- 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
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