Disclaimers in Part 1
"Hello, George."
George glanced at the dark stain on Laura's blouse and skirt. "Did you have an accident?" he questioned.
Laura looked at Tony. "More like a clumsy lunch partner."
"Hey," Tony objected. "I *said* I was sorry. It's not like I spilled that tea on you on purpose. And I *did* say I'd pay for the dry cleaning, remember. And take you to dinner this evening as well. "
"I know, Tony," Laura said with a smile. "I know. If we didn't have that meeting with Mr. Chamberlain, it wouldn't be a problem."
They were almost around the corner to the elevator when George called out. "Oh, Mrs. Steele. I almost forgot." Laura turned to look at the middle-aged man. "There was a delivery for you this morning. Since it was so big, I let the delivery people into your apartment," he told her. "But I stayed the entire time they were there to make sure they weren't up to no good."
"What was the delivery?" Laura asked.
"A desk and chair," the doorman replied. "Nice one, too."
"Thank you, George," Laura told him as she turned back toward the elevator with Tony. "A desk. Who would have sent me a desk?"
"Guess there's only one way to find out," Tony pointed out as they got into the elevator and Laura pressed the button for her floor.
"Guess so," Laura agreed.
She saw the desk the moment she and Tony entered the apartment. It was sitting in the far corner of the living room, near the window. Laura went over and ran a hand over the highly polished surface. "It's an antique. French provincial, if I'm not mistaken."
"If you say so. I've never been much for interior decorating," Tony said. "Who sent it?" he asked.
Laura looked up at him, then opened the top drawer to find an envelope inside. She recognized the handwriting easily, and opened the flap to remove a sheet of paper.
"Laura, this was in Daniel's flat and is the only piece of furniture that I decided to retain. The moment I saw it again, I thought of you. I could almost see you, sitting there, doing your paperwork in the corner of the living room, a Correa lamp on one corner, and a gold plated desk set on the other. I know that it doesn't match the décor of the rest of the condo, but perhaps we can find another place where it will fit in. If you want to, that is."
"I'm sorry. Sorry for running away, sorry for not trusting in you- in us. But perhaps this would best be left until I come home. Once Daniel's estate is settled, I'll be back."
"Until then, remember that I love you."
It was signed "Remington Harrison Steele".
"Uh, Laura?" Tony asked
"It's from Remington," she told him, running a hand over the wood of the desk again, feeling the smooth surface against her fingers. "He's coming home."
"That's good news," he said. "Does he say when?"
"No. But he says he is," she repeated certainly, still examining the desk.
"Uh, have you forgotten about that appointment with Mr. Chamberlain?" he prompted.
Laura jumped guiltily, looking up at him at last. "Mr.- oh, my," she said, glancing at her own watch as she moved across the room toward the bedroom doorway. "I won't be a minute," she promised.
"Tell you what," he suggested, "I'll meet you at Chamberlain's office," he said, ignoring Laura's look of confusion. "You take the Rabbit," he said, tossing her the key, "I'll get a cab."
"Where are you going?"
"I just remembered that I needed to make a call," Tony explained. "About the Morgan case. If I don't do it now, I might miss the connection altogether."
"Tony," Laura said to an empty room as the door closed behind him. She looked at the key to the Rabbit, then shrugged her shoulders and went into the bedroom to change clothes.
***
Tony entered the loft and grabbed the telephone, hoping that his man would be in a position to get the call. "Come on, pick it up," he ground out, running a hand through his hair.
"Yeah?"
"I wasn't sure you were there," Tony told him.
"I have someone watching," the man said. "I came back to my room to clean up a bit and get something to eat. What's up?"
"I want this ended. Now."
"Ended?"
"Terminally. I don't care what you have to do, just make sure Steele doesn't come back to Los Angeles. Ever."
"Whatever you say."
"And quickly. I'm getting tired of waiting." Tony slammed the receiver down, then left the loft again to meet Laura at Neal Chamberlain's office.
***
Remington stood beside the bedroom window, watching the scene beyond the gate. Across the street, a man stood in the shadow of the street lamp, his face now hidden in the darkness.
As Remington watched, another man, this one older, approached the first. They spoke, and it looked to Remington as though money changed hands. The first man Remington recalled having seen earlier at the village pub when he and Liam had gone for a pint after visiting the cemetery. The young man's father owned the pub. Flaherty was his name. And the boy's name was Sean.
