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Laura observed her husband impassively as she paced. "Despite the fact that I buzzed first, it was wrong of us to use Mildred like some pawn in a chess game to -"
"Pawn in a chess game!" Steele exclaimed, "So that's what he's doing."
"What who's doing? What are you babbling about now?"
"Hmm? Oh, sorry. Pawn in a chess game, another matter."
She rolled her eyes heavenwards. "Well would you mind returning your attention to this one?"
"You were saying?" he shifted in his chair.
"What happened with Mildred was -"
Out of the blue, Steele jumped in. "Who's the boss?"
Laura stared. Just like him. Best form of defence? Attack. "I beg your pardon?"
"It's a simple enough question Laura. Who's the boss?"
She countered automatically. "We're partners in every way and there's -"
"Partners in every way, eh? I see."
The acerbic tone in his voice irked her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Whose agency is this?"
"It's ours of course. Why are you -"
"Ours." Steele got up, walked towards her and pointed accusingly. "Yet it remains in your name."
She stiffened. He'd hit a raw nerve. "I don't understand what this is -"
"No. Of course you don't."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying it Laura, if you choose not to hear then -"
Exasperated, she pointed out the obvious. Or rather, the obvious from her point of view. "We've got more important things to concern ourselves with than a -"
"Really? What's more important than this? It's at the heart of everything."
"Heart of what?"
Steele pinned her with a searing look. "The woman who still can't let go of her past."
"Because the agency remains in my name? When you try a -"
"It's not just that and you know it. It's arbitrary, one-sided decisions taken here and there without informing me. It's challenging my authority. It's resenting my assistance. It's beckoning me with your right hand then pushing me away with your left. It's aversion to my stat -"
Laura slapped her thighs. "You're being ridiculous. Besides, it's easier to leave things as they are, to leave the agency in my name. There are legal niceties that can't be -"
"There are ways and means around all that and you know it. We've investigated any number of businesses with -"
"And you expect me to join them? You expect me to -"
"That's not what I'm saying at all. I'm talking about a symbolic gesture, a gesture of trust and authority. Here -" he broke off, using an arm to panoramically sweep the office, " - there's still a rather lopsided lean in your direction."
"Of course you would say that but -"
Steele ignored her protestations. "Despite the fact that I've become what started out as your little deception, despite our marriage, despite me putting my hide on the line with yours over the years, despite it all, you still have to be in control, eh?"
Unnerved she exclaimed, "Why don't you just say it? Why don't you just say that you hate being married to me!"
"Stop this Laura!" he yelled. "Stop this and stop your stupid bloody love tests!" He stared at her and saw alarm, anxiety. This wasn't the way to handle it. Forcing himself to calm down, he tried to reach her, to make her understand.
"The fact that I'm here now with you Mrs Steele proves my commitment, not just to this agency but to you and our marriage as well. How many times do I have to say 'I'm not going anywhere' before you believe me? I'm not going anywhere Laura. Trying to drive me away won't work."
"Who said anything about -"
"Want to know what I think? You're still scared. Don't think I'm -"
Laura flinched. It was frightening how well
he knew her. Instinctively she
snapped, "What the hell are you -"
"One of us has embraced matrimony with both arms. You've still got your left one clasped stubbornly behind your back."
"How can you say that when -"
He stooped to look her directly in the eye. "If our marriage fails, if he leaves me, if he runs away. If, if, if - at least I'll still have the agency. Isn't that what you're thinking Laura?" Steele tipped her chin up with his fingers. "Laura?"
She abruptly moved away. "We have business to conduct. Can't we talk about this later?"
"Let's talk about it now. No time like the present."
The buzzer went.
Inwardly he cursed. "Married or single, some things never change." He strode quickly towards the intercom. "Yes Mildred? Give us a minute and then send him in."
"Send who in?"
He tugged an earlobe. "It appears that, errr, Mr Gilbert is here. Seeking a current appraisal of the case, no doubt."
