"Us?"
Remington repeated.
"Well," Laura reasoned, "if I sublet the loft, and the Agency sells the condo, we can invest the money in this place."
"What about Daniel?"
"The guest cottage," she reminded him.
Remington's eyes examined her face. "You wouldn't mind having Daniel so close?" he asked.
Laura straightened his collar, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin at the back of his neck. "It will be easier to keep an eye on his activities that way. And I'm sure that you'd feel better knowing that he was close by."
"I see. Well, I don't suppose it would hurt to- look at the place, would it?"
"I KNEW you'd see it my way," Laura said. Perched on the arm of his chair, she leaned closer, just as the intercom buzzed.
"Yes, Mildred?" Laura asked, sighing in frustration.
"Uh, Miss Holt- Mr. Davis is here," Mildred replied, sounding a little worried that she'd interrupted something again.
"Duty calls," Remington told Laura.
"I suppose so," she agreed with a grimace. "Send him in, Mildred."
"Frustrated again, eh, Miss Holt?" Remington asked as Laura stood beside him.
"VERY," she muttered.
"Getting a bit of your own back, then," Remington pointed out with a devilish smile.
She straightened his tie, smiling dangerously as she noted, "I don't think I'm the only one who's frustrated, Mr. Steele." The door opened to admit Gerald Davis, and Laura instantly transformed into her old, businesslike self.
"Mr. Davis," Remington said. "Please do be seated. I don't believe you've had the opportunity to meet my associate, Laura Holt. She was out of the office on a case the last time you were here."
"It's a pleasure, Miss Holt," Davis said. "I'd begun to think that you were simply a figment of Mr. Steele's imagination."
Laura laughed at the absurdity of that statement. "Really? Well, as you can see, I'm quite real, Mr. Davis." She picked up the file folder that she and Remington hadn't gotten around to looking over. "I see that you're interested in having the agency set up security for a private showing of your personal art collection."
"In my home," Davis nodded.
"Isn't that a bit unusual?" Laura questioned. "Holding something like that in a private residence? Why not use a museum?"
"Mr. Davis doesn't want to risk his collection being stolen en route," Remington informed her. "It's rather sizable," Remington pointed out, tapping the inventory list in the folder.
Laura scanned the items. "Oh, my. So it is. I can understand your concern, Mr. Davis. But- if the collection is so valuable, why are you willing to risk opening it up to a showing?"
"It's all there in the file, Miss Holt," Mr. Davis said. "It's for charity," he explained in a long suffering tone. "I've willed the entire collection to the Los Angeles Museum upon my death- which, I'm hopeful, won't be for a good many years," he interjected. "But the museum needs to raise some money, and suggested that I open my home up this once to a select gathering of museum patrons for that purpose."
"And a portion of the proceeds will be going to scholarship for aspiring artists at UCLA," Remington added. "In Mr. Davis' name, of course."
Laura quickly looked through the rest of the folder, disliking the way she felt ill prepared for this meeting. "I don't see the reason here why you don't want to use the museum's security people."
Davis looked embarrassed. "It's not that I don't trust them, understand, but-with a collection like mine, I don't want to take ANY chances. You came very highly recommended by various sources, including the museum, when I told them that I would feel better with a private firm."
"Of course," Remington nodded. "We've done a bit of work for the museum from time to time," he admitted. "Am I right in assuming that you're here today because you're ready to iron out the particulars for the showing?"
"In a way," Davis said. "I acquired a few new pieces, and I thought perhaps you might be willing to accompany me back out to my house to inspect them and then look things over."
Remington glanced at his watch. "Ah, well, it so happens that I have another appointment at ten- but I'm sure Miss Holt would be more than glad to accompany you, Mr. Davis."
"But-"
"Mr. Steele," Laura began, but Remington waved aside both of their words.
"I can assure you that Miss Holt is more than capable in handling matters of this sort, Mr. Davis," he insisted. "In fact, it was she who set up the security system for the Patten Collection a few years ago. Brilliant work, if I do say so myself. You'll be in excellent hands."
He had Davis convinced, he could tell. It was Laura who was looking at him suspiciously. "Yes, Miss Holt?"
She gave him a saccharine smile. "Could we adjourn to my office for a moment, Mr. Steele?" she asked sweetly. "A-small matter that requires your attention before I leave."
"Of course," Remington agreed, smiling at Davis. "We won't be a moment, Mr. Davis," he promised reassuringly as he opened the door to Laura's office and allowed her to precede him.
