Remington saw Daniel and Mildred before he got through customs and smiled at them. He didn't see Laura, however, and thought perhaps she'd gone to the ladies room. She'd be right back, he told himself as the inspector looked at his passport. "Anything to declare, Mr. Steele?"
"No. Not a thing." He returned the man's smile, then took his suitcase and moved to where Daniel and Mildred were waiting.
"It's good to have you home, Mr. Steele," Mildred said, giving him a hug.
"Good to be home, Mildred."
"Harry, my boy," Daniel said, embracing him as well. "You don't look as exhausted as Laura thought you were."
"I managed to catch some sleep on the flight over," Remington told him, looking around. "Speaking of Laura, where is she?" He saw the look that passed between Mildred and Daniel, a look that said neither wanted to answer his question. "Mildred?"
"She- followed Valmont, Chief," Mildred said in a worried voice.
"Valmont? Valmont is here? In Los Angeles?"
"He arrived about an hour ago," Daniel informed him.
"And you let her go? Alone?"
Mildred stepped in. "You're not being very fair, Mr. Steele," she accused. "You know as well as I do that once Miss Holt gets an idea in her head, there's nothing that can change her mind."
"She IS a stubborn young woman," Daniel agreed.
"And foolhardy," Remington added. "You say she's been gone an hour?"
"Something like that," Mildred nodded.
"Did she take the limo?"
"She was in a cab. Fred's outside waiting for us."
"Damn," Remington muttered. "Let's go. And Daniel, we need to have a long talk."
"Of course, Harry," Daniel agreed. "Whatever you say."
Laura sat on the couch in Valmont's suite, fully aware that Jonathan was standing directly behind her, his gun in hand, as Valmont himself watched her. "You can't keep me prisoner here, Valmont."
"I don't intend to keep you very long, Miss Holt. Just until Daniel Chalmers returns my property. Unless, of course, you know where it is. In that case, we can just dispense with Chalmers and work something out, I'm sure."
"I'm supposed to believe that you would just- let me walk out of this room if I knew where the Monet was and told you?"
"The door is open, Miss Holt. All that needs done is for you to give me what I want."
"I'm sorry. I don't know where the Monet is," she lied in a cool voice.
"It would be a pity to have to hurt such a lovely woman, wouldn't it, Jonathan?"
"Indeed, Mr. Valmont. A great pity."
"And even if I did know where it was, I wouldn't tell you. It's not yours."
"Chalmers stole it from me twenty five years ago," Valmont reminded her.
Laura glanced behind her. "And Jonathan stole it for you a year before that. From an Italian Count, wasn't it?"
"You're very well informed, Miss Holt."
"Daniel's a fount of information," she told him. "Except for where the painting is, he told me everything."
Valmont smiled, a cruel smile that left Laura totally chilled. "Do you really expect me to believe that you spent most of last night with a braggart like Daniel Chalmers and he didn't tell you what he did with my Monet?"
"We didn't get into that. We were too busy trying to make sure that you didn't get your hands on Mr. Steele."
"I might not have Steele, but I think I've caught an even bigger prize, don't you, Jonathan? Chalmers has a weakness for the ladies. And Steele has a weakness for you. You're their Achilles' Heel, Miss Holt. So until I get that Monet, you will remain precisely where you are."
Laura sat back in frustration.
Remington opened the door of the Agency and stopped. "Good Lord," he said.
"I told you it was bad," Mildred reminded.
"Check with the answering service, Mildred," Remington said as he picked up a plant and righted it. "See if Valmont's called in. And cancel all of the day's appointments. Then get someone up here to clean this up, will you?"
"I'm on it, Chief," Mildred said, already dialing the telephone.
"Daniel," Remington said, standing in his office doorway, "In here, if you please."
Daniel gave Mildred a look, then turned toward his friend. "As you wish, Harry."
Once the door was closed, Remington shook his head at the disarray of the room, then chose to ignore it. "I've heard Chalky's version of this, Daniel, and a version from one of Valmont's henchmen. Now," he said, going to the conference area and righting the chair before ushering Daniel into it, "I want your version. The truth, if you please. Laura's life is very likely at stake because of all this."
Daniel sat down carefully. "Twenty five years ago, I was asked by Clyde Davenport to steal the Monet from Valmont. Clyde had offered for it- apparently his wife had seen the painting while they were in England on business-"
"Davenport had business with a man like Valmont?"
