Steele Working It Out
Part 2
By Kristen McNeil



The bar was dank and had an odd, unpleasant odor that was hard to define. Looking around at the normal day by day clientele, Ben Pierson found it hard to believe he had spent an entire year of his life in the place tending the bar. It was one of the few legitimate jobs that he'd ever had and he'd only taken it so as not to be completely broke between cons that he usually pulled with Daniel.

An agitated frown passed across his normally handsome features as he checked his watch and saw that his contact was now half an hour late. The man he was meeting was an old smuggler buddy of his and Daniel's, that Pierson felt might have some useful information about his past. His buddy Dicky had told Ben, during the time they'd known each other that he had his suspicions about who Pierson's father might be. At the time, Ben hadn't cared one iota who his father was, so when he didn't ask, his friend didn't tell.

When his father's identity really began to matter to Ben, Dicky was wanted for some crime or another and had therefore gone into hiding. It was a stroke of luck that when he arrived in London and contacted an old pick-pocket friend of his that he'd told him where Dicky, the smuggler, might be found.

The bar was where he ended up, waiting an extra half hour and drinking cheap whisky. The tune "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" played relentlessly as he stared at the only clue that he possessed. The gold watch that had come with the note: "your father always wanted you to have this: Patrick O'Rourke." It was too bad Patrick had died before he had the chance to ask him about it.

"Pretty tune." A woman said from behind. Turning, he found himself staring into the eyes of a tackily dressed blonde with far too much make-up on and not enough clothing.

"Thank you." Pierson replied, in a tone that sounded somewhat detached. The blonde didn't seem to notice.

"You look lonely." She stated, chewing her gum so loudly it made him wince. It was then he remembered the time that he had gone to England to put an end to a con Daniel had already set in motion. When Laura had found out what he was up to, she had taken on the identity of his very loud, obnoxious fiance Myrtle Groggins. This woman reminded him of Laura's Myrtle....everything reminded him of her it seemed.

"You want some company?" The woman continued. He noticed her breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, something he'd always found highly unattractive. He missed the natural fresh smell of Laura's skin and the way her petite body felt close to his. Well, the times he could get her close that is. The woman was still looking at him expectantly.

"Actually Miss I'm...."

"Waiting for someone, I can tell." She replied, taking the liberty and sitting down beside him. It was going to be harder to get rid of her than he thought. "I'm Cindy Morgan. What's your name handsome?"

"Ben Pierson." He replied with a resigned sigh. At least that's what it was at the moment. When Dicky arrived, he would then become Douglas Quintaine, the name he'd used during their friendship. He'd switch as many identities as it took to find out the truth, but he wouldn't return to Steele until he had a real name to give to Laura. She would make the final decision on whether he kept that name or not. Hopefully Dicky would arrive soon and save him from having to be civil to this woman.

"Who are you waiting for?" She inquired. "A date?"

"Yes," Pierson lied. Then, checking his watch said in a voice that dripped with suggestion. "She should be here soon so..."

"Oh, don't mind me." Cindy finally said, catching on. "I'll just be out of your way." Pierson smiled and thanked her as she stood up. "If you change your mind or if she doesn't show up...I'll be right over there." Cindy added with a wink.

When she was out of earshot, Pierson rolled his eyes. "Lucky me," he muttered.

"Hey pal! Are you the guy waiting for Dicky Patterson?"

He turned around and found himself face to face with a rather large, gruff looking man about six feet tall. Icy calm, he thought to himself, icy calm....

"Yes, you don't by any chance happen to know where he is do you?"

"Matter of fact I do," the man replied. "I was coming in here, when he pulled me into the ally behind the place. He told me who he was and that I was supposed to come in here and find you. By his description of you, I guessed the rest."

"He told you to come in and get me? Why didn't he just come in himself?"

The man shrugged and ordered a beer. It was clear to Pierson that thinking was not this guy's strong suit.

"All I know is, he said it wasn't safe." The man replied. "The guy looked pretty shaky to me."

"Thank you." Ben said, tapping the Goliath lightly on the shoulder before he ran out the door of the bar. As he left, Cindy's smile in his direction did not go unnoticed.

As he exited the bar and went around behind the ally, he realized what the man had meant by it not being safe.

Four men had surrounded Dicky, who lay in a bloody heap on the pavement, beating him repeatedly with metal pipes. Pierson shrank back, unsure of what to do. If he made his presence known and tried to save Dicky, he too would most likely suffer the same fate. He had to do something though! He couldn't just stand there and watch his friend die!

"What do you think?" The one thug said to his other three companions as they all halted the beating momentarily. The man, Ben noted, had the lowest, most grating voice he'd ever heard in his life. It reminded him of nails running down a chalkboard.

"He ain't getting up." The second guy replied. "Come on, let's get what he's got and get out of here."

Bending over Dicky, they lifted a medium sized manila folder from him and took off down the other end of the ally way.

