Steele With A Twist

Part 11

After she helped Steele chase several leads to Felix Gutman's location down blind alleys, Laura suggested that they try Morrison's office at the gallery for clues. Steele nodded, but as she started to pick up her purse again, he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. "But not tonight. I think we've both done enough for one day. We'll go over there first thing in the morning."
"You're the boss," she said.
"Do you think it would be safe for you to go back to your place before dinner?"
"I doubt it. If Mother's there-" She sighed, looking down at the pencil in her hand. "I do have something I need to take care of, though."
"Good." He wrote the address of the apartment on a slip of paper. "Here's the address. Be there as soon as you can."
"I will be, Mr. Steele," Laura assured him, the twinkle back in her eyes. "This is one evening I wouldn't miss for the world." She flipped his tie lose, laughing. "I'll see you in no more than an hour." As she walked through the main office, wishing Bernice a breezy "Good evening," Murphy came through the door.
"Going home already, Laura?" he asked.
"I was just on my way out. Some- personal business I need to attend to. How was San Francisco?"
"About like usual. You free for dinner tonight?"
"Sorry. I've already made other plans-"
"Yeah. I guess since your mother's in town -"
"Something like that," Laura confirmed vaguely. "I really have to go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
His gaze followed her from the office. "I tried to warn you, Mr. All-American. The British have landed."
Murphy turned a confused look toward Bernice. "Care to explain that little remark?"
"Not really." She finished covering her typewriter. "Because I'm late for a date myself. See you." She picked up her purse. "Night, Mr. Steele!" she called.
He came to the doorway, his tie neatly back in place. "Good night, Bernice. Ah, Murphy. What did you find out on the Howard case?"
"Not a lot," Murphy confessed as he followed Steele back into the main office. "But I might have a lead on someone else who had reason to kill Marcus Cole." He was watching his employer carefully. "What's up on the Morrison murder?"
"We have a couple of concrete leads. Miss Holt and I are going to the museum tomorrow morning to see if we can search Morrison's office." He started putting things into his briefcase.
"So how did it go last night?"
"Really, Murphy. Did I ask for a blow by blow account of your evenings with Laura? I thought we were past that sort of school boy behaviour."
"That bad, huh?" Murphy grinned.
Steele considered his next words carefully. "Not at all. We had an enjoyable evening. Lock up before you go, will you? And leave your report about San Francisco on my desk. I'll look at it tomorrow."
"Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here?" the other man asked suspiciously.
"I have plans for the evening, Murphy," Steele said smoothly. "Now, if you'll excuse me -"
"Yeah. Sure. See you tomorrow morning."

