Laura paid the taxi driver and carried her own suitcase up the house. It was still early- Wilson would be at work. She entered the small house and kicked the door closed behind her. Carrying the case into the bedroom, she stopped in the doorway to stare. For the year that they had lived together, Wilson had always used the right side of the dresser and the top two drawers of the chest. All of those drawers were now open, and even from here, Laura could see that they were empty. After a thorough search, she only found a few of his toiletries in the bath- mostly cologne that she'd bought him and he didn't like- the white belt and shoes she'd bought for a joke- and that t-shirt which had actually made him laugh at her flight of fancy in buying it. "Bankers do it with Interest", she read, and then stuffed it, the shoes, and the belt to the back of her closet. The toiletries were shoved to the side of the medicine cabinet. She'd give them to someone- Murphy, perhaps.
The thought of her partner at Havenhurst brought her up short and she grabbed the phone to dial the telephone number. "Havenhurst," the receptionist answered.
"Lucy? Is Murphy in?"
"Is that you, Laura?" Lucy asked, snapping her gum almost continuously. "Where are you?"
Before Laura could answer the woman, another voice came on the line. "Laura? Are you okay?"
She smiled at the worry in Murphy's voice. It was like a balm to her wounded heart. "Yeah. I mean, I think so. Wilson's gone, Murph," she said, her voice fading away as it broke and she started to cry.
"Damn. That bastard. Look, are you at home? I'll be right over." The connection clicked closed, and Laura struggled to hang up through the tears in her eyes. She curled up on the bed in a tiny ball and cried until she couldn't cry anymore.
Another one gone. First her father walked away, and now Wilson. Okay, maybe she'd been a little irresponsible in Acapulco, but was that any reason to leave without even a note saying goodbye?
She should have stayed in Acapulco, she thought as a pair of brilliant blue eyes swam into her teary vision. Grabbing the telephone, she called information to ask for the telephone number of the hotel where he'd been staying and then sat there, debating whether or not to call. Finally she dialed the number and waited for the switchboard operator to answer. "Hello? I'm trying to reach one of your guests. A Mr. Richard Blaine in Room 456."
"I'm sorry, Senorita," the Hispanic woman told her after a moment's wait. "Sr. Blaine is apparently not in at the moment. He is not answering his telephone. May I take a message?"
Laura hesitated. What could she say? "Wilson dumped me so I thought maybe you and I might-"? She shook her head. "No. No message. Thanks anyway." She hung up and this time her tears weren't for the end of her relationship with Wilson, but for what might have been with a tall, handsome Englishman if she'd only been willing to open her eyes. He had asked her to go to the French Riviera with him, hadn't he? And who knows where they might have gone from there…
A knock on the door brought her out of her reverie and she padded slowly to answer Murphy's insistent banging. "I'm okay, Murph," she assured him as he pulled her into a comforting embrace. "I'm okay. I was just a little- shocked. Coming home and finding that he'd just up and - left the way he did."
"I tried to tell him to stick it out a few more days, but he wouldn't listen," Murphy told her.
"You spoke to him?"
"Yeah. When you didn't call or come to work Monday, I called here. When I didn't get an answer, I called him at the bank. He told me that you'd decided to stay in Acapulco for some reason he wouldn't discuss and that you and he were through." He rubbed her shoulders. "If you hadn't come home today, I would've headed down there to find you myself."
Laura smiled at him. "You're a good friend, Murphy."
"Yeah. Too good," he grumbled. When Laura gave him a confused look, he smiled. "Say, why don't I take you out for some pizza?" he suggested.
"It's the middle of the day," Laura reminded him. "We have to get back to work." She stopped as she turned toward the bedroom to ask, "I *do* still have a job, don't I? Alan didn't- fire me or anything like that?" Suddenly getting her PI license was of paramount importance to Laura. It was they only thing she had left. A lifeline back to sanity.
"You kidding? His best apprentice? I was thinking that I'd have to tie *him* to his desk to keep him from looking for you."
"Let me shower and change and we'll get to work, then. Anything interesting going on that I should know about?" she called as she grabbed some clean clothes out of the closet and dresser.
He filled her in on their newest case, and then waited in the living room for her to finish her shower and change. As she came out, dressed in a conservative business suit, he said, "You're not gonna tell me what happened down there, are you?"
"Not right now, Murphy," she told him in a quiet voice. "I can't. It's still too- painful to discuss. But when I'm ready, you'll be the first one I come to."
"That's something, anyway," he shrugged. "Let's take my car. Then we can have dinner after work and I'll bring you home."
"That's my big brother," Laura laughed, linking her arm through his, missing the wince of pain on his handsome, boyish face.
****
A month later, Laura had to call into work because she was sicker than a dog. She couldn't even sit up without losing her cookies. After a week, during which Alan constantly assured her that she was in no danger of losing her job, she finally gave in to Murphy's insistence that she see a doctor.