Laura slapped off imaginary specks of dust from her skirt. "Figured out yet how to tell him that our blackmailer is faster than Carl Lewis?"
Mildred bustled in with their client. "Mr Steele, Mrs Steele? Mr Gilbert to see you."
"Ah Mr Gilbert!" Steele cried injecting false cheer into his voice. He took the outstretched arm and shook it enthusiastically. "Good to see you again. What brings you here this afternoon?"
The deeply tanned, be-speckled gentleman couldn't hide his surprise. "It's Friday Mr Steele. I said I'd call in personally for an update."
"So you did Mr Gilbert, so you did." Steele gestured towards the sofa and they all sat down. Turning to Mildred, he plastered a smile on his face. "Miss Krebs, would you bring Mr Gilbert a cup of cof -"
"That's not necessary Mr Steele. I've already had one."
"Oh." He wrung his hands. "Some tea perhaps? Mildred would you bring Mr Gilbert a cup of -"
"Thank you. But I'm fine. Really."
"Ah." Steele crossed his legs. "Water?"
"Look, Mrs Gilbert and I are -"
Laura interjected. "Thank you Mildred." The secretary discreetly removed herself. "Mr Gilbert, rest assured that the Remington Steele agency prides itself on its diligence in all areas. Isn't that right Mr Steele?"
"The very maxim I set in stone when I started this agency, eh Mrs Steele?"
She directed a treacly sweet smile at her husband and through gritted teeth announced, "Mr Gilbert, thank you for taking the time to see us."
Looking from one to the other Gilbert demanded, "Have you got anything on that dirt bag yet?"
"Mrs Steele, why don't you run through the strategy I devised especially for this case?"
Laura barely had time to glare. She concealed her annoyance and in a honey tone countered, "I'd love to Mr Steele but you changed the strategy this afternoon, remember?"
Steele's expression dropped, ever so slightly. Quickly he recovered, "Of course I did, memory like a sieve. I meant would you take Mr Gilbert through the amended strategy I devised this afternoon?"
"With pleasure Mr Steele. Could you remind me how that first part went again? It was a masterpiece. Your best yet."
His eyes narrowed. "You're too kind Mrs Steele, too generous in your approbation."
"I know," she smiled.
Mr Gilbert turned to the head of the agency expectantly. "Let's hear it Steele."
"Right … ah … hear it …" He snapped his fingers. "Mr Gilbert, have you ever heard of the Hapsburg dagger?"
"The Hapsburg dagger? Isn't that a -"
"Exactly. One of my most famous cases. Made a hero of me in Europe, the French were very grateful."
"I'm sure they were but -"
"Y'see Mr Gilbert, the modus operandi
I concocted to recover that invaluable
item is the exact same one I'm using to ensnare your heinous blackmailer,
give or take a few tweaks. It doesn't quite translate into English
word-for-word. So many grammatical surprises in French: irregular
verbs, past historic tense, subjunctive tense, the pluperfect
tense, the -"
"You're using the exact same method
to solve my case as you did the
Hapsburg dagger?" Gilbert was suitably honoured.
"I am indeed. However, you'll appreciate that due to the delicate nature of the international intricacies surrounding the recovery of the Hapsburg dagger, I'm not in a position to -"
Gilbert raised a hand. "Say no more. I quite understand. You can't tell me what's involved here."
At this, Steele knew he'd pulled it off and inwardly paid homage to his abilities. Such quick thinking, such superb reflexes. A gift is a gift and it remained a gift whether one utilised it for the straight and narrow or not. A superb rendition of a great escape and that's - 'The Great Escape,' Steve McQueen, James Garner, Richard Attenborough, United Artists, 1963. Except in this version there's no 'Cooler King' Hilts clad in baseball glove throwing ball after ball against a cell wall. Instead, it's the 'King of Cool' Steele trusty putter in hand playing ball after ball into holes in the office floor and …
"I don't want you to worry for one
minute. Everything is going absolutely according to plan. Absolutely."
He patted his rapt client's shoulder.
