"I'd stake my reputation on it, Mr. Grawley," the man assured him in a tremulous voice, peering myopically through the thick lenses of the glasses he wore.
"You're stakin' your life, mate," Grawley growled, causing the nervous man to back away.
"May I go now?" he asked, shaking in his ill-fitting suit. "My daughter's expecting me home for dinner-"
Grawley waved his hand toward the door. "Get out of here," as he picked up several of the glittering gems.
The doddering old man left the room as quickly as his feeble legs would carry him as the other man standing on the other side of the desk asked, "May I have my money now, Mr. Grawley?"
Grawley's grey eyes moved from the diamonds in his hand to the sweating man who stood before him. "Get the Major his money, Joey," he told the third man. "Two hundred thousand, right?"
"They're worth much more than that," the Major said, then stopped as he was pinned by that grey stare once again. "But two hundred thousand will be fine," he finished, running finger around his collar, watching as Joey placed a briefcase on the desk- accidentally scattering the diamonds over the floor.
"You clumsy fool!" Grawley yelled at him. "Pick every one of them up. Now."
"Yes, Boss," Joey muttered.
Grawley opened the briefcase to reveal the promised money. As the Major reached toward it, he closed the case again. "It's been nice doing business with you, Major. Now get out of here."
"Thank you," the Major said as Grawley handed him the case. He left the back room via the alley doorway, as the appraiser had done. With a glance around him to insure he wasn't being watched, he went to a pile of trash and dug through it until he found the canvas bag he'd left earlier, then started to take the money from the briefcase and put it into the bag.
Inside the office, Grawley turned to look at his henchman. "Have you found them all?"
"I-I think there's one still missing," Joey said hesitantly.
"Keep looking," Grawley ordered, and stepped toward the door. The sound of something being crushed caused him to pause and lift his foot carefully. There was a fine dust on the floor where his foot had been. Picking up another of the gems he'd just purchased, and dropped it onto the floor again, then deliberately brought his foot down on it, crushing it easily. "They're paste!" he yelled, grabbing the lot and tossing them across the room. Pointing to the doorway, he told Joey, "Bring him back here! And don't be gentle about it!" Joey and the other two men scattered.
The Major was at the end of the alleyway, silently congratulating himself on a job well done, when he heard the door to the shop open again, and turned to see Joey running toward him. He pulled the briefcase close to his chest and turned to leave the alley, but found his way blocked by two more of Grawley's henchmen. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?" the Major asked.
Joey pulled the briefcase from his arms. "Mr. Grawley would like a word with you, Major."
The Major swallowed heavily as he let them escort him back into that dimly lit room. "Is there a problem, Mr. Grawley?" he asked the man himself as he sat there nervously.
Grawley held out the diamonds. "You sold me fake diamonds, Major."
Outside in the alley, the diamond appraiser, believing that his friend was already out of the area, dug through the trash and found the canvas gym bag. He opened it, revealing the money, and then closed it before continuing out of the alley to hail a cab.
Grawley opened the briefcase that the Major had been holding and then dumped the contents onto the table. "Where's my money?" he asked the Major, holding up the strips of newspaper, all nicely bundled to look like money.
"I hid it," the Major said, wiping his face with his handkerchief. "In the alley outside."
"Leo, Fred, you two go and tear that alleyway apart. Find my money." Grawley leaned over the Major. "Now, Major, you're going to tell me who your accomplice is- if you want to live."
"I didn't have an accomplice," the Major insisted. "I worked alone-" He flinched as Joey pulled a gun from his pocket and began to affix a silencer to the end of the barrel.
"Major, you're not smart enough to have come up with this little plan all on your own. You needed help to pull it off. Now, give me a name, and I'll let you go."
"Uh- Chalmers. Daniel Chalmers."
"The appraiser?"
"Yes. That's him. It was all his idea. Please, Mr. Grawley. I didn't mean any harm-" Grawley nodded at Joey, who returned his gun to its holster. The Major sighed with relief. "May I go now?" he asked.