Steele put his briefcase on the credenza beneath the movie posters, then loosened his tie.. Thank goodness the cleaning lady had been today. Of course, she never had very much to do -Steele smiled to himself as he recalled the woman's complaint that he was overpaying her for the work she did. Removing his jacket, he moved toward the bedroom and went to the closet to find a hanger. He froze when a pair of arms slid around his waist.
"I thought you'd never get here, darling," a seductive voice purred into his ear as long fingers slid between the buttons of his shirt.
"What the devil are you doing here, Felicia?" he asked, still not moving. He didn't trust himself to move.
"I've missed you."
"Did you miss me when you left me dangling from that skylight while you took off to sell the painting on your own? Do you have any idea how close I came to being caught? Or did you even care?" He turned in her arms to look down at that face. He'd never been emotionally involved with her, of course. She'd always been a convenient place to go when there was no one else. And she was still beautiful. Perhaps MORE beautiful. But that beauty hid an inner hardness that left Steele cold inside.
"Would you have preferred we both get caught? We would have if I had stayed to help you." She pouted up at him, her fingers curling into the hair on the back of his head. "I thought you'd be a LITTLE happier to see me, Michael, darling. After all, it's been so long -"
He let her draw his head down to hers, returned the kiss measure for measure. He found himself comparing Felicia's practiced seduction to Laura's more artless approach - and Felicia came out on the short end. Placing her hands on her arms, he pushed her back. "If the truth be told DARLING, I haven't really noticed that you were gone. And the name ISN'T Michael. It's-"
She sighed. "I know, darling. I know. I need your help. I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of trouble-"
He released her with a gentle shove. "That's what happens when you double cross people, Felicia. Only in YOUR case, it's OTHER people who pay the penalty. People like Lyle Morrison."
"I didn't think they would kill him," she insisted. "Gutman said he just wanted to scare him into returning the painting-"
"He did a bit more than scare him, Felicia. The man's laying on a slab at the morgue!"
Felicia turned away for a moment. "I know. And I'm sorry for that. But that doesn't solve MY problem, Mi-" she stopped upon seeing is look of warning. "Darling."
"So why come to me?" he asked. "Why not go to the police? Or simply disappear? You're VERY good at that."
"You KNOW I can't go to the police. And Gutman would find me no matter where I went. He wants me to steal the painting for him." She moved closer, running a long fingernail around a button. "And I need you to help me-"
Steele slowly shook his head. "No, Felicia. I'm NOT going to risk everything I've built here just to-"
"Gutman knows all about you, darling. He's threatened to go to the press unless you agree-"
"I've never met the man in person," Steele pointed out, eyes narrowed. "How would he have made the connection? Unless - YOU told him."
She shrugged. "I might have - mentioned-- SOMETHING," she admitted.
Steele grabbed her wrist, removing it from his shirt. "You're the one who pointed Morrison in my direction, aren't you?"
"Does it really matter?"
"Hell, yes, it matters," he muttered, releasing her to turn toward the living room, where he poured himself a drink.
Felicia's hand slid up his back. "All that matters is that if we don't steal that painting - and return it to him - Gutman will reveal YOUR past to the media- and kill ME."
Steele finished his drink. "It's time for you to leave, Felicia."
"But- what about-"
"I need time to think. To decide what I'm going to do."
She put a hand on his arm. "Don't take TOO long, darling. He's not a very patient man."
There was a knock on the door, and Steele went still. LAURA. He'd almost forgotten inviting her to dinner. The door opened. "Mr. Steele?" She opened it wider, and he saw her eyes move from Felicia to the hand on his arm. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything," she said drily.
"You weren't," Steele quickly assured her, trying to extricate himself from Felicia. But she resisted his efforts and maintained her grip on his arm.
"Where on EARTH did you find this little- URCHIN, Mich-" She smiled at him. "Darling?" She fingered the material of his shirt. "Not quite up to your usual standards, is she? I didn't think common was your cup of tea."
Laura folded her arms, staring at him, watching him squirm. With a quick movement, he broke Felicia's hold and steered her to the door. "I'll let you know something."
She turned, pulling him down for a last kiss, then glanced at Laura. "I'll be in touch, darling. And don't keep me waiting too long, remember."
Steele closed the door behind her, then turned, smiling uncertainly at Laura. "I'll go fix us something to eat."
"Hold it," she said, coming to him and rubbing a thumb across his lips to clear away the lipstick. "Not that easy. I think you owe me an explanation."
"An explanation?"
"You invite me to dinner, and I arrive only to find that blonde bimbo here, calling you- Michael? -instead of Remington, and acting as if she has some kind of claim on you."
"Miss Holt- Laura- She's an old friend. Dropped by without any notice. She's having some trouble and wants me to help her-"
"To do what? Steal that painting again?"
Steele met her brown eyes. "I beg your pardon?"
"I think that the blonde bimbo is the woman you told me about earlier. The their who left her partner hanging out to dry. And now she wants to do it again- only this time, you've got a lot more to lose than just a few years of your life."
"You're good, Laura. Damn good." He took a deep breath. "Why don't I prepare something for us to eat and then we'll talk, okay?" he asked, taking her hand in his.
"Promise? No more delays or putting it off?"
"I promise."
"All right. Need some help?"
"I thought you couldn't cook."
"I can use a can opener," she told him.
Steele placed an arm across her shoulders, smiling. "I'll see if I can't find one for you then."

"You weren't kidding, were you?" Laura asked, watching him move around the kitchen. "You really CAN cook." She dipped her finger into the sauce he was heating, only to have him slap at her hand. "Mmmm."
"Stop that."
She leaned against the counter, sipping her wine. "You're different here. More relaxed."
"No one watching," he pointed out. "No prying eyes looking, judging every move I make."
"The restaurant."
He nodded, turning the burner off beneath the sauce. "There's a news paper in my briefcase. Go get it, please."
"Sure." When she returned, he had two plates of food ready to go to the table. "Here-"
"Grab the wine, will you? And my glass." He led her into the dining room. Putting the plates down, he held out a chair for her. Sitting across from her, he took the paper, and for a moment Laura thought he might be one of those men who read the paper while he ate instead of paying attention to her. But he quickly turned to an article and slid it across to her. "Read that."
He refilled their glasses. "This? 'Seen last night at Che Rive, one of LA's most eligible bachelors, detective Remington Steele and his newest lady. It's rumored that the young lady is the newest associate of Remington Steele Investigations with a view to gaining her investigators license. One wonders just how hard the lady will have to work to pass Mr. Steele's requirements.'" Laura tossed the paper down. "Garbage! Is THAT why everyone was staring at us today?"
"You mean besides the fact that we make such a striking couple?" he teased, trying to draw a smile from her. When it succeeded, he continued. "Yes. And it's that which makes me hesitant to take this -whatever it is - any further."
"Because you're afraid people will think that I slept my way into my job?" Laura asked.
"And you're too good for me to allow that to happen. It's going to be hard enough proving yourself without that complication."
"So what do we do? Just pretend there's no attraction? That we don't feel the way we do?"
"I'm just suggesting that we give it some time," he said. "Don't rush it."
"See other people? Like your blonde friend?"
"Laura-"
"I don't like the idea of having my life dictated to me by busybodies who can't mind their own business," Laura said. "So WHAT if I'm sleeping with you? That doesn't make me any less a detective than if I didn't. And you know they're going to keep thinking it, believing that we're together even if we're not. It won't make any difference -"
He sat back, a rueful expression on his face. "I suppose you're right. But I can't do that you. It would only damage your reputation as a detective- as well as be a black mark against the agency."
"I'm not going to give up on -"
He reached out to take her hand. "I'm not suggesting that. I just think we need to consider these things. That's all. There's nothing that I would like more than to take you in there to that bed and make love to you, Laura. But at the moment - at least until you've gotten your license, I don't think it's a good idea."
Laura smiled. "It might just be worth the risk," she told him, her thumb making small circles in his palm.
He brought her hand to his lips. "Give it time."
"And in the meanwhile?"
"We continue as we have been. Maintain as much of a professional air as we can at the office and in public."
"And in private?" She watched as he put down his napkin and came around the table to pull her out of the chair and into his arms.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On exactly what THIS is." He lowered his lips to hers, softly caressing, then demanding as she began to respond. There was no artifice, no game playing. What she felt was real, and it was something Steele had almost given up on ever finding. He led her toward the sofa settling her against him.
"You were going to explain about you friend, remember?" Laura reminded him.
"Felicia," Steele supplied.
"Felicia? Suits her I guess. Was I right about her?"
"I think you've probably ferreted out most of my secrets, Laura Holt. Only you don't have all the dots all quite connected yet, do you?"
She looked at him, her eyes wary. "I don't know what-"
"You really need to learn to shut that computer down if you're doing a search for information on your employer, you know."
"I shouldn't have done it. I know. But- I was curious. And no one seemed to be able to answer any of my questions -"
"So you found the answers on your own. What exactly did you find?"
"Well, there's no record of a Remington Steele anywhere in England or the British Isles for at least ten years before you arrived in Los Angeles."
"Go on."
"And your bio lists some things that can't possibly be verified because the cases are classified. The detective you supposedly apprenticed under died a month before you opened the agency-"
"But I did do an apprenticeship, Laura," he assured her.
"If you say so. It's almost as if Remington Steele suddenly sprang into full blown existence five years ago from out of nowhere. As if he didn't exist before that."
Steele rose to get the wine and glasses. "Because he didn't. What I'm going to tell you must never go any farther than this room, Laura. I want your word on that."
It was a measure of his trust in her that he was willing to say anything, Laura realized. She had a feeling that Remington Steele wasn't a man who trusted easily. "I won't say a word to anyone."
He gave her a glass, then took his own to move restlessly around the room. "I was an orphan. Raised in various homes, using various names. Often the family I was living with claimed to be cousins, but I never fit in to any of them. Never felt I belonged. I overheard enough to know that my mother was dead, and that my father had no interest in me." Laura sat forward, listening to his softly spoken words. "Most of the time they only wanted me for cheap labor in their shops or such. So when I was about ten, I chucked it all and ran away -"
