Steele With A Twist

Part 5

 

Laura was rubbing her hair with a towel when she came from the bathroom. Seeing the towel she had wrapped around her, Steele sighed. He should have insisted on separate rooms, he thought. Or at least adjoining ones. Close quarters with this woman meant trouble. She smiled at him. "Why did you tell Gutierrez that I work for your agency?" she asked, retrieving a comb from her case.

"If I hadn't, he would have had you on the first plane back to Los Angeles," Steele told her. "It's one thing to ask a licensed detective to help in a case, or even a Mexican national - quite another to ask an American private citizen to risk her life."

"Then why not tell him the truth?" she asked. "You could have been rid of me -"

He'd asked himself that same question. And he wasn't sure he liked the answer he'd given himself. So he rationalized his response to her. "Because I know how much solving this case means to you.

How much you want to prove that you;re capable of being a detective." He felt relieved, because she seemed to have forgotten his promised story. He noticed that the towel around her seemed perilously near to falling, and quickly moved to retrieve a white terry cloth robe from the back of the bath room door. Holding it out to her, he said, "Here. I think this will work much better than that towel."

She grinned impishly as she reached for the robe - and allowed the towel to fall at the same time. Steele cleared his throat, turning his attention to the fresh cut flowers on the table to his left as Laura laughed. "Why Mr. Steele. Are you blushing?"

"Not at all, Miss Holt. I was attempting to be a gentleman." When he looked at her again, she was adequately covered, but he found it nearly impossible to forget the image of her, standing there, smiling at him, without a stitch of clothing. "It's late, and I suggest you try to get some sleep before-"

"Uh -uh," she said.

"I beg your pardon?"

Curling up into a corner of the sofa, Laura looked up at him. "You promised to tell me about how you know Philip Trent, remember?"

"Miss Holt-"

"You're not going to welsh out on this, Mr. Steele. Besides, I'd always heard that you took pride in keeping your word." He sat down on the other end of the sofa, legs apart, hands clasped between them, his head down. For a moment, Laura almost told him it didn't matter. But before she could, he began to speak in that soft, lilting voice.

"It happened several years ago. Not long before I came to America and started the agency. I was - investigating the theft of a painting in Mallorca. The thief was a young woman that I had met on previous occasions. A friend. Her name was Anna. She had stolen the painting at Philip Trent's request, and expected to be paid quite well for her work. Only I caught up with her before she could deliver it to Trent. I convinced her to return the painting anonymously. We went to the South of France, thinking that since Trent hadn't lost any money on the deal, he wouldn't do anything about her change of heart. We were wrong. I left her alone to go shopping- she didn't come back." He placed his hands over his face, and felt Laura's hand rubbing his back in slow, gentle strokes. "I saw Trent's yacht in the harbour, rowed out to it that night and got on board, thinking to find Anna and rescue her. As I approached the main deck, near the stern, I heard her talking, begging Trent to let her go, that she would get the painting back and give it to him." He drew a shuddering breath as the memory of that night flooded over him. "I came forward, telling her to run, but Trent was too fast. The bastard lifted his gun and fired one time - hitting Anna in the back- and throwing her over the railing." Laura was now beside him, holding his hand as he talked. "I broke away from Trent's thugs and leapt over the railing after her, I heard at least one bullet, perhaps two, pass me as I hit the water. I found her, but she was dead."

The room was silent for a long moment as Laura assimilated his story. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked-"

"No. You needed to know. So that you'll understand what kind of man he is. How dangerous he can be. Anna thought him charming, too, until that night."

"Didn't you go to the authorities?"

"It wouldn't have done any good. His yacht was gone before I reached the shore." He looked at her. "Do you understand now why I didn't want you to go in there? Why I didn't want you to be alone with him? Anna could take care of herself, too. And she's dead."

Laura could feel his fear, and considered telling him that she would go home, back to Wilson, back her boring life. But she couldn't. She HAD to stay and see this through. And she wasn't ready to leave this particular man just yet, either. "I'll be careful," she promised. "And I'll try my best not to be alone with him again."

"We'd better get some rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

Laura nodded and rose from the couch to head toward the bedroom. In the doorway, she stopped. "Aren't you coming?"

"I think I'll sleep out here," he told her, not moving.

"On the sofa? You won't get any sleep on that thing. It's too short."

"I just think it might be for the best if -"

"I promise to behave myself, Mr. Steele," Laura said quietly. "We can even pile some blankets or something between us. Kind of like what they did in "It Happened One Night.""

"Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert," Steele said automatically, as Laura finished.

"Columbia Pictures, 1934."

