Stressed Steele

Episode 2

By Nancy Eddy

         Laura closed the metal door to the loft and dropped her jacket onto a chair before going to pour herself a glass of wine. "What would you like?"
Trevor stood beside the piano. "A glass of that wine," he told her. "And an explanation."
She poured another one and brought it to him. "I'm sorry, Trevor. For everything that's happened this evening -"
"I've already told you that it's not your fault that I chose a restaurant that-"
Laura shook her head. "You didn't. I've been to that restaurant several times - I've never had to send anything back until tonight."
"Mr. Steele WAS behind it, wasn't he?" Trevor asked, studying his drink.
"Apparently he somehow found out that you had reservations and convinced Claude to make this evening as miserable as possible."
"And why would he do that? If you're just friends-"
Laura sat down. "It's difficult to explain our relationship, I guess. Sometimes we're friends, sometimes we're - more than that -"
"So it was jealousy that I saw in that look this evening. Not that I blame him. If you want me to back off, Laura-"
"No. But you have to understand that - "
He came to sit beside her, putting her glass on the table, then taking her hands in his. "The only thing I understand, Laura Holt, is that your Mr. Steele is a fool." When her eyes widened, he smiled. "Because he's had you right there at his side for what? Four years now? And still hasn't found the nerve to give you some kind of permanent place in his life. I would never have taken the chance that someone else might come along and take you away from me." He lifted her hands to his lips, then rose to his feet. "And now, I have to be going."
Laura rose as well. "Do you have to?"
"I have an early appointment, remember? Perhaps - another time." He blew her a kiss before opening the door and letting himself out.
Laura sat back down, bemused by his words.

Steele was at the office early the next morning again, this time waiting for Laura to arrive. Mildred warned him that he was making a mistake, confronting her that way, but Steele wanted to get this out and in the open before it got any worse. Telling Mildred to keep digging for information on Yates, he turned toward his office as the doors opened and a delivery man entered, his arms filled with a dozen red roses. "Can I help you?" Mildred asked.
"I have a delivery for Miss Laura Holt," he said.
Laura entered at that moment, waving at someone down the hall as she did. "Good morn-" she saw the roses. "What-"
"Miss Laura Holt?"
"Yes."
He held out the roses. "For you." He tipped his hat and then left.
Laura touched the roses, then looked up, her eyes meeting Remington's. From the expression of disapproval on his face, they weren't from him. She found the card and smiled. "Mildred, could you find a vase for these?"
Mildred looked from Laura to Steele, then back. "Uh, sure, Miss Holt." She went to the extra office that had been turned into a storeroom after Murphy's departure. When she returned, she put some water in the vase before bringing it to the desk. "Who are they from?"
"Trevor," Laura said, arranging the flowers carefully. "Were there any calls?"
"No-" the telephone rang, and Mildred picked it up. "Remington Steele Investigations -" Her eyes moved toward Laura, then to Steele. The storm clouds were so thick that she could feel them. "Just a minute." She looked at Laura. "It's for you, Miss Holt. Mr. Yates."
Laura smiled, moving past Steele into her office. "Thank you, Mildred. I'll take it in here." She closed the door behind her.
Steele went to his own office, closing the door loudly. Through the connecting door, he could hear Laura laughing at something Yates was saying to her. Not a laugh as though he were telling her a joke. More like she laughed when - He stuffed his hands in his pockets and went to the window, where the sound wasn't as easy to hear. Yates was too smooth, and moving far too quickly, in Steele's opinion. He was TOO perfect. There had to be a flaw somewhere in that perfect smile of his. He turned to pick up the telephone, trying to recall the number of a friend of his in Arizona who owed him a favor. At last he dialed the number, his eyes focused on the steady light that told him Laura was still talking to Trevor Yates.

He was just hanging up the telephone when the light went out and a moment later, Laura entered his office. "Ready to get to work, Mr. Steele?" she asked brightly.
"Laura - about last night-"
"There's no need to explain, Mr. Steele," she assured him, moving toward the conference area. "Mr. Bascombe should be here any minute to discuss the security system he wants us to install -"
"I think we need to talk, Laura - Dinner tonight-"
"Sorry. I'm seeing Trevor again." Mildred knocked on the door.
"Come in."
"Mr. Bascombe is here," she announced, showing the man into the office.
Laura moved forward. "Mr. Bascombe."
Steele greeted the man with less enthusiasm. Things were not going at all as he had planned.

