Disclaimers in Part 1
Remington's hand shot out to prevent Liam Harrison from closing the door in his face. "Not so fast. I think you owe me an explanation."
The old man frowned, his blue eyes dark as he looked up at Remington. "I've got nothing to say to you," he said, and tried once more to close the door.
But Remington was having none of it. For most of his early life, he'd been pushed from relative to relative, never knowing who he was or where he belonged. Now, the man who had been responsible for that was standing here, insisting that he had nothing to say. "Well, I have something to say to you, *Grandfather*," Remington ground out, pushing the door open and stepping into the dark interior of the entry hall. "I've come all this way to see you, and the least you owe me is a chance to do that, don't you think?"
"You might look like her," Liam said. "But you sound like him. English" he said with a grimace of distaste. "Might have known he'd raise you to sound like a proper English gentleman."
Remington managed a grin as he broke into his best Irish brogue. "Well, now, Grand-Da," Remington said, stressing the Irish term. "I'm not as English as you might be thinkin. There's an old sayin' that you can take the lad out of Ireland, but you can't take the Irish out of the lad. I'm still Irish, Liam. As Irish as you or anyone."
Liam gave a snort of disbelief as he turned away toward the door.
"Daniel's dead, Liam," Remington said, and was gratified when his grandfather stopped.
"I know. I saw the reports. Knighted posthumously." Liam shook his white-capped head. "Tis hard to believe."
"It's all true. Daniel was a changed man when he died," Remington told Liam.
"Bah! A man like Daniel Chalmers isn't a man who can change much," Liam declared. "Stealin' the most precious thing a man owns isn't something that one can come back from."
"He stole nothing from you," Remington pointed out.
"You're wrong," Liam declared, leaning heavily on the cane that Remington finally noticed as the old man turned toward the sitting room. Remington followed to see Liam take a picture frame from the mantle over the fireplace. "He took the only thing that mattered to me. The light o'me life. The only thing I had left after her mother died. My daughter. Everything I accomplished in my life was for her, t'give her a better life than I had as a lad."
Remington took the photograph - a match to the one that Daniel had kept all these years. "My mother," he pointed out. "And she didn't leave you alone," he added, his blue eyes meeting Liam's matching set.
"You were *his* babe. Every time I looked at you, I saw him. Remembered that it was *his* fault that she was gone."
"So you tossed me out like yesterday's rubbish, is that it?" Remington accused.
"I tried to make sure you were taken care of," Liam insisted.
"Oh, yes," Remington nodded. "As long as you didn't have to see me, everything was fine, is that it? As long as I wasn't around to remind you of your daughter's failings, you could just pretend that I never existed atall," he accused.
"That's not how it was," Liam insisted. "I never meant- I knew that she'd written to him in prison, told him about the babe she was carryin'. I knew that the moment he came out he'd be here, knockin' at the door, demandin' to have his son."
"Oh, Liam. You're not goin' t'try and sell me that bag of wool, now, are you? That you sent me away until it was safe t'bring me back when you knew Daniel - my *father* - wouldn't be lookin' for me?"
"No," Liam admitted, sitting down heavily in a chair beside the fire. "When Sheila came home, I was the happiest man in all of Ireland. Then she told me why she was here- that she was goin' t'have a babe. *His* babe - and that they were married. Married," he spat. "Without a priest or proper blessing," he mused. "And himself nowhere to be found. Just like -"
"Like who?" Remington quizzed.
"My own father," Liam admitted. "Came here from England, told my mother that he was in love with her. Fool that she was, she believed his pretty words and before she knew what was happen', he was gone back to his life and family in London and she was left here, t'raise her child alone."
Remington shook his head. It couldn't have been easy for Liam's mother to choose to keep her child and raise him alone. In those days, having a child out of wedlock painted the mother and child with a very broad brush of shame.
"So you decided to get back at *your* absent father by depriving Daniel of his son and me of any family whatsoever?" Remington asked.
"I *told* you that it wasn't like that," Liam insisted. "You'll not be able to understand until you've watched a child of your own die, until you've had to look at the babe that she held as she took her last breath-" he buried his face in his hands as his voice trailed off.
"You were in pain," Remington acknowledged. "I can understand that. But why send me away so that not even Daniel could find me?"
"I wasn't thinkin at all, lad," Liam burst out. "All I could think about was Sheila, layin' there, pale as a ghost, her blue eyes closed forever. I told the midwife to take you with her, find a place for you. Someplace with people who could give you the love that I no longer had in me to give to anyone. It died with her." Liam lifted a hand to the collar of his shirt. "But I always knew you were out there, somewhere. When did Chalmers find you?"
"When I was fourteen and living on the streets of Brixton in London," Remington informed him harshly, then regretted the words as he saw Liam flinch.