"Okay, what's this about?" she asked.
"I have to go with Daniel at ten," he reminded her. "And Mildred's trying to set up a doctor's appointment for him-" He saw that she wasn't buying it. "Laura, one of us has to stay here and tend to business. Would you rather that I sent YOU off alone with Daniel?" he asked.
She sighed, then moved closer, running her hands up his lapels. "I suppose you're right, but you will look at the house I picked out, won't you? And suggest it to Daniel as a- possibility?" she asked, emphasizing the last word as her fingers intertwined behind his neck.
"Hmm. Of course I shall."
"Good. I rather like the idea of waking up to the sound of the sea every morning," she sighed. "Just the two of us. The master bedroom has a doorway right out into the garden," she told him.
"It does?"
She nodded. "It was in the description. And there's a gazebo in the garden."
"A gazebo," Remington repeated slowly. "The last gazebo we were in slid down over a cliff," he recalled.
"We'll make sure this one is anchored down," Laura promised, brushing her lips against his jaw. "There's something so- romantic about a gazebo, don't you agree?"
"Uh, yes. Yes." He gave her a quick kiss, but Laura wasn't going to be satisfied with that. She kept his head down and met his lips in a much longer, deeper one that left Remington just a bit breathless.
There was a knock on the door. "Mr. Steele?" Mr. Davis called softly. "Miss Holt?"
"I'll be right with you, Mr. Davis," Laura called back. She smiled, and pulled Remington's handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the lipstick from his chin and lips. "Duty calls." She blew him a kiss as she went to the door. "Give Daniel my regards."
Remington stood there for a moment, listening as she greeted the client again. "Now, Mr. Davis. Are you ready to go?" She was once again the cool, businesslike Laura Holt who had once insisted on never mixing business with pleasure. Yet a moment ago, Remington mused, touching his chin, and glancing at his handkerchief, she would probably have -. He clamped down on that thought and stuffed the white square back into his pocket as he heard Laura telling Mildred that she'd be back before lunch.
A second later, he opened Laura's office door and peered out. "Are they gone, Mildred?"
Mildred laughed. "Who, Chief?"
"Laura and Mr. Davis."
"Yeah. They just left." She frowned. "Why?"
"Mildred, have you noticed something- different about Laura today?"
"Oh, if you mean earlier, Mr. Steele,-"
"That, yes. But-Never mind. I'll be in my office trying to read the paper til Daniel arrives, okay?"
"Okay." She smiled. "How about some more tea?"
"Sounds good."
Mildred was coming out of Mr. Steele's office after delivering the fresh cup of tea, when she was confronted by a box on her desk. Looking around, she didn't see anyone who might have left it, but the label revealed that it had come from the florist's shop on the first floor.
And they were addressed to HER, not Laura Holt, as these things usually were. Slipping the decorative bow and ribbon from the box, Mildred removed the lid and gasped upon seeing spray of a dozen red roses inside.
"Secret admirer, my dear?" a voice asked from nearby.
Mildred turned, giving Daniel a knowing look. "I don't think it would take much detective work to find out who sent these," she told him. "Thank you."
Daniel sighed. "And here I thought I was being devilishly clever. I'm slipping, I suppose."
"Not at all," Mildred assured him. "You're as sharp as ever and you know it. They're beautiful."
"I merely wanted to thank you for all the help you've given. And to ask you to dinner again- this time, just the two of us."
Mildred picked up the roses and inhaled the heady fragrance. "You're on. When?"
"I'd suggest this evening, but I'm not sure what Harry has planned. Why don't I get back to you?"
"I'll be here. I'm going to put these in some water," she told him. "Mr. Steele's waiting for you in his office."
"Where's Laura?" Daniel asked, frowning. "Don't tell me she didn't come in today. I thought that was resolved-"
"Oh, she was here. She left with a client. And believe me, things are definitely better between them."
"Really?"
"In fact, I'm going to have to learn to let them know that I'm coming into a room before doing it, if you get my meaning."
"I see," Daniel mused thoughtfully. "I'll go let him know I'm here."
"Okay. I'll be right in with some tea," she told him.
***
Remington barely glanced up at the knock on the door. "Come in." His attention remained on the list of available properties that Mildred had given him. In particular, he was studying the one that Laura had picked out. "Good morning, Harry," Daniel said in a bright tone. "Lovely day, isn't it?"