Steele turned to look at her in surprised disbelief. "You've seen-"

"Not much to do with my time the last few years except watch old movies," she told him with a shrug. She held out her hand toward him. "Come on, Mr. Steele. I won't bite -" she smiled as he rose from the sofa and came to take her hand. "Much, anyway," she told him, leading him toward the bedroom.

 

 

 

The first thing Laura heard when she opened her eyes the next morning was the sound of water running in the bath. She stretched slowly, enjoying the luxury of having slept on a real bed for the first time in a week. The noise from the bath meant that her companion had risen before her, and had taken advantage of the fact to take a shower.

She smiled, picturing his reaction if she were to go in there and join him. Putting thought into action, Laura got out of bed and padded across the carpeted floor to the bathroom door, grasping the knob, intending to turn it quietly.

It was locked. "Not fair, Mr. Steele!" she said, shaking the doorknob in anger.

In the bath, Steele was just turning off the shower as he heard her, heard the frustration in her voice. "Good morning, Miss Holt," he called back, hoping she couldn't tell he was laughing. "Your other suitcase was delivered this morning," he told her, wrapping a towel around his waist and going to the mirror to shave.

Laura quickly found the case and opened it gratefully. She was getting a bit tired of her wardrobe selection. If she had known a week ago that this would take such a long time, she would have taken more with her into hiding. She drew out a fresh pair of jeans and top, then dressed. She went to the dresser and was brushing her hair when the glitter of her engagement ring drew her attention. She put down the brush and pulled the ring from her finger. Without another thought, she put it into her suitcase, and was just finishing brushing her hair when the bathroom door opened.

She looked up at Steele, her eyes accusing. "You might have at least invited me to join you," she told him.

"I thought you needed to sleep," he told her, putting on his watch. Turning to look at her fully, he frowned, and Laura glanced down.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Don't you have anything else besides blue jeans?"

"You have something against blue jeans?" she asked.

"No. But while they might be excellent attire for Laura Holt, they're not exactly the thing for Tracy Lord, don't you agree?"

"I didn't bring my designer originals with me," she told him with a hint of sarcasm. "That dress I wore last night was the only one I brought that was suitable -"

"Then it appears that we need to so some shopping this morning before we return to Trent's yacht."

"You're forgetting that I don't have any money," she reminded him.

He went to the door to admit the bellhop with their breakfast into the room. Signing the ticket, he closed the door, then lifted the cover from one of the plates. "I'll charge it to the agency's account," he told her. "After all, for the course of this case, at any rate, you're in my employ."

"I never said that I would agree to that," she told him.

He pulled out a chair and indicated that she should sit down. "Then I'll simply tell Gutierrez that you're going back to Los Angeles and he'll have to find some other way to get to Trent."

"You wouldn't," she said.

"You should have discovered last night, Miss Holt, that I don't bluff," he reminded her, shaking out a napkin to place in his lap. Picking up at fork, he met her eyes. "I wouldn't suggest making that

mistake again."

"I insist on paying you back for anything you buy," she told him.

"And how are you going to do that? Ask Jeffries to do it?"

"I TOLD you, that he and I are finished," Laura insisted. "I'll find a job - somewhere," she said vaguely

"Doing what? You've worked in a bank, and quit Havenhurst before getting your detective's license."

"I could find something. Maybe even a detective agency willing to let me finish my apprenticeship."

Steele maintained the silence following that statement for a long moment as he ate. "If you think you can learn to control that impulsive streak, come and see me. I might be able to make room for an apprentice."

"Impulsive streak? I don't -" When he lifted an eyebrow, Laura's eyes fell to her untouched food.

"Eat your breakfast, Miss Holt. We don't have all day to spend shopping. And we have to meet Gutierrez at one, remember?"

"I'm not much for breakfast," she told him.

"You are today. Now eat." When she would have opened her mouth again, Steele shook his head. "Must we argue about every little thing, Miss Holt? Eat."

Laura picked up her fork and began to eat, refusing to look at Steele. "This is good," she finally said.

"Not bad. I wouldn't have put the pepper in it, but-"

Her eyes widened. "Don't tell me you COOK, too, Mr. Steele?"

"Just something I picked up."

"Is there anything you DON'T do?" she asked, then found herself blushing. She, Laura Holt, who was able to tell a story that would make a sailor blush, could feel her cheeks turning red.

Steele chuckled, then put down his fork. "Finish eating while I make some telephone calls. I need to check in with the agency."

"Tell Murphy I said hello," she called after him as he closed the bedroom door to give himself some privacy.

