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"I can't believe that I ever
*agreed* to this!" Laura said as she entered the larger office
in Suite 1157.
Remington Steele looked up from the report that he had been reading
prior to signing with a slight smile. "Trouble again? Let
me guess: Frances? Your mother?"
"*Both*," she told him darkly.
He held out his hand. "Come here," he said, and when
she took his hand, he pulled her into his lap.
"What are you-"
"Shh. Just sit here quietly for a moment."
"This is nice," she sighed. "Almost makes up for
the hassle that my mother and sister-"
"Shh. I said quietly, remember?" he admonished gently,
his lips near hers. The intercom's buzzing interrupted them, and
he sighed heavily, watching as Laura leaned over to press the
button. "Yes, Mildred?"
"There's a Mr. du Pres out here Mr. Steele-."
"Does he have an appointment, Mildred?" Remington asked.
"No, sir. He says he has to see - Mrs. Steele."
Remington looked at Laura, leaving the decision up to her. "ME,
Mildred?" she asked, sliding from Remington's lap.
"Send Mr. du Pres in, Mildred," he said in a defeated
tone of voice. He watched as Laura moved toward the door. "Who
is-"
"He could be an old client," she suggested, as her look
turned thoughtful. "I went to college with someone named
Phillipe du Pres - but -" The door opened to admit a tall,
blonde haired, blue eyed man who smiled at Laura with more warmth
than Remington liked.
Laura went forward, as always. "Mr. du Pres, I'm-"
She had no chance to say another word as the man took her hand
and brought it lingeringly to his lips. "But of course you
are, petite. I could never forget you. You are even more lovely
than I remember you to be."
Laura froze. "I beg your pardon? Have we met?"
du Pres smiled again, refusing to allow her to pull her hand from
his. "This is exactly why I came when I heard the news of
your marriage to Remington Steele. I thought you should know-"
"Know what, precisely, Mr. du Pres?" Remington asked,
stepping forward to pull Laura out of this man's oily clutches.
"That if Laura continues forward with this wedding, then
she will be committing bigamy- again."
"Bigamy?" Laura asked, shaking her head. "I don't
know what you're talking about."
Remington looked at Laura, hearing a note of panic in her voice.
"Laura?"
"How can I be a bigamist?" Laura asked the man. "I'm
not -" she stopped herself just in time from saying that
she *wasn't* married.
"I cannot believe that you have completely forgotten that
trip to Reno after college, petite."
Laura's eyes widened. "You're *not* the Phillipe I went to
college with," she insisted. "He was short and wore
glasses - "
"People change, Laura. I have my identification, if you would
care to see it-"
"Yes," Laura agreed. "That might be a good idea."
"Laura," Remington said. "Reno?" he questioned.
"Is there something you need to tell me?"
She grimaced. "No, not really. It was a prank," she
said, looking over the papers that du Pres handed her. "We
had just graduated from college and a group of us went to Reno
to celebrate -" She handed the identification back. "You
can't be-"
"But I am, ma petite," he insisted with a Gallic shrug
of his wide shoulders.
"No."
"Laura, what is going on here?" Remington insisted on
knowing, rapidly losing his temper.
"I am - Laura's husband," du Pres announced.
"What?"
"No, he's not," Laura insisted. "It was all just
a joke," she said quickly. "A silly lark -" Seeing
the dangerous look in Harry's eyes, she tried to explain. "We
all had a little too much to drink, I suppose. You know how things
are when kids graduate. And Phillipe started talking about not
wanting to go home, that he wanted to stay in America - he didn't
mean it, but we all took pity on him and decided to find a way
to keep him here -"
"It was actually Laura's idea," Phillipe pointed out.
"*What* was Laura's idea?" Remington asked, not sure
he liked the turn the conversation was taking.
"That we get married, of course," Phillipe responded.
"Laura -"
"It was a *joke*," she insisted. "It wasn't real.
The man that performed the ceremony assured us- I thought -"
"As you said, ma petite, we all had a lot to drink that weekend.
By the time I even remembered the ceremony, I was back in France.
And I haven't been able to return to America since -"
"You're lying!" Laura insisted.
du Pres sighed. "Perhaps this will prove it to your satisfaction,"
he said, holding out a piece of paper.
When Laura hesitated, Remington took it instead, then found himself
sitting heavily in the chair behind him. "A marriage license,"
he told Laura. "For a Laura Holt and Phillipe du Pres: Reno,
Nevada; June 3, 19-"
Laura ripped the paper from his hands to scan it with angry eyes.