"Daniel. Come in. Come in." He indicated the sofa on the other side of the room. "Have a seat," he said, rising to join his friend, carrying his tea and the list of houses with him.
"Mildred tells me that Laura's with a client," Daniel noted. "So I assume things are back to normal?"
Remington grimaced. "More or less," he said. "Would you like some tea?" he offered. I can ask Mildred-"
"I believe she's already on top of things in that regard, Harry," Daniel told him as the door opened and Mildred came into the room carrying a cup and saucer. "Ah. There she is now." He smiled at her. "Thank you, my dear."
"No problem," she assured him, returning the smile. "Oh, Mr. Steele, I managed to get a consultation appointment with Dr. Becker for eleven this morning."
"Dr. Becker?" Daniel questioned, watching them both over the rim of his cup.
"Nathan Becker," Mildred identified. "Expert in cardiology at UCLA Medical Center. He's rated number one in his field."
Daniel sighed, putting the cup and saucer onto the table before him. "Really, I think I'm capable of finding my own doctor."
"I'd just give in gracefully if I were you, Daniel," Remington warned. "Once Mildred sets her mind to something, she's immoveable."
"He didn't agree to take the case," she cautioned. "Just to talk to you about it. I did give him the name of your doctor in London-"
"And how did you know what HIS name was?" Daniel asked.
"I gave it to her," Remington said. "Got it off the medication."
"Oh."
Remington glanced at his watch. "If we have to be there at eleven, I'd suggest we shove off."
Daniel finished his tea, then stood and followed Remington and Mildred out into the reception area, hearing Remington ask, "Nice roses, Mildred. Secret admirer?"
"A friend," Mildred explained.
"A good friend, obviously," Remington pointed out. "Roses aren't inexpensive these days. If Laura needs to get in touch after she finishes with Mr. Davis, we'll be in the limo."
"I'll have Fred meet you downstairs," she told him.
Fred was waiting downstairs as promised. "UCLA Medical Center, Fred," Remington told the driver.
Daniel indicated the papers in Harry's hand. "What have you got there?"
"It's a list of houses to look at in Malibu. Laura was rather fond of the top listing," he said, as Daniel took the papers with a surprised glance.
"Indeed?" he questioned. "I wasn't aware that Laura was in the market for another house."
Remington tugged at his ear. "Neither was I until this morning," he said.
Daniel looked at the listing. "Three bedrooms, and a guest house?"
"She mentioned something about letting you use the guest house."
Daniel sat back, obviously surprised by this news. "You're certain about that?"
"Said something about it being easier to keep tabs on what you might be up to with you so close."
"Ah. At least she's consistent," Daniel commented, studying the listings.
"I wish I could agree with you, Daniel," Remington sighed.
"What do you mean, Harry? I thought things were better now."
"So did I. I thought she'd go back to being the Laura Holt that I knew before her father's death. But suddenly she's -" Remington paused, uncertain how to explain Laura's sudden onslaught of passionate - zeal. THAT was an understatement, Remington thought. Under any other circumstances, he would be delighted by the change in Laura.
"She's-?" Daniel prompted.
"I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, Daniel, but- One minute she's a Stepford Wife, the next she's Sadie Thomson, and then the next she's a button down, no nonsense business woman. It's like I'm watching a bad remake of "The Three Faces of Eve"," he sighed, and automatically annotated his comment without missing a beat. "Joanne Woodward, Lee J. Cobb, Twentieth Century Fox, 1957. Trouble is, I have no idea if this is simply another permutation brought about by her father's tragic death, and will vanish as quickly as before, or if it's a permanent state of affairs."
Daniel was thoughtful. "Have you suggested that she seek- professional help?" he asked.
"See a psychiatrist? No. I haven't. Do you think I should?"
"It might be the only way that Laura will be able to resolve any residual problems from her father's death. Watching him practically kill himself can't have been easy- especially if she cared as much for him as you say she did."
Remington looked out of the window at the passing traffic, trying to imagine Laura's reaction were he to suggest such a thing. "She'd never agree to it, Daniel. Laura's not a very- open person, I'm afraid. Tends to keep things bottled up-"
Daniel smiled. "Reminds me of someone else I know," he commented. "Too bad that you don't have a case involving a psychiatrist, something that would require her to go under cover as a patient."
Remington turned and looked at Daniel. "You know, Daniel, you might have just given me an idea . . ."
To Be Continued . . .