"Laura, it's not enough that you're playing this little game and that someone's impersonating Steele-," Murphy said, "but don't you think you're playing with fire? You're spending too much time in this guy's company."
"I know, Murphy. But it's possible that he's after the gems as well. What better way to keep an eye on him than to be with him? Besides, he *did* warn me about those other two."
"Falling out among thieves. Who's to say they weren't partners and he decided to try and cut them out of the action?" Murphy asked.
"Did you run that check on Ben Pearson as I asked?" Laura wanted to know.
"Yeah. He *was* due here to day, but the description was too vague for my taste. They're sending us a photo by wire."
"Let me know when it comes in. What about the other two?
Murphy picked up a paper. "Raymond Kessler. American. Ex Boxer who went to prison for five years after being caught in a betting scam. Ruined his career. Nobody would touch him. Leo Neff. English. Ex con as well. For manslaughter. He likes to cut people up, Laura. Sounds right up your friend's alley to me."
"That *friend* is also my daughter's father," Laura reminded him.
"You can't tell him. Rikki deserves better than that for a father."
"We'll see what happens, Murphy. I have to get home and have lunch with Rikki. Bring that information when you and Bernice come to the hotel later, okay?"
"You haven't heard a word I've said," he accused.
She stopped and looked at him. "I've heard you, Murphy. But this is my problem right now, okay? As much as I appreciate your concern, it still boils down to a decision that *I* have to make." She gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "See you later."
***
Richard had retrieved his tux from his old room, not wanting to run into Kessler or Neff, and planned to collect the other things later. If he had a chance. If Laura didn't kill him on the spot at the party tonight when she found out that he was the one masquerading as Steele.
As he finished tying the bow tie, he paused, looking in the mirror as a question occurred to him. Laura had said that Steele was her daughter's father. But Steele didn't exist. So who *was* the father of that enchanting little girl? He was right back to square one, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.
Picking up a room key from the front desk, he joined Laura in the banquet room, pausing to admire her black and red strapless gown which exposed her freckled shoulders. Her hair was swept up on the top of her head in a soft style that suited her, he thought. She barely glanced in his direction as she joined her. "You look lovely," he said.
"Thank you," she replied, her eyes moving around the room. "Where do you suppose our faux Steele is?" she asked.
"I'm sure he'll turn up," he assured her, guiding her to a chair as Hunter stepped up to the podium set beside the gem case and in front of the covered prototype for his car.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, if you'll take your seats, we've a lot to accomplish here this evening. Not the least of which is the unveiling of *the* finest car ever engineered by man." Once everyone was seated, he continued. "But before we knock your socks off with the Hunter JetStar 6000, I'd like to take a moment to thank the Remington Steele Agency -"
Laura smiled at his words. "Great endorsement."
"Transporting and protecting the most precious gems in the world requires brilliant planning, daring execution, and plain old street savvy. So, without further ado, I would like to introduce to you to the person responsible for the safety of the Royal Lavulite."
Richard looked at her as she blushed. "I wish he'd stop," she said.
"Wait," he warned as Hunter continued.
"An absolutely astounding human being. Ladies and gentlemen-" Laura began to rise, only to freeze as Hunter completed the introduction. "Remington Steele."
She sat back down slowly, glaring at him as he smiled. "Years from now, when you speak of this- be kind. Deborah Kerr to John Kerr, "Tea and Sympathy", MGM, 1956." He moved away toward the podium.
Laura sat there, furious, breathing heavily as she continued to glare at him. How *dare* he do something like this! Pretending to be *her* Remington Steele! When the spotlight fell on her, she realized that he was introducing her to the audience and rose slowly, then sat back down, her eyes on him the entire time. She'd been right about him. He was a con man, and a thief- and heaven knew what else. Murphy was right. Rikki deserved a better father than that. When he returned to the chair after Hunter revealed the car- which Laura privately thought looked awful- he smiled and preened for a photographer who snapped his picture. "You-!" she began.
"I hoped he wasn't going to do that," he told her as another picture was taken. "My apologies."
"What are you going to do when Remington *does* arrive?" she wanted to know, hitting him on the arm.
"I'm really anxious to meet the man whose shoes I'm attempting to fill," he said. "How am I doing so far?"
"Atrociously," Laura spat. "You're *nothing* like him. He's honest." She rose to her feet as she continued her tirade, "Dedicated-" he pulled her back into her seat so not to create a scene, smiling politely at some passersby. "Better looking. You're nothing but a treacherous liar," she hit him again. "A cheap crook, a cut-rate con man!" She hit him with her purse this time and jumped from her chair, heading toward the nearest exit, needing some fresh air.
Unfortunately, the nearest exit was across the dance floor, and before she realized it, he was there, turning her into his arms, as though they were dancing. "What are you doing?" she asked, struggling to get free. "Let me go!" Seeing that they're attracting the attention of the other dancers, Laura stopped struggling, but wanted more than anything to slap that smug smile off of his handsome face as he smiled and nodded in an attempt to pretend everything was fine. "Whatever made you think you could get away with this?" she asked, still fighting to regain her breath as he moved her to music.