"This agency that proudly shoulders my name is a standard
bearer for efficiency, proficiency, expediency. After all, we
have an unsurpassed image to uphold." Steele confidently
flashed his pearly whites. The natural glare rivalled that of
the California sun itself.
Gilbert puffed out his chest, peacock fashion. He stood up and took Steele's hand, shaking vigorously. "I knew I made the right decision coming here. You're better than they say you are Mr Steele. I'll be back next Friday for another update."
"We'll look forward to it," he replied with a knowing glance at his wife who sat stunned into silence.
"Gee, my case ranking with the Hapsburg dagger. That's - that's -" He couldn't find the words.
"Isn't it though?" Steele brightly intoned as he accompanied their client to the door. "Our indispensable Miss Krebs will make next week's appointment for you. Good day Mr Gilbert."
"Thank you Mr Steele. Mrs Steele," he nodded towards her. "What a guy! What a guy you're married to!"
Laura loaded saccharine into her voice. "He's a real prize."
Gilbert waved then pulled the door firmly behind him.
Steele spread his arms in a gesture of wild celebration. "Well I think I've -"
"Great," she rolled her eyes. "Now he thinks everything's going to plan."
"Well it's better than him knowing the awful truth, don't you think? Besides, I'm confident that two sharp-witted investigators like us can come up with something."
"No," Laura insisted. "You're going to come up with something. It's your fault we're in this mess in the first place." She stomped to the connecting door and slammed it.
Steele sighed as he moved to his chair and slumped into it. Pressing down the intercom he beseeched, "Mildred?"
"Yeah boss?"
"Bring me a brick wall to bang my head against, there's a love."
"Huh?"
"Thank you."
****************************************
Friday evening and the streets of Westwood were adding to Laura's mood. Every driver seemed worse tempered than usual but despite this, the ride back to Rossmore was the quietest she'd ever shared with her husband.
She stubbornly kept her eyes on the road refusing to even look at him, stewing as she pulled up at a set of stoplights. He'd got them out of a hole again. Deep down she'd known he would but part of her had wanted him to trip up, wanted him to stumble so that she could rescue the situation. It would've taught him a lesson: three cut and dry cases in a row needlessly complicated by his rash actions. And all because he'd unilaterally decided that his help was needed as if there -
Mrs Steele continued to chew on the cosmetic issue to avoid the real one hanging in the air.
Green.
The station wagon in front hadn't noticed.
"Hey buddy!" she honked, "Move it
or lose it!"
"Calm down Laura. Let's get home in one piece, eh? Then we can take this sparkling dialogue of ours to even greater heights."
She turned to him snapping fiercely, "I
know what I'm doing. I happen to be an
excellent driver."
"Ah, I see you've broken the sound barrier at last."
"It's not the only thing I'll break if you don't keep your sarcasm to yourself."
He stared at a car ahead, nonplussed. "That's what I love about you Laura. You just can't keep your hands off me."
The journey home continued in silence.
Laura swung her Rabbit into their other parking space, next to the Auburn, and switched off the engine.
Steele attempted an armistice. Rubbing his hands together, he energetically declared, "I'll cook tonight. What do you fancy eating? Some Pasta?"
Laura shrugged. "You're cooking. You choose."
They walked to the elevator and rode it quietly, each deep in thought. He turned the key in the lock and stood aside for her.
Steele watched as his wife flopped onto the sofa. Frustration got the better of him. Imperiously he demanded, "What's bothering you?"
"Nothing." Her tone was dismissive.
"I see. Nothing. Fine. I'll make dinner." He threw his jacket over the sofa and marched into the kitchen.
She switched on the television and stared blankly at the screen. Questions churned in her mind over and over and over. Questions about him, questions about her, questions about their marriage .... but what were the goddamn answers?
****************************************
"You know I hate 'Atomic Man' Laura."
"You know I love 'Atomic Man' Mr Steele."