"Not yet," Grawley said as he faced away from the nervous man. He slid his hand into his jacket and turned at the same time as he pulled his own gun. "It's not that easy, Major. Sorry." He fired once, at point blank range, and the Major dropped to the floor. "Find Chalmers, Joey. And be quick about it."
***
Bernice Foxe looked up to greet the person who entered the offices of Remington Steele- then her welcoming smile turned into a sour expression. "Oh. It's you," she told the man as he removed his dark glasses.
"Good morning to you, too, Miss Wolfe," he said, deliberately getting her name wrong. "Lovely day, isn't it?"
"It was until about three seconds ago," she confirmed. "And the name's Foxe. Not Wolfe."
He grinned and continued to his office. "Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?" he asked, then glanced back to see her return to whatever she had been doing before his entrance. "I suppose not," he muttered, continuing on into his office.
A moment later, Laura's office door opened and she looked toward the closed door of his to ask Bernice. "Did I just hear-?"
"In all his glory," Bernice responded with sarcasm. She eyed Laura with concern. "Are you okay, Laura? You seem a bit- edgy."
"It's nothing," Laura insisted quickly, lifting a hand to make sure her hair was still fastened into a bun on the back of her head. "Thanks. Have there been any calls for him?"
"No. Were you expecting any?"
"No," Laura said, quickly again. Then she disappeared back into her office, leaving Bernice to lift her shoulders in confusion.
Laura paced the office several times before crossing to the door that connected her office to his. In the six months since he'd stepped into their lives and become Remington Steele, he had somehow made an indelible imprint on the room. Of course, a large part of that was probably the far wall, where several framed photographs of "Remington Steele" with various clients and people of note proudly hung. Murphy referred to it sneeringly as "the wall of no-shame". Laura tried on good days to just ignore it.
This wasn't a good day.
He was straightening one of the photos- one taken of himself and the Mayor at a luncheon he'd attended last week. "Ah, Laura," he said, hearing her enter. "You really need to speak to the cleaning people about making sure these are straight after they dust," he told her, stepping down off of the white upholstered sofa to slip his feet back into the expensive shoes that were sitting on the floor.
"Don't you have a meeting to go to?" Laura asked him.
"Not that Bernice mentioned, no," he said, those blue eyes watching her with curiosity. "In fact, since there's not much on the schedule today, I thought I might pop out of here a bit early and see if Rikki might like to-"
"No!" Laura said, and knew that she sounded desperate in the attempt to stop him. "What I mean is- she's got ballet practice this afternoon-"
Remington frowned. "I thought ballet practice was on Mondays?" he asked, going to the calendar on his desk- the only thing on the desk other than the lamp and telephone. Flipping through the pages, he nodded. "Yes. Ballet on Monday afternoon- piano on Wednesdays- today *is* Friday, isn't it?" he asked, looking up at her.
"Yes, yes, it is." She glanced at her watch, pacing to the window. "You're sure you don't have something you need to do? An appointment with your tailor, maybe? Maybe a jewel heist to plan out of the country?"
Remington stood there, arms folded across his chest. "Laura, wouldn't be trying to get rid of me for some reason, would you?"
She turned to look at him, fingering the curtain at the edge of the window. "No. Of course not. I just thought- you might have some plans for the weekend that would take you out of town, that's all."
"The only place I'll be this weekend is with Rikki," he told her, moving closer. "I promised to take her to see the puppet show in the park. All three of us were going, as I recall."
She winced. "That's right. That is this weekend, isn't it?" She sighed and put a hand to her forehead. "I'm a getting a headache."
"I've heard of using a headache to get out of - certain things- but a puppet show? The fresh air will do wonders for you," he told her. "You spend entirely too much time locked away in these fluorescent lit buildings. You need to cut loose a bit."
"Kick up my heels," Laura mused.
