Steeling a Dream
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Chapter 16 Diamonds
Steele despised early mornings. The only thing worse than getting up in the wee hours of the day was
leaving a comfortable bed and a warm wife in the process. He slapped off the buzzing alarm before it
woke Laura. As always, he snapped awake; too many years of needing to run taught him to rouse fully
alert. Only on very rare occasions did he stir slowly, and it generally involved his wife seducing him.
He found Laura snuggled up to his back with one arm draped across his chest and a leg twined with his.
He thought she must be feeling quite a bit better to lie like that. He loved waking with her this way, even
better when it wasn’t five in the morning. Easing out of bed, he padded in the darkness to the bathroom.
She was long asleep last night when he managed to relax enough to get between the covers. He had
rolled on his side and watched her, wondering when he would be able to look at her without having
visions of that awful night. Somehow she knew he was there and, in her sleep, had stretched out a hand
seeking him. He covered hers with his own. Comforted in spite of himself, he slept until morning.
Laura woke moments later as the shower came on. She glanced at the clock and grimaced at the time.
Remington hated mornings--except when he managed to sneak into the office before she did. Then he
loved poking fun at her for being late.
The last time that happened, Remington had kept her up late on a Sunday night, after an entire weekend
spent staking out an office building, eating fast food and sleeping in the car. Since that didn’t play into
his idea of a romantic interlude--at least not on a busy side street of LA--he made up for it with a grand
feast that evening, both of food and body. She woke that next morning at nearly eleven with a rose on
her pillow. She had to endure his supercilious smirks at the office for the rest of the day, and even
Mildred giggled at her expense.
Smiling at the memory, Laura eased out of bed and grabbed for the crutches. By the time she made it to
the bathroom, Remington had shut off the shower and was toweling himself dry. “Ah, love, I was
hoping not to wake you.”
“That’s all right. I’d rather not miss your leaving.” He quirked a smile at her and wrapped the towel
around his waist. She leaned against the door, propped herself on the crutches and watched him shave.
When he finished, he picked her up and set her on the counter so he could explore each of her injuries
much as he had the day before--only this time she looked much better.
The swelling was gone from her face, and the perpetual headache caused by the concussion had faded,
easing the lines from her forehead and allowing the glaze to disappear from her eyes. Her nose still had
to be taped while it healed, but the bruises were now entirely green and yellow. It made for a
Technicolor effect, but at least she was healing and her face had resumed normal proportions.
It was the same on her body. The contusions covering her front and back were changing colors and
beginning to lighten. Her ribs still hurt, but as long as she kept them supported, the pain was bearable.
Both her hands and feet were pink with new skin and healing well. She left her fingers uncovered for the
first time. “Another few days, darling, and you’ll be as good as new.”
She smiled at him and gave him a small shove. “Go get dressed. You don’t want to be late and give
Murphy a reason to rib you.”
His eyes twinkled. “Aye, love. That would not be the thing.” Today, he opted for one of his Brooks
Brothers grey suits. He wanted to impress and, perhaps, intimidate Malone. He couldn’t do that in his
"Michael O’ Leary" persona, but as Remington Steele? A cinch.
Laura needlessly straightened his tie and brushed her fingers through the lock of hair that perpetually
dipped over his forehead. As always, it fell perfectly into place. He grinned at the roll of her eyes and
lifted her off the counter. She waved him off and followed him into the bedroom on her crutches, where
she watched him tuck a new wallet with his warped driver's license into his suit coat for the short flight.
At last, Remington curved his hand around her cheek. He tried to cover his momentary hesitation before
touching lips to hers, but Laura noticed anyway and hid her dismay.
She propped up against the door frame until she heard the two men leave through the front door. Then
she did something she only did when she was scared and lonely. In their shared closet, she found a white
dress shirt Remington had rehung until it could be cleaned and pressed properly. She plucked it from the
hanger and buried her face in it, breathing in his lingering scent. Shedding her short nightgown, she
pulled on his shirt, managing only a couple of buttons and haphazardly rolling up the sleeves. She
crawled back into bed and put her head on his pillow. With the covers pulled up to her neck, she slept
fitfully.