They sat on the couch, arms crossed. It wasn't the best evening they'd spent together. Preoccupied, Steele neglected their meal and it had burnt while his wife continued to make taciturnity an art form.
"To hell with this." He stood up and reached for his jacket. "I'm going out. Don't wait up."
Startled, she leapt to her feet, "Where're you going?"
"Somewhere where my company is preferred over a man wearing a silly costume."
She swallowed fear and expressed it as defiance. "Fine. Just remember that you're sleeping alone tonight."
"Well at this precise moment, that comes as a blessed relief." He stormed out the door without a backward glance.
"Damn it." Laura slapped her forehead murmuring, "I'm sorry."
But there was no one to hear it.
****************************************
At the sound of the doorbell, a watch was quizzically checked. It was late but the lateness of the hour made no difference to some of the people Monroe Henderson knew. He lowered the volume on his state-of-the-art big screen television, checked his visage and after deciding he was presentable, answered the door.
Smiling broadly into the slightly apprehensive face before him, the one person he always had time for, Monroe enthused, "Mick! Come in old friend, come in."
Steele anxiously looked around for signs of company. He wasn't in the mood to put up a facile front. "Not disturbing you am I?"
"Would it deter you if you were?" They smirked at each other.
"So what brings you here? Business? Rest assured, our little venture grows stronger by the hour and -"
"Not business Monroe, not strictly business anyway."
"Not business Mick?"
"Not completely."
"Drink?"
"I've been known to."
"Take a seat." Monroe gestured at his couch then walked over to the alcohol pouring two glasses of brandy. He handed one to his old confidant who accepted it gratefully.
"Domestic?"
"You wound me, my friend," Monroe replied, mockingly stabbing himself.
Steele grinned, swirled and sniffed. "French?"
"C'est bon cognac, n'est-ce pas?"
"Je ne dirais pas qu'il est bon, mais il n'est pas mauvais."
"Your French has markedly improved but what an insult to my brandy! Napoleon himself would approve of this fine example of French craftsmanship imported all the way from the Charente and Charente-Maritime départements of France."
"Merci beaucoup," Steele raised his glass to his host.
"How's that lovely wife of yours?" Monroe watched and waited. He knew his friend too well to do anything else.
"Still lovely. Most of the time."
"And is this one of those times?"
Steele took a deep breath. "Shall we continue our game?"
"Of course. Tactics, strategies and anticipation: a game testing intelligence."
" 'E equals mc squared' Monroe."
"What's Einstein got to do with this Mick?" he asked utterly puzzled.
"It was the most intelligent thing
I could think of to say," Steele answered rubbing his hands.
"Just a little intellectual humour to suitably set the tone."
Chessboard laid out in all its glory, the two men sat at the table
opposite each other, studious frowns creasing both their foreheads.
"What say we finally conclude this match tonight?" Steele hinted as he sipped his drink. "After all, we've been playing it for three weeks now."
"Really? Time flies when you're having fun."
Minutes ticked by.
Steele took one of Monroe's pawns with his rook. "A pawn's lot is rather poor."
"The pawn is very underrated my friend.
First line of defence, first line of attack." The comment
was accompanied by a deft action of the right hand.
A small, wooden box immediately flipped open. He gestured accordingly.
"How civilised Monroe, yes." Steele reached in, retrieved a generously sized cigar, lit it and puffed deeply. "Cuban," he acknowledged blowing smoke rings high into the air. "Cohiba. My God, this tastes like an Esplendidos. They're bloody rare. How did -"
The immediate response was a sly, secret smile. "I haven't given up all our old ways Mick."
"Glad to hear it. It's your move."
"You?"
Steele rubbed his stomach. "I've got something in the pipeline. Entirely legit, wholly on the up and up. You may wish to come in on it. In fact, take my advice and get in on the ground floor."
"Oh?"
"Movies on discs," he announced with an ear-to-ear grin.
"Movies on discs?"
"Look at the CD and think of my little
enterprise as merely the logical
evolutionary advancement, technologically speaking. I've got a
good feeling about this one mate. Trust me. Incidentally, it's
your move."
