Steele With A Twist

Part 10

As the limo drew to a stop before Laura's apartment building, Steele smiled down at Laura. "It's been an enjoyable evening, don't you agree?"
She nodded, smiling, watching as Fred came around to open the door. Steele exited, then offered her a hand ."Very enjoyable. Thank you."
"I'll walk you upstairs," he decided, then turned to Fred. "I won't be a minute," he told the chauffeur.
Fred nodded, closing the door. He wondered if his employer had seen the look in the young woman's eyes before making that statement. If Miss Laura Holt had HER way, he doubted Mr. Steele would be down for some time yet.

In the corridor, Steele watched as Laura unlocked the door. "Care to come in for a nightcap?" she asked, looking up at him, her back to the door.
Steele drew in a deep breath, but instead of a lung full of clean, mind clearing air, he found himself surrounded by the smell of Laura's perfume, her hair, everything about her. It was an intoxicating brew, he thought. "That might not be a good idea."
"I think it's a wonderful idea, Mr. Steele. We need to talk."
"Talk? About what, precisely?"
"About why you keep pushing me away every time I get close."
He considered her words, then nodded. "Perhaps you're right. We DO need to talk about things." Seeing the elfin smile that appeared on Laura's face, he wondered if he wasn't making a mistake. Inside the apartment, he glanced around as she closed the door. He could see Laura's touches on the apartment, he thought. He turned toward her, intending to say something to her about the decor, but before he could speak, she was in his arms, her hands at the back of his neck, drawing his head down toward her waiting lips. Such was his surprise that he never gave thought to putting a halt to the embrace- or the kiss that ended it. He'd wanted to do this since the day she had come to his office to ask for a job. "Laura," he said at last. "I thought we were going to talk?"
"Later," she whispered, "MUCH later."
A light went on in one of the bedrooms. "Laura? IS that you?"
Before either could move, a blonde woman appeared in the doorway, her eyes on them. Steele immediately felt Laura's increased tension. "Mother?" She reluctantly released her hold on Steele and turned fully to face Abigail Holt's censuring gaze. "I thought you weren't arriving until tomorrow-" She crossed on suddenly wooden legs to accept her mother's light kiss in the area of her cheek.
"I decided not to wait. I tried to call when I got here, but there was no answer, and so I had to take a cab from the airport. I was becoming VERY worried, Laura. I even called Wilson to see if he might know where you were." Steele frowned at the slight sound of condemnation in the woman's tone. "Luckily I still had my key for the apartment - " She looked at Steele. "And who are you?"
Steele smiled, extending his hand. "Remington Steele, Mrs. Holt-"
"So you're the man who's responsible for filling Laura's head full of ideas that she can be a detective. Really, Mr. Steele-"
"MOTHER," Laura said with a sigh, "Mr. Steele only agreed to help me get my license. It was MY decision to do this. You know that I've always wanted -" she smiled tightly, apologetically at Steele. "Thank you for the dinner and movies, Mr. Steele."
"It was my pleasure, Miss Holt. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Holt. Tomorrow morning?" he asked Laura.
"I'll be there." She opened the door, her eyes now filled with regret, aware that her mother was standing not far away, watching every move, listening to every word. "Good night, Mr. Steele."
"Good night, Miss Holt."
Closing the door, Laura turned back to face her mother. "This is so like you, Mother, to show up unannounced-"
"You KNEW I was coming, dear."
"TOMORROW. You said tomorrow." She fastened the security locks on the door. "I'm going to bed. I have to get some sleep so I can work tomorrow-"
"I was hoping your Mr. Steele could give you some time off-"
"We're too busy right now, Mother. And I've only just started, remember? I'm sure you'll be able to find something to keep you busy while you're here-"
"You know, Laura, you're not being very welcoming."
Laura whirled to face her. "What did you expect? You come here, planning to try and convince me that I made a horrible mistake by leaving Wilson, get here earlier than I expected you to, and then you-"
"It seems to me that my arriving when I did was a blessing in disguise. How long have you been sleeping with Mr. Steele, Laura? Since Mexico?"
Laura gasped, then turned away toward her room, slamming the door behind her. Even if she WERE sleeping with Remington it wasn't any of her mother's business. How DARE she?! She slammed dresser drawers, then the bathroom door. She only hoped that her mother would decide to go back to Boston quickly. Before Laura ran away from her own home.