"Sounds good to me," he urged gently. "I've often wondered what happened to that wild, free-spirited young woman who did a fan dance on a bar in Acapulco," he sighed.
Laura's face grew serious again. "She grew up. Had a child and needed to build her career."
"So she's- totally gone, then? No chance of a - repeat performance?" Remington asked, bending his knees to look at her. "No chance of her ever returning?"
Laura turned away from him without answering and paced across the room. "You can't stay here this weekend," she insisted. "I'll tell Rikki that you had urgent business out of town," she said. "In- London- or Cannes, or-"
"I gave Rikki my word, Laura," Remington said firmly. "I'm not going to go back on a promise to my daughter." She sighed again, and he went to stand before her once more. This time, he lifted her chin. "What's wrong? Why is it so important for me to be out of town?"
Laura swallowed heavily, then confessed, "My mother," she said in a quiet voice.
"What about your mother?"
"She's- arriving today for a short visit. She just got back from that six month tour of Europe and saw all of those interviews in the newspapers- and since you're spending more time here now, - she wants to meet you."
"Excellent," Remington declared. "I've been wanting to meet her, as well." He turned and went back to his desk.
"You can't be serious!" Laura insisted.
"But I am," he said, sitting down.
"Don't you see? The very first thing she'll do is ask about-"
"About why we're not married?" Remington asked, his blue eyes locked on her face. "Why we're not making a proper home for our daughter?" They were the same questions he'd been asking her himself for the last six months.
"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" Laura asked, her tone pleading with him. "Please, make it easy. Just take a little trip- I don't care where. I won't even complain about the cost. San Moritz, Hawaii-"
"Tempting," he agreed, and saw the hopeful gleam in her eyes that quickly faded when he shook his head. "The only way I'll go is if you and Rikki go with me."
Laura leaned on the front of his desk, looking drained. "Isn't there *anything* I can say that will make you realize that you don't want to meet my-"
"Hello, Laura, dear," a cheery voice called from the doorway.
"Mother," Laura finished, looking decidedly ill, Remington thought as he rose to greet the blond woman who was even now crossing the office toward him to give Laura a brief hug and very light, almost non existent peck on the cheek.
"Hello, Mother," Laura said, and Remington hid his surprise at her lack of enthusiasm. He'd known that Laura and her mother didn't get along well, but-
Abigail Holt surveyed her daughter. "Still having to wear your hair up, I see." Her brown eyes turned toward Remington at last. There was no smile in them. "And you're Remington. It's nice to *finally* meet you."
Remington smiled his brightest smile as he came around the desk to take the woman's hand. She could be his most important ally in the battle in which he was currently embroiled. "Ah, Abigail. I do hope you don't mind my calling you that. Laura's told me so much about you over the years that I feel I already know you. Such a pleasure to meet you at last. I really must apologize for having been out of the country on your previous visits. If I'd known how charming and lovely you are, I'd have insisted on being making your acquaintance well before now."
The ice was thawing. He could see it in the smile that she tried so very much to hide. Of course, he could almost feel the cold beginning to emanate from the direction of her daughter as Abigail said, "Well, I- I don't know what to say."
"Say yes and let me make up the question?" he suggested, and gave himself a tiny pat on the back when she nearly giggled like a school girl. Laura rolled her eyes in disbelief. "I have a simply *wonderful* idea. Why don't we have dinner this evening?" he suggested.
"I don't think that's-" Laura began, but Remington lifted a hand.
"I know it's not necessary, Laura, but I believe I have several years of neglect to make up for, don't I, Abigail? Say, seven o'clock? I'll send Fred round to pick you both up."
"What about Rikki?" Laura asked.
"I'm sure Maria can watch her, Laura," Abigail said. "That is what you pay the woman for, isn't it? We'll be ready, Remington," she assured him with a glowing smile.
"Ah, excellent. I'll make the reservations straightaway," Remington promised, picking up the telephone. "I hope you like Italian."
"I *love* Italian," Abigail told him.