As soon as the coast was clear, Pierson made his way over to his fallen friend and checked to see if he was OK.

His head had taken many severe blows and the blood flow was almost unstoppable. His arm was twisted at an impossible angle and his eyes were shut tightly. It was then that Ben reached for his wrist.

There was no pulse.

"Oh dear God." He whispered. "Dicky, no."

****

"OK Laura, I want to hear all about it, don't hold anything back." Murphy set the mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of Laura and sat down at her table.

Upon Mildred's urgings, Laura had taken the following day off work and Murphy had come over to make sure she was OK.

"You want the condensed version?" She asked him with a sigh. "I screwed up. That's it in a nutshell. We had a falling out over a case, and I told him that we should separate to see if all that held us together was the agency. Apparently it was, because he left as soon as he could after that."

Murphy's eyes hardened into an angry glare as he thought of Steele deserting Laura like that.

"I knew it." He muttered angrily.

"Please Murphy, no I-told-you-so's OK? It was partly my fault he left. I guess I drove him away by not trusting him enough."

"You're blaming yourself?" Murphy exclaimed in anger and disbelief. "I can't believe I'm hearing this! Laura, this guy isn't one you can trust! The minute things got rough, he left you. You can't blame yourself for that!"

"You haven't seen him since you left Murph." Laura replied suddenly feeling very defensive of him. The previous night, she'd wanted to rip his throat out, but upon hearing Murphy bad mouth him, she found herself falling into a familiar pattern. "He'd changed. He wasn't the same guy you knew! He had become the Remington Steele I'd always envisioned, I just didn't see it. Many times he showed me how much he cared..." She trailed off as memories overtook her.

"Forgive me Laura, but I simply don't believe you."

"Murphy, do you see that piano over there?" Laura asked him. Murphy looked to where she pointed and nodded.

"Yea, your grandmother gave it to you didn't she?"

"No." Laura replied with a faraway smile on her face. "Mr. Steele did. Right after my house blew up. I felt so alone Murphy, my home was gone, my clothing, possessions, you and Bernice...he was there though. He let me stay at his place and comforted me when I got frightened. I felt so grateful that I told him that I would be willing to...take the next step that night."

"You what?" Murphy exploded.

"He refused though Murphy. Bottom line was, he cared about me too much to take advantage of me, that's got to count for something! Then, the next day, he bought me that piano to replace the one my grandmother had given me. I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated that but like him, I suppose I'm not too good with words. I never let him get close enough. I guess he felt it was time to move on."

"Why the hell are you defending him?" Murphy said with controlled anger. "Laura, the guy left you and your life's work high and dry. I warned you about him but...."

"Murphy please, if you're just going to lecture me, I'd prefer you leave. I have enough to deal with right now."

"I'm sorry Laura." Murphy told her sincerely. "He just makes me so angry."

"I know." Laura replied quietly. "Tell me about your case."

"My case?" Murphy echoed.

"Yes, you know, the one you're in LA for. What's it about? Maybe the agency can help you."

"Are you sure you want to take on so much work Laura?" Murphy questioned. "You're not emotionally stable at the moment and I don't think...."

"Dammit would everyone just stop telling me what's good for me?" Laura yelled angrily. "I think I should know what I can and can't handle OK? Do you want my help with the case or not?"

"You're really not going to go after him are you Laura?" Murphy said, obviously surprised. Laura sighed.

"No Murphy, I'm really not." She replied. "Maybe I'm better off without him anyway...."

Murphy smiled slightly, thinking to himself that Laura just might be coming to her senses but seeing her expression, he realized it was all an act. Laura may be a good liar, but he could read her like a book. Murphy knew she missed him and that fact alone burned him up inside. After all that creep had done, why did he get Laura's heart?

"I really think so Laura." He finally told her. "Do you really want to help with the case I'm working on?" Laura nodded eagerly.

"I'd be happy to help." Laura replied, relieved to get off the topic of Mr. Steele completely. At least when she was busy, she didn't have to think about him and not thinking about him meant not acknowledging the pain she was feeling. It meant ignoring the numbing void, the aching emptiness that had been there since she'd discovered all his clothes were missing. What she wouldn't give to hear one of his sexual hints or innuendoes right about now.

"Great, can you run a skip-trace on this name then?" Murphy was saying, as he wrote something down on a piece of paper. Laura grabbed it and took a moment to look at the name.

"Let's go." She told Murphy. "We'll have this finished by the end of the week."

****

"So who is this guy?" Laura wondered as Mildred ran the name, Edward Renolds through the computer and the two of them waited in her office for results.

"Well, the client that hired me is Andrew Styles."

"Andrew Styles? The one who's running for Governor?" Laura asked, her eyes wide. Murphy smiled proudly.