"I know of it," he admitted. "Mostly from word of mouth." Liam sat back, wincing slightly. "You must hate me, lad, for what I did. For sending you away-" Another wince, and his breath caught slightly. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on the old man's face, and Remington caught himself frowning.
"Are you all right, Grand-Da?"
Liam patted his jacket pocket. "My pills. I need one of my pills-"
Liam pointed toward the mantle over the fireplace, where a small bottle of tiny tablets sat. Remington grabbed the bottle and removed the cap, removing one to give it to Liam, who was having more difficulty breathing.
"Thank you," Liam said, closing his eyes to give the pills a chance to take effect.
"Better?" Remington asked, sitting on the edge of a nearby table where he could be close in case he was needed.
"It works quickly," Liam told him.
"Should I call a doctor, or-?"
"No. Nothing he can do. I'll be fine shortly." He opened his eyes and looked at Remington. "You're so much like her. I can see her in your eyes. Dreamer's eyes, I always called them. Always able to see so much more than others could." Tears filled those blue eyes. "Even if you could find it in yourself to forgive me, lad, there's no time-"
Remington placed a hand over Liam's. "I don't know about that. I spent twenty years with Daniel, but I didn't know until a few hours before his death that he was my father."
The blue eyes took on a look of resignation, as if he hadn't expected more from Daniel Chalmers. "He never told you?"
"Not until it was almost too late. Even let me make a fool of myself thinking that the Earl of Claridge was my father."
Liam gave a soft snort. "Sounds like him. Taking the easy way out." Remington gave the old man a cautionary look. "I know. He and I were two of a kind, I suppose. I don't suppose you'd be willin' to- spend a few days with an old man, getting to know him and he you? Give me a chance to make things up to you - if I can?"
Remington was tempted, but thoughts of Laura made him hesitate. Ever since his conversation with Antony the previous evening, Remington had had a nagging feeling that he needed to get back to Los Angeles as soon as possible. "I don't suppose you'd be willin' t'go back to Los Angeles with me, eh?" he asked.
"Ah, no. I was born here, and I fully intend to die here, to be buried between my wife and daughter in the churchyard down in the village."
Remington swallowed heavily, thoughts of Laura pushed aside for the moment. "My mother is- buried in the village?" he asked.
"That she is. Next to the church where she was christened. You were born here, in this house," Liam finished as Remington lifted his eyes to survey the room. "Sheila loved it here. Hated having to stay at the house we had in Dublin. When she told me that she was with child, I decided it would be best to come here, where we could have a bit of privacy. When I decided to leave Dublin behind, I came here because I felt- closer to her here than anywhere else."
"I can stay- for a few days, at least," Remington agreed at last. He would call Laura later; explain to her that he had to stay for a while longer.
Liam smiled. "Thank you - Remington, was it?"
"Yes. But Daniel called me Harry."
"That was the name Sheila intended you to have. Harrison Chalmers. Thought it would soften my heart to you and himself. If you don't mind, lad, I'll be callin' you by the name she asked me to enter into the family Bible."
***
Tony watched Laura working at the dining room table. He had the feeling that the fire alarm could go off and she wouldn't notice. Wanting to check out his theory, Tony went to stand behind her chair, pretending to read over her shoulder as he moved closer and closer to her, until his lips touched her neck.
He felt her tension immediately. "Tony, don't," she said, moving away from his touch.
"Sorry," he said, sitting down beside her. "I couldn't help myself."
"Maybe you'd better go, Tony," she said.
"Look, Laura, I know you're upset and worried about things, but you need to remember one thing. He's not here. I am. He ran the first chance he got. There's nothing in the world that would have made me leave your side." He took her hand in his and refused to let it go when she pulled. "You don't need him, Laura. Hell, you don't even need me. Not professionally. You're a damn good detective. No one would blame you if you were to just leave and start your own agency."
"I'm married to him, Tony," Laura reminded him.
"No, you're not. Not legally. You can walk away, Laura."
"What about Immigration?" Laura asked. "They'll know that the marriage was fake-"
"You can say that - that he lied to you. That he told you it was legit. I'll back you up. I still have some contacts with the INS. No one would blame you, Laura," Tony insisted.
"What kind of impression would that make to prospective clients if I was that gullible?" Laura wanted to know. "I'd be a laughingstock-"
"No, you'd be human. People are conned all the time. Even private detectives, if they think they're in love with the person conning them." Tony squeezed her fingers, and Laura looked up at him. "I do love you, Laura. More than you'll ever know."
"Tony," Laura said, reaching out with her other hand to touch his face, tracing the dimple on his chin. "It's too soon. I need some time- with Mildred gone-"
"Speaking of that, have you considered hiring someone- temporarily? Just until she comes back?"
She shook her head. "Everything's happened so fast."