 

After filling Murphy in on what had happened so far, he assured his associate that Laura was quite well. "When are you sending her back?" Murphy asked. "I'll meet her flight-"

"Not for a couple of days," Steele said. "She's going to help get Juan away from Philip Trent-"

"Wait a minute. Aren't you the one who's always refused to use private citizens to solve a case? Too dangerous? And this Trent character's not exactly Mickey Mouse, from what you've told me."

"Her instincts are excellent, Murphy. With proper guidance and some further training - "

"You're the boss," Murphy said, but Steele could hear the uncertainty in the voice. "What should I tell Wilson Jeffries?"

"Don't tell him anything except that I've got a very good lead," Steele instructed him.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Steele."

So do I, Steele thought to himself. Aloud, he asked, "How are things going there?"

"Nothing I can't handle," the man assured him. "Mr. Wallace came in yesterday for a final report, was a little bent out of shape that you weren't here for him to talk to, but I think between Bernice and

I he left happy."

"Excellent. I'll try to call later."

"Take care of Laura. She thinks she's a lot tougher than she is."

"I know," Steele said, laughing softly.

"And take care of yourself, too. Keep in touch."

"I will. Good bye, Murphy."

 

Laura was just finishing her toast and orange juice as he rejoined her. "Murphy sent his regards," he told her. "Are we ready to go see what we can find in the shops?"

"Alright," she agreed, standing up to proceed him from the room. "But you are NOT picking out my clothes," she informed him.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Miss Holt," he said, closing the door behind them.

In the end, however, he did make most of the choices, as Laura's taste in clothes leaned toward bright, garish colours that didn't suit her at all. He gently steered her toward sophisticated pant suits

and elegant evening dresses, reminding her of who she was supposed to be with a soft, "Now, Tracy, darling," smiling indulgently at the blush that would creep into her cheeks at the endearment.

They sent the purchases back to the hotel with Laura's jeans and shirt in a box, as she was wearing a smart, white pant suit with wide legs and a long tunic top. They lunched in the hotel dining room, and then returned to the suite, where he watched as Laura paced the sitting room. "You look wonderful, you know."

"I've never liked wearing white," she told him. "Don't know why."

"It suits you." He looked at her left hand, saw the tan line. He'd never noticed it before. He could have sworn that there had been a ring there the previous evening. It's reflection of the candle light had been what had reminded him that she wasn't available. "Where is your engagement ring?" he asked.

Laura looked self conscious for a moment. "I took it off this morning. I'm not going to marry Wilson. Continuing to wear it seems- wrong."

"And what if you change your mind when you see him again?"

She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with a determination that Steele found surprising. "I won't."

"Trent will wonder what happened to the ring, Laura. I'm sure he noticed it -"

"I'll find something to tel him -"

Steele shook his head. "I'll take care of it," he told her as there was a knock on the door. "That's Gutierrez, no doubt."

But it wasn't. A young boy stood there, smiling widely. "Señor O'Leary?" he asked.

"Yes," Steele admitted, his eyes wary.

He held out an envelope. "This is for you, Señor."

"Gracias," Steele said, giving the boy some change as he took the envelope.

"What is it?" Laura asked.

Going to the desk, Steele used the letter opener there to slit the flap. "It's our ticket onto Trent's yacht," he told her. "An invitation to a private auction to be held this evening on the 'Golden Dream.' And he specifically asked that I bring Tracy Lord with me."

"This doesn't make sense. He had to have recognized you last night. And if he's seen pictures of Remington Steele-"

"I know. But Trent's spent very little time in the States, prefers to keep to Europe and South America."

"It could be a trap. You're a loose end. A witness to a murder that he committed."

Steele turned away. "Yes. But I've no choice. You're the one I worry about-"

There was another knock on the door, and Steele turned to answer it, grateful that he had been stopped from saying anything else. Gutierrez stood there, smiling. "Buenos tardes, Señor Steele," he said, smiling.

"Señorita Holt. You look lovely this afternoon."

"Please, come in. Sit down. You might be interested in this," Steele said, holding out the invitation.

"Excellent. Trent has apparently accepted your ruse of being a gem collector. You must make contact with Juan López as soon as you can, tell him what is going on. If he questions you, give him this-" He held out a slip of paper. "It will confirm that you are working with us."

Steele took the paper. "I'll get it to him."

"Now. Before the auction begins, Trent will probably bring the gems out so that the prospective buyers can examine them. If he does, as soon as they are away from that safe of his, then I want you to signal my men -"

"How?" Laura asked.