"It's a forgery.," she insisted. "A fake. A-"
"That *is* your signature, Laura," du Pres pointed out.
"I will understand if you want to check it out-"
"Believe me, we will," Laura declared.
"What's your game, du Pres?" Remington wanted to know.
"What do you want?"
The Frenchman spread his hands before him. "Nothing, Mr.
Steele. My only wish was to prevent Laura from compounding her
mistake, and to suggest that she might wish to end her first marriage
before continuing with the second."
"Just came all the way to America from France out of the
goodness of your heart, eh?" Remington asked suspiciously.
"Oui." He looked uncomfortable as he spoke again. "But
it *did* strain my finances, having to make this trip. I had only
intended to go to New York - not come all the way to California.
And to have to go further, to Reno, will mean that I must take
more time from my business concerns-"
Laura's expression was decidedly sour. "And you want me to
- reimburse you for your time, is that it?"
He shrugged again. "Unless you would prefer it become common
knowledge that you -"
Remington was on his feet in a flash, but Laura held up a hand
to stop his advance. "You'll understand that I need to check
this out first -"
"But of course," he agreed, bowing over her hand once
again. "I wouldn't wait too long, however, petite. Your wedding
is only a week away, is it not?" He smiled. "Au revoir,
ma petite. I'll be in touch."
Laura's chest was rising and falling rapidly as she fought her
temper. It wouldn't do to lose it now. A glance at Harry showed
her that she had enough trouble without that. "Harry-"
"Would you care to explain how you came to be married to
- *that*?" he wanted to know.
"I *told* you. The weekend after graduation, a group of us
took off for Reno to celebrate. Someone mentioned to Phillipe
that he was probably anxious to get home, asked how long he had
before his student visa ran out. He only had a couple of days-
and I -"
"So it *was* your idea," he said.
"Not that he marry me," she insisted. "I was only
joking, saying he should find a nice American girl and get married.
He and I were the only two in the group that hadn't paired off,
so someone suggested that he marry me - and things just got out
of hand."
"Like they did in Acapulco?" he suggested. "What
about the annulment?"
"We didn't think it was a real marriage. The man who performed
the ceremony assured us that it wasn't legal, since we hadn't
filed the paperwork. But he filled out the license anyway, as
a memento of the occasion. Phillipe left for France two days later.
And that man who was just here was *not* the Phillipe I went to
college with!" she insisted.
There was a tap on the door, and Mildred opened it, her eyes filled
with concern. "Is everything okay in here?"
"Mildred," Laura said, jumping at the interruption.
"I need you to run a check on this- find out if it's real."
Mildred read the words on the paper and looked at her employers.
"What's this mean?"
"Is means, Mildred, that Laura married the man who was just
here-"
"I *told* you, it wasn't him!" Laura repeated. "And
it wasn't a real marriage! Just pretend!"
"This looks pretty legit to me, hon," Mildred pointed
out. "I'll see what I can dig up," she promised, when
Laura sent her a dangerous look. "Oh, Mr. Steele, Estelle
Becker just called while Mr. du Pres was here. She says that she
needs to see you at her office -" she looked at the paper
in her hand. "You don't suppose she's got wind of this, do
you?"
"Let's hope not, Mildred," Remington sighed. When the
door closed behind her, he turned back to Laura. "Because
if she has, I'm going to have to admit that we're not really married
to keep you from going to jail for being a bigamist," he
told Laura.
"I wouldn't be. That piece of paper's not worth the ink used
to print it!"
"Then why is he doing this, Laura? Why go to all the trouble
to come here?"
"I don't know," Laura said. "But I'm going to find
out. *Someone* doesn't want us to get married again- if that rat
Keyes were still alive, I'd blame him. But he's dead."
"Then we'd better find out who's behind it, Laura. And soon.
Because if this gets out, you'll be in jail for bigamy, and Immigration
will have me on the first plane back to England."
Mildred buzzed again. "Yes, Mildred?" Remington asked.
"Mrs. Steele's due to meet her mother at the seamstress for
another fitting," she said.
Laura looked at the ceiling. "What *else* can go wrong today?"
she asked rhetorically.
"Shall I call her and -"
"No!" Laura burst out. "I'll go. This wedding's
*going* to happen. If I have to take that French rat apart to
get to the truth, then so be it."
Remington pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss. "Mildred
and I will dig into his background and see what we can come up
with while you're gone," he promised, walking her toward
the doors, past Mildred's desk. "Have fun."