Half an hour later, she left the doctor's office in a state of shock. Of course, it was the only possible answer. Goodness knows, she hadn't even *thought* about her birth control pills during those three days when she and Richard were making mad passionate love on almost every surface in that hotel suite. Her pills had been in her things- and those had been in another hotel altogether. And after she had come home, there'd been no reason to continue taking them. It wasn't as if there were men clamoring for access to her bed, after all.
She placed a hand on her abdomen as she stood there before a baby store, looking at the display of tiny clothing. The doctor had given her the usual spiel about needing to make a decision about what she wanted to do, but Laura already knew what her decision was going to be.
This baby was a part of her. Something that no one was going to take away. Her only connection to that 'what might have been' that sometimes tormented her in the dark, lonely nights. She knew she would have to try and track Richard down, to at least let him know about the consequences of their long weekend of passion. Not to ask him to help or anything, but that he might want to be part of his child's life- and hers as well, she hoped.
She told Murphy that she'd just had a virus and that it would be okay, and then started a quiet search for her baby's father. She'd hit dead end after dead end at the end of five months. It was only when Murphy saw the name written on a slip of paper that Laura became curious. "Richard Blaine. That's name's familiar for some reason," he had commented, and then looked at her. "You sure you're okay, Laura? You look like you've put on some weight."
"Maybe a little," she confirmed, and went home early to put up her feet and rest. Trying to finish her second year of apprenticeship was hard enough without having to worry about telling everyone that she was pregnant.
Turning on the TV, she picked up the TV Guide and flipped through it. The word "Casablanca" caught her eye, and she remembered Richard telling her that they would have to watch it together someday, since he'd drawn her "name" from it. Curious, she turned it on, and realized that she wasn't going to find him. Because Richard Blaine wasn't his real name- anymore than hers had been Ilsa. Her hand fell to her slightly swollen stomach as she started to cry.
The doorbell rang and she tried to ignore it, until she heard Murphy's voice. "Laura? I know you're in there, I heard the TV!" He banged on the door. "Laura!? You okay?"
She was afraid that he would knock the door off its hinges if she didn't answer, so she did her best to dry her eyes and opened it. "Murphy."
He held up a flat cardboard carton. "I brought some pizza. Thought we could go over the Morgenthal report before we turn it in tomorrow-" he stopped talking and looked at her. "You've been crying."
"No," she said, and then hiccupped.
"Yes, you have. Laura, what's wrong?" he asked, putting the box onto the coffee table and turning her to face him. "Hey, this is me, remember? Big brother?"
She took a deep breath and placed a hand on her stomach, pulling the fabric taunt against her as she told him, "I'm pregnant, Murph."
His eyes widened and moved down to look at her, then back to her face. "I'll kill him."
"Who?" Laura asked, grabbing his arm as he would have turned to go.
"That jackass Wilson, of course. Leaving you like that when you-"
"He's not the father, Murphy," Laura said quietly.
"He's not?"
"Then-who?"
Laura sat down on the sofa and the entire story came out. Her impromptu fan dance at Pepe's, meeting a tall, handsome stranger as she made her escape from the local authorities, and then spending the next three days in his bed. "I know you probably think I deserve this after being so irresponsible-"
"No," Murphy said. "I don't. But I do think you should find him and let him know."
"That's the problem," she said. "I don't even know his name!"
***
Murphy backed her up when she finally told Alan Grievey that she was going to have a baby, insisting that she was still the best apprentice he had in the place. After consulting with his partner, Alan agreed to let Laura keep working- but only doing paperwork and telephone interviews. He refused to let her do any field work for the last three months of her pregnancy.
Laura chafed at the restriction, but she knew it was for her own good. Hers- and her baby's. Telling her mother had been a little more difficult. Like Murphy, Abigail Holt had thought Wilson was the father and wanted to take him to court to do his duty. But on that Sunday, Laura, watching a football game on TV while doing some typing on a case report, assured her that Wilson wasn't the father, that he was someone Abigail had never met.
When Abigail continued to press for a name, Laura, frustrated, said the first name she saw: the word on her typewriter. "Remington, Mother. His name is Remington."
"Remington? What kind of name is that, for goodness sake? Does he have a last name?"
Laura sighed and glanced up at the TV. "Steele. Remington Steele."
"Good lord. And what does he do?"
"He- travels," Laura told her. "He's- He's a private detective, too. But his work takes him to Europe and Asia-"
"Another private detective," Abigail sighed. "When are you getting married?"
"We're not," Laura informed her mother in a decisive tone that brooked no argument.
"But- Laura, dear, you can't possibly intend to raise this baby alone- with no father."
"Women do it all the time, Mother," Laura pointed out. "It's my baby. Remington will be here when he can, but with his schedule-"
"I want to meet him."
"We'll try to arrange it, Mother," Laura said. "I really have to go. I've got a ton of work to finish before work tomorrow morning."