"Well, think about it," he said. Tony rose from the chair to place a long kiss onto her upturned lips. "And think about the rest of it, too. You have to think about your future, Laura. If he doesn't come back - what then? Are you just gonna stay in this limbo forever?" He gave her a sad smile. "I'll let myself out. Don't stay up too late."
Laura sat there for several minutes after she heard the door close behind him, her mind awhirl with confused thoughts, before forcing herself to focus on the paperwork before her on the dark surface of the table. Work was the only thing she'd ever really been able to count on, she decided, putting Tony's suggestion out of her mind and immersing herself in the report for the Halbert case.
***
Mildred dropped back onto the narrow cot, exhausted from the short walk across the tiny room to the even tinier bath that was connected to it. She sat there, examining her prison. She considered going to search through the cabinets that were built into the wall across from her, but she had no strength.
The Rat was probably giving her something to keep her from trying to escape. Some kind of drug. Mildred moved to the single metal frame chair that sat before the small table and tried to recall what had happened.
Tony had taken her out of the office and downstairs to her car. He'd then driven her to this abandoned warehouse. "Belongs to a friend of mine who's out of the country," he had told her. "I don't think he'll be back for awhile. So no one's going to find you here."
He had slid the metal door aside and ushered her into what had probably once been a makeshift break room, and then the lights had gone out.
When Mildred had regained consciousness, she had been laying on the cot, the single light bulb suspended from the ceiling by a wire was turned on- and her head had felt two sizes too big. A gentle inspection had revealed a painful bump on the back of her head the size of a goose egg- and she had felt like death warmed over.
She'd been shaky and dizzy when she sat up, and her gaze had fallen on a paper bag with the familiar logo of a well-known hamburger joint. There had been a cup beside it.
Mildred frowned, glancing at her wrist to find out how long she'd been here- but her watch was gone. The narrow window near the ceiling revealed only a murky possibility that it was dark outside.
She rose slowly and went to the bathroom, bracing herself on one of the chairs enroute as her legs almost gave out. Returning to the main room, Mildred had sat down in the same chair in which she now sat and stared at the paper sack and drink cup.
She was hungry. That explained why she was so weak. She hadn't had lunch- she'd gone down to talk to Fred's neighbors about the limo tires being slashed. She'd even found a young man who told her he'd seen someone who could have been Tony Roselli in the neighborhood the night before.
Opening the sack, Mildred's mouth began to water as she drew out the hamburger and fries. Taking a long drink from the cup, she started to feel a little better.
She'd just been hungry, right? She thought now. But soon after she had finished the food, Mildred had found herself unable to focus on much of anything - including the cabinets that begged to be searched for something that could help her escape. So she had dragged herself back to the cot and collapsed onto it- remaining there until she had awakened just a few minutes ago.
The only explanation was that the food had been drugged- probably with the same thing that he had given her after knocking her unconscious. There was a red, irritated spot on her arm-, which looked suspiciously like a needle mark.
Mildred stared at the cabinets, willing herself to move, to go over and open the doors and drawers - but the lethargy was too great. She did manage to rise to her feet with the help of the back of the chair, but instead of going across the room, she returned to the cot.
Her last thought before sleep claimed her again was that she'd find some way out of this- and when she did, Tony was going to pay big time.
***
Laura was working on paperwork the next morning when she heard a tap on the doorframe of Remington's office. Looking up, she saw Tony standing there, watching her. "Good morning," he said, moving into the room. "You didn't finish that last night?" he asked, indicating the paperwork.
"It's a never-ending job, I'm afraid," Laura explained, striving to maintain an air of normalcy after their discussion of the previous evening. "I hadn't realized how much I've come to rely on Mildred to handle this for the Agency."
"Any word from her?" Tony asked, sipping coffee from the cup in his hand as he sat on the front edge of the desk.
"Nothing," Laura replied. "I really thought she would have called by now to check in at least," she said, closing a file she'd been working on to pick up an appointment book.
"Maybe she left some clues at her place," Tony suggested. "Reservations, flight numbers, things like that."
"That's a good idea," Laura noted, studying the list of names before her. "But I can't get away to check. Our first client is due any minute -"
"I could go over there," he said. "Look around, if you like."
"Okay. She keeps an extra key in the flowerpot to the right of door," Laura told him, rising, folder in hand as she moved into her office to put the file into the cabinet there. "But hurry back. There's another client scheduled for this morning as well- and I can't be sure I'll be totally finished with Mr. Drake by the time they get here."
Tony nodded, then looked at Mildred's desk through the door. "You thought anymore about what I suggested last night?" he asked.
Laura felt herself go still. "Tony-"
"I meant about a temp to pick up the slack while Mildred's AWOL?" he clarified, and Laura gave a sigh of relief.
"Yes. I've already called the agency, asked them to send someone over."
