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Remington came from his office, intending
to go and ask Laura if she was ready to have lunch. But he paused
upon seeing Bernice and Mildred with yet another armful of flowers-
this time a mixture of blooms in varying shades and sizes- and
a beribboned box. "Another one?" he asked, coming forward.
"This is almost embarrassing," he told them with a small
smile as he took the card from the flowers and untied the box
before Bernice, still holding the flowers, turned away.
"Just almost?" Bernice asked with a smile. "Let
me see if I can find another vase," she said.
Remington read the card. "Still no name," he told Mildred
as the door to Laura's office opened. He saw her hesitate upon
seeing Bernice return with the flowers.
"Another one?" Laura asked with a sour expression. "What
did she send this time?" she wondered.
"Only one way to find out," he told her, opening the
long, thin box. Inside was a silk tie the exact same shade of
blue as Remington's eyes. And with it were two tickets.
"A tie," Laura said. "How unimaginative. Obviously
this woman DOESN'T know you, or else she would know that you've
already got more ties than there are days of the year."
Remington gave her a look as Mildred asked, "What are the
tickets for, Mr. Steele?"
"I wonder if you secret admirer could be a movie star?"
Bernice asked. "And she's inviting you to a premiere?"
Remington picked up the tickets, and smiled. "Not quite."
He held them out to Laura. "They're for the cinema that Laura
and I frequent. This evening's show, at nine ten."
"What's playing?" Bernice asked.
Laura sighed. "The Maltese Falcon and Key Largo,"
she told them.
"Apparently whoever it is knows that I like Humphrey Bogart,"
Remington pointed out.
"Humph!" Laura said, turning back toward her office.
"Where are you going?" he asked, examining the silk
of the tie.
"Back to my office where it's still at least partially sane!"
"I'm going to lunch now, Laura," Bernice called out.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Laura stopped. "That's why I came out here. I just realized
that you probably don't have a place to stay- having just gotten
back to LA and all. I've got a couch at my place," she offered,
but Mildred and Bernice grinned.
"Thanks, Laura, but Mildred's offered me her spare bedroom
for awhile. Until I can find a place of my own. Shouldn't take
too long. Have a nice evening, Mr. Steele. Hope you find your
secret admirer."
"I'm sure I will," he told her, glancing at Laura, who
turned back to her office. "Laura," he said, following
her, only to come up short as the door closed in his face.
Bernice winked at Mildred, then left as the older woman quickly
disappeared into her own office to keep Mr. Steele from hearing
her laughter.
"Laura," Remington said again, opening the door, expecting
to find her sitting behind the desk. She wasn't there. "Laura?"
he said again, then saw that the door to his office was open,
and followed her inside, where she was placing some papers on
his desk. "I thought we could go to lunch," he told
her.
"I'm not hungry," she said. "You go on. But if
you wouldn't mind signing these before you go, Mr. Steele . .
."
Remington picked up a pen and signed the papers with a flourish.
"Uh, what did I just sign?" he asked as she started
picking them back up in a neat pile.
"Just some reports on cases that needed to be filed,"
she told him. "A couple of letters to clients- and the okay
on the renewal of the company life insurance policy."
"Ah," he cut her off before she could get back to the
door of her office, blocking her path. "Lunch?" he asked
again, giving her his best pleading smile.
"I SAID I'm not hungry, Mr. Steele," Laura told him.
"If you are, then feel free to go. You can take Mildred.
I'll stay here and keep an eye on the office." When he didn't
move, she stepped toward the main door and opened it before he
could stop her again.
Remington opened her office door as she entered from the other
one. "But Laura, I hoped that -"
"That we could discuss who your `secret admirer's' might
be? No, thank you, Mr. Steele. Sounds like as much fun as having
a root canal."
"I give you my word," he promised, lifting a hand, "that
I won't mention my secret admirer for the entire time, Laura."
She looked up at him. "Not a word?" She finished placing
the papers he'd signed in their proper places. "Tell Mildred
we're going, then."
Remington tapped on the door to Mildred's office. "Mildred,
Laura and I are going to lunch."
Mildred grinned. "Okay, Mr. Steele. I'll hold down the fort
till you get back."
"Just circle the wagons if you get into trouble," he
told her. "And the Calvary will be along."
"Aren't they always?" Mildred responded.
*****
Lunch was a bit more tense than Remington had hoped, but he and
Laura managed to get through the meal without her leaving him
alone in the small restaurant near the office as he'd feared she
would do. He was on his best behaviour, regaling her with a story
from his mysterious past, and she even laughed once at his description
of the little old woman who'd owned a restaurant in Paris and
had taught him the basics of cooking a gourmet meal. The waitress
brought their check, smiling at Remington for a bit longer than
necessary, probably, and he saw Laura's frown return. "What's
wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said quickly. Too quickly.
"Yes, there is. A moment ago, you were laughing. Now, your
crinkle is showing," he teased as he signed the check.
"Thank you, Mr. Steele," the waitress purred, moving
away from the table with a definite sway of her hips.
"You can't help it, can you? Women are just - naturally attracted
to you. And it doesn't matter what their age. Young, old, in between."
"Is that so terrible?" he asked. When she didn't answer,
he reached over and covered her hand with his. "Laura, when
I'm with you, I don't even notice any other women." Seeing
her expression, he grinned. "Okay, I notice. But none of
them can hold a candle to you. Now, I suppose we'd best get back,
hadn't we? So that Mildred can have a bite of lunch?"
Laura nodded, slowly coming out of the daze that his words had
sent her into. "Uh, yes. We've got a meeting at the office
with a new client this afternoon, too."
"Really?" he asked, letting her precede him from the
restaurant. "Who?"
"A Mrs. Jameson," Laura told him. "Her accountant
disappeared the other day and she thinks he may have stolen some
of her money before he did. It was in the paper that he was missing,"
she reminded him. "Of course, it wasn't near the race results,
so you probably didn't see it."
Remington looked down at her, trying to see how she meant that
remark. Seeing the teasing light in her eyes, he relaxed somewhat.
"Really, Laura. I haven't been to the races in months. I
DO read the rest of the paper as well. And I recall the story
about the accountant and Mrs. Jameson's insistence that he stole
some money. But the police say that there's no evidence of any
crime."
"That's the one."
"If there's not enough evidence for the police, then why
does she think this man stole from her?"
"We won't know that until we talk to her, Mr. Steele,"
Laura said as the doorman opened the door for her and Remington
to enter the building.
*****
Remington was almost relieved when he saw no sign of a new arrival
of flowers upon their return to the office. Mildred was sitting
behind what was now Bernice's desk, checking something on the
computer when they entered. "How was lunch?" she asked
them, turning off the monitor and gathering her purse from nearby.
"Nice," Laura said, smiling. "Anything going on
here?"
"Mr. Mason called to set up an appointment for three. You
know, the guy from Bel Air that wants us to set up a security
system for his place?"
"Didn't you tell him that we don't DO that kind of work?"
"I've tried, Miss Holt. I thought maybe you could talk to
him and make him understand." She started out, then stopped
and turned around. "Oh, Mr. Steele. You had another delivery
while you were out. It's on your desk."
Laura's good mood instantly evaporated. "I'm going to get
Mrs. Jameson's file," she said, turning toward her office.
Remington watched her go. "Another gift as well, Mildred?"
he asked.
"Yep. And more flowers. English wildflowers, by the look
of them. You still think that it's Miss Holt, Chief?" she
asked.
"Of course it is, Mildred," Remington insisted, heading
toward his office. "Have a nice lunch."
Mildred was right, Remington mused, touching the heather and other
flowers in the vase on his desk. English wildflowers. He wasn't
surprised that the card was still unsigned. Of course, the poetry
was a bit more risqué than he would have associated with
Laura, but then, he'd never associated her with a fan dance in
Acapulco, either. Picking up the small box next to the vase, he
opened it to find a tie tack that matched the cufflinks he'd received
earlier. Fastening it to the tie he was currently wearing, Remington
quickly stuffed the box into his desk as he heard a voice from
the reception area.
"Is anyone here?"
He rounded the desk as the elderly woman with dyed blue hair came
to the doorway. "Remington Steele," he said, holding
out his hand. "May I help you?"
The woman's blue eyes- almost the same shade as her hair, Remington
noted- looked him up and down. "I'm Margarethe Jameson,"
she told him. "I have an appointment?"
"Ah, yes, Mrs. Jameson," he said, handing her over to
the sofa in the conference area. "I'll just tell my associate
that you've arrived," he said, going to knock on the door
to Laura's office. "Laura?" he said, opening the door.
"What?" she asked sharply.
"Uh, Mrs. Jameson is here," he said in a soft voice,
sending the woman an embarrassed smile over his shoulder.
"She's early," Laura hissed back at him, rising and
smoothing her skirt before entering the office. She glanced at
the new flowers on the desk, and then lifted her head. Holding
out her hand, she smiled. "Mrs. Jameson. I'm Laura Holt.
How can we help you?"
*****
Mildred was just returning as Mrs. Jameson took her leave. Laura
introduced the two women, assuring the client that Mildred would
be able to tell whether or not Harvey Taylor had `fixed' the books.
"She'll be at your house first thing tomorrow morning,"
she assured the old woman. "Will that give you enough time
to get things gathered?"
"I suppose so. I depended on Harvey so, Miss Holt. He'd been
keeping books for me for fifteen years."
Mildred watched Laura cross the reception area, and went to stand
beside Remington. "Seems like a nice old lady," she
commented.
"Umm."
Reaching out, Mildred touched the tie tack. "Nice,"
she said. "Whoever this lady is, Mr. Steele," she was
saying as Laura returned from seeing Mrs. Jameson out, "she
must be loaded. I mean, those things look like real gold."
"Twenty four karat," Remington agreed. "And the
diamonds are real as well."
"I wonder what's next," Laura muttered. "A new
car? A jet airplane?" She turned on her heel and started
for her office.
"Are we still on for tonight, Laura?" Remington called
after her.
"I'll THINK about it!" Laura returned, slamming the
door loudly enough to make Remington and Mildred wince.
"I don't know, Mr. Steele. I don't think she'd be acting
this way if she was sending these things."
"All part of the act, Mildred. If she doesn't react this
way, I'd be more suspicious." He put an arm around the woman.
"Don't worry, Mildred. It will all work out."
"But- what if it's NOT her? I mean, what if you get an invitation
to a nice, cozy little intimate dinner, and it's someone who wants
to hurt you? Maybe someone trying to lure you into a trap to get
revenge?"
"I'm sure it's Laura, Mildred." Ninety percent sure,
anyway, he told himself.
*****
As he got into the limo that evening, Remington paused. "What's
this, Fred?" he asked the chauffeur as he examined the ice
bucket with a magnum of champagne inside. Two glasses with blue
ribbons stood ready beside it.
"It was delivered just a few minutes ago, Mr. Steele,"
Fred informed him as he put the car into gear. "The card
is there, I think. The delivery man said that it was from a friend."
The card was unsigned. Remington sat back, thoughtfully examining
this latest gift, before slipping the card into his pocket as
the limo came to a halt before Laura's apartment building. "Apartment
building," he muttered. "A warehouse. That's what it
was and will always be," he said, looking up at the restored
façade of the building. Why she insisted on living down
here was beyond Remington's understanding.
As were the three flights of stairs that led him to the sliding
metal door of her apartment. He knocked, and wasn't surprised
when Laura opened the door to reveal that she was ready. It was
something else about Laura that never failed to surprise him.
Most of the women of his experience had never been ready at the
appointed time. They needed at the least two hours to make themselves
presentable.
Laura could make do with half an hour, usually. Sometimes less.
He'd seen her change from a no nonsense businesswoman into a sophisticated
dinner companion in the space of fifteen minutes. She was, simply
put, nothing short of amazing. Remington took her hand. "You
look lovely. As always. Ready to go?" he asked.
"Let me get my wrap," she told him, reaching over to
pick up the silk stole that went with the light blue strapless
dress she'd chosen to wear.
He closed the door behind them, fastening the lock, and they went
down the stairs. "You really should see about an elevator,
Laura," he said as they reached the pavement.
"Ah, but Mr. Steele," she said with laughing eyes. "Think
of the exercise."
"I can think of far more enjoyable forms of exercise,"
he told her, his eyes deepening into a dark blue as he helped
her into the car. "Guido's Fred," he told the driver,
then closed the partition that separated the front of the car
from the back.
"Champagne?" Laura asked, noticing the bottle and glasses.
Remington removed the cork slowly and poured two glasses of the
sparkling wine. "What shall we drink to?" he asked.
Laura fingered the blue ribbon on the stem of the glass, and went
still. "You didn't buy this, did you? It's from your- secret
admirer."
"Laura," he tried to say, but she shook her head.
"Jewelry, movie tickets, champagne." She looked more
closely. "A MAGNUM of champagne. This must be costing a fortune."
"I agree," he said. "But since my secret admirer
isn't ready to come forward just yet, what can I do but simply
accept whatever she sends and share it with the person I care
most about?"
That stopped her. "You do?" Remington eyed her warily
as he nodded. Laura lifted her glass. "Then let's drink to
your secret admirer, Mr. Steele," she said.
He shook his head. "Not until you call me something besides
`Mr. Steele'," he told her. "I'll answer to almost anything,"
he reminded her. "Harry, Michael, Johnny," he rattled
off.
Laura stopped him with a finger to his soft lips. "Remington,"
she said. After all, she'd THOUGHT of him as Remington for some
time, just had never taken the initiative to say it aloud.
He grinned, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss into the palm.
"There. Was that so difficult?"
She smiled, revealing her dimples. "No. Not really."
He lifted his glass again. "To my secret admirer," he
said, putting his arm through hers in a lover's toast. He and
Laura kissed, and then sat back, sipping their champagne. "I
promise," he told her, "I won't mention her again for
the rest of the evening," he said.
If nothing else, he mused, this was bringing he and Laura closer
together. He wouldn't call her on this little scheme yet. Things
were going too well, he thought as the limo stopped before Guido's
and Fred opened the door for them.
To Be Continued . . .