"At ten?" She could picture the little boy he must have been in those days. Frightened, alone. "How did you manage?"
"I was nothing if not resourceful. And I also realized that people liked me. Especially women. I got a job sweeping out an old movie theatre in London for free passes to the movies and a small room in the back. Those people on the screen always lived such exciting lives, and things always worked out right in the end."
"Happy endings," Laura nodded.
"I guess I always thought I'd have one. But time when by, and I found myself turning toward less than reputable means to survive. I became a very accomplished pickpocket -"
"Where does Daniel Chalmers fit into this picture?" Laura asked finally.
Steele finished his wine and refilled the glass. "I met him when I was fourteen. I picked his pocket. Unfortunately he'd just pulled off a rather profitable con."
"He's a con-man. Thought so. He's got a record - was in prison twice -"
"I knew about once."
"You picked his pocket?" Laura prompted, not about to let him change the topic.
"He chased me down, of course, retrieved the wallet, and took me under his wing, taught me everything he knew. And I never questioned why. Never asked him why he chose me out of all the other picks in Brixton."
"Maybe because you chose him," Laura suggested. "Did he know then who you were?"
"Not immediately - so HE says. He had some suspicions from what I told him about my upbringing."
"Why didn't he tell you then?"
"Because he knew that I was likely to stick a knife into his heart if I found out. So he kept it a secret. Didn't tell me who he really was." His eyes glazed as he recalled those days. "I learned a lot from him. For seven years, he was my best friend, my teacher."
"What happened? How did you find out the truth?"
"After Anna died - you probably guessed as well that I was her partner in that robbery, not investigating it - I was shaken. I went back to London to lick my wounds. Daniel decided that I needed to know the truth and tried to tell me that he was my father- that he'd been forced to give me up -"
"Why?"
"I've no idea. I walked out and didn't have any further contact with him for almost seven years. Until he walked into the agency one day and asked me for money."
"Blackmail?"
"Curiously enough, he's never threatened to reveal the truth."
'Then why give him the money?"
"To keep him away from Los Angeles and me. The less I have to to do with him, the better. I'd be just as happy if I never heard from again."
"You can't mean that-"
"Oh, yes I can. Tell me, Laura, what would YOU do if your father were to suddenly reappear now? After walking out the way he did?"
"We're not talking about me," Laura countered. "But if he did, I hope that I'd at least listen to his reason for leaving before passing judgment and cutting him out of my life." When he didn't respond, Laura took a sip of wine. "So you left and became Remington Steele."
"Oh, not immediately. I wanted to pull off a really big job. One that would show Daniel that I didn't need him around. So I found Felicia, and she told me that she was going after the "Five Nudes of Cairo." I told her she was crazy, that there was a curse, but she just laughed, said she didn't believe in curses."
"Had you known her for long?"
"Oh, years. We'd worked together a few times -"
"Were you-"
He turned at last to look at her, his blue eyes full of laughter. "Involved? Yes. It was never anything serious - we both knew that. And at that time, I needed SOMETHING I could depend on. And I thought that was Felicia."
"But you thought wrong."
"The heist went off without a hitch - we got the painting, and started back up the rope. Felicia made it up first, and that's when we heard the alarm go off. I still don't know how it was tripped. She reached down, told me to give the painting to her. My foot got tangled in the rope, I wound up hanging upside down, listening as the police cars came nearer and nearer, calling out for Felicia to pull me up. I was afraid something had happened to her. I managed to right myself, and just got up the rope and out before the police burst in. There was no sign of Felicia- or the painting. I heard later that she'd taken it to Gutman and sold it for a rather hefty price. Coming that close to being caught put a bit of fear in me, I suppose." His smile was crooked. "I decided to change my life completely. I'd created new personas for myself before, so I decided it wouldn't be difficult to do it one more time. Do you remember where you said my name sounded like it came from?"
Laura laughed. "No. Don't say it. I was right? A typewriter and football team?" He nodded as Laura dissolved into laughter.
"Really, Laura. I needed a name to put down, and I was under a deadline -" But his eyes were twinkling just the same.
"I can't believe you've pulled this off for so long. Who would ever guess that the great detective Remington Steele was a reformed con artist/their?"
"It's really just another con- if you think about it. Only one with much higher stakes."
"High enough to risk them by helping Felicia now?"
"I wish I knew, Laura," he said, sitting down beside her. "I really wish I knew."
"Do you think you could steal that painting without getting caught?" she asked.

"With the security that's in place? It would be child's play," Steele scoffed.

"Then I have an idea," she said, her eyes alight with something Steele wasn't sure he wanted to see. "Why don't you and I steal the painting?"

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