Gutierrez smiled, drew a pen from his pocket. "With this." He pushed the button at the top. "It's a transmitter. Not very powerful, but big enough that my men and I will hear it and move in. You might also need a diversion, Mr. Steele -"

"I'm sure we can come up with something," Laura told him, smiling as Steele sent her a look that reminded her to behave herself.

"I believe you can, Miss Holt. If at all possible, you or Juan MUST get your hands on those gems, Mr. Steele. As soon as you can- because once the diversion begins and we move in, Trent's first thought will be to return them to the safe."

Steele nodded. "Don't worry, Gutierrez, those gems are already as good as in my hands. Do we know who the other buyers are?"

Gutierrez pulled out a paper and handed it to him. "These have already arrived - I expect one or two more. Their names are on the bottom of the list."

Steele shook his head. "Would it be any trouble for you to detain a couple of these gentlemen?"

The man shrugged. "Not at all. For what reason?"

"I've crossed paths with one or two of them a few years ago. They could blow my cover -"

"Which gentlemen do you need taken care of, Mr. Steele?" Gutierrez asked, smiling again.

 

Steele left Laura in the suite for an hour after Gutierrez made his departure, suggesting that she get some rest before they left for Trent's yacht. When he returned, he found her sound asleep. Watching her, Steele found himself wishing he could keep her out of this, keep her away from Philip Trent. He didn't want to risk losing her as he had Anna. She turned, and he caught sight of her ring less left hand. Going to her suitcase, he quickly found the engagement ring and glancing at her, put it into his pocket for safekeeping before her heard her stirring.

"I didn't hear you come in," she said.

"You were sleeping," he told her. "Why don't we get ready? I thought we might have dinner somewhere really nice before going out to the yacht."

She glanced at the clock. They had to be on the yacht at ten. It was almost seven. "I haven't even decided what I'm going to wear -"

"Would you mind if I made a suggestion?" When she looked ready to balk, he smiled. "You don't have to take it, just listen."

"All right," she said warily. "Suggest away."

Steele went to the closet and opened the door, studying the contents before pulling out a deep blue creation of soft silk and some gauzy, light material. "This one?" he said, watching her reaction.

Laura smiled. "An excellent choice, Mr. Steele. I was considering it myself." She took the hanger as she passed him on her way to the bathroom. She quickly showered, then put on the outfit before going back out to see his reaction. A gathered split skirt made of the softest silk Laura had ever seen, was topped by a gauze top in the same colour blue- a blue that very nearly matched the dark blue of the eyes now inspecting her. The outfit was finished by a long vest made of the silk. "Well, Mr. Steele?" She questioned, "Will I do?"

He walked around her again. "I think you'll more than 'do', Miss Holt." He brought her left hand to his lips. "About the ring-"

"I won't wear Wilson's ring again, Mr. Steele -"

"Then wear this one," he told her, slipping another ring onto her finger. Laura gasped at the blue sapphire surrounded by what appeared to be diamonds. "It's not- real -" She looked up at him. "Is it?"

"Really, Miss Holt. Do you think I would take you onto a ship full of gem collectors with a fake sapphire and diamonds?"

She started to take it off. "I can't accept this-"

But Steele covered her hand with his. "For this evening, you can. If Trent notices that it's a different ring- just tell him that I was insanely jealous because of the way you and he disappeared last night, so I gave it to you today to make it up to you for losing my temper."

"I can't see you being jealous of ANYONE, Mr. Steele," Laura said.

"You'd be surprised, Miss Holt," he returned. "I'm going to go change. I've made dinner reservations for eight," he informed her, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Laura sat in the sitting room of the suite, staring at the ring on her finger. It must have cost a fortune, she mused. She'd never seen a sapphire that big. And the diamonds weren't chips. They were real gems. The only thing she had seen that were any more blue were the gems that Philip Trent had shown her the previous evening. And even those were no match for the blue of Remington Steele's eyes.

She heard the bedroom door open again, and looked up, her heart going to her throat. He was wearing a white dinner jacket, a black bow-tie at his neck, and looked good enough to eat, she thought. Dear God, it wasn't fair for one man to be that handsome. "Wow," she breathed, unable to manage anything more. She felt like Cinderella, going to the ball with the handsome prince, half expected that her fairy godmother was going to return any moment and tell her that there had been a major mistake.

"I'll take that as an expression of approval," Steele said, grinning at her.

"It was- meant as one," she assured him. "The only other thing I could have done was whistle," she told him, returning his grin.

Steele held out his arm. "Shall we, Miss Holt?"

"Once again into the breech, Mr. Steele," she said as they swept from the room and into her fairy tale evening.

 

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