Steele found Laura standing outside the offices when he arrived the next morning. He noticed that she didn't look as though she had slept very well. Neither had he, come to think of it. He'd really hated leaving her to face her mother that way. "How are you this morning?" he asked as he unlocked the glass doors.
"Just WONDERFUL," she told him with false brightness, entering the offices ahead of him. "I mean, why shouldn't I be? I had a wonderful evening capped by the unexpected arrival of my mother. What more could a girl ask for?" She went into her office, tossing her jacket and purse onto the desk.
Steele leaned against the door frame. "I take it things didn't go well after I left?"
"They got worse," Laura told him. "You know, she actually accused me of sleeping with you?"
He straightened. "She did?"
Laura noticed the change in him immediately. "Okay. There it is again." At his questioning frown, she said, "That little thing you do whenever you and I start connecting. You pull back- not much, but you do."
Steele turned around and went toward the coffee area, where he started a fresh pot of the dark liquid. "I hardly think this is the proper time, Miss Holt-"
"Then when ARE we going to discuss it, Mr. Steele?" Laura asked, having followed him.
He turned around, only to find her directly behind him. "Miss Holt-" he put his hands on her arms.
Suddenly the front doors opened and a man staggered in, his eyes on Steele. "Mr. Steele?" He was holding his right hand to his left shoulder beneath his jacket, and Steele thought he looked too pale.
"Yes, I'm Steele."
The man's right hand reached out, grasping Steele's white shirt, staining it was blood. "Help me-"
Steele lowered the man to the floor as his legs gave out. "Call an ambulance, Laura. And the police."
She was on the telephone immediately, her brown eyes still on the scene before her. "Curse. Five nudes-" the man said, then fell limp.
"Is he-?" Steele checked his pulse, then nodded at her. Laura gulped, then told the police dispatcher, "Better make that a coroner's wagon. The man's dead."

Laura wrapped her hands around a cup of strong coffee, waiting in Steele's office while he changed into a spare, clean shirt in the small bath. "Who did they say he was?" The police had already come and gone, assuring Steele that they would find out who had killed the man.
"Lyle Morrison. Owner of the Hopewood Art Gallery," Steele called back.
"Had you ever met him before?"
"No. He called me a couple of weeks ago, asked me to handle security for a new exhibit. I turned it down."
"Why?"
He came from the bath, straightening his tie before picking up his jacket. "Let's just say I didn't like one of the items he was going to put on display." Seeing Laura's curious expression, he shook his head. "I need you to stay here and watch the office until Bernice arrives. Fill her in on what happened, see if you can find anything about Morrison on the computer."
"What did he say before he died?" She tried to think back. "'Curse'? 'Five nudes'? What was that all about?"
"I'll explain it later, Miss Holt." He went through the outer office to the doors. "I shouldn't be too long."

"Where are you going?" she asked, standing the doorway, watching him move toward the elevators.
"To talk to some old friends," he told her.
Laura returned to the office, frowning as she looked at the blood stain on the carpet. "Five nudes," she repeated. Going on into her office, she turned on her computer, realized that she hadn't closed the thing down fully the day before. Thank goodness she'd at least turned off the monitor before HE had seen what she'd been up to. She left the door open so she could hear if anyone came in, then started to work.

"What on earth?" Bernice's voice asked, drawing Laura from her computer.
She found the receptionist staring down at the blood stain on the carpet. "Good morning, Bernice."
"What happened here?"
Laura quickly filled her in on that events of the morning. "Mr. Steele went to talk to some sources, I think."
"Did you say Hopewood Gallery?" Bernice asked, dialing a telephone number.
"That's right."
"I remember Mr. Morrison calling. Murphy couldn't believe that he'd turned down the job. The man was willing to pay a LOT of money for the agency to handle security for the exhibit."
"Did Mr. Steele say why he'd turned it down?"
"Only that he didn't like one of the paintings -" Bernice said with a shrug as someone answered the telephone. "I need to arrange to have a carpet cleaned," she said.
Laura wandered back into her office, frustrated. She hadn't learned anymore from Bernice than she had known before. "Okay. You know that he doesn't like a particular painting in the museum. So you have to find out what paintings are in that exhibit, Laura." She returned to her computer, and started a search for the only clue she had: the five nudes.
"Bing-o!" she said, as the information came up. She started to read.
"Very good, Miss Holt. Did you manage to find out anything about Morrison as well?" Steele asked from behind her.
Laura jumped, then gave him a guilty smile. "Sorry. Is there REALLY a curse on that painting?"
"So they say. I knew a man once who tried to steal it- and barely escaped capture when the heist went seriously wrong. He was left dangling by his partner while she took off with the painting."
"Nice partner. Did you find out anything?"
"The exhibit's due to open tomorrow evening - and the company Morrison hired to handle security couldn't protect its way out of a box. Stealing that painting would be child's play to an accomplished thief."
"Do you think Morrison's death had something to do with the painting?"
"It's possible. He was warned three days ago at a media announcement of the exhibit that he was marked for death because he had the painting in his possession."
"Who threatened him?"
"That's who we have to find. I might have a lead - care to join me?"
Laura flipped off her monitor. "You bet. I DID find out that Morrison refused to say HOW he got the painting -"
Steele smiled at Bernice, who was still eyeing the stain on the carpet with distaste. "We'll be back later, Bernice. And Murphy should be back sometime today."
"Did he find Howard?"
"Howard agreed to turn himself into the police and let us continue trying to prove his innocence. Let me know on the car phone when he gets in, will you?"
"Sure."

