"Plush," Richard said as he surveyed the interior of the limousine.
"Remington graciously allows me to use it whenever he's out of town."
"Is that very often?" Richard inquired.
"You said that you had something to tell me," Laura said, apparently unwilling to discuss Steele further with him.
He glanced out of the back window. "The courier who smuggled those gems out of South Africa?"
"What about him?"
"He was brutally murdered by the two gentlemen behind us in that blue Mercedes." Laura turned to look out of the window, then at Richard as he picked up the telephone. "May I use your phone? It's a local call-" Laura turns back, concerned. "Mobile operator? This is T-7328. I'd like the police." Laura slid down in the seat as Richard looked at her. "Yes, it's definitely an emergency. Police? I'd like to report a stolen vehicle. Blue Mercedes 380SL. License number-" since it was a rental, he couldn't recall it, so he turned to read it from the car as Laura covered her face. "1DRO373. The last time I saw it, it was traveling-" He paused, uncertain of their location.
"East on Sunset," Laura supplied, "just past Dougheny."
"East on Sunset, just past Dougheny. Please hurry. I had some medicine in the back seat for my grandmother-" Laura turned to stare at him. "If she doesn't receive it-" He smiled at the dispatcher's assurances. "Bless you." He hung up, noted Laura's expression and shrugged. "Everyone needs a little added incentive now and then."
"They're after the gems, aren't they?" Laura asked.
"I believe so. I ran across them in Paris- and in London. They failed on both occasions. Raymond Kessler and Leo Neff."
"Who are you?" Laura asked.
"Just someone who wants to see those gems returned to their rightful owner," he told her. "They were originally stolen from the South African government. There's a sizeable reward for their return."
"Insurance?" Laura questioned.
"You could say that, I suppose," he told her as his attention was caught by flashing lights behind them. As they watched, a local police car pulled the Mercedes over to the curb. "Rather reaffirms one's faith in the local constabulary," he commented with a smile.
"Look- whatever your name is-"
"Richard's fine," he told her, sitting back.
"But it's not your name," Laura insisted.
"I don't recall your being so insistent about names in Acapulco," he pointed out. "Where are we going?"
"*I* am going home. After we drop you off at the nearest taxi stand. Pull over, please, Fred."
"You're not going to meet Steele?" he asked.
"Later," she told him. "*Much* later." She reached over and opened the door closest to him as the limo came to a stop at a curb. "There's a cab right over there that I'm sure will take you back to the hotel."
Richard looked at her, and then pulled her close to him for a long kiss before exiting the limo. "Give my regards to Steele," he said, closing the door when she made no move to do so. Tapping the roof of the dark car, he turned toward the taxi. "How would you like to make a quick fifty over your fare?" he asked the driver as he got into the vehicle, waving a fifty dollar bill in the man's face.
"Sure, man. Whatcha need?"
"Follow that limo. But I don't want *them* to know you're behind them. Got it?"
"Got it," the driver agreed, pulling onto the street.
***
Laura entered the house to find Maria sitting in the living room, busily sewing a new dress for Rikki. "I have your supper in the oven, Sra. Holt," the woman said.
Nodding, Laura tiptoed over to the room Maria shared with Rikki. "Is she asleep?" she asked.
"I think so. But she wouldn't mind your going in to say goodnight." Maria followed her to the doorway. "I'll get your supper ready."
"Thank you." Laura entered the room and went to the small bed where her daughter lay sleeping. She smoothed the dark curls from Rikki's face, seeing the resemblance between father and daughter even more now that she'd seen him again. Should she tell him about the child? Laura wondered. He had a right to know about her- but until she knew more about the kind of person he was- Laura had the uneasy feeling that the reason he knew about those two men was that he was one of them. A jewel thief. A con man.
Rikki stirred and her blue eyes opened. "Mommy."
"Hey, there, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."
"Made you a picture," she said, pointing to the play desk across the room.
"I'll look at it after you go back to sleep," Laura promised, and stayed with the child for another few minutes until she was sure Rikki was indeed asleep again. Picking up the picture, Laura went out to the kitchen, where Maria was placing a plate on the table.
Seeing the drawing, Maria smiled. "She is very talented."
"Hmm," Laura agreed, studying the crayon drawing of Rikki and her ballet class. "I don't think we're biased in her favor, are we, Maria?"
"Not at all, Senora," Maria insisted, taking the drawing and placing it with the others on the refrigerator.
"Maria, if a strange man comes here, or calls- I don't want you tell him anything about Rikki, okay?"
The Mexican woman's round face darkened with worry. "Is there a problem?"
"No. It's just- I'm involved in an important case- and there's always the possibility that someone might try to use Rikki against me. I don't want her involved."
"I will protect her with my life, Senora," Maria declared. "No one will get past me to hurt that child."
"I know. I just wanted to make sure. This is very good," Laura told her, indicating the food. "I don't know what we'd do without you, Maria."
***
Outside the house, Richard sat in the taxi. There was a child's tricycle in front of the house on the sidewalk, and his attention was focused on it. A child. Sitting forward, he told the driver, "Could you take me to Century City?"
"Sure. Gonna cost you."
"Let's go." He sat back again, his thoughts troubled.
***
Century City was dark- and mostly deserted this time of night. After paying the taxi driver his fare plus the promised fifty, Richard easily slipped into the building via a side entrance and took the lift up to the eleventh floor. En route, he encountered one cleaning lady, who smiled at him. "Ain't seen you around here before," she told him.
"Just started last week. Forgot some papers I need for tomorrow."
"Where do you work?" she asked.
He quickly tried to recall a name from the building directory below. "Stewart, Feldman and-"
"Hanover," the woman finished. "On Eleven. Good place to work. Course, that Mr. Stewart's got a real eye for the ladies, from what I hear. I wouldn't let my daughter work for him, that's for sure."
Richard agreed solemnly as he got off of the lift at his floor. "Don't work too hard," he told her.
"Fat chance," she said as the doors closed.
Richard made his way unchallenged to the offices of Remington Steele Investigations and easily picked the lock on the door. Slipping into the darkened reception area, he crossed first into the larger office where he'd met with Laura earlier. The desk drawers were empty- as was the surface of the desk. No pictures, no address books. Not even a notepad or pencil. He sat in the chair and then noticed the open doorway that led into another office.
Entering that room, he realized that it was probably Laura's office. There was a feminine lamp on the corner of the desk that he couldn't quite see Michaels using. Sitting in Laura's chair, he turned the lamp on, and surveyed the photographs sitting on her desk. Laura and an older, blonde woman- probably her mother, he thought. And one with Laura and a laughing little dark haired- blue eyed girl. It looked as if it had been taken at an amusement park of some kind- the child was holding some cotton candy.
She was definitely Laura's daughter. The same slightly slanted eyes, elfin chin- and those dimples. From this picture, she looked to be around 3, perhaps 4. Slipping the photo from the frame, he looked at the back of the picture. On the back, in a firm hand, was written a date and location. It had been taken four months ago- at Disneyland.
He returned the photo the frame, and then placed it precisely where it had been when he'd picked it up. A quick search of Laura's desk calendar only gave him that Laura was due at a ballet recital on the 14th. A look through her desk yielded little more information. There was a child's crayon drawing on the cork board, and he moved to inspect it. A child's rendering of her house, with herself, her mother and a dark haired, darker skinned woman on either side. No father in the picture at all. It was actually a very good drawing, considering the age of the artist, Richard reasoned. The child had a good eye for detail and color. Realizing that he wasn't going to find anything else, he turned off the light and left the office with more questions than he'd had before.
The paramount question in his mind was: Who was that dark haired little girl's father? Wilson? Or Steele?
He returned to the hotel, intending to get a good night's sleep before confronting Laura with his knowledge the next day
***
As he was heading through the lobby to wait for Laura, he found himself accosted by Kessler and Neff. Both looked a bit ragged and worn from loss of sleep. "I was beginning to worry that you'd miss the gems arrival, gentlemen," he said smoothly, ignoring the feel of Neff's switchblade against his back.
"Wonderful thing about Los Angeles," Kessler noted. "They have twenty four hour bail bondsmen."
"I told you, Ray, we should have killed him straightaway," Neff said, jabbing with the closed knife.
Richard grunted, then heard a young woman paging Remington Steele. "Remington Steele. Telephone call for Remington Steele." Richard looked around, waiting for that gentleman to respond.
"To the elevators, dear boy," Kessler ordered, turning Richard in that direction.
"Telephone call for Remington Steele," the girl said again. Desperate, Richard waited for her to pass them.
"Miss?"
"Mr. Steele?" she asked.
"You've found me," he told her, moving with her to a telephone, and away from the two men. He picked up the receiver. "Steele here."
"What? Where?" the female voice on the other end said. It wasn't Laura. That attractive brunette from her office, perhaps. What was her name?
"Can't talk now, Miss- Wolfe?" He grunted as Neff's knife found his back again.
"Foxe," she corrected.
"I knew it was some sort of primitive creature," he said. "Sorry to be abrupt, but I've got to run-" he hung up and was about to make a getaway when he found himself confronted by a smiling Gordon Hunter.
"Mr. Steele." The two men shook hands. "I certainly feel safer with you here."
"My sentiments precisely," Richard agreed, smiling nervously at Kessler and Neff.
Hunter put an arm around his shoulders to steer him away from the two men. "Come with me. There's someone I want you to meet in the security office."
As they moved away, he smiled at Kessler and Neff's frustration. "Security office? Sounds very- secure."
Hunter smiled, obviously delighted to see him. "You know, somehow I thought you'd be older."
"Oh, I can age on demand," he assured Hunter, glancing back at his angry would-be kidnappers.
***
Laura got out of the limo and waved it forward, expecting the armored car to arrive any minute. She would check with Mr. Hunter, reassure him that Mr. Steele was indeed in the hotel, and then she would head for the airport.
A page told her that Mr. Hunter had gone into the security office with a Mr. Pearson from the insurance company, so Laura paced the corridor, checking her watch as she waited, watching all the while for some sign of Richard- or whatever his name was.
The door to the security room opened at last, and Laura smiled as Hunter came toward her. "Miss Holt."
"I just spoke to Mr. Steele," she began, and stopped when a smiling Hunter spoke as well.
"So did I."
"You- did?" Laura asked, worried.
"Yes, he's there, coming out of the office with Ben Pearson of the insurance company."
She looked down the corridor and saw Richard with another man. Never dreaming that Richard might be impersonating Steele, she immediately assumed that he was now using the name Pearson, and that the other man was pretending to be Steele. The two men spoke softly, and then Richard moved toward them as the other man disappeared down the hallway to disappear around the corner.
"Well, come on," Hunter told them. "You're going to be late." He lead the way back out to the waiting limo and armored car.
Laura leaned closer to Richard. "That man you were just with-"
"Yes?"
"He *isn't* Remington Steele."
"He isn't?"
"But don't tell Mr. Hunter," she begged.
"You can count on me," he assured her, placing an arm around her shoulders as the continued to the car.
Once inside the limo, Laura waited for it to start off before speaking. "So now you're Ben Pearson," she said.
"Purely by accident," he assured her.
"What did he say to you?" she asked.
"Who?"
"The phony Steele."
"Oh, nothing, really. We were just introduced. What I'm wondering is- why didn't Mr. Hunter blow the whistle on him?"
"Mr. Hunter has never actually *met* Remington Steele," she told him. "He was out of town when we accepted the case."
"Surely he realizes that he'll be exposed when the real Steele comes on the scene." He looked at her. "When might that be?"
"That's difficult to pinpoint," Laura confessed.
"But I thought he arrived late last night?"
"Oh, he did. He's- around. It's difficult to explain." She placed a hand on his arm. "You won't tell Mr. Hunter about this? It would make him more nervous than he already is."
"Believe me, Laura, your secret is safe with me," he assured her, placing an arm around her. "But I would like the answer to one of my questions." He felt her withdrawal even before she pulled away to look at him with wary eyes. "How old is your daughter?"
Her eyes widened. "How did you-?"
"One can learn a lot by asking questions," he reminded her. "How old did you say she was?"
"I didn't. My daughter's age doesn't concern you."
"Does Wilson see her very often?" he asked.
"No. Wilson's not her father."
"You know, after all of your big talk last night about wanting to be accepted as a private detective on your own merits, I'm surprised that you'd be that involved with Steele."
"He and I have a- special relationship," Laura confirmed. "He needs his space, I need mine to raise my daughter."
"*Your* daughter?"
"I'm the one who's raising her," Laura said defensively.
"You must have met him soon after -your break up with Wilson," he mused. He'd nearly said after their time in Acapulco.
"Very soon, actually. He convinced me to finish my apprenticeship, and after my own agency failed-"
"You had your own agency?"
"For a grand total of six months. When it closed, Remington offered me a job as an operative- running the place, really, since he's out of town so much."
"Doing- what, exactly?"
"Working on international cases, mostly. He's a bit of a- free spirit."
"Comes and goes, eh?"
"Something like that." They had arrived at the airport, and Laura's attention turned toward watching as the box containing the gems was transferred from the airplane to the armored car.
Richard noticed the linen truck nearby, and recognized Murphy Michaels as he pushed a rolling hamper toward the plane, but he didn't point it out to Laura. She was nervous enough after seeing what she thought to be a fake Remington Steele.
Soon, the limo turned and followed the armored car back to the hotel, where he and Laura watched as the box was carried into the hotel. Laura sent him a look to remind him of his promise not to spill the beans, then entered the security room behind the guards. Thinking that he needed to find a way into Steele's hotel suite, Richard was about to head for the lifts when he heard Hunter's voice.
"Steele!" Richard paused, waiting for him to catch up. "Went off without a hitch!" Hunter said, laughing with delight.
"Apparently so," Richard agreed as Hunter turned him toward the lifts. "You know, Steele, I was beginning to think you didn't exist."
"Indeed?"
The lift opened, and they got into the car. Richard's hand moved slowly toward the buttons, hesitating. Hunter pressed the button for the penthouse level. So, Steele went first class as well, Richard thought.
"Miss Holt certainly protects you. Every time I called to talk to you, you were out of the office or out of town. What is this thing you have about secrecy?"
"Anonymity is an asset in my profession," Richard reminded him.
"No pictures, no interviews. I spoke to several people who had used your agency. Lots of Miss Holt, none of you." The lift doors opened, and Richard indicated that Hunter should precede him from the car.
"That is part of her function, to keep things going when I'm- unavailable," Richard told him as they stopped before a double door. Hunter gave him an expectant look. Richard patted his pockets, giving an embarrassed laugh. "I seem to have left my key downstairs at the desk-"
Hunter turned to a maid pushing a cart past them. "Mr. Steele's forgotten his key. Would you mind?" They watched as the woman used her pass key and then Richard opened the door- just barely. "We'll see you later, then," Hunter told him.
"Later?"
"Yes. The formal unveiling of the Hunter JetStar 6000- and of course the gems," he added, almost as an afterthought.
"Wouldn't miss it," Richard told him, standing at the partially open door as Hunter disappeared around the corner. Alone at last, he grinned nervously at the maid and peeked cautiously into the room, fully expecting to find Steele there, demanding to know what he was doing. He put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door before closing it. If Steele was there, it would be best if they weren't interrupted.
But his entrance went unchallenged. There was a briefcase on the desk- and a carryon bag sitting in a chair. Both were empty- and smelled suspiciously new. He went into the bedroom of the suite and saw a suit laid out on the bed- complete with a price tag still attached. Two hundred dollars- and off the rack, at that. The closet was filled with other suits- and at least half a dozen pairs of shoes. All brand new as well. The soles weren't even scuffed.
Moving to the dresser, he opened it to find brand new shirts, all still in unopened packaging.
He stepped into the bathroom and saw the hairbrush on the counter. When Richard studied it, there were no stray hairs in it. Not one. The answer occurred to Richard in that moment, and he started to smile. Remington Steele didn't exist.
Picking up the bottle of cologne that sat on the counter, he opened it and sniffed the contents. Not something he would have bought, but since it was here- he poured some into his hands and patted his face as he looked into the mirror, the smile still in place.
"Pleasure to meet you, - Mr. Steele."
To Be Continued---