Remington recognized the older man as well, and stood there while Sean Flaherty strolled back toward the village, leaving his friend to take over the watch.
Moving slowly, Remington backed away from the window and left his room, going next door to Liam's room. He didn't knock, not wanting his grandfather to turn on the light and scare the man on the street below away.
Liam was sleeping soundly, and Remington placed a gentle hand on the old man's shoulder, shaking him with equal gentleness. "Grand-Da," he whispered. "Liam."
Liam's eyes opened and he looked alarmed for a moment until his eyes focused on Remington. "Harry, what-"
"Shh," Remington cautioned, putting a finger to his lips. "Do you know why someone would be watching your house?"
"No," Liam said. "I've no idea. *Is* there someone watching my house?"
Remington motioned for Liam to follow him to the window, taking care to make sure neither one of them could be seen from outside. Pointing, he asked, "There. Do you see him?"
"Aye," Liam said. "That I do."
"Have you ever seen him before?" Remington asked.
"Hard t'tell from this distance. My eyes aren't what they used t'be."
Remington looked thoughtful. "Think you can stand by downstairs to get the front door open for me so I can get back in if I can get out without being seen?"
"That I can. And you should be able to get out through the kitchen door and make your way 'round to the street with little problem."
"You sure you can handle a little excitement?" Remington questioned, his eyes examining Liam with concern.
"I think a bit of excitement is exactly what this old heart of mine needs, lad. Go get him. I don't like someone keepin' an eye on me without my knowledge or permission."
Remington nodded, placing a hand on Liam's shoulder, and then left the room.
***
The area around the cottage was dark, and Remington easily made his way to the street, then across it in a dark place to circle behind the man who was still leaning against the lamppost, watching the house.
Using a length of stick that he had picked up, Remington slipped an arm around the man's neck, and pressed the end of the stick into his back. "Hey!" the man croaked out. "Let me go!"
"After you've answered some questions, Mr. Cheevers," Remington promised, prodding the man with the stick. "Let's go someplace a bit less in the open, eh?"
Something jostled against the light pole as Cheevers struggled a bit, and Remington's arm tightened around the man's neck. "Take the piece out, mate."
"Not- armed," Cheevers insisted.
Remington pushed him into the pole again, and repeated the sound. "Let's find out what that is, then, eh?"
Cheevers slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew a glass bottle filled with what was looked to be whiskey. But even in the light from the lamp, Remington thought it looked off a bit. "Just something to keep me warm," Cheevers said.
"Take off the cap," Remington ordered, tightening his grip as the man hesitated. Cheevers removed the cap. "Pour it out in front of you." Even from where he stood behind Cheevers, Remington could smell gasoline fumes. "Petrol," he sneered. "What were you going to do with it?" he questioned.
"I don't have to tell you anything," Cheevers said.
"Your choice, mate," Remington said, jabbing him with the stick again. "Let's go."
As they neared the house, Cheevers made a move to escape, turning and knocking the stick from Remington's hand before delivering a blow to Remington's chin. Remington reeled back, but recovered before Cheevers could make his escape, grabbing the other man to land a well-placed fist to Cheevers' stomach, and then his chin, sending the man sprawling onto the walk, unconscious.
Remington winced as pain shot through his fist, but moved quickly to grasp Cheevers' shoulders and drag him toward the front stoop. "Grand-Da!" he called out. "Open the door, please!"
The area was flooded with light as Liam did as he requested. "You need some help, lad?" he asked.
"No," Remington said, tugging the man's dead weight over the threshold and into the entry hall. "I've got it." Liam closed the door behind them. "Have you ever seen him before?"
Liam studied the man's face. "No. Not that I recall. Who is he?"
"Said his name was Cheevers," Remington told his grandfather. "That he was a detective you hired to find me." He started searching the man's pockets.
"What are you looking for?"
"Identification. I don't suppose you have something we could use to tie him up?"
Liam looked thoughtful. "I may have some rope - I'll be right back."
Remington located a wallet and pulled it out. Inside, he found identification for the man. Malcolm Cheevers. And a slip of paper with a telephone number that Remington knew by memory.
"Did you find something?" Liam asked, returning with the promised rope.
Taking the rope, Remington handed Liam the ID and paper as he took care of securing Cheevers feet and hands. "I don't think he's a private detective."
"Who is he, then?"
Finishing his task, Remington took the paper with the telephone number. "This number is Laura's old number from her loft. And the other is to the Agency."
He'd told his grandfather about Laura, and Antony, during their day together. "You're thinkin' that this man was hired by that other t'keep a watch on you?"
"More than that," Remington said. "When I found him outside, he had a bottle of petrol with him."
Liam's eyes widened. "You're thinkin' that he was goin' t'burn the house?"
"What better way to get rid of me, eh?" Remington questioned, his tone grim. "Wait outside until he was certain we were both sound asleep, then toss the bottle into an open window. While the house itself is made of stone, the interior would have burned quickly, I'm sure." He grabbed Cheevers' shoulders and lifted them. "Where's the best place to keep him?"
"You're not goin' t'call the authorities?"
"And tell them what? That I suspect he's in cahoots with Antony Roselli in a plot to kill me? I've no proof, Grand-Da. I need for him to be somewhere that he can't contact Antony and Antony contact him. Just for a few days."
Liam studied the situation before nodding in agreement. "In the study. I don't use it much these days- but there's a sturdy chair in there that we can tie him into."
"Good man," Remington said with a grin as he started dragging Cheevers toward the doorway.
Once he had used the rest of the rope to secure Cheevers into the chair, Remington stepped back. "I hate to ask, but, do you think you can take care of him for a few days? Make sure he doesn't escape to warn his friend?"
"I believe so. Where will you be?"
"I know I said I'd stay awhile, Grand-Da, but-"
"You have to get back to your Laura, to let her know what's goin' on."
"I don't know what Antony's up to, but I have to find out. And the best way to do that is to confront him."
"When will you leave?"
"On the first flight I can get out."
"And once it's finished, you'll be back?"
Remington placed a comforting hand on the old man's shoulder. "With Laura," he promised. "For a nice, long visit."
***
Laura smiled as she put the key into the lock and turned it. "Thank you, Tony. It was nice evening."
"You deserved it," Tony said, following her into the apartment. "It was the least I could do after I ruined your dress this afternoon. I still can't believe I was that clumsy. Guess it's being in your company. Makes me all thumbs and left feet."
"Oh, so now it's *my* fault that you spilled a glass of tea on me," she said.
"I didn't say that, exactly," Tony insisted, flopping down onto the sofa and picking up a pillow from nearby. "Gonna offer me a nightcap?" he asked.
Laura was at the desk again. She had gravitated toward it the moment they had entered the room. Looking up, she said, "I don't think - we have an early appointment tomorrow, remember? Mr. Houston? Thinks he got tricked into buying a forgery?"
"One drink won't hurt," Tony said. "Will it?" Laura looked at him, and Tony sighed, rising from the sofa. "Okay. Okay. I'll go. What time should I be here to pick you up for the meeting?" he asked.
"I'll have Fred drive me over," Laura told him. "I don't want to put you to any trouble."
"It's no trouble for me to swing by and pick you up. It's on the way to the gallery from the loft-"
"I just think it would be better for me to go in the limo, Tony," Laura said, going to the door and opening it for him. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Tony paused, leaning toward her before lifting a hand to slip it behind her neck and pull her close for a long kiss. "Sure I can't change your mind about the nightcap- and other things?"
Laura swallowed heavily, but shook her head. "I'm sorry, Tony. I-"
He sighed again. "When you finally realize that he's not coming back, I'll be here. I'm not giving up," he promised, giving her another light kiss before leaving the apartment.
Laura watched him enter elevator before closing the door and leaning on it, wondering why she felt such a sense of relief that he was gone.
"Interesting scene," Remington drawled from where he stood behind the sofa. "Happen often?"
Laura's eyes widened in surprise. "Remington?" She glanced at the door behind her, then turned back to glare at him. "Were you *spying* on me?!"
"Not on you," Remington corrected. "On him," he said, with a nod toward the door. "You're not going to welcome me home?"
Laura hesitated. "You left. Again. After promising-"
"I know," he said, cutting her off before she went further. "Laura, I was hurt. Everything was still so new, so, unsettled. We hadn't had a chance to talk about what happened. And then there *he* was, telling me that you were *confused*," he ran a hand through his dark hair, and Laura realized that it was shaking slightly. "I didn't want you to feel trapped, or obligated to stay with me."
"I *was* confused," Laura admitted slowly, and saw the pain in Remington's eyes. "But only for a few minutes. What we have is too special for me ever to turn my back on it. If I'd met Tony before you came into my life, he and I might have- but I didn't. I met you first. And I'm happy with the way things turned out." She looked up at him, her hands resting on his chest. "And I'm happy you're back."
"For good, this time," he promised, and slipped his arms around her to give her a long kiss that Laura returned with equal measure.
***
He wasn't sure later how they wound up in bed, but his next lucid moment found them wrapped in each other's arms and the twisted sheets. Laura's leg was resting on his and her head was on his still heaving chest.
"I missed that," Laura murmured, running her fingers through the dark hair on his chest, letting her hand trail lower to where it narrowed. "I missed you."
"And I missed you. There wasn't a moment that went by that I wasn't thinking about you. Here. With him."
Laura rose up and looked at him. "Never. Tony and I never-"
He shook his head, placing a hand to her lips. "I know. I was torturing myself because I knew that I shouldn't have left the way I did."
She settled back against him. "Well, you're home now. Where did you go?"
"London, to take care of Daniel's estate. I know who I am now, Laura," he said, and smiled when he felt her breath catch before she looked at him.
"You've seen your birth certificate?"
"Not an actual certificate. But the next best thing. An entry in a family Bible. Harrison Chalmers, mother, Sheila Harrison Chalmers, father, Daniel Chalmers. Born May 16, 1952 in Ireland- not fifty miles from Ashford Castle."
Laura smiled at the irony of that. "Harrison. Not much better than Remington. Still a mouthful."
"That's why Daniel called me Harry," he reminded her.
"And why you signed your letter the way you did," Laura realized. "Thank you for the desk. It's lovely."
"Daniel had it for years," Remington said. "Oh, Laura. There are so many things I have to tell you. About my Grandfather-"
"Your Grandfather?"
He nodded. "Liam Harrison. Lives in the house where I was born. I tried to get him to come back with me, but he's stubborn. I promised we'd visit him soon- after we clear the problems up here."
"Problems?" Laura questioned. "What problems? Now that you're back-"
"We have to talk about Antony, Laura," he said.
"He's a friend," she insisted.
"Really? Does a friend hire someone to keep me out of the country to give him time to seduce you into his bed? Or to hire that same someone to try and burn me and Liam alive in *our* beds?"
"What are you talking about?"
"What happened to Mildred's sister?" Remington asked. "She became ill suddenly-"
"Is she sick? How do *you* know?"
"I called the office and spoke with Antony-" at her look, he said, "He didn't tell you. I didn't think he would have. He told me that Mildred had just left to go and visit her sister who'd come down ill. Considering the fact that Antony was trying to have me killed-"
"Mildred didn't go to visit Eunice," Laura said. "She went to go find you. She and Tony weren't getting along-" Laura sat up in bed and opened the nightstand to pull out an address book.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling Sister Eunice," she told him, locating the number and dialing the telephone.
"Laura, it's nearly two o'clock in the morning," Remington reminded her.
"And if what's happened is what I'm beginning to *think* happened, we haven't a moment to lose," she said as the telephone was answered. "Hello, Eunice? . . . This is Laura Holt-Steele-" she smiled. "No, nothing's wrong," she said. "And I'm sorry for disturbing you, but - Mildred's phone isn't working right- she can't call out of the city, something about a trunk line- but she had a bad dream that you were sick- . . . You're sure? . . . No, I'm not calling you a liar, Eunice. I just want to be able to reassure Mildred . . . By the way, when's the last time you and she talked?" Laura's eyes met Remington's. "Three months ago . . . Okay . . . Goodnight, Eunice . . . I will." She hung up. "Eunice is in perfect health- just saw her doctor yesterday." She thought for a moment. "Maybe Tony just told you that to keep you from being on the lookout for Mildred?" she suggested, obviously not quite ready to accept that Tony might have done something to the other woman.
"Face it, Laura. He's trying to isolate you from everyone but himself. Anyone from your past is expendable. Mildred, me."
"What are we going to do?" Laura asked.
"Well, I have an idea, but I'm going to need your help to carry it off . . ."
"I'll do whatever I have to. If he's hurt Mildred- "
"You'll have to get to him before I do," Remington promised. "Now, as to the plan . . ."
To Be Continued---