- Steele of Approval
- Original Airdate: May 15 1985
- Transcribed by Linda from the Episode Written
- Brad Kern and Seymour Robbie
- Restored Scene in RED
- Thanks, Debra!
An elegant, understated lobby. A man enters and rides up the
elevator to a suite and a waiting group of four seated men.
"Uh, on time as always, Mr. Dunkirk."
"Good evening, Mr. Earhardt, gentlemen."
Mr. Earhardt, clearly in charge of this meeting, responds, "Would
you excuse us, Jack?"
One of the men responds "Certainly. Gentlemen," as
he nods, and leaves the room.
"Proceed, Mr. Dunkirk."
"Well I thought you should see some of the poster mock-ups
we've been working on for you, Mr. Earhardt," says Dunkirk,
as he holds up two posters reading Vote William Westfield for
US Senator and William Westfield California's Next Senator. Both
display a photo of a youthful, boyishly good-looking Westfield.
"Well, they're coming right along, right along indeed, Mr.
Another man in the small group speaks for the first time, directing
his comment to Earhardt. "Horton, don't you think you're
being a bit premature with all this? After all, the election
is still two years away."
Chuckling, Earhardt responds, "It'll be here faster than
you think, JW."
JW is not amused. "Perhaps so. However I feel we should
at LEAST wait until the background check on Mr. Westfield is
complete before we go any further," as he gestures to the
poster mock-ups. "We wouldn't want to put our collective
reputations behind a man who may have some buried bodies lying
"From everything I've read so far he's exemplary. Now I
say we put our mouth where our money is and get this campaign
in full gear now!"
JW addresses the other men in the room. "Gentlemen, I think
it would be more prudent to wait until we are absolutely certain
there are no chinks in Mr. Westfield's background."
The remaining two men speak for the first time, both voting with
JW, saying "Wait."
"Well, Horton old boy," says JW as he rises and pats
Earhardt on the shoulder, "I guess you've been outvoted."
Earhardt looks very displeased.
JW exits the room, meeting in a bar with the gentleman that Earhardt
"I'm getting sick and tired of being dismissed like an errant
schoolboy every time a decision has to be made," the man
spits out as he nurses a drink.
"Be patient, my boy. You'll be part of the inner circle
soon enough," JW tells him.
"When?" the other man asks grimly.
"Have you set everything in motion?" The other man
nods. "Then be of good cheer," JW says as he raises
his drink to the other man.
A late-model car pulls over on a residential street. The lone
occupant of the car unzips a custom carrying case and removes
a gun. He raises the gun to his chest, then sits and watches,
as Laura Holt emerges from a house across the street. She walks
out the door and down the sidewalk with a middle-aged woman.
"Thanks again for your time, Mrs. Tucker, you've been very
helpful," Laura says, smiling, carrying her briefcase.
"Oh it was my pleasure, really, believe me," Mrs. Tucker
responds warmly. "And, uh, I know I'm prejudiced, but I
think Mr. Westfield would make a wonderful senator."
"Well, he appears to have the credentials for it. Unless
something suddenly comes up I'd say he has a shot at it."
They shake hands and part amicably as Laura says goodbye. As
she walks toward her car, the man in the car across the street
raises the gun and sights Laura in the cross hairs. But instead
of pulling the trigger, he shifts his sight and shoots out the
back window of Laura's Rabbit. At the sound of the shots and
shattering glass Laura drops and rolls into the street gutter.
As the car peels away from the curb, a very muddy Laura raises
herself up to her hands and knees and watches the car and its
license plate as it speeds away.
Steele is in his office, hurriedly shrugging on his suit jacket.
He picks up the telephone in response to Mildred's buzz. "Yes,
Mildred is at her desk, and Earhardt is standing in front of
"Mr. Steele, Mr. Earhardt is here to see you."
Adjusting his cuffs, Steele says hurriedly, "Who's Mr. Earhardt?"
Mildred turns in her chair so Earhardt can't hear her. "Horton
"Well, I'm delighted he has a first name, but who the devil
Mildred whispers into the phone as Earhardt waits impatiently:
"The background check on William Westfield."
"Who's William Westfield?"
"Miss Holt's working on it." Mildred is starting to
"Well then sic him on Miss Holt," Steele says, exasperated.
"She's not here."
"Never around when you need her. Eh, well, uh, alright Mildred,
ok, send him in thank you."
Mildred ushers Earhardt in to Steele's office as Steele buttons
his double-breasted jacket.
Steele turns on the charm. "Mr. Earhardt. How very nice
to FINALLY meet you face to face. May I call you Horton?"
Earhardt agrees. "Bring in the file will you Miss Krebs?"
"Why the files on William Westfield's background check,
of course." Mildred leaves to fetch the file and closes
the door behind her. "Uh, that IS why you're here, isn't
Earhardt smiles; he is charmed. "Mr. Steele, I'm impressed.