Remington never knew that long before they were married, she had hidden one of his shirts in her loft
and wore it the same way--many, many times since the night her house was destroyed years ago and he'd
offered her the clothes from his own closet.
On the way out of the hotel, Remington made a point of stopping by the concierge desk. Without being
obvious, he approached Sean. “Good morning, mate. Would you be so kind as to call a cab for me?”
“Of course, sir.” Sean swallowed nervously. He pressed a button and made the request.
“Excellent. I have a flight to Dublin to catch shortly and I’d rather not be late. My thanks.” Steele
lasered his eyes at Sean. “And mate, if there are any messages while I’m out, you’ll not disturb my wife
with them. Aye?”
“Of course, sir.” Sean read that one loud and clear.
Sir, Mr. Steele caught a flight to Dublin this morning. Early.
Excellent. Did he mention when he’ll return?
No, sir. But I’ll be sure to let you know when he does.
Good job, lad. I’ll have a bonus for you next time.
During the short flight, Murphy regaled Steele with the crazy twists and turns of one of his latest cases.
“Kate nearly strangled me, being gone for three days. Aiden was teething, so he wasn’t sleeping much at
all, and Ian had a fever. She looked like death warmed over when I got home.”
“I imagine you didn’t tell her that, mate?”
“Nooooooo,” Murphy drew that out nice and long. “I was hoping to get cozy with my wife that night.
Let’s just say I had to do some serious damage control before that was going to happen.”
In past years, the conversation might have bored Remington, but now--it seemed he had a vested interest
in listening. “So, what did you do?”
Murphy shook his head. “You really want to know? Come on, Steele, you don’t want to hear more
about my wife and kids.”
“Actually, I think I do.” Remington took a sip of his water.
Murphy gave him a curious look. He recalled what Laura told him shortly after her marriage, that
Remington had no family and had never experienced much of a “normal” life. “Okay, just remember,
you asked.” He drank his soft drink. “When I got home, Kate was seriously frazzled, so I called in
dinner and asked her to go pick it up. That’s a great way to get her out of the house long enough to cool
off and have a few minutes without one of the boys hanging all over her. Aiden was cranky so I let him
chew on a washcloth, and Ian just wanted to be held. The boys and I watched one of their videos until
Kate got home with dinner. I gotta tell you, all of them were in better moods when she got back.”
He snorted. “That week is what prompted us to get a nanny. She helps with the housekeeping and
making dinner so Kate has time with the kids. She’s a great extra set of hands when I can’t be there. I
don’t know how single parents do it at all.”
Remington looked a little dazed at Murphy’s description. He could easily see himself doing all of that.
He made a firm mental note about the nanny and refocused his attention when his friend kept talking.
“It’s different when kids come along. Your time isn’t your own anymore. Used to be, Kate would meet
me at a bar after work, and we could kill an evening just talking or catching a ball game. We both love
sports, so I can’t count how many times we shared a beer and nachos watching the Broncos at some
seedy sports bar near our apartment.”
“But once the twins arrived, everything changed. You’ve got to get home and get a decent meal on the
table for them, play with them, talk to them, put them into bed. And then you still have to do the
laundry, wash the dishes and pay the bills before you get time to snuggle up to your wife. And that’s
assuming that the baby’s not nursing, needs a diaper change or that your toddler actually stays in his own
bed for once. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever get our privacy back.”
“Is it worth it?”
Murphy looked at Remington for a long time before answering, “Yes. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever
done. But the fact that Kate’s doing it with me makes it worth everything. My family means the world
to me.”
While the men winged their way to Dublin, Laura rubbed her gritty eyes. The past few hours had been
filled with nightmares of car explosions and plane crashes, all layered in with the agony she felt when she
thought Remington was dead. After each horrible dream, Laura would wake in tears only to find the bed
empty time and again.
The whole setup with the car bomb played on her deepest fears of abandonment. It made her angry
because she had fought hard to accept that Remington loved her unconditionally and wasn’t about to
leave for any reason. It also didn’t help that she realized he was having a hard time touching her, even
casually.