"Davenport was a lawyer, Harry. Handled cases for- people like us. Oh, his wife never knew that. But then, Effie Davenport is just a bit- shy of a full load, I'm afraid. What Clyde saw in that woman, I'll never know-except for the fact that she was an heiress."
"You'd known Clyde for some time then."
Daniel looked at him, and Remington could see the wheels starting to turn. "Oh, years. Anyway, back to the Monet. Valmont simply refused to part with the thing. Even though Clyde offered him a small fortune for it."
"So you stole the Monet from Valmont."
"But Clyde become worried that Valmont might trace the theft back to him, since he had wanted to buy it. So he asked me to have a copy made- and then hide the Monet for him until things died down."
"Where did you hide it?"
Daniel smiled. "Do you remember that Degas that I insisted we keep when we moved from the old flat?"
"It was a horrible copy," Remington recalled, then his eyes widened. "You don't mean-"
"I'm afraid so. It was done on a second canvas that was stretched over the Monet. Oh, it's been redone since then, however."
"And where is it now?"
Before Daniel could answer, Mildred burst into the room. "Mr. Steele! He called! Said he'd call back at two!"
Remington glanced at the clock. "It's nearly that now. Let's hope Mr. Valmont is punctual."
"Oh, he is, Harry," Daniel assured him. "He is."
The telephone rang once at two o'clock, and Remington grabbed it before it ended. "Steele here."
"Ah, the elusive Mr. Steele at last. I'm impressed by your ingenuity, Steele. You managed to elude two of my best men."
"If they're your best, then I'd say you have a slight problem, Mr. Valmont," Remington replied.
"Perhaps I should rephrase that statement. They WERE two of my best. Unfortunately, I was forced to- terminate their employment rather suddenly when they failed in what I asked them to do."
Remington felt a cold chill up his spine. "Let's get down to business, shall we, Valmont? You have something I want- and I believe Daniel and I have something you want."
"I like a man who doesn't beat around the bush, Steele."
"Is Miss Holt all right?"
"She's unharmed," Valmont assured him smoothly. "And she'll stay that way- if you deliver the Monet to me by five o'clock."
"And if we can't get it by then?"
"Then I want Daniel Chalmers in her place. I'll be in touch, Steele."
"Wait a minute," Remington began. "I want to speak to-" but the line was dead. He hung up and went to the window. "He wants the Monet- or you- by five, or he'll kill Laura."
"Then I suppose we'd better go and retrieve the painting, hadn't we?"
"Where is it?"
Remington was still shaking his head as Fred brought the limo to a stop before the mansion. "I can't believe that you did this, Daniel. What if it had been stolen as well?"
"The alarm system was supposed to be fool proof, Harry. I helped Clyde set it up myself. The only way it wouldn't work correctly is if someone didn't set it properly. Probably Effie. The woman never could operate anything mechanical," he sighed as the got out of the car and looked at the house. "Harry, before we go in there, there is something I really should tell you, I suppose-" he began, but the front door opened and a blue haired matron appeared. She smiled at Daniel, her eyes growing wide.
"Harold!"
Remington made sure that she was looking at Daniel, then asked, "HAROLD?"
Daniel merely shrugged and went to embrace the woman. "Effie, my dear. Looking as lovely as ever. I was SO sorry to hear about Clyde's untimely death."
"He tried to contact you, you know," she said, taking the handkerchief Daniel offered with a grateful, albeit watery smile. "But you weren't in London. You know what's happened, then?"
"Yes. A terrible tragedy, Effie, just terrible."
Effie looked at Remington, narrowing her eyes in the sunlight and gasped. "Oh, oh my."
"Is something wrong, Mrs. Davenport?" Remington asked, concerned.
Daniel quickly made the introductions. "Effie, may I present Remington Steele."
"Oh, oh. Mr. Steele. Forgive me. For a moment, you looked- I thought you looked like my late husband years ago. The image of him-"
Daniel took Effie's arm and turned her toward the house, cutting off the woman's words, leaving Remington to follow them, his expression thoughtful. "Effie, dear, do you remember that Renoir that I sent to Clyde a few years ago?"
"The Renoir? Of course. Clyde put it in the gallery. Of course, I never really liked it- I much preferred my Monet. Oh, Daniel, do you think you can get it back for me?"
"I'm sure of it, Effie," Daniel told the woman as they entered the gallery. He glanced up to find that the hole in the Plexiglas had been repaired. "Is the alarm fixed as well?"
"No. I barely slept last night, waiting to talk to Miss Holt. She wanted to me to wait until she spoke to Mr. Steele."
Remington inspected the Renoir, spotting the forgery immediately. Daniel was right. Effie had to be more than a few bricks shy of a load not to have seen it herself. "We discussed it last night," Remington told the woman. "She told me about this, as well."
"The Renoir?" Effie asked, coming closer. "Really?"
"I collect Renoir's work," Remington told her. "A hobby. Is it for sale?"
"For sale? You want to - buy the Renoir?"
"Mr. Steele's willing to offer you a very good price for it, Effie," Daniel assured the woman.
"I don't know, Harold," Effie said, sounding more confused, if that was possible. "It was a gift from you to Clyde. I think sometimes he preferred it to the Monet. If it hadn't been for the fact that you were brothers-"
Remington turned to stare at Daniel, mouthing the word "Brothers?" over the little woman's head. Daniel smiled at him in reply as Effie continued to talk.
"I'm sure he wouldn't have given it a second look."
"I'm sure Clyde would want Mr. Steele to have it, Effie," Daniel said softly, and Remington realized that there was no trace of a British accent in that voice. It was as American as Laura's.
Effie turned to look at Remington again. "You DO look like Clyde. Surely you've noticed it, Daniel. Clyde said that you'd known Mr. Steele for some time?"
"Almost twenty years," Remington confirmed. And he didn't know a damn thing about the man, apparently. "Will you sell the Renoir, Mrs. Davenport?"
"What about my Monet?" she asked.
"I can assure you that your Monet will be returned very soon," Remington said.
"If you really think that Clyde wouldn't mind, Harold-"
Ten minutes later, the three watched as Fred placed the carefully wrapped painting in the trunk of the limo, while Effie thanked Daniel for repairing the gallery alarm system.
Once Fred closed the trunk, Daniel turned to her. "We have to go, Effie," Daniel told his sister in law.
"You'll come back and visit, I hope?" she asked, holding his hand. "Clyde so often regretted that you and he spent so much time apart. That you weren't as close as brothers should be. We're all that's left, Harold."
"I'll do my best, Effie. I promise." He kissed her hands, then released them to join Remington in the back of the limo.
"I'll have your Monet back before you know it, Mrs. Davenport," Remington promised again, then looked at Fred. "Let's go, Fred." They both waved at Effie as the car pulled away, then Remington turned to Daniel. "Harold? Harold Davenport?"
"I tried to warn you," Daniel reminded him.
"But- HAROLD. I mean, it's so-"
"Plain?" Daniel suggested. "Common? Mundane? No one's called me that in a very long time."
"You're AMERICAN?"
"I'm afraid so. Born and raised in California, for the most part. It's a long story, Harry, and at the moment, I think that our main focus should be on gaining Laura's release, don't you agree?"
"And on getting 'Effie' her Monet," Remington said, growing thoughtful as Daniel spoke again.
"I think I can find a top-notch forger to make a copy that will pass her inspection. After all, she believed that the last forgery was the real Monet for twenty years, hasn't she?"
"I wonder…" Remington said.
"If you're worried about Clyde's reaction to this, don't be. I'm sure he would understand-"
"Not that. I wonder why she was so insistent that I resembled your brother. More than resembled- that I was the mirror image of him."
"I've no idea, Harry. I did try to tell you that Effie's not quite all there, remember? Her porch light is on, but I'm afraid there hasn't been anyone home in some time. If ever. Oh, there are some similarities, yes. Clyde was tall, dark haired, blue eyed, like our mother- but Effie's an old woman who's looking for things that simply aren't there."
"If you say so, Daniel. But once Laura's safe, you're going to tell me how a boy from California wound up in London as a con-man."
"Fair enough, Harry. Fair enough."
Three hours later, Remington and Daniel put the now uncovered Monet into the trunk of the limo. "That went well, don't you think?" Daniel asked. "Leo should have the copy finished tomorrow for you to return to Effie."
"Me? I think you should be the one to take it to her. After all, she's your sister in law."
"But she hired the Remington Steele Agency to find it for her."
"And we won't be taking her money for it."
"But Harry. Laura said she offered ten percent-"
"Ten percent of what the painting's worth. The copy is worthless, so any payment will go to charity."
"Linda's really changed you, my boy," Daniel said with a frown. "And not for the better."
Remington smiled. "You called her Laura earlier."
"Merely a slip of the tongue."
"You wouldn't really scam your own sister in law, would you, Daniel?"
"No," Daniel said with a deep sigh, "I suppose not. Where to now?"