A man as busy as you undoubtedly are making the extra effort
to become personally involved in each and every case tells me
that we have hired the right agency.'
"Well I wouldn't have it any other way Horton," as
he steers Earhardt to his desk. "After all that's why my
good name is on that door out there." Mildred reappears
and gives a file to Steele. "Ah thank you very much Miss
Krebs," Steele says as he peruses the file."
"Now, I really haven't had a chance to uh peruse this case
since its final update, but it appears we've turned every page
possible on Mr. Westfield and it appears, uh, well it appears
he's absolutely clean."
"Then I see no reason why you can't give it your stamp of
approval and send me on my way," Earhardt jovially replies.
"Consider it stamped, Horton."
Laura enters the office saying: "Not so fast."
"Ah, working under cover today, Miss Holt? Excellent bag
lady look, yes."
Laura looks down at her very soiled clothing. Her face is caked
in dirt as well. "Mr. Earhardt, something has come up an
I think we should pursue it before we stamp anything."
"What's happened?" Mr. Earhardt asks.
""I was shot at today, twice actually."
"Well I'm sorry to hear that Miss Holt, but what's that
got to do with William Westfield?"
"In addition to the fact that we're not working on any other
cases at the moment, I was interviewing Mr. Westfield's former
secretary when it happened."
"But your superior just finished telling me that Westfield
was clean." Earhardt is a bit exasperated.
Steele straightens his tie and smiles.
Laura glances at Steele and continues. "Recently, however,
my SUPERIOR and I found a gap in Mr. Westfield's history."
Earhardt: "A GAP what sort of GAP?"
"There's a period in his life that can not adequately be
Earhardt turns and appeals to Steele. "Sounds like she's
grasping for straws, Mr. Steele."
Steele grimaces. "Mmmmm."
"I hardly think someone would want to shoot me just for
grasping at straws, do you Mr. Steele?" Laura gestures at
Steele out of Earhardt's view.
Steele shifts his sights from Laura to Earhardt and back again.
"Horton I'm gonna get on top of this personally. I know
how upset you are about this, and how important it is to you.
But I'm not gonna let you down. I'm gonna stake my reputation
on this." He ushers Earhardt from the office.
"Consider it staked."
"Rest assured, Horton," Steele says as he closes the
door behind Earhardt.
"Laura, I mean really, I really would appreciate it if you'd
inform me what cases I'm meant to be working on."
"I did, but you dozed off in the middle of it. It's not
my fault legwork makes you drowsy."
"I know you're upset but "
"I get that way when I get shot at."
"Irrespective of that, Laura, I've been looking over this
file, and I must say you have done some admirable work here.
Really I mean it, I would vote for Mr. Westfield."
"That's the way it appears on the surface, but if you're
going to stake MY agency's reputation, we're not closing the
books on this until we're sure. We're sure." Laura jabs
her index fingers at Steele's chest in emphasis.
"That's what I love about you, Laura, You're so thorough.
You're so, so tediously thorough."
"I got a look at the car. Whoever shot at me."
"Ah excellent. What was it?"
A green Thunderbird. Or a Cougar. Or a Buick or an Oldsmobile,"
Laura says confusedly.
"Well that certainly narrows it down doesn't it? I'll call
Detroit first thing in the morning."
"But. There was a bumper sticker with a lightning bolt on
"Yes, go on?"
"I was lying face down in the gutter!"
"Well couldn't you have lifted your head just a LITTLE bit
and gotten a look at the license number?"
"Next time I'll try to do better!" Laura says as she
turns away from Steele and stalks out of the office. Steele watches
Laura is driving down a wide boulevard. A Mercedes appears to
be following her. She tries some evasive driving, but the car
is still on her tail. She pulls into a lumber yard and the car
behind her loses control, crashing into a pile of planks. The
driver gets out, kicking the planks off his car and holding his
Laura's car rounds the corner and speeds up to him, pinning him
between his car and hers as the car comes to a screeching halt.
"Alright, Mister, I want-----" Laura begins as she
gets out of her car. Then she realizes who the man is. "William
"You're not gonna put this on my report, are you?"
Westfield says with a grin.
Back at the loft,
Westfield is sitting in a chair in the living area while Laura
prepares an ice bag at the sink in the kitchen area. "Well,"
he tells her, beginning his explanation. "As soon as I found
out you'd been shot at, I headed straight for your office. I
saw you leaving and followed." He gives a slight laugh,
then adds, "At least, I tried to."
- "How did you
find out about the shooting, Mr. Westfield?" Laura asks
as she walks over to him and hands him the ice bag.
- "William, please,"
he urges her, holding the bag to his head. "Uh, Mrs. Tucker
- Laura makes her
way across the living area and sits down in a chair, putting
a good deal of distance between them in the process. "Do
you have any idea what anybody doesn't want me to find out about
you?" she asks.
"Well that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I have
nothing to hide."
"Suppose we start with a curious gap in your history, Mr.
"You worked for the district attorney 10 years ago. From
April through June no one seems to recall seeing hide nor hair
of you," Laura interrogates.
Westfield laughs. "Ten years ago? You know I remember that,
I was down in Mexico at the time."
"Business or pleasure?"
Rising from his seat, Westfield says "Definitely not pleasure.
The case involved a really bad fire, a residential district went
up in flames, a lot of people lost their lives. It smelled of
arson and there was a suspicion in the office that Senator Jefferson
was behind it."
Laura sits up at that. "The late Senator Hartford Jefferson?"
"The same. He owned the land, and there was talk of putting
a freeway through. The residents took it to court and it could've
dragged on for years."
"But without the houses the suit was academic," Laura
"Anyway we got a lead that his son Scott had skipped to
Mexico because he'd found out about his father and the fire.
I traipsed around down there for better than two months looking
for that kid. I finally found him in a hospital in Cancun where
he'd tried to kill himself."
"Did you talk to him?"
"I was only instructed to find him, and then call Earhardt."
"Earhardt? Horton Earhardt?"
"Yeah, he was DA at the time."
Laura looks intrigued.
"Anyway he flew down to Cancun to take the kid's deposition
but before he could get there Jefferson was transferred to a
sanitarium in Mexico City and declared legally insane. There
were no further leads so the case just fizzled out."
"But why wasn't there any record of all that?"
"We were talking about implicating a United States Senator.
That's not the kind of thing you broadcast around until you're
pretty sure you can make it stick."
"Your story seems plausible enough."
Westfield chuckles. "It seems plausible. Now what do you
thing I did down there, rape and pillage?" Westfield sits
on the table edge directly in front of Laura. Laura doesn't answer.
"Come on, Miss Holt, I don't even like Mexican food."
"I think I'll have a little talk, with Mr. Earhardt, see
what he remembers. Thank you Mr. Westfield," as Laura gets
up, moves around Westfield and opens the door for him to leave.
"William, please. Now if a man's gonna melt a woman's ice
cubes, they oughta at least be on a first-name basis." Westfield
smiles and deposits the ice pack in Laura's hand. They exchange
a look, and as Westfield leaves Laura leans against the door
with a grin on her face.
Back at the office, Mildred barges in to Steele's office with
a man and a woman.
"We've got trouble, Boss."
"Oscar Bergman, State Bureau of Investigative licensing."
The woman accompanying him sits down and begins to type into
a stenographic machine.
Steele whispers to Mildred: "You better go get Miss Holt,
Mildred, hmm?" Mildred nods and leaves.
"We have run across some irregularities in your case reports,
perhaps you would be so kind as to clear them up for us."
"Uh, actually Mr. Bergman I'm rather busy at the moment,
uh" Steele looks concerned as the woman transcribes the
"Well I'm sure this won't take long. Let's start with the
Harper case, shall we?"
Steele looks worried. "The uh Harper case, huh?"
"Yes. According to the publicity it garnered, it was one
of your more famous cases."
Grasping, Steele says: "Gimme a year, eh?"
"1980. Uh, you wouldn't perchance have any more recent irregularities,
would you? "
"Let's stick with Harper for now."
"Why not, stick with Harper. Ok. To be absolutely candid
with you Mr. Bergman, in those early years I never really involved
myself in any of the cases. My talent worked best in uh, more
advisory capacity. Ah yes, yes, the good old days." Steele
is bluffing but Bergman is not buying it. "I'd best just
go get the files just in case, you know, to check anything out.
And uh, don't go away," as he scurries out of the office.
In the outer office, Mildred is on the phone.
"Miss Holt, what?"
No luck. What's going on in there?"
Steele is agitated. "Oh I wish I knew, Mildred. Mildred,
I want you to go through Miss Holt's files and I want you to
find everything you can on the Harper case, November, 1980. OK?
1980." He escorts her to Laura's office and closes the door
behind her as he returns to the outer office.
As he stands at Mildred's desk waiting with his arms folded,
the computer begins to print, catching his attention. Glancing
at the closed office doors, he goes to see what is being printed.
DATA BANK SEARCH
REMINGTON STEELE AGENCIES
**Motor Vehicle FilesAutomobile Rental
6700 Comstock Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 91604
With a glance over his shoulder
he rips out the page from the printer and scampers out of the
Laura gets off an elevator and strides purposefully down a hall.
She is in the suite we first saw earlier. Earhardt is there alone,
"Well, Miss Holt, since you've arrived empty-handed, I can
only assume the report is still incomplete."
"I need just a bit of corroboration, Mr. Earhardt. Then
I can issue it."
"Oh." He sits forward and puts down his cup. "What
sort of corroboration?"
Laura sits down. "You sent William Westfield to Mexico to
find a Scott Jefferson, correct?"
"Good Lord, that was 10 years ago."
"Mr. Westfield called you after he'd found Scott Jefferson
in Cancun, but when you got there to take his deposition Jefferson
had been moved to a sanitarium in Mexico City."
Laura has a cup of coffee. "Did you ever suspect there might
have been a leak?"
"I'm not sure what you're getting at."
"Well. There you were, trying to incriminate a United States
Senator, and suddenly your key witness was labeled legally insane,
rendering him useless to your case ."
"Yes, but the only other person who knew we'd found the
young man was----
"William Westfield," Laura finishes.
"Are you suggesting that Westfield had Jefferson moved?"
Earhardt seems incredulous.
"What if he'd already obtained a deposition from Jefferson
before he called you? What if he then arranged it so that Jefferson
could not legally give his deposition to anyone else?" Laura
is smiling at her reasoning.
"Why would he do something like that?"
"Less than two months after you both returned from Cancun,
Mr. Westfield moved from his office to the most prestigious law
firm in the country, the same law firm that handled Senator Hartford
Jefferson's legal work," Laura concludes.
"Payoff of some kind?"
"Careers have been built on less."
"Well that's food for thought, Miss Holt. But how would
you go about finding out whether it's true or not?"
"Well, the only man who could prove it would be Scott Jefferson.
I'm going to Mexico City to see if I can have a chat with him."
"But that trail is 10 years old!"
"It's fresher than that, Mr. Earhardt. Remember, I was shot
at this morning."
Laura leaves, but runs into JW and the man from the bar this
morning. "Ah, Miss Holt, making any progress in the Westfield
matter?" asks JW.
"I'll let you know in a few days." She leaves.
The unidentified man says: "Horton doesn't look too happy."
"Oh. What say we cheer him up?" And they go to join
Locale: Lightning Rent-A-Car Agency
"It's the only green thunderbird I got, Mr. uh. . . ."
Steele supplies "Uh Keyes. Norman Keyes. Uh Vigilance Insurance."
He is carrying a clipboard, and wearing very nerdy attire, a
bow tie, glasses, and a light blue suit with quite a lot of cuff
showing. His hair is very slick. He and the man from the rental
agency are in the lot looking for a particular car.
"I guarantee you won't find any dents in that baby. I----I
checked her out myself."
"Mmm, yes yes yes. Well when my client cries hit-and-run
I mean we have to check this out." They stop at the car
that Laura saw yesterday, with the lightning bolt on the back
bumper. "We're vigilant. Vigilance is our watchword. That's
what it is. Vigilance is our" he kicks a tire "watchword.
The other man is confused. "Hey wait, why are you looking
inside?" as Steele opens the passenger door.
"Well you can never be too vigilant, see?" He searches
the car, opening the glove compartment?"
"D'you think he hit your client's car with the glove compartment?"
Steele straightens and closes the door. "Eh, well"
wiping his brow and going around to the front of the car. He
finds a valet ticket from the Hotel Titan stuck in the hood groove,
which he pockets. "Well, sir, you've been an absolute brick,
an absolute brick, sir, it's people like you who keep the insurance
rate down. Good day to you sir, it's been very nice talking to
you, good day," Steele says, shaking the bewildered man's
Laura walks into the outer office. File drawers are open. "Mildred?
Mildred?" We hear Mildred groaning. Laura enters Steele's
office as Mildred rises from the sofa where she was lying down.
"Oh Miss Holt, thank God you're here."
"Mildred what's the matter?"
"He grilled me like an animal!"
"Some jerk from the Bureau of Investigative Licensing! He
said he found some discrepancies in your old case reports."
"Where's Mr. Steele?"
"Bailed out on me!"
"I don't know. One minute he's here, the next minute, pfft."
Laura is annoyed. "That's what I love about Mr. Steele.
Always here when you need him. Alright Mildred, well I'll handle
the Bureau when I get back." She starts for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"But what about Mr. Steele?"
"I'll handle him when I get back, too."
Hotel Titan lobby
"Front desk," the desk clerk answers the phone.
Steele, seated in a club chair in the lobby, says "Yes,
I'd like to have my car out front in 10 minutes, please. Valet
number is 3773."
"One moment, please. Oh, yes, that's the green thunderbird,
"Yes, yes, that's the one, thank you very much. Oh, and
could I have a newspaper delivered to my room right away?"
"I'd be glad to, Mr. Donaldson."
"Splendid, thank you very much."
Steele follows the bell hop who delivers the paper to Donaldson's
room. He picks the lock and enters, searching the rooms. He finds
a very professional-looking gun in a custom carrying case.
Laura is seated on an airplane. A flight attendant offers her
"No, thank you."
"Oh it's compliments of the gentleman." From a few
rows back William Westfield lifts his glass of champagne to Laura
Laura and Westfield are now seated together.
"How is it we just happened to be on the very same plane
to Mexico City?"
"With answers like that I'd never buy a used car from you
"You're avoiding the question."
"You and I share a common interest, Miss Holt, my past.
Now who knows, maybe before this is all over we'll finally share
even more important things."
"That's a coincidence I wouldn't count on," Laura say
as she sips champagne.
"You didn't say, did you ever talk to Earhardt?"
"I didn't say."
He chuckles. "I don't think I quite understand you, Miss
Holt. I've been perfectly straight with you, I've told you everything
I know, then I find out you're headed for Mexico City, which
tells me there's something in my background you're looking for,
something to do with Scott Jefferson, I assume. I don't know
exactly what you're after but I plan on being there when you
find whatever it is you think you're gonna find. I have nothing
"So you've said, Mr. Westfield."
Back at the Hotel Titan, Steele is waiting when the man who shot
Laura returns to his room. The man is accompanied by a young
"Hey, who the hell are you?"
Steele, sunglasses on, has his hand inside his jacket. "I
represent a rather disgruntled client of yours, the one connected
to the Holt situation."
The man says to the blonde, "Look ,sweetheart, why don't
you take off?"
"But what about the coat you bought me? Can I take it with
"Yeah well don't take all day, huh?" She smiles and
goes into the bedroom.
"So what do you want?" says the would-be assassin,
stepping into the room toward Steele.
Steele pulls a gun from his jacket. "My client is extremely
unhappy, you missed your target, he wants his money back, I'm
here to collect."
"What?" The man is surprised. "What are you, crazy,
that was the deal."
"That's not the way my client sees it."
"I told Prince I didn't like the set-up. I'm not paid to
miss, I don't care how much I get. I have a certain reputation
Steele removes his glasses. "You honestly expect me to believe
that Prince hired you to intentionally miss Laura Holt?"
"That's what he wanted, and that's what he got. And he's
not going to weasel out of this now."
"Fascinating story," Steele says as he rises to his
feet. "The police will-----"
The blonde comes out of the bedroom shooting. Steele grabs the
hit man and pulls him over the sofa with him as the bullets fly.
"Get your head up, get your head up," Steele mutters.
The blonds is pointing the gun in a very professional manner.
Steele points the gun at the man, as the man sits up. "Helen!
Helen, don't shoot for God's sake! It's me!"
Steele asks "Who is she? Who is she, come on?"
"Youryour wife?" Steel is incredulous. "HeHelen?
Alright Darling, you can do one of two things, it's your move.
You can either drop the gun or it's instant divorce. Huh?"
Steele is still pointing the gun at the man and holding on to
The man says "Helen?! What's taking you so long?"
Steele says "Come on."
The gun drops to the floor with a thud.
Steele gets up. "That's a good girl, that's a good girl.
All right, Sunshine, up you get, up you get. Stay there."
They both get to their feet while Steele keeps the gun on the
"A husband-and-wife hit team?! Oh, yes, the family that
slays together stays together, eh? Come on, out this way."
Back at the office, Steele walks in, disheveled.
"Where have you been, Boss? "
"I need you to check out the"
"Now I may be outa line, and if so, I still have an IRS
pension coming. But when you left me hung out to dry with that
Bureau pip, I felt like a discarded pinata! And he was batting
me all over the place!"
Tie in hand, Steele says "Mildred, I apologize but it was
for a worthy cause, please."
"Well I should hope so! Because Mr. Bergman called, and
insisted you come down and answer some questions at 4:00 sharp,
and he wasn't asking either!"
"Where's Miss Holt?"
"What?! What in bloody hell is she doing in Mexico City?
"I mean I'm out there sidestepping bullets, trying to find
out who shot at her, trying to save HER agency----"
"Merely a figure of speech, I mean one for all, all for
one! Esprit de corps! Semper fidelis!"
Mildred shows him her desk clock. "You better hurry, Boss,
cos you don't wanna be late!"
"First I want you to get that computer to spew out everything
it's got on Jack Prince."
"Don't worry about the licensing board. It's merely a formality.
I assure you I shall straighten everything out. OK?"
"OK!" Mildred starts working at the computer while
Steele waits, arms folded.
Mexico City Airport
"You've been awfully quiet for some time, Miss Holt. Did
you run out of questions for me to avoid?" Westfield inquires
as he and Laura disembark.
"Would you excuse me for a moment, please? I have to use
the ladies' room."
"By all means."
Once in the ladies' room Laura escapes out of a window.
At the sanitarium, she emerges from a cab. "Gracias, mucho
gracias." She pays the cabbie.
Westfield is already there, waiting for her on the steps. "Jefferson's
He was transferred to Los Angeles yesterday."
"You won't be heartbroken if I don't believe you?"
Westfield smiles. "Senora Gomez has the file. How's your
"Better than my German," and she goes into the sanitarium.
Westfield follows her in.
"Por favor. Senor Scott Jefferson. Scott Jefferson."
The receptionist reels off a few sentences in rapid Spanish,
including the words `Los Angeles', pointing at Westfield. She
hands Laura a file, which Laura thumbs through.
"The order was signed by a Dr. Herbert Sanderley. After
10 years Jefferson's suddenly transferred? I'm getting tired
of all these coincidences. May I , uh. . . " She gestures
at the phone.
"Yes may I have the uh aroporto, please?"
Westfield says "Don't tell me. You want to know when the
next flight to Los Angeles leaves?" He is amused.
Westfield takes the phone, and speaks in rapid, fluent Spanish.
"Not `til morning, I'm afraid."
Laura grabs the phone. "Uh uh uh, hablas ingles, please?
Great. Listen you tell me I need to know when the earliest flight
back to Los Angeles---- gracias. Mucho gracias." She hangs
up the phone.
"Hey you're probably not going to believe this either, but
I know a great little Chinese restaurant right around here."
At 4:55 Bergman paces in a nondescript conference room. The stenographer
files her nails.
Steele hurriedly enters the room. "I'm so sorry to keep
you waiting. That's one thing I dislike about this profession.
You never know what's going to come up next. You can scarcely
plan things in advance."
Bergman: "Is that a fact?"
"Yes, sometimes it's absolutely intolerable. Now if we can
scurry things along a bit, I'm pressed for time."
"Yes well, Mr. Steele, I've got good news for you."
`Yes I do. I'm going to fix it so that you've got all the time
in the world."
"I am officially notifying you that as of this moment, the
State Board of Investigative Licensing is suspending your agency's
license until further notice. Any cases you or your operatives
are currently working on, you are ordered to cease and desist
or face criminal charges."
Steele swallows hard.
"In other words, Mrs. Steele, you're out of business."
Bergman picks up his briefcase and leaves with the stenographer.
Steele remains seated at the conference room table.
Laura is on the telephone in a hotel lobby.
Mildred speaks to her from her desk at the agency's office. "Oh,
Miss Holt! I'm so glad you called. But I don't think you're gonna
"I can't hear, can you speak up, Mildred?"
"It's terrible, Miss Holt, it's just terrible! They've taken
our license away!"
"What? Who did?"
"Oh that licensing bum I told you about!" A man is
carting files out of Laura's office. "They're confiscating
our files right now!"
"Where's Mr. Steele?"
"I don't know, I haven't seen him since he went down to
the hearing to straighten everything out!" Bergman walks
out of Laura's office with a smug look on his face as files continue
to be removed.
"Are you telling me that Mr. Steele-----"
"Oh, I can't talk anymore!" Bergman is standing next
to her expectantly.
"They wanna padlock the office!" The line is abruptly
Laura stands with the phone in her hand, a shocked expression
on her face.
"Westfield walks up to her. "I got us two rooms!"
Laura slams down the phone and stalks off. "Miss Holt?"
Westfield follows her outside, running to keep up with her.
"I leave the office for less than 24 hours and suddenly
all hell breaks loose! Oh that man! What could I have possibly
been thinking about all this time? Why have I stuck it out for
so long? Boy have I been kidding myself!"
"Who are we talking about?"
"That agency means everything to me. How could I let him
"Your boss, hm?"
"Are we talking more than just a professional relationship
"Oh, who knows anymore? I mean, one minute there is, the
next there isn't. Up and down, up and down, up and down. You
need a bloody elevator to keep track of all the ups and downs."
As Laura and Westfield talk they continue to walk briskly down
"I'm sorry about this, William."
"Because that's the first time you've called me William!"
"It's just I shouldn't be laying all of this on you."
"Hey, it's OK. I like to listen." They pause on the
street. "You know I've never actually met the man, but everything
I've read about him makes me envious. He's naturally dashing,
"Irresponsible, devious, enigmatic. . . ."
"While I on the other hand have always been described as
a nice, successful, slightly introverted guy who happens to believe
in the good old-fashioned protestant work ethic."
"Hey, what's funny?"
"I don't know, it's. . . it's just that's the way I've always
Westfield reaches out and grips Laura's arm. "A match made
in heaven. . . . Hey you're shivering."
"Am I? Hm, guess it is a little chilly."
"Here." Westfield removes his jacket and places it
around Laura's shoulders.
Westfield holds on to the jacket lapels as he says "Think
nothing of it, Miss Holt."
"Laura." She links her arm in his as they walk back
toward the hotel.
Above a swimming pool, Steele and the man who has been in cahoots
with JW are running around a track.
"Lovely morning, isn't it?" The man looks Steele up
and down. "Nothing like a brisk jog to stimulate the senses."
"Do I know you?"
"I know you. Jack Prince. Self-made millionaire, string
of shopping centers, oil wells. How else does one put it? Extraordinary
"Yeah? And what business are you in?"
"Me? Oh, I'm retired," Steele says as they continue
around the track.
"For about 14 hours now. Name's Steele, Remington Steele."
Prince looks at him.
"Well now, Mr. Steele. Isn't this a coincidence? You're
awfully chipper considering your stripes have been taken away."
"I see good news travels fast."
"Let's cut through the bull."
"Colorfully put, Jack. Well, getting to the point, your
hired gunman, his enchanting wife, and I had, what shall we say,
a little soiree yesterday?"
Prince pulls up. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You hired them to shoot at Miss Holt, that's what I'm talking
"And you're crazy and I'm bored." Prince turns to leave
but Steele grabs his jacket.
"Not so fast."
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Making a citizen's arrest." He pushes Prince up against
the railing. "You hired someone to shoot at Miss Holt and
you hired that someone to miss. Now I wanna know why." Steele
has him by the collar.
In a hospital of some kind, Laura is in a nurse's uniform, while
Westfield is seated in a wheelchair as Laura ties his wrists
to the arms of the chair.
"Believe me. If I could do it alone, I would."
"Uh-uh. I wanna be there when you question Jefferson."
As she musses his hair, Laura says "You might not like the
"Oh, are you still suspicious, Miss Holt?"
"Laura. And yes I am."
"It'll never work!"
"You've got the easy part. All you have to do is growl."
Laura wheels Westfield up to the nurses' station. He slumps in
"What's his problem?" asks the nurse at the desk.
"I don't know, I just deliver `em," Laura says, studying
"Who's the admitting physician?"
"Dr. Herbert Sanderley. He wants him with the other patient
he just had admitted."
"The guy that came in yesterday. From Mexico."
"Yeah, Johnson. But he's in the locked ward. This guy doesn't
look like he needs something that severe. "
"Hey ours is not to reason why, he just said stick `em with
"I better double-check." She turns to pick up the phone.
Laura punches Westfield's arm and he begins to growl and flail
in the chair.
"Obviously the doctor knows what he wants, now will you
just please put him where he wants him?"
A burly orderly comes out of a door.
"Take this guy up to the locked ward, room 7."
The orderly shows Laura and Westfield to the room.
At the nurses' station, the nurse makes a telephone call. "Dr.
Herbert Sanderley, please. Meadow Wood Sanitarium calling."
Laura wheels Westfield into the room and tells the orderly, "Better
get some Thorazine 25 mL. When the straps come off this baby
The orderly leaves them alone with the patient. Laura quickly
unties Westfield and says "Close the door."
Laura hurries over to a man in a chair, sitting facing a window.
"Mr. Jefferson. Scott. My name is Laura Holt, and I need
to ask you some very important questions. It's about what happened
10 years ago, with your father, Senator Jefferson, and that terrible
fire. When you were in Mexico, did you tell anyone what you knew
about that fire?"
There is a pause. Laura reaches out her hand and touches his
shoulder. Jefferson, finally turns to face her, tears in his
Exterior of the building where Earhardt and his companions met
at the beginning of the episode. A doorman holds the door for
Laura and she strides in to the bank of elevators. Steele rounds
a corner and they meet at the elevator.
"Laura, what are you doing here?"
"Wrapping up our last case."
"Odd. That's what I'm doing."
They get on the elevator together.
Steele can't conceal his excitement. There's a grin on his face
as he says "You're gonna be astounded by what I've learned."
Laura is stone-faced. "I doubt that. Nothing you do these
days astounds me."
The grin leaves Steele's face.
"How was Mexico?"
"How was the Licensing Board hearing?"
In silence they get off the elevator on Earhardt's floor and
meet him and his associates.
"Gentlemen. We're here to present the results of our background
check on William Westfield," Laura announces.
Earhardt says "Pardon me, Miss Holt, but I understand that
you and Mr. Steele are no longer accredited private investigators."
Steele looks pained by this remark.
"We are merely completing the job you hired us to do when
we did have our license. You'll be happy to know that Mr. Westfield
is as clean as the proverbial whistle."
"Oh that is good news."
You, on the other hand, Mr. Earhardt, are as dirty as they come."
"I beg your pardon!"
Steele whispers to her, "Miss Holt you're accusing the wrong"
"After Mr. Westfield informed you that he had found Scott
Jefferson in Cancun, you were the one who had him moved to Mexico
Earhardt sputters, "That's a lie, an outrageous lie!"
"Then you went to Mexico City and you took Mr. Jefferson's
deposition. You were the one whose career was built on bodies
Mr. Earhardt. Then when I started getting close to the truth
you sent someone out to kill me!"
During the exchange between Laura and Earhardt Steele had stayed
in the background, but at this point he leaps forward. "Excellent
work, Miss Holt. Excellent work. There's just one slight adjustment
to be made to your otherwise flawless presentation." Steele
points at a different man. "Kendall is the one who had you
Kendall says "What are you talking about?"
"Yes, what ARE you talking about?" Laura echoes.
"Your protégé Jack Prince wanted in on this,
this illustrious power circle. So the two of you conspired together
to cause Mr. Earhardt's fall from grace."
"That's the most illogical babble I've ever heard-----"
"You proposed, you proposed William Westfield as your candidate
for senator knowing full well that a thorough investigation would
ultimately lead to Mr. Earhardt's closetful of skeletons!"
Laura grabs Steele's arm and drags him a few feet back, out of
hearing of the group.
"That doesn't make any sense. Someone tried to kill me,
obviously to stop the investigation."
"Actually the gun man was hired to miss you, another little
added incentive to keep you on Jefferson's trail, hmm."
Another man says "Mr. Steele, Miss Holt-----"
Laura responds, "Just a moment. We're caucusing." And
to Steele "If that's true, why would Kendall have our license
"I'm afraid I haven't figured that one out yet."
Laura returns to address the group. "It was you who had
our license suspended, Mr. Earhardt. It's a shrewd way to keep
us from being able to find Jefferson."
Steele reacts "Good Lord, they're coming at us from all
Another man says "Well, that's quite a story. Either of
you have any proof?"
Laura removes a piece of paper from her handbag. "Scott
Jefferson's signed statement implicating you, Mr. Earhardt."
Kendall smirks. "Tough luck, Horton."
But Steele pulls something from his pocket. "This is a signed
statement from Jack Prince implicating you, Kendall."
Earhardt smiles. "Tough luck, JW."
Steele pronounces "Good Lord, I've heard of politics making
strange bedfellows, but this is the most arcane, byzantine bunch
I've ever seen."
"You forgot to mention Machiavellian."
Back at Steele's apartment, he carries out two cups of tea into
the living room. He and Laura sip their teas while sitting on
"You know I, uh, took the opportunity to look over some
of your old case reports. And I must admit you used quite a bit
of creativity in putting them together."
"That was before you were you. I still had to keep alive
the illusion that there really was a Remington Steele."
"Yes well, uh, despite all that I don't think we're gonna
have any trouble in getting our license restored."
Laura puts her cup down. "Not having it has given me time
"Is that piece of paper the only thing that's keeping us
together? Do we really have anything else in common besides this
Steele tries to smile. "Laura, if you're talking about my
allergy to legwork-----"
She stands. "No, it's got nothing to do with that. Don't
you see? I mean, losing our license may be the very best thing
that ever happened to us. Maybe it'll give us time to think about
how we really feel towards each other, outside work. All we've
ever done is play trial-and-error with our personal relationship,
as we try to squeeze it into our professional one."
"Are you saying it hasn't worked?"
"Are you saying it has?"
"Well perhaps not consistently, but----"
"All I'm suggesting is that maybe we take some time, think
about it for awhile. That's all."
Back at the Licensing Board offices. In the conference room,
Steele bursts in and grabs hold of Mr. Bergman and drags him
down the conference able.
"What are you doing h-----" Bergman sputters.
Steele hauls Bergman up and holds him against the wall. "Earhardt
must have awfully big pockets. That's where he keeps you, isn't
it? So it won't be too difficult to prove that we had our license
suspended. Now perhaps you've noticed I'm not a very patient
man these days. I don't want to have to sit through any hearings
or petitions or motions. Do you like the movies, Mr. Bergman?
I mean the Disney movies for instance. You don't have to say
anything, just nod your head, I'll get the message." Bergman
nods. "Good. Good. Because you and I are gonna play a little
scene from one of those fine family films in which you play the
good fairy who's gonna grant me three wishes. One: I want you
to confess, in writing, that Horton Earhardt paid you to pull
our license. Two: I'm gonna make damn sure I get that license
before I leave. And three: you're gonna allow me to escort you
to the police station so you can turn yourself in. What do you
think of it so far, huh?"
LA airport, aboard an airplane. Westfield and Laura are sitting
"William, I don't know how to tell you this. But you were
only chosen to run for senator because someone wanted me to sink
Horton Earhardt's ship. They knew that checking into your background
would ultimately lead to Scott Jefferson."
"Hm. Well. Look on the bright side, if it hadn't been for
all that we might never have met."
They smile at one another
"You really are someone very special," Laura says.
"So are you. Laura?" She stands up. "Where are
"I'm sorry, William, but I can't go through with it. I'm
sorry." She picks up her travel bag.
"Well, what happened? Is it me?"
"No, no, of course not. You're the reason I've come this
far. But, well, I care very much for someone who, I think, cares
very much for me. And even though we can't figure out a way to
make it work, I can't really leave until I'm sure there's no
reason to stay. Do you understand?"
"No, not really."
"That's ok, as long as I do." She kisses him. "Thanks."
She leaves the airplane.
Steele is at a mailbox, holding the agency's license in his hand,
along with an envelope addressed to Laura at the agency. He looks
at the license and stuffs it into the envelope, mailing it. The
limo waits at the curb.
At Steele's apartment, Laura rings the doorbell. Then knocks.
"Mr. Steele?" She tries the door. It's unlocked. Entering,
she says "Hello. Mr. Steele?"
She slowly walks through the dining room and living room, and
then into the bedroom. She opens the closet. It's empty. She
looks in drawers, but they're empty too.
She sits down on the bed, hands folded, silent.