"Fun? You call being poked and pricked with straight pins
fun?" Laura asked. "I call it torture. I wanted a nice,
simple little ceremony with family and friends, and my mother
has invited half the state of California!" she grumbled as
the door closed behind her.
Remington watched her go, his smile fading. He glanced at Mildred's
face, seeing his concern mirrored there. "Keep digging, Mildred.
I have to go see what Estelle Becker wants. Hold down the fort,will
you?"
"Sure, Chief," she assured him, already turning toward
the computer and typing.
**********
"Just one more pin, Mrs. Steele," the seamstress promised
as Laura sighed.
"How much longer is this going to take?" she asked,
aware that her mother was sitting across the room. "I have
work to do-"
"I thought the agency didn't have any cases this week?"
Abigail Holt reminded her.
"We didn't. But a client came in this morning, and we couldn't
say no. We *do* have to pay for that new house, remember? *And*
this wedding."
"Did I mention that we got a reply from the governor's office?"
Abigail asked.
"The - he's not --"
"He is. He said he wouldn't miss your and Remington's wedding
for the world."
"He's up for re-election," Laura pointed out. "This
thing's turning into a media circus!" She took a deep breath,
and immediately regretted the action as she felt a pin-prick at
her waist.
"Please be still, Mrs. Steele," the seamstress admonished.
"There. How is that, Mrs. Holt?"
Abigail put down the magazine she had been reading and rose to
walk around her daughter, her eyes appraising. "What do you
think, dear?"
Laura looked at herself in the full length, three paned mirror
before her. "It looks fine," she said, just wanting
to get out of the dress and get back to the office to find out
what Mildred had dug up on Phillipe du Pres and that phony marriage
license.
"You don't think it's too tight? If you put on a single ounce
-" Abigail grimaced. "But you won't. You barely eat
enough to keep a rabbit alive. Just make sure that Remington doesn't
ply you with any of his gourmet feasts between now and next Saturday."
"He won't," Laura assured her. "Can I take it off
now?"
Mrs. Hopkins lowered the zipper and Laura stepped out of the pool
of white satin, lace, and seed pearls to move quickly toward the
dressing room. Abigail watched the woman drape the gown over her
arm as she called out, "Frances wanted us to drop by for
lunch-"
"I can't," Laura told her. "I told you, I've got
work to do. You go on."
"Laura, I can't understand your attitude at all. You wanted
this wedding, but you've avoided any of the planning-"
"You're doing such a *wonderful* job of planning everything,
Mother," Laura insisted as she came from the curtained alcove.
"I really have to go. I'll call you later, okay?"
Abigail watched her younger daughter leave the shop with a shake
of her head. Would she *ever* understand that child? she wondered.
**********
Estelle frowned as Remington Steele entered her office alone.
"I was hoping that Laura would be with you," she told
him.
"She had a fitting for her gown," he explained, sitting
down in the chair before her desk. "What did you need to
see us about?" She didn't seem to be concerned about anything,
he noted. She was her usual, smiling, friendly self.
"Since you and Laura seem to be wanting to do this marriage
by the book as it were, there are some papers that you and she
need to fill out regarding your immigration status - I thought
we could get them signed and turned in today- "
"What papers?" he asked, watching as she opened the
folder on her desk and picked out two forms, sliding them across
the desk toward him.
"Just standard forms. Proof of your eligibility to remain
in this country - a statement that you're not already married
to someone other than Laura -" Remington took the forms and
looked them over, hoping she didn't see his nervousness. Laura's
was similar: proof of her citizenship, and a statement that she
wasn't married to anyone else except him. "I suppose you
could take them with you and fill them out, then bring them back,
but they have to be witnessed - and notarized. Mildred's a notary,
isn't she?"
"Um, yes, I believe she is. I'll get these back to you as
soon as possible. Was there anything else?"
"Not really. Is Laura getting nervous yet?"
He smiled. "She won't admit it, but I think so. She's taking
it out on her mother and sister, complaining about their putting
her through all the hoops required for a wedding of this size."
"From what I'm hearing, it's going to be some ceremony. Rumor
has it that the governor's going to be there."
"The governor? *That* should really make Laura's day,"
he said with a grin, rising. "Well, I have to get back to
the office - "
"I really need those forms back here before the wedding,"
she reminded him.
"They will be," he assured her. "See you later."
He turned and left her office. If this thing wasn't sorted out
soon, there might not even be a wedding to worry about. And the
neatly folded forms in his pocket would be a moot point.