"That's him. Recently, his home was vandalized and a great sum of much needed campaign money was stolen. Not being to keen on having his home burglary being front page news, he asked my agency to find this guy. So far I've turned up this name. I'm not sure if it's an alias though and if so, I need to find out what name he's using now."

"Mildred will come up with something." Laura assured him. "She's an absolute whiz with the computer." She chuckled as if recalling a fond memory. "It's funny because every time Mr. Steele tried to use the darn thing he...." she trailed off, realizing that Mr. Steele was gone and most likely not coming back.

The tension suddenly became so thick between her and Murphy you could cut it with a knife. Murphy wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't seem to get past his hatred and jealousy regarding Steele to be the objective shoulder to cry on that he knew she so desperately needed. She may pretend to be unflappable, but deep down he knew the truth. He wondered if that fraud that left her did as well.

"Pay dirt kiddies!" Mildred's excited cry came from the other room. Running as fast as she could, she excitedly showed them what she'd accomplished.

Looking at the page, Laura gave a grim smile.

"Pack your bags Murph." She told him. "This says we'll find our dear friend Edward in England."

"Woo hoo! Company trip!" Mildred said happily.

"You up for it Laura?" Murphy asked her. Laura's chin jutted out defiantly, the moment she heard the questioning tone in Murphy's voice. How dare he imply that she wasn't up to travel?

"What do you think?" She countered. Murphy immediately backed down from the challenge, preferring not to endure Laura's wrath.

"Let's get ready. We'll leave tomorrow afternoon."

"Sounds good... partner."

****

"So it went well then?" The tall, muscular, grey-haired man asked his four companions. They met later on the next night in the same bar that Dicky Patterson had been killed outside of. The patrons of the bar had all gone home however, and the owner of the bar Dale Silver, remained to take care of some unfinished business. The man with the grating voice nodded.

"We got what he was carrying Mr. Silver." He replied handing the manila envelope over to him. Dale Silver grabbed it greedily, opening the envelope, only to have an annoyed scowl cross his features.

"Carl," he said to the henchman with the grating voice. "This isn't what I asked for. I'm very disappointed."

"You told us to get the information he was carrying." Carl argued, looking to the others to make sure they were backing him up on this one. "We searched him and this was all he had on him I swear! Chalmers must not have talked to him."

"Damn!" Dale swore angrily running his hand thhrough his white hair. "I nee that video tape, without it I'm done for! Chalmers had to have talked to him. He was delivering this stuff to Douglas Quintaine his protégé. I can't imagine him trusting anyone else with this. Did Quintaine even come in here?"

"I don't know boss," one of the men, Al Craylick replied. "Cindy was scouting the place, but I don't think she met anyone named Quintaine."

"He might have been using an alias." Silver mused thoughtfully to himself.

"Maybe whatever's in that envelope is useful as well!" The second man, Frank Doyle suggested. Reluctantly, Dale acknowledged that he could be right and re-opened the envelope to look at its contents. As he did so, his eyes grew wide in surprise and excitement.

"Yes," he murmured to himself as he read it over. "This could be very helpful. It seems, from what I gather here, Quintaine was actually Chalmers' lost son!"

"Where is he now?" Frank wondered. Silver frowned.

"There's a picture of him in here now. It's not as if he's hard to find. He's posing as that famous detective Remington Steele."

"Maybe boss," Carl admitted, "but I didn't see no famous detective in here last night."

"If he were here, he'd be using an alias you fool." Silver reminded him. I met Quintaine once, he's very slick when it comes to changing his name." Looking back at the photo of the 'detective' he was suddenly struck with an idea. "Did you say Cindy was scouting the bar last night?"

"Yea," Frank replied. "But she didn't find a Quintaine she said."

"Bring her in here." Silver ordered. Frank took the other two men with him and did as they were told. About a minute later, the woman who had come on to Ben Pierson the previous night sauntered into the room.

"You asked to see me?" She questioned.

"Come here Cindy." Dale Silver implored. Cindy did as she was told. "Do you recognize this man?" He held out the picture of him and watched to gauge her reaction.

"Yea, that's Ben Pierson he was in here last night." She informed him. "I thought you were looking for a Quintaine."

"This is our guy, Quintaine is nothing." Was Silver's flippant reply. "Do you know where to find him?" Cindy shook her head.

"He wouldn't tell me much." She replied. "Just the basics. He told me he was waiting for a date, so I didn't really spend much time on him. He had the most beautiful watch though, playing a really pretty tune."

"It IS him!" Silver said excitedly. "Remington Steele is Daniel Chalmers' son! I remember that watch. This is better than the video tape!"

"You want us to kill him boss?" Carl asked.

"No, I want him alive. Grab him- that's it. Don't hurt him until I have the chance to contact Chalmers. Now that I have something to bargain with, it shouldn't be too hard to get my video tape back."

End Part 2
(Feedback please!)

Back Home CaseBook E-Mail Next