As noon approached, Steele tapped on Laura's office door. She's spent most of the morning in there, doing paperwork, leaving Steele to stew over the events of the previous evening and morning. "Laura?"
She didn't look up from writing. "Yes, Mr. Steele?"
Before he could say anything, Mildred tapped on the door to the outer office. "Mr. Yates is out here, Miss Holt," she said, glancing apologetically at Steele.
Laura left the file where it was, picking up her purse as she rose. "Thank you, Mildred. Tell him I'll be right out. And don't ask him a lot of questions, okay?"
Mildred's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Me, Miss Holt?" She closed the door.
Laura went to the mirror on the wall, refusing to glance at Steele's reflection. "Did you want something, Mr. Steele?"
"I thought we might go to lunch -"
She smiled at her reflection. "Trevor's already asked," she said, turning toward the door.
"Then dinner tomorrow night -" Steele suggested, blocking her way.
"Sorry. I'm busy." She pushed past him and opened the door, Steele right behind her. She went to Trevor. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she told him as he took her hand.
"But it was worth the wait," he assured her. "Are you ready to go?"
"I think so." She smiled over her shoulder at Mildred. "See you later."
Trevor nodded in Steele's direction. "Mr. Steele."
"Yates." As they turned to leave, he said, "Don't forget that we have a client due at one, Miss Holt."
Knowing that the client's case was a simple one - that, in fact the case was all but resolved, Laura smiled sweetly. "I'm sure you can handle it if I'm a few minutes late, Mr. Steele."
Steele's jaw tightened as she paused for Yates to open the door for her, then vanished around the corner. "Have you found out anything yet, Mildred?"
"It just came in a minute ago," she told him. "I haven't had a chance to look at it. Mr. Yates came into the office about the same time -" She turned to the printout and started reading it. "Oh, boy."
"What?"
The glass doors opened and a man in a rumpled black trench coat entered the office. Steele sighed in frustration. "May we help you?"
"Are you Remington Steele?" the man asked.
"Yes."
"My name is John Harris. I think we need to talk."
"About what?" Steele wanted to know.
"The man that just left here with Miss Holt."
"What about him?"
"He's a murderer," Harris said baldly.