Once they were in the limo. Steele told Laura, "Word on the streets is that Morrison paid to have the painting stolen from its previous owner - a man who doesn't take such things lightly."
"Do you know who that man is?"
"I've - heard of him," Steele admitted slowly.
"Another Trent?"
"In a way." He sat back. "Now. What else did you find out about Morrison?"
"Only that he seems to obtain paintings and artifacts that no one else can - such as the "Five Nudes of Cairo". Doesn't make much sense to me. You go to all the trouble to steal a painting- or have it stolen for you, and then you put it on public display."
"Morrison coveted the paining, yes. But he also believed that art should be available for all to enjoy. That was the reason for the security. I probably shouldn't even be getting the agency involved in this case-"
"Why do you say that?"
"Number one, we don't have a client. And number two, that bloody painting. Overtime it turns up, there's trouble."
"But Morrison came to you for help. He must have known he was dying, yet he made it all the way to the agency to find you."
Steele sat back. That was what worried him. WHY had Morrison sought him out? WHO had pointed him in the direction of Remington Steele?

Laura and Steele had been parked before the walled compound for almost an hour when the telephone rang. "Steele here." He glanced at Laura, then back to the closed gate down the road. "Murphy. Are you at the office? . . . And Howard is safely in the hands of the police? . . . Excellent. Was he able to give you any leads? . . " He listened as Laura tapped his arm. A sports car was pulling through the gates onto the street. Steele tapped Fred on the shoulder to indicate they should follow. "I see. That's a good idea. . . Did Bernice fill you in on what happened this morning?" He grinned. "I see. We're following a lead - not sure when we'll be back to the office. . . We will." He started to hang up, then paused. "What?". . . He glanced again at Laura. "Yes, I'll tell her. Good bye." He hung up, his eyes again on the car up ahead.
"Tell me what?" Laura asked.
"Your mother called the office looking for you," he told her.
Laura frowned. "You'd think she'd have gotten the message when I left the apartment before she woke up this morning."
Steele looked at her. "What message?"
"That I don't want to talk to her."
"He's stopping, Mr. Steele," Fred said.
"Pull in behind him," Steele ordered. he didn't wait for the chauffeur to open the door, but let himself out to confront the small, dark man just getting out of the sports car. "Mr. Aziz?"
The man turned, removing his sunglasses to look warily from Steele to Laura. "Who is asking?"
Steele drew out his identification. "Remington Steele. This is my associate, Laura Holt."
Aziz examined the ID. "What do you want with ME, Mr. Steele?"
"We'd like to ask you a few questions about Lyle Morrison -"
The dark face became darker. "That CRETIN. I suppose this is about my supposed threat at the press conference. I have already explained that to the police. It was NOT a threat. It was a warning that he must not ignore the danger from the curse -"
"You haven't heard?" Laura asked.
"Heard what?"
"Lyle Morrison was murdered this morning," Steele told him.
Aziz' eyes widened with fear. "Murdered?" He leaned heavily against the car. "I tried to warn him. Why did he not listen to me?"
"Did you have any other contact with Mr. Morrison after that press conference, Mr. Aziz?"
"I spoke to him on the telephone yesterday."
"Why did you call him?"
"I didn't call him. He called ME. To ask - about the curse. What I knew about it."
"And did he say anything about being afraid for his life?"
"He did seem nervous- I put it down to his concern about the curse. Mentioned something about a partner -"
"Did he happen to mention anything about HOW he had come into possession of the painting?"
"He had someone steal it for him, of course. Someone who was working for the former owner -"
Steele looked away. "Damn. Thank you, Mr. Aziz." He handed the man a card. "If anyone should contact you about that painting- or if you remember anything else-"
"I'll be certain to call, Mr. Steele," he said, taking the card.
Steele turned Laura back toward the limo. "Where to, Mr. Steele?"
Glancing at his watch, Steele said, "It's nearly lunchtime. Fourth and Main, Fred."
The chauffeur turned back to the front as Laura frowned. "That's a restaurant."
"So it is. I need to regroup, decide what our next move should be."
"Oh." They drove on in silence for a long moment until she said, "Do you know who he was talking about? The person who stole that painting for Morrison?"
"I might. Remember the person I told you about? The one who tried to steal the painting once before?"
"And was almost caught, yes, I remember."
"His partner. She sold the painting to Felix Gutman."
"And then apparently stole it from him for Lyle Morrison."
"Apparently." And if she had, then she was a dead woman. Because Gutman was even more unforgiving of betrayal than Philip Trent had ever thought to be. The limo stopped at the restaurant, and Fred opened the door. "Shall we, Miss Holt?"
As they entered the small restaurant, Steele noticed several looks in their direction. And he wasn't certain he liked what he was reading on those faces. He requested a table near the back of the room, with a view of the other diners. "Do this always happen when you enter a room, Mr. Steele?" Laura asked him, smiling slightly.
"You noticed."
"It happened last night, too. Not as much, maybe, but-"
He waited to answer until the waitress took their drink orders and moved away. "It's part of the reason for my- pulling away, as you put it. We can't discuss this here - "
"How about over dinner tonight?" Laura suggested.
"You never give up, do you?"
"Nope."
Steele laughed softly. "Very well. But not in a restaurant. My apartment. I'll whip something up for us -"
He only hoped he wasn't making an even bigger mistake by doing this. He couldn't afford any mistakes right now.