"That's another thing. How do you intend to continue with this silly pipe dream of yours with a baby to take care of?"
That was one question that Laura hadn't been able to resolve just yet, but she bravely kept her mother from being aware of her uncertainty. "I'll manage, Mother." Problem was, she wasn't at all sure she would.
***
In the end, it was Murphy who came up with the answer. A friend of his that he played basketball with needed a place for his mother, freshly arrived from Mexico to go to work so that she could stay in the States legally. She spoke enough English that she and Laura could communicate, and having raised six children, knew everything about babies. A week before Laura's baby was due, Maria moved into the house to get things ready.
Laura had been touched by Murphy's thoughtfulness, but hadn't been surprised, since he had asked her to marry him six months into the pregnancy. Laura had turned him down, since she didn't love him and didn't want to put him into that position.
But he was there, coaching her through the birth when her little girl was born, telling her to breathe and focus, and being told to shut up when the pain got to be too much. He told her later that she almost broke his hand, she'd squeezed it so hard. But it was all worth it for Laura when they placed her daughter into her arms. All the pain, all the tears, the anger. She smoothed the dark hair gently, rocking the baby back and forth as Abigail came into the room. "She's beautiful, Laura," she commented. "Have you decided on a name?"
"I hadn't made up my mind until I saw her," Laura said. "Rikki."
"Rikki?" Abigail asked. "What does Remington have to say about it? And where *is* he, anyway? You'd think he'd at least be here for his child's birth. Your father might not have been a good husband, but he was there when both you and your sister were born-"
"I explained, Mother," Laura said as Rikki's tiny fingers curled around one of hers. "He's in South America somewhere on a case. Once he checks in, I'll tell him. He knew I was considering the name, and told me to choose whatever name I thought was best."
Murphy took Abigail out for some coffee, giving Laura a look that said, "You *owe* me" as they left the room.
Laura pressed a kiss to her daughter's fingers. "Hello, there, Rikki Holt."
Abigail waited for Murphy to put the Styrofoam cups on the table before she asked, "Have *you* met him, Murphy?"
"Who, Mrs. Holt?" he asked.
"Remington Steele."
"Sure. Several times. He's an okay guy, I guess. Not someone I'd shoot baskets with, but-"
"I just wish he'd marry Laura and give that baby a name."
"She has a name," Murphy pointed out. "Rikki Holt. Look, Abigail, this is Laura's decision, okay? It's what she wants. I really think that Steele would marry her in a heartbeat if Laura would give the word, but *she's* the one who doesn't want to get married."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"What about her work? Is she going to be able to keep doing- whatever it is she does?"
"With Maria helping with the baby, I don't see why she can't."
***
A year later, Laura left Havenhurst to open her own agency. Six months later, it closed for lack of interest. She had Murphy over to dinner for a post-mortem dinner. He was holding his god-child while Laura was ranting about how unfair it was that even at Havenhurst, she was never accepted as a real PI. "I was always in your shadow, or Alan's, or-"
"What you need is a shadow man," Murphy noted, lifting Rikki up and down as the little girl giggled, her blue eyes alight with delight at being played with. When Laura got suddenly quiet, he turned to look at her, a bad feeling growing in his stomach. "I don't like that look, Laura. It means you're up to something that I won't' like."
She grinned. "A shadow man! Of course!" she rose and started pacing the room. "Someone to bring in the clients while I'm the one doing the work. A big, strong man that people will assume is really in charge. And I have just the man."
"Who?" Murphy asked, feeling decidedly queasy now.
"Remington Steele, of course!"
"Are you out of your mind?" Murphy half yelled, causing Rikki to start to whimper. "Maria!" he said, calling for the child's nanny.
The woman came from the kitchen to take her charge to bed. "Is everything okay, Sr. Murphy?" she asked Murphy with worried eyes.
"Laura's just gone a little loco," he told the woman, then smiled and shook his head. "Night, Rikki," he said, tweaking the child's cheek.
Laura gave her daughter a kiss as well. "Night, honey. I'll be in later," she told Maria.
"Laura, it won't work," Murphy insisted, returning to their argument but at a lower volume. "There's no way to make it work. You're talking about having an imaginary man's name on a detective agency. What if someone wants to see him?"
Laura paced some more. "I'll simply tell them that Mr. Steele is out of the office. That he never involves himself directly in a case, that he-" she searched for the right words. "That he functions best in an advisory capacity. And if any client insists on seeing him, I just won't take the case."
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get into doing this?"
"It'll work, Murphy. I'm sure it will."
***
Six months later, he had to admit she was right. She had clients practically knocking down the doors of Remington Steele Investigations, clamoring for that man's services. So many clients, in fact, that she offered him a job as an operative. "I can't possibly handle all of these cases on my own, Murphy. And I know how much you hate working at Havenhurst-"
She had him there. So Murphy went to work for Remington Steele Investigations, working side by side with Laura once more . . .
To Be Continued---