**********
They arrived at the office at the same time, Laura still fuming
over her mother's announcement regarding the latest guest, Remington
worrying about the forms. "I can't believe my mother-"
she said as they got into the elevator.
"What now?" he asked, clearly distracted.
"She invited the governor - and he accepted!" she told
him.
"Estelle said that she'd heard a rumor to that effect."
"What did she want?"
He brought the papers from his pocket. "For us to fill these
out and get them back to her, witnessed and notarized." He
watched as she read the questions.
"Let's just hope Mildred's come up with proof that this is
some sort of mistake," she prayed as the doors opened.
He followed her into the office, and knew immediately when Mildred
looked at them that the news wasn't good. "Well, Mildred?"
he asked anyway, just to have something to say.
"I'm sorry. I tapped into the Nevada database- the marriage
license was filed the same day as the wedding - and there's no
record of an annulment to end it."
"That's impossible!" Laura insisted. "The thing
wasn't supposed to be real!"
Remington put an arm around her shoulders to calm her. "What
about du Pres, Mildred?"
"He left California two days after the wedding - and went
back to France. He took over his father's publishing firm a year
later when his father died. Then, about seven years ago, he dropped
out - "
"Dropped out?" Laura asked.
"Vanished. Disappeared without a trace. The company folded,
he couldn't be located."
"What about pictures of him?" Laura wanted to know.
"Have you found any-?"
"Bupkis. Goose egg. It's like he fell off the face of the
planet. I'm sorry I couldn't find more -"
Remington placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "You did
your best, Mildred. But keep digging. We need to find something
recent on du Pres-"
"He's *not* Phillipe du Pres!" Laura insisted again.
"He's an impostor."
"Importer or not, he could create a lot of trouble, Laura,"
Remington reminded her. "Why don't we go over some case files,
see if we can find anyone with an axe to grind that might have
been able to dig up this little skeleton from your past."
"That's a very good idea, Mr. Steele," Mildred pointed
out. "I'll get started on it."
"Laura and I will be in my office doing likewise," he
told her, pulling Laura along with him toward that room. Inside,
he locked the door, her into his arms. "If it comes down
to it, Laura, I'll tell the truth about that first marriage -
to keep you from going to jail for bigamy."
She looked up at him. "But that would mean that you'd be
deported immediately. No hearing- no chance -"
"At least you'd be free-"
"I don't even want to talk about this," she told him,
moving out of his arms. "We'll get to the bottom of this-"
"In five days?" he asked. "And if you go to Reno
to get the annulment - it will set off alarms throughout the system
-"
"I still smell something fishy here, Harry. It's too much
of a coincidence that this should happen now. Why didn't this
man show up when the announcement was in the paper about our *first*
marriage? Why wait until now? It has to be something that's happened
recently."
"Major Descoine is still tucked away in prison," he
pointed out. "And I haven't seen notification of anyone we
put away being released -"
"Maybe we missed something."
He pulled her onto the sofa beside him. "And maybe he's just
after some money and then he'll be gone," he suggested. "Off
to get that annulment and then out of our lives."
She looked at him. "Are you suggesting that we give him what
he wants? Let him blackmail us?"
He grimaced. "When you put it that way- no."
"Good. Because we'd have no guarantee that he wouldn't come
back later, asking for more money. Or that he'd even go to Reno
at all. We're *not* giving in to that - dime store Frenchman,
Harry."
He grinned. "You're trying to tell me that you weren't just
a little - attracted to him?"
"He *is* handsome, I suppose, in an oily, smarmy kind of
way. Not at all my type."
"And just what *is* your type?" he asked, smiling down
into her eyes.
"Oh, tall, dark, just a hint of the 'old sod', - " she
smiled. "And I refuse to feed your ego any more than that."
"Feed my ego? I've no idea *what* you might be referring
to," he told her. "I hope you're right about this, Laura.
Because if you're not, I'm not sure I care to think about a life
without you."
"Me either. It's hard to remember sometimes what my life
was like before you came along."
"Easier," he suggested.
She nodded in agreement. "And boring. I couldn't see myself
returning to that."
"Nor me to my former life," he agreed, lowering his
lips to hers. "Care to consider a move to England?"
he asked when he lifted his head.
Laura smiled, her head on his arm. "For kisses like that,
it might just be worth it."
"There are lots more where they came from," he promised,
making her smile even wider.
"Oh, good," Laura mused, pulling his head back down.
"Something to look forward to."
"I thought we were going to go over those cases?" he
asked, his lips a hair's breath from hers.
"Later, Harry," she whispered. "Later."
To Be Continued . . .