Steele led Harris into his office, asking Mildred to join them, since this concerned her as well. Once seated, he said, "That's a rather strong accusation against Mr. Yates, Mr. Harris. I assume you have some proof-?"
"Oh, I have proof, all right. But not enough for the Tucson police department to charge him."
"Tucson? His wife died in Tucson."
"Yeah. She was murdered, Mr. Steele. And Trevor Yates is the person who killed her."
"Maybe you'd better start at the beginning, Mr. Harris."
Harris ran his hand through his unruly red hair. "I guess so. Sorry. I only arrived in LA a few days ago. Haven't had much sleep since then." He took a drink of the coffee that Mildred had brought in. "Ten years ago, I was a brand- new homicide detective, ready to take on the world. And that world was Tucson, Arizona. My first solo case was the death of Rachel Yates. She was killed during a supposed break in by a supposedly unknown assailant, strangled. At least that's what the official police report says."
"But you don't agree with that report," Steele surmised.
"No. I think - I KNOW - that Trevor Yates strangled his wife, murdered her in cold blood, and got away with it."
"Why do you think he killed her?"
"Yates was a mover. Climbing the ladder of success quickly. His father in law was the head of the accounting firm where he worked, he was in line for a full partnership after only a year of being with the firm. To most people, he and his wife had a storybook marriage. But I started digging a little, not satisfied with the break in story."
"Why?" Mildred asked, pouring him another cup of coffee.
"It was too pat. The frame of the window that had been used to gain entry to the house was cut with a glass cutter. Something only a professional would do - and yet nothing was taken."
"Perhaps after being surprised by Mrs. Yates and killing her, the thief panicked and ran."
"According the coroner, she was dead at least an hour before her husband came home and found her. After killing her, the thief would have taken SOMETHING to make it worth his while."
"Where was Yates while this was happening?"
"Working late at the office - apparently. See, that's where my idea fell apart. He was seen by office security around the time of the break in at his house. So he had an iron clad alibi. Only, I think he pulled something, convinced the security man at the office that he'd seen him then instead of later or earlier. Everyone in Tucson thinks the man walks on air or something," he said bitterly. "When I brought my ideas to the captain, he practically laughed in my face. So I started following Yates around, hoping he'd make a mistake. All I succeeded in doing was to lose my job. And about that time Yates left Tucson for Miami - to 'start over', according to his friends there."
"And you followed."
"Why not? Look, I KNOW he killed her."
"Why? Why would he have murdered his wife?"
"Because she had a drug problem that was costing him a small fortune to cover up," Harris revealed. When Mildred glanced at the papers in her hand, he shook his head. "It wasn't in the autopsy. Yates paid the coroner off. Probably saying he wanted to protect her father."
"How long had she had this drug problem?" Steele asked, a suspicion forming.
"Since meeting Yates, from what I can tell. I think HE's the one that got her hooked. To keep her in line or something. I know it sounds crazy, Mr. Steele, but - I thought you ought to be warned that your friend Miss Holt could be in a lot of trouble."
"What makes you so certain of that?"
"I told you that I followed Yates to Miami? Well, he stayed there five years, never dated a woman more than once - kept to himself, went to work, to the gym, then home. When he realized I was following him, he went to New York. Took me awhile to find him there, but the pattern was the same- work, gym, home. No steady female friends, no social life. And this time, I don't think he moved on because of me. He didn't know I was around."
"Why do you think he came to Los Angeles, then?" Mildred asked.
Harris pulled a photograph out of his pocket. "I didn't have any idea, until I saw Miss Holt yesterday." He handed the photo across to Steele. Mildred came around to look at it and gasped.
"Except for the blonde hair, that could be Miss Holt," she said.
Steele's blood froze in his veins. New York. He and Laura had been there a little over a month ago, had done a newspaper interview- and Laura's picture had been in the paper. If Yates had seen it, and had noticed the resemblance - "What are you going to do?"
"I was hoping you'd have an idea, Mr. Steele. I've about exhausted all of mine. Yates will probably slap a restraining order against me if he sees me again. He had the Miami police detain me as a possible stalker, saying he thought I might have killed his wife and was following him with the same intention. Is there anyway you could warn Miss Holt? Let her know -"
"I can try," Steele told him. "Where are you staying?"
"Wherever I can find a place," Harris said. "These last ten years haven't been exactly a barrel of laughs." Steele looked at Mildred.
"How much do we have in petty cash, Mildred?"
"I'll have to check -" She left them alone, as Steele picked up the telephone and made a reservation at a local motel, and charged it to the agency. Mildred returned with thirty dollars. "Sorry, Mr. Steele. But I had to buy some printer paper yesterday - and I haven't had a chance to tell Miss Holt-"
Steele took the money, giving it to Harris. "I can't-"
"Nonsense. We have to get to the bottom of this."

Once Harris was gone, Mildred watched as Steele stared at the photo he had left of Rachel Yates. "Laura didn't want to do that interview in New York," he told her. "It was me who insisted that she be included in the photograph they took - trying to give her some credit for the agency's success -If anything happens to her because of that, I -"
"Nothing's going to happen, Chief," Mildred assured him. "We'll just explain all of this to Miss Holt -"
"I wish it was that easy, Mildred."

"Is it standard procedure to investigate the men you go out with, Laura?" Trevor asked as they finished their lunch.
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Just before I left the office, I received a disturbing call from an old friend in Tucson. It seems someone claiming to be with the Remington Steele Agency has been asking questions about me."
Laura's rate of breathing increased slightly. "I'll see that it's stopped," she promised. "I'm sorry, Trevor -"
He took her hand, his thumb moving back and forth against her palm. "I knew you couldn't have been behind it. It would appear that your boss is determined to find something about me that would enable him to keep you for himself."
"Is there- anything he might find out that would do that?" Laura asked him.
"Of course not. But I might as well tell you before he does. I'm a widower."
"Oh?"
"My wife was killed ten years ago when she surprised a burglar in our house. I was at the office when it happened, working late -" he swallowed heavily. "I should have been with her. I should have-"
Laura grasped his hand. "You can't blame yourself for something like that, Trevor. Did they catch the murderer?"
"He was never found," he told her. "I left Tucson soon after. There were too many memories -"
Laura's hand tightened again. "I understand. It must have been terrible for you-"
"Not just for me. Her father as well. Rachel- my wife, was his only child. Her death devastated him. He died less than a year later." He looked into the distance. "I couldn't even bring myself to go back to Tucson for his funeral."
"That was to be expected - your memories of Rachel's death must have still be very fresh."
"And I was certain that the person who killed her was following me. Waiting- planning my death as well."
"Did you go to the police about it?"
"I didn't have any evidence. I finally left Miami for New York to start over again. I don't think he followed me there - at least, I never saw him again." He sighed. "I had given up on ever letting myself get close to anyone again, Laura. Resigned myself to spending the rest of my life alone. Then I saw you - and I couldn't get you out of my mind."
Her eyes fell on her watch. "I have to get back to the office- and don't worry about anyone asking anymore questions. I'll see that it's stopped," she promised him.
"I don't want you to put your job in jeopardy on my account, Laura," Trevor insisted. "I just wanted to make certain that you hadn't set it into motion."
"I won't be putting anything in jeopardy," Laura assured him. EXCEPT A CERTAIN JEALOUS, BLUE EYED IRISHMAN'S LIFE, she thought to herself.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Laura said as she entered Steele's office fifteen minutes later.
Steele and Mildred both looked up from the conference area. "Laura-"
"Miss Holt-"
"I might have expected it of him, Mildred, but I thought you would have better sense."
"We were just worried, honey," Mildred said, trying to mollify her boss.
Steele hadn't moved from his chair. "Sit down, Laura."
"I don't WANT to sit down," she said. "I'm too furious to sit down. Of all the things you've done- THIS has GOT to be the most underhanded - "
"Laura, the man's a murderer -"
Laura's mouth opened in shocked disbelief. "Oh, now you've gone TOO far! You've no right to make an accusation like that-"
"Miss Holt, listen to him," Mildred begged.
"How did you know I'd been asking questions?" Steele wanted to know.
"A friend of his from Tucson called just before lunch to tell him that someone claiming to be working for Remington Steele was asking questions about Trevor. You had NO RIGHT -"
Steele's dark blue eyes held hers. "I rather thought I did," he said softly. "Now are you going to sit down and listen to what I have to say, or -"
Laura shook her head. "No. No more than I would sit still for his telling me lies about you."
He was on his feet then. "Damn it, Laura, - SIT DOWN!" Even Mildred jumped. Laura, surprised by his raised voice, sat heavily on the nearest chair. "Were you aware that Yates was married ten years ago?"
"He told me about it."
"What did he tell you?"
"That his wife was killed when she surprised someone breaking into their house. He blames himself for not being there -" she stopped as Steele snorted and shook his head. "What?"
"He killed her, Laura -"
"That's ridiculous. Of course he didn't. Trevor couldn't harm a fly. And if he had, why is he here instead of in jail in Arizona?"
"Because he's smart. He convinced the authorities there that he was a grief stricken husband, who spent too much time at the office instead of at home -"
"Which was the truth. Where on earth did you get the idea that he killed his wife?"
"From the police detective who investigated the case, Miss Holt," Mildred told her. "He was here-"
"Why?"
"He's convinced that Yates killed his wife and got away with it. He's been following him ever since-"
"Following him?" Laura got up to pace the room. "Trevor said that he thought the man who DID kill his wife had followed him to Miami -"
"That's another thing, Laura. Why did Yates leave Tucson so quickly after Rachel Yates' death?"
"There were too many memories in Tucson," Laura explained. "He needed a place to start over -" She went back to the man who was following Trevor. "What was his name?"
"Who?"
"The so-called detective. The one who told you these lies about Trevor."
"He checks out, Laura. He WAS on the police force when the murder took place - and when the department closed the case, declaring it murder during an attempted robbery by person or persons unknown, he refused to accept that was fired when he continued to pursue Rachel Yates' murderer."
"That doesn't mean he couldn't have been the killer," Laura pointed out.
Steele grabbed her shoulders to force her to look at him. "Laura, Trevor Yates is a cold blooded killer. He murdered his wife and inherited her father's money when her father died a few months later. He moved to Miami, then to New York, never dating a woman more than once - never showing any interest in a permanent relationship of any kind- until he moved to Los Angeles a month ago - with very little notice to his employer in New York."
"He wanted to come home. It's not unreasonable to think that he was homesick -"
Steele released her with a deep sigh. "Laura - "
"And as for not seeing any women, he loved his wife very much. He wasn't ready for a relationship -"
"Then explain why suddenly, out of the blue, he chooses to start seeing you. After ten years -"
"I can't. Anymore than I can explain why YOU choose to stay around here."
"Well maybe I shouldn't," Steele heard himself saying. "Maybe I should just leave-"
"Mr. Steele," Mildred said, not liking the way this was going.
"Fine! Go! You were always going to go anyway!"
"Miss Holt -"
Steele turned toward the door, got as far as turning the knob and pulling, then stopped. Very deliberately, he closed it, releasing the knob and turning back toward a still heavily breathing, angry, Laura. He moved with measured steps to his desk and picked up a photograph. "You might want to look at this."
"What is it?" Laura asked, lifting her chin slightly..
"A photograph of Rachel Yates," he told her, holding it out toward her.
Laura kept her eyes on his as she reached out to take it. Once it was in her hands, she blinked. "This is me. You've done something to one of my photographs, hoping that I'll think it's Trevor's wife - so I'll start to distrust him." She tossed the photograph into his face. "Well it won't work. I'm taking a few days off," she announced.
Steele grabbed for her arm, but she pulled away. "Laura-"
"No. I won't listen to anything else you have to say."
"If you walk out that door, Laura," Steele said as she opened it, "I might not be here when you come back."
Laura smiled tightly. "Give Daniel my regards." She closed the door as she left.
Mildred glanced at Steele, then turned to follow Laura out into the reception area. "Miss Holt, wait up."
"There's nothing else to say, Mildred -"
"I think there is. Are you really willing to throw everything the two of you have built in the last four years away over this? He's worried about you -"
"The only thing he's worried about is losing his easy ride," Laura said with a scowl.
"That's not true, and you know it. He cares about you, Miss Holt. And you care about him. I think you should go back in there-"
"I can't, Mildred. I'm sorry. I'll call, okay? And if something important comes up that you can't handle, leave a message on my machine and I'll get back to you." She pushed the glass doors open and turned toward the elevators.