"Have you told your lovely wife about our little venture yet?"
There was a slight pause. "Not yet, not yet. But I will. Soon."
"I see. And have you told her about this movies on discs idea? Or about that racehorse called -?"
"The Spanish Inquisition ended in 1834 Monroe."
"I know all I need to know my friend."
"Well okay then. And since you know it all, guess what I'm going to say next? It concerns this game we're playing and it involves the words 'move,' 'your' and 'it's.' "
Monroe was unperturbed. "Patience my
restless protégé, patience."
Steele blew out his smoke exasperatedly. "Why did I let you
talk me into learning this game? It takes forever. Did I mention
that it's your move?"
"Excuse me? When have I ever talked you into anything? You asked me - no begged me - to teach you. Weren't you distressed about your lovely Miss Holt, as she was back then, being able to do something you couldn't?"
"What an odd notion Monroe. Chess is an exalted art, a supreme skill. I owed it to myself to learn."
"Nonsense."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You forget friend, I've seen you and your wife together. I've dined with you both and by the way, the soy sauce made your rumaki a touch salty - and I've worked with you both. I was your best man last week so I think we can safely say I know what I'm talking about."
"Rubbish! My rumaki was perfect. What about me and Laura anyway?"
Monroe nonchalantly surveyed the pieces in front of him. "That's quite a woman you've got there Mick. A challenging woman, a stimulating woman. And I'm not just talking about stimulating the body: I'm talking about the mind too. Your Laura has driven you to play chess purely the exquisite pleasure of beating her at it."
Taken aback, Steele blustered, "I'm hurt and just a little bit offended too! How can you sit there and casually cast aspersions on my motives for learning chess? Tsk, tsk, tsk. You honestly think I'm studying this time-honoured game, this game fit for royalty, for kings, just so that I can checkmate my wife?"
"There are two reasons why you've just
wasted your breath."
"Oh?"
"The first is the incontestable fact that I know you and have known you for many years."
"And the second?"
"The second is the memory of that breathless, excited man telling me he'd solved his first case as Remington Steele. Something about beating his lovely associate to a female ghost avenging her brother's death. I believe that was it but don't quote me."
"What has all that got to do -"
"It's called a 'natural high' my friend and you seem to experience it whenever you best your wife. She brings out that competitive edge in you; she makes you go the distance. A shame I didn't see her first."
He smiled. "You always did have excellent taste, brandy notwithstanding of course, eh?" Steele raised his glass to his mouth.
"Leave my brandy alone Mick."
He laughed. "It's your move by the way."
Monroe's fingers wavered over his knight, Steele silently urged him to select it and fall into the carefully laid trap. The hand dropped and disappointment had to be quickly masked.
"Fascinating woman. No wonder she's captivated you all these years Mick."
"Bloody stubborn, obstinate, headstrong, impossible -"
"That captivated you too."
"If I live to be a hundred I'll never understand women."
"We're not supposed to Mick. We're men."
"Take Laura for instance -"
"If you ever divorce her, it's good to know I have your permission."
"Quick wit. You always were a man after my own heart Monroe."
"Your heart's taken. Has been for nearly five years."
Steele smiled. "Take Laura for instance. When we were single she spent half the time pushing me away, now that we're married, she spends half the time pushing me away. I can't win."
"You told me that she chose you over the lawyer and that CIA character."
Steele scowled at the allusion to both men.
"Why do you say you can't win? You won hands down."
"Are we playing chess or not mate?"
Warm chocolate eyes met keen blue ones. "Is it my move?"
Steele stared. Astonished. "I can't believe you said that."
At the sickened expression on the face opposite him, Monroe burst into rich laughter. It proved infectious and soon, the old partners were loudly guffawing, hands across their stomachs.
The host wiped tears from his eyes. "Refill?"
"Do I really have a choice?"
"Will you stop your merciless teasing about my brandy? This -" Monroe stated as he poured, "- is nectar fit for the gods."