By the time they were married, Laura had become accustomed to his constant fiddling with her hair, the
kisses on her fingers, and the thousand other ways he touched her during the course of the day. And
she’d quickly found herself returning the little caresses. Ironically, instead of distracting her at the office,
it was a way to acknowledge the love and desire they had for each other while keeping their professional
demeanor. It was a hallmark of their relationship, whether in public or in private, and was usually one of
the first things other people commented on whenever the Steeles appeared together.
She didn’t think Remington had caught on to the fact that she could divine his moods by his hands. Any
time he struggled with his emotions, he had a tendency to withdraw those caresses. For him to stop
completely meant that he was seriously hurting inside.
At seven-fifteen, she gave up and dragged herself from the bed. It took over an hour to shower and
dress. Several times she had to stop and wait while the pain subsided in some part of her body. First,
she bumped her nose while scrubbing her face, and then she lost her balance in the shower and put too
much weight on her knee. By the time she wrapped up in a towel, she was miserable and sore.
Mildred knocked on the door but opened it without waiting for an answer. “Laura? Are you dressed?”
“Sort of,” came the reply. With one crutch, Laura prodded the door open. She looked pathetic holding a
bra and balancing on one foot, all the while trying to keep her towel in place.
Mildred’s brows shot up. “Looks like you need some help.” She waited a beat.
Sheepishly, Laura admitted, “Yes, I do. Will you help me, Mildred?”
Mildred bit her bottom lip while she fastened Laura’s bra and wrapped her middle with an Ace bandage.
The younger woman’s whole torso was covered in yellowing marks. “What do you want to wear
today?” Mildred asked.
“Something other than pajamas,” Laura said firmly. Using the crutches, she made her way to the closet
and pulled down a pair of navy slacks with an elastic waistband and one of Rei’s white dress shirts. She
sat on the vanity bench and pulled the slacks on, then waited patiently as Mildred buttoned up the shirt
and rolled up the sleeves.
“Isn’t that one of Mr. Steele’s shirts?”
“It is. It’s looser and more comfortable that anything I have.”
Mildred nodded and didn’t say anything. She knew Laura better than that.
Laura surprised her with a brief hug. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Aww, pshh. You know I would do anything for my kids.”
“I know, but thank you all the same.”
Mildred patted her cheek and looked her over. “You going to be okay, kiddo?”
“I think so. I’ll brush my hair and be out in a few minutes.”
The two women spent the day pouring over the data Mildred had gathered. They bounced theories back
and forth and tried to understand what O’Callaghan was after. Laura glanced at the clock every few
minutes, counting them down until Remington returned.
That afternoon the two men pressed a little buzzer on Malone’s office door. They heard the snick of the
lock being released and a voice from inside telling them to come in. They stepped into a tiny room with
only a surveillance camera, a microphone and a speaker. “Good afternoon. Is Mr. Malone expecting
you?” a musical young voice asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Michael Murphy and my friend, Steele. We have an appointment with Mr. Malone.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll buzz you through.” Another snick of the lock and the door swung open automatically,
revealing the men to the receptionist.
At first glance, her mouth fell open slightly. It wasn’t every day a blond-haired, broad-shouldered god
and a wiry, black-haired angel graced her office. Both men screamed elegance and money with their
custom-made suits and quiet demeanor. She turned up the little fan on her desk a notch and watched
their gorgeous backsides on their way into Malone’s office. She would love to see those butts in a great
pair of jeans. Too bad they both wore wedding rings.
Neither man missed the lady’s reaction. They carefully hid small smiles as they took in the layout of the
workplace and its security details on their way to the private inner office.
Malone stood as they walked in. “Hello, gentleman. Rory, Rory Malone. Have a seat.” Short and wiry
himself, he sported a thinning head of dark hair and a quick smile. He wore a store-bought suit and a
few pieces of well-crafted, if heavy, jewelry.
Murphy held out his hand. “Michael, Michael Murphy.”
Rory shook his hand. “Ah, yes, you’re the one who called. A bauble for ye wife, ye said. And who’s
your friend, mate?” Rory shifted his hand and his gaze to Remington, who held out his right hand while
tucking his left into his pocket.