Steele was at the windows when Mildred returned to his office. "Did she leave?"
"Yes."
"I need you to go to Tucson, Mildred."
"Tucson?"
"I need more information. Something to verify what Harris told us. I'd go, but I'm not about to leave Laura here alone with him."
Mildred's shoulders sagged with relief. "Then you're not going to leave?"
He turned to look at her, putting an arm around her shoulders as he did so. "I think it's too late for that, Mildred. It was too late the first time I set eyes on the lady. Will you go?"
"I'll go."

After arranging for a temp to answer the telephones, Steele drove Mildred to the airport to catch her flight to Tucson. "I need any information you can get me about Yates, his wife, her father, even John Harris. Background, any connections to drugs - an proof of Rachel Yates' drug problem- and more than one photo if you can get them. And be as discreet as you can."
"Right, Chief." She looked at him with worried eyes. "Are you going to be all right?"
"Once I make sure Laura's fine, I'll be fine." He patted her hand. "Let's get you on board, shall we?"

When Steele returned to the office, it was to give the young woman taking Mildred's place strict instructions that he wasn't to be disturbed unless the caller was Miss Holt or Miss Krebbs. And if Trevor Yates called for Laura, she was to put him through as well. Anyone else would be calling on his private line. Once in his office, he dialed a number for a friend of his in New York. It was time to start asking some questions about Yates' life there. Some DISCREET questions this time. Nothing that would set off anymore bells or whistles, alerting Yates. If the man suspected that Steele was closing in on him, on the truth, then it might put Laura in danger.
And that was the last thing Steele wanted.

Laura had calmed considerably by the time she arrived at her apartment. Too calm, Mildred might have said. Her anger at Remington spent, the rational part of her brain began to function again, and she picked up a yellow legal pad and pencil from the desk before curling up on the couch. She deliberately made two columns, taking her time in the process.
At the top of one column she wrote the name "Steele", on the second, "Trevor". Smiling, she crossed out the first one and wrote, "Remington". Then, in each column, she wrote what each man had told her about Rachel Yates' death. And nothing added up. Her mind went back to the picture that Remington had shown her. The one he had claimed was of Rachel Yates. So what if she looked like Trevor's dead wife? What difference did it make, really?
She tossed the notepad aside and moved to the roses on the piano. As her hand fell on the smooth, dark wood of the instrument, the memory of where she had gotten it returned, and Laura bit her lip. He'd been there for her for four years, she thought. Longer than she'd ever thought he would stay around. But he'd always had that out - that ability to just take off, to return to the life he'd known before he became Remington Steele. She knew that. It was always there, hovering just outside her thoughts, the knowledge that she really didn't have any hold on him.
And now she might never see him again. If he'd meant what he'd said when she'd left the office - she picked up the telephone, then put it down again. She couldn't call. Calling would mean having to admit that he might be right - and she wasn't ready to do that yet.

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