"Impeccable man, your Remington Steele," he said. "You know there's not a piece of lint, a speck of dandruff, a hank of hair on any of his suits? And he obviously wears a shirt once and then discards it, since there's no laundry marks to be found. The same with the shoes. The soles seem never to have touched the ground. Not one single, solitary scuff mark."
Laura took a deep breath. "He's fastidious. Almost to a fault."
"Bald, too?"
"Of course not!" *He knows* was all Laura could think. *Dear God, he knows.*
"Then he's blessed. I'm forever plucking stray hairs out of my comb and brush. Positively demoralizing, but an inescapable part of the human condition." He paused. "Does any of this say anything to you, Laura? It does to me." They stopped dancing as he continued. "Remington Steele doesn't exist. You invented him. Made him up out of whole cloth."
Laura wasn't ready to give in just yet. She had to keep trying. "And just what do you intend to do with this absurd supposition?" she asked.
They started dancing again. "Nothing. I didn't intend to assume the identity of Remington Steele, Laura. It just happened. I came here for something else."
"The gems."
"To begin with, yes," he said. "But when I saw you-"
Laura shook her head. "I'm supposed to believe that you'd give up on those gems simply because of me?"
"What if it's true? I did warn you about Kessler and Neff, remember."
"Probably to cut them out of their share of the gems."
He sighed. "Laura, I swear to you, I've no agenda but to see those gems safely out of Los Angeles."
She saw Murphy and Bernice in the doorway. Bernice looked angry, and Murphy looked ready to throw a punch at someone. "Excuse me."
He released her reluctantly to let her join her friends as he chatted with several people who now thought he was the elusive Remington Steele. He saw Bernice Foxe give something to Laura, then Laura and Murphy left the room together. Bernice snagged a glass of champagne from a tray and stood there watching him. He approached her slowly, a glass in his own hand. "Hello, Miss- Wolfe?"
"Foxe," she corrected him again. "I should have recognized the voice. What game are you playing?" she asked.
"I'm not playing any *games*," he told the receptionist. "How long have you known Laura?"
"A few years," Bernice said, and he thought her look became wary. She'd obviously been warned not to say too much. "Long enough to know how much that agency means to her. If you do anything to damage its reputation-"
"That's not my intention," he said. "Why don't I introduce you to the Mayor?" he said, taking her arm and leading her in that direction. He'd only been introduced to that gentleman himself, but he needed to get her out of the way.
Once she was chatting with the other man, he slipped out of the banquet room easily. Laura was too concerned about *his* going after those gems to be worried about Kessler and Neff. Someone had to protect the gems so that he could retrieve them when they reached San Francisco, he reasoned. Even if he had to steal them himself- purely for safekeeping, of course.
***
Laura convinced Murphy that calling the police about the real Ben Pearson's death was only to hurt the agency- and ultimately Rikki. If this man was a murderer, Laura was determined that she would be the one catch him. She and Murphy split up to search the hotel for him. She went to down to tell the guards that no matter who else tried to access the security room, the only people allowed inside were herself or Murphy, then went to tell a depressed Gordon Hunter that someone was trying to steal the gems, but that they were on top of things.
But her client wasn't listening as he sat there, drink in hand. "They ate my food, they drank my booze, but they didn't buy my car," Hunter mused sadly.
Laura sat beside him. "I'm sorry."
"I completely retooled an abandoned tire factory in Toledo, Ohio and hired 800 people to turn out a car nobody wants. Let me tell you, Miss Holt, dreams aren't all they're cracked up to be."
Laura took his glass. "No, Mr. Hunter. Sometimes they *aren't*," she agreed, draining the glass as she watched her own dreams going up in flames.
***
She finally found a desk clerk who informed her with a smile that Mr. Steele had called for room service in his suite not ten minutes ago, and asked him to find Murphy to send him in that direction as well. She had him.
She had to pick the lock of the room, but the security chain was on the door, so she tried to open it. Someone slapped at her hand and closed the door. Before she could speak, she heard the chain being removed, and the door opened. He'd removed his jacket and loosed his tie. "Made yourself at home, I see, " she said, noting the cart with champagne and caviar on it.
"I was hoping you'd join me," he told her. "We have to talk."
"I don't think we have anything to talk about."
"Kessler and Neff are still on the loose."
Murphy Michaels spoke from the open door. "Laura, don't let him sidetrack you. Just turn him in."
"For trying to help you stop Kessler and Neff?" he questioned, looking at Laura.
"You're a thief just like they are."
"No. They're thieves. I'm an artist."
Murphy dropped a hand on his shoulder. "You're a murderer. Ben Pearson is hanging from a coat rack in your room."
He easily shook off the other man's hold and paced away from them. "Those filthy-"
"Who?" Laura asked.
"Kessler and Neff," he told her, turning to look at her again. "He was killed with a knife, wasn't he? Blade about six inches long, and incision and upper thrust just below the third vertebrae?"
"Hell of an accurate description for an innocent man," Murphy pointed out.
"I've seen their work before. They killed a guard in Paris. If you want them, you'll have to act quickly. They'll make their move tonight."
"You sound certain of that," Laura said.
"That's what I would do."
"Are you still going to?" Laura wanted to know as Murphy turned away, shaking his head.
"I told you, I've no interest in stealing the gems on your watch. As long as they leave Los Angeles safely, I'll be happy."
"Laura, you have to call the police," Murphy said.
"Why haven't you already?" he asked, his eyes on Laura. "Is it because you don't believe I killed Pearson?"
"I do," Murphy answered.
"I was asking Laura."
"I don't know," she was forced to admit.
"Tell me, what would Remington Steele do in this situation?" he asked her.
But it was Murphy was answered again, moving slightly between he and Laura. "He'd call the police."
"Then do that, by all means," he said, picking up his jacket.
"Where are you going?" Laura asked.
"To find Kessler and Neff. I've been avoiding them all evening. I think it's time they found me. I hope you're not squeamish, Murphy."
"Not around you."
"Good. Then you won't mind bringing Pearson's body up here and putting it into that closet." He pointed toward a coat closet with his key, and then left the suite as Murphy continued to dial the telephone.
***
Half an hour later, Kessler and Neff were in custody, leaving Richard, Laura and Murphy in the suite alone. "You gonna be alright, Laura?" Murphy asked as he followed the police from the room. Laura nodded, aware that a pair of brilliant blue eyes awaited her answer. "I'll be downstairs, waiting, then," Murphy told her, sending a warning look in the other man's direction before closing the door behind him.
"I give you my word, Laura. I won't go after the gems until they get to San Francisco."
"Is that where you're going next, then?"
"I suppose so. Laura- you told me that your daughter's father was Steele- but since that gentleman doesn't exist- "
Laura paced away from him. "He's- someone I met right after I came home from- Acapulco," she lied. "He was- killed- just before - she was born."
"Why the lie, then?"
"My mother wanted a name for the father, and at the time, he was still alive. I didn't want her hassling him about marriage and support- and, well, I made up the name."
"I see. And then used it to start the agency. Makes sense, I suppose." He touched her face. "I suppose it's time for me to move on, then."
"I suppose. All things considered, you made a delightful Remington Steele," she admitted with a smile.
"If the press of other commitments weren't so severe, I might relish the role on a permanent basis," he told her, bringing her hand to his lips. "After all," he pointed out, drawing her close for another kiss, "I'm a man who enjoys impossible challenges." Their eyes locked. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to-?" She shook her head. "Of course not. I shouldn't have asked. Maybe I'll- call sometime- if I'm in the area?"
"We could have coffee," Laura agreed.
He nodded and handed her back the room key before walking away, pausing in the doorway for a second as if he might change his mind. Then he was gone.
It was a long time before Laura fell asleep that night as she kept asking herself if she'd done the right thing. Would he have stayed if she'd told him the truth? Or would he still have gone chasing over the Royal Lavulite?
She doubted she'd ever know for sure.
***
She had another chance the next day, but with the reporters and everyone around after they captured Gordon Hunter and retrieved the gems, she couldn't tell him about Rikki. So the opportunity slipped through her fingers once more, as he vanished into the crowd, and she went home alone again to spend the evening with her daughter.
It was seeing his photo in the paper the next day that made her decide that the next time she saw him- if ever, she'd tell him the truth. She owed it to him- and to Rikki. Maybe he'd be a lousy father- but she had to take that chance.
Her decision was temporarily forgotten when she found him ensconced in Remington Steele's office, as if he'd always been there. As soon as the door closed behind the client, she turned to look at him. "Have you lost your mind? I thought you were on your way to San Francisco?"
"I was," he told her. "Then I saw the evening paper there. My face was plastered all over the bloody thing. So I figured it was sign. That someone was trying to tell me that this is where I should be. So I hopped the first flight back, and- here I am."
"This will never work," she said, her mind on Rikki.
"Why not? I think it will work out splendidly. And we made a good team capturing Kessler and Neff as well as Gordon Hunter. Don't you agree?"
"There's more to it than that," Laura insisted.
"Oh?" he asked, his arms folded. "Such as?"
Laura closed her eyes and then opened them again, only to find herself staring straight into a pair of blue ones. "My daughter. She- everyone thinks that Remington Steele is her father. I can't very well ask you to-"
"Why not?" he asked. "I like children. And any child of yours, I'm sure I'll love."
"Listen- Richard, or- "
"Remington," he prompted, saying the name slowly. "You said it yesterday easily enough."
"That was before-"
"Before I stepped into his shoes," he surmised. "Speaking of names, I still don't know hers."
"Hers?" Laura repeated, feeling slightly light headed.
"Your daughter?"
"Um," Laura hesitated. The moment she said that name, he'd know. But short of changing it now- "Rikki," she said at last. "Her name is Rikki. With two k's." There. She'd done it.
Now, it was up to him.
To Be Continued---