Laura grabbed her mother's arm and pulled her toward the door. "I'll have Fred take you to your hotel, Mother," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm sure you must be exhausted after your flight."
Abigail smiled at Remington as Laura pushed her into the reception area. "Actually, Laura, I was hoping to stop in and visit with my granddaughter for a few minutes."
"Mother-"
"I gave you my word last night that I wouldn't say anything about Remington being her father," Abigail reminded her. "Although I don't know why you're still insisting on keeping it a secret. Just one look at him and you can tell she's his daughter." She sighed. "Those gorgeous blue eyes. I can understand why you-"
"Mother!" Laura gasped in consternation as Bernice laughed softly. "Bernice, call Fred, please and have him meet my mother downstairs. I'll be back in a minute."
Bernice picked up the phone as the doors closed behind the two woman, laughing. If Mrs. Holt only knew the *real* story, she thought. She told Fred to have the limo waiting so that Laura could escape her mother's clutches, then answered the second line when it rang. "Remington Steele Investigations . . . One moment please." She pressed the "hold" button, then the intercom into Loverboy's office.
"Yes, Miss Wolfe?" he asked.
Bernice stuck her tongue out at the receiver, then said, "Telephone call for you on line two."
"Thank you," he said, and pressed the proper button. "Steele here."
***
Bernice looked up when his door opened and he came out. Sometimes, she wished she didn't know so much about the man, she thought. And that he didn't have eyes for Laura alone. He really *was* handsome, she had to admit as he slid his sunglasses onto his nose. "I'll be out for the rest of the day, Bernice," he told her.
"Where?"
"Just- out," he said. "Call Fred, if you would-"
"He's busy," Bernice informed him, with a gleam of one-upmanship in her eyes as he turned around. "Taking Laura's mother to her hotel."
"I see. Where's she staying?"
"The Downtown Hilton."
"Thank you," he said, and left the office, getting into one lift as the other one began to open its doors. He saw Laura move down the corridor toward the office with another man, just catching the hint of a Cockney accent in his tones before the lift doors closed and blocked the sound. "Good timing," he muttered.
***
"I'm sure we'll be able to help you find this person, Mr. Grawley," Laura said to the man at her side as they entered the office. She noticed immediately that the door to Remington's office was open. "Where is Mr. Steele, Bernice?" she asked.
"You just missed him. Said he would be out the rest of the day and left."
Laura's eyes narrowed as she considered what he could be up to with her mother in town. He was probably just going over to see Rikki. Putting her concerns aside, she smiled at Arthur Grawley and indicated that they should go into her office. "I'll take care of the preliminary interview then and bring Mr. Steele up to date when he checks in later. This way, please, Mr. Grawley?" She hesitated. "Where's Murphy?"
"Still at the courthouse getting those records for the Hamilton case," Bernice told her.
"Send him in if he gets back before Mr. Grawley leaves, okay?"
"You got it."
Laura entered her office and closed the door, smiling at the burly yet well dressed Englishman. "Now, Mr. Grawley what can the Remington Steele Agency do for you?"
"I need you to help me find my cousin," Grawley informed her. "His name's Daniel Chalmers."
"Daniel Chalmers. What makes you think he's here in Los Angeles?"
"Danny's a bit of a rolling stone. Off side of the family, you see. Well, my father died recently and left him two hundred thousand dollars- and I want to make sure he gets what's coming to him."
***
Remington caught up with Fred and the limo just as the chauffer was about to pull away from the curb at the Hilton. "Ah, Fred. There you are, my good man."
"Mr. Steele," Fred said, surprised.
"I need a lift to the airport, Fred," Remington said, looking at his watch. "After a quick stop at the Bonaventure Hotel." He checked the refrigerator and discovered that the bottle of champagne was indeed where it should be- as were the glasses. Fred certainly knew his job, he thought, sitting back as the limo accelerated smoothly into traffic, smiling in anticipation as he considered the reason for his visit to the Bonaventure and the airport.
To Be Continued---