"Good. I'll go on over to Mildred's place, then."
"Thank you."
Laura watched him leave as a petite blonde woman entered the office. "May I help you?" Laura asked the woman.
"I'm Marilee Mason," the woman said. "I'm supposed to see a Mrs. Steele?"
Laura looked Miss Mason over. "You're from the temp agency?"
"That's right," Marilee said, opening her purse to hand Laura some papers. "My references and such. I really need this job, Mrs. Steele. And the idea of working for Remington Steele-"
Laura looked up from the papers in her hand, hearing the ever-present hero worship in that voice. "You worked at the Havenhurst Agency?"
Marilee nodded. "For six months, a year ago."
"You have excellent references," Laura noted. Her typing skills weren't bad either, she noticed. "The hours are usually from 9 until 5, Monday through Friday, and most of what you'll be doing is answering telephones, greeting clients, filing."
"I can handle it, Mrs. Steele," Marilee assured Laura, looking around the office. "Um, is Mr. Steele in?"
"No. Mr. Steele is- away on business. If any clients ask to speak directly to him, put them through to me and I'll handle them. Is that understood?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good. Then you might as well put your things away and get to work. You can use the bottom left hand drawer for your purse." Laura watched as Marilee put her purse into the indicated drawer. "Good. If you'll come with me, I'll show you where everything is."
***
Mildred heard someone at the door and lay down on the cot, closing her eyes in a pretence of sleep. The door slid aside on rusty rails, and then she heard it close again before something dropped onto the floor without warning.
The noise startled Mildred just enough that the rhythm of her breathing changed, and she hoped that Tony wouldn't notice.
"I know you're awake, Mildred," he said, and Mildred opened her eyes to glare at him. Tony was holding the empty Styrofoam container he'd brought earlier. "What'd you do with the food?" he asked.
"Flushed it down the toilet," she admitted, sitting up slowly. There was still a lot of whatever the drug was that he'd given her in her system.
"You weren't hungry?"
"Didn't feel like sleeping," Mildred corrected him. "I know you put something in the hamburger that you left last night."
Tony shrugged. "Just trying to make this easy on you, that's all."
"Why?" Mildred wanted to know. "You and I both know that you're not going to just let me walk out of here. Not now. I know too much."
"Oh, really?" Tony asked, leaning back against the metal door to look at her with those dark eyes of his. "And just what is it that you *know*, hmm, Mildred?"
"I know that you were responsible for the limo tires being slashed."
"Really? Do you have a witness?"
"Well, not really," Mildred had to admit. "But I talked to someone who remembers seeing the Rabbit in the area."
"There are a lot of white VW Rabbits in Los Angeles, Mildred," Tony pointed out.
"And that report I got- you're not a government agent."
"I used to be."
"Before you were fired because you took too many unnecessary risks- just like you took with Mr. Steele in London-"
"I took the risks that were necessary to get the job done," Tony told her in a cold, steady tone. "If people got hurt, it was just part of the job I had to do."
"Hurt? You mean killed, don't you? Like your wife?" she asked. "Was she just 'collateral damage' too? Part of the job?"
Tony ran his hand through his hair, and Mildred watched the agitated movement with uncertainty. If she could rattle him enough-
"How'd you find out about that?"
"I finally managed to hack into a sealed file about you at the State Department," Mildred confessed. "Your name's not even really Roselli. You changed it after she died and they cut you were loose. Went to work free-lance, hiring yourself out to the highest bidder."
"I didn't have anything to do with Grace's death," Tony ground out, his hands gripping the back of the chair before him. "It was an accident. I didn't know she'd be at the hotel-"
"Her father didn't see it that way, did he?" Mildred questioned, continuing to drive the knife further into his psyche. "Was he really an Ambassador?"
Tony closed his eyes for a second as he took a deep breath. Seeing her chance, Mildred rose from the cot- only to stop as a gun appeared in Tony's hand. "I wouldn't try, Mildred. I'm not quite ready to kill you yet."
"Why not? Wouldn't it be easier to just get rid of me? Shut me up so that I couldn't tell Mrs. Steele the truth once I'm free?"
He smiled. "You're my ace in the hole," he told her. "My hold card in case the hand goes sour." He kicked at the suitcase on the floor. "I brought some things from your place. Didn't want Laura to go over there and figure out that you hadn't gone chasing after Steele after all. Don't want Laura to worry, do we?" The gun steadied on her head. "But that doesn't mean that I won't make you miserable you if you cause any trouble. I'll bring you something else to eat later- without drugs this time." He reached behind his back and slid the door aside, and left the room, closing the door once again.
Listening to him secure the door, Mildred told herself once again that, if she ever got out of this alive, she was going to enjoy taking all of this out of that man's hide.
Unless Mr. or Mrs. Steele beat her to it.
To Be Continued…