Bernice was just hanging up the telephone when they entered the office. "That was your mother again, Laura," she said. "She's called three times - wants to know if you're going to be home for dinner." Rolling her eyes, Laura turned toward her office and closed her door with more force than usual. Bernice handed Steele his messages. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Miss Holt doesn't get along with her mother."
"Something else you have in common besides old movies, huh?" she asked with a teasing light in her eyes. "Murphy's following up on a lead that Howard gave him."
"Let me know when he returns." He went to toward his office, then to the open connecting door to Laura's "No, Mother. I told you, we're working on an important case - and I don't know WHAT time I'll be home. Why don't you call Wilson and see if he wants to take you to dinner? Tell you what, why don't YOU just marry Wilson since you think he'd make such a great husband?" She frowned, realizing that she shouldn't have said that. "I'm sorry, Mother, but- " She glanced up at Steele, her brown eyes begging him to give her a way out.
Steele rapped loudly on her door. "Miss Holt?" he called. "We're waiting for you -"
Giving him a smile of gratitude, Laura said, "I really have to go, Mother. All right. Tomorrow night. If the case is settled. Good bye." She hung up and took a deep breath, trying to control her temper.
Steele held out a paperweight he'd picked up from his desk on the way. "Need something to throw to take edge off?" he asked.
"Don't tempt me," Laura said, but she smiled. "Thank you."
"Have you never gotten along with her?" he asked.
"No. Never. I was always too much like -"
"Your father?" he guessed.
She nodded, then rose to her feet. "What's our next move on this case?"
Steele allowed himself to breath again, as he realized that she wasn't going to ask him any questions about Daniel. At least, not at the moment. He had an idea that he wasn't going to get off so easily over dinner. And he hoped he would be ready with the answers.

A furtive, feminine figure easily picked the lock of the front door. For a private detective, he wasn't very big on securing his own apartment, the intruder thought. A ten year old could have gotten into this place. She glanced around at the movie posters, then wandered into the bedroom. At least it would be safe here, until he returned and she could explain things to him, convince him to help her out of this mess. She lay down on the bed, deciding that she needed a little sleep before having to face her old partner. He wasn't going to be pleased to see her. But she needed him. And he'd help her. He'd never been able to say no, she thought, drifting off to sleep.