remington said. She buried
herself in studying the contract that Mr. Baxter had given her
to look over, practically ignoring him. With a sigh of irritation,
Remington finally gave up and sat back against the leather seat.
Their return to the office found them greeted by Mildred and Bernice,
both looking like the proverbial cat who swallowed the canary,
Remington thought. Laura didn't notice the two women's expressions
at first, simply sailed past them and into Remington's office.
"Come on, Mildred. We have to discuss Mr. Baxter's case."
"It went well, then?" Mildred asked, glancing from Bernice
to Remington.
"Ah, yes, Mildred," Remington agreed as the four of
them entered the office. "Mr. Baxter can't wait to hire the
Remington Steele Agency to investigate all of the employees who
will be working at his private museum during the exhibit."
He stopped upon seeing a second vase of red roses on his desk-
with a small, white box tied to them with a long blue ribbon.
"What's this?"
"They arrived just a few minutes ago, Mr. Steele," Mildred
told him.
Remington untied the box and looked at the card affixed to the
flowers. He smiled again, and Laura flounced over to the conference
area. "Are we going to go over this contract or not?"
she asked.
"Just a minute, Miss Holt," Mildred told her. "Open
the box, Mr. Steele."
"It's been driving Mildred and me crazy," Bernice agreed.
Remington removed the blue ribbon from the small box and opened
the lid to reveal a second box, this one of blue velvet. Picking
it up, he lifted the lid to find a set of cuff-links, tiny magnifying
glasses, made of gold, with what appeared to be genuine diamonds
set in the place of the glass. "Whoever she is, she has excellent
taste," he commented, turning the box so that the others
could see its contents.
"A bit- showy, don't you think?" Laura said with a frown,
which deepened as Remington removed the cufflinks he'd worn all
morning and replaced them with the new ones.
"I don't know. I think they're rather appropriate. Don't
you agree, Mildred?"
Mildred nodded. "Any idea who sent them, Chief?" she
asked.
"I have some suspicions," Remington admitted. "But
nothing concrete yet. I'm trying to convince Laura to help me
find her, but she's a bit reluctant to do it."
Laura sighed. "If I agree to have dinner with you at Guido's,
Mr. Steele, will you PLEASE come over here so we can discuss business?
Specifically, Mr. Baxter's contract?"
Remington waved Bernice and Mildred toward the conference area,
but Bernice shook her head. "I'll go get the three of you
some coffee and then man the phones," she told them.
Once they'd ironed out all the particulars of the case at hand,
Laura excused herself to return to her office. She'd barely spoken
two words to Remington once they got to work, directing most of
her comments to Mildred.
Mildred remained in Remington's office, looking at him. "You
didn't really ask her to help, did you, Mr. Steele?"
"Not in those words, Mildred," he admitted. "I'm
just giving her enough rope before letting her know that I'm aware
that SHE'S the one who sent the roses and gift."
"Miss Holt? What makes you think she's your secret admirer?"
"Come now, Mildred, who else could it be? I mean, she's never
really forgiven me for sending HER all those roses that time without
telling her."
"Would have worked, too, if she hadn't checked the agency's
credit card," Mildred agreed.
"She's simply taken a page out of my book. A bit of a pay
back, as it were. When she's ready, she'll let me know that she's
the one behind this. I can wait."
"What if she's not the one, Mr. Steele?" Mildred asked.
"What if it's -someone else?"
"It's Laura," he said with confidence. "I'm as
certain of that as I am my own name."
"But-Mr. Steele," Mildred pointed out, "You don't
KNOW your own name, remember?"
His eyes narrowed. "I was talking about the name Remington
Steele, Mildred," he said.
"Oh."
*****
Laura looked up as Bernice entered with a cup of coffee. "Thanks,
Bernice," she said.
Bernice paused. "So. Who do you think his secret admirer
is?" she asked.
"There ISN'T any secret admirer," Laura told her.
"Then who's sent the flowers? And the cufflinks?"
Laura rose from her desk to go to the file cabinet behind Bernice
as she spoke. "Mr. Steele."
"Wait a minute," Bernice said. "You're telling
me that you think he's sending HIMSELF roses and expensive gifts?
That doesn't make sense, Laura. Not even for him."
"It does if you know that's he's done something like it before,"
Laura told her. Seeing Bernice's curious expression, Laura began
to pace the tiny room. "A couple of years ago, someone started
sending ME flowers. The office was FILLED with them. I was going
crazy trying to figure out who was sending them. Then suddenly,
Mr. Steele admitted that he was jealous of whoever it was, told
me that he cared for me . . ."
"He told you that?"
"Yes, he did. And if it had ended there, then I probably
would have fallen into his arms like a ripe plum!"
"What happened?"
"I did some checking on charges to the agency credit cards.
Turns out that Mr. STEELE had been buying all those flowers and
having them sent to me."
"Oh. I see."
"He did it just so that he could be jealous, and suddenly
'realize' how much he cared."
"Sounds romantic to me."
Laura rolled her eyes. "Come on, Bernice. Give me a break."
"And you think this is just another little ploy?"
Laura nodded. "It's another game. Another con. Make me think
someone ELSE is interested so I'll be jealous and tell him . .
."
"But you're not going to do that, are you?" Bernice
guessed, seeing the fire in Laura's eyes.
"No. I'm going to see how far he'll take this. And when he
finally admits that it was another of his little scams, I'll tell
him I knew it all along."
"You're not in the least worried that another woman MIGHT
be sending him these things?"
"Not at all," Laura said.
"Then why are you wearing a hole in the carpet?"
Laura stopped pacing and went to sit behind her desk with an indignant
glare. "I've got work to do, Bernice. I don't have time to
be worrying about this. Would you mind getting Mr. Baxter on the
telephone for me? I need to confirm some things with him."
Bernice left Laura's office and returned to her desk. When she
left for lunch, she told Mildred, "I've got to find a place
to stay tonight."
"Why not bunk with me until you find a more permanent spot?"
Mildred asked. "I've got a guest room that no one's using."
"Thanks, Mildred. But I don't want to be a bother."
"Hey, no bother. I've got a room, you need a place to crash."
She wrote down the address and gave Bernice her key. "Here.
Go on out there and I'll see you later."
"You know, Mildred, I understand why Laura and Mr. Steele
say you're irreplaceable," Bernice told the older woman.
"You've got a roomie. You'll let me know if anything else
happens, right?"
"First thing," Mildred promised. "Uh-Oh,"
she said, looking past Bernice to the doors.
Bernice turned around to find another delivery man there, with
still more flowers and another gift. "I'm looking for Remington
Steele," he said.
"We're going to run out of vases," Bernice said with
a sigh.
"So?" Mildred asked. "We'll buy more."
To Be Continued. . .