Malone held Steele’s grip, staring into the other man’s piercing blue eyes. He hesitated and then
breathed, “Fuck me. Mick O’Leary at me doorstep.” He sat down hard. The two detectives sat across
from him, and the three men assessed each other across the broad desk.
“What gives, Mick? What brings you to me after near a decade?” Malone fiddled nervously with the
buttons on his coat, noticed it, then rested his hands on his desk. “I--I’m clean now, mate. Haven’t
pulled a scam in a while. Got a couple of children, ye know?” He waved at a picture on his desk. He
took further note of Mick’s obviously expensive suit. Lady Luck had always been kind to the thief,
sometimes unfairly so.
Steele threw him an icy smile. “Just want a bit of information, mate. Nothing hard.” He propped his
foot onto his knee in studied casualness. “Denis O’Callaghan wants me to lift a rock from you. I want
to know why.”
“O’Callaghan. Holy fuck! I don’t need to be crossing the Six. I’m wantin' no part of this, Mick.” He
started panicking. “Whatever you want to leave me alone, you can have it.”
Remington uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, placing his clasped hands on the desk. “Relax,
Malone. I’m not here for your stock. I’m here because O’Callaghan threatened my wife. He thinks you
have an uncut red diamond here. He wants it. I want to know why.” He allowed a small bit of Irish to
seep into his voice to set Rory’s mind at ease.
As a matter of habit, Malone’s eye skimmed over Steele’s jewelry so it was mere seconds before Rory
threw his head back and began laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. He shook his head and waggled
his finger at Remington. “You brazen buggerin' bastard. Ten years since ye lifted those bloody rocks
from me place and you come waltzin' in here wearin' one of ‘em.” He caught Steele’s left hand and
examined the stone with a loupe. “Damn ye. Those were hell to come by too. Nice setting. I imagine
yer lass is wearin' t’other pair?” Rory grinned.
Murphy frowned. He knew the story and assumed Rory would be furious with Steele’s theft. Instead,
they were smiling and carrying on as friends.
Rory caught his expression and explained, “Don’t fret. I shorted Mick ‘ere. I needed the cash and I
hoped he would pick a different gem or two to make up the loss. I should’ve known a master thief such
as he would find me finest, rarest stones and pocket them for his own use. He even stole the papers with
it. Me own arrogance did me in, thinkin' I could hide them from ‘im. Cost me a fortune.”
He shifted his attention back to Steele. “Ye know, the insurance company called me a few years back
when ye insured them to check the provenance. They sent me your driver’s license. Can’t miss your
pretty face, so ye owe me fer that.”
“Aye, I do.” Steele nodded.
Rory snapped his fingers. “Steele ... Remington Steele is the name ye went by.”
Steele nodded again. “That is my name.” Rory raised his eyebrows, but Remington continued, “Now,
what do you know about this stone O’Callaghan wants.”
Malone assessed the two men. “I’ll make ye a deal, Mick. Ye figure out if I have it, and I’ll tell ye what
I know. If ye can’t do it, we shake hands and part friends.”
“How long?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Remington shot Murphy a wide smile, then glanced back at Malone. “Done.” He gave Malone’s office
a quick once over while the other detective began sizing up the security system. He decided to start with
charming the receptionist.
He wandered out to the front desk alone, giving the young lady the excuse that he didn’t want to interfere
with his friend’s negotiations. Several pretty gems and pieces of jewelry were on display in locked cases
around her office. The effect was simple, elegant and would impress many a young couple picking out
engagement rings. While the girl pointed out the various features of the stones, Remington began asking
her about more unusual stones such as canary and pink diamonds. She dropped her eyes down and to
the right before giving him an intelligent explanation for the phenomenon that created them.
Moments later, Steele found an excuse to leave her office to explore the rest of the office suite. With the
reception area at one end and Malone’s office at the other, the hallway was flanked by two small rooms.
As he walked into the passageway, Murphy held up seven fingers. “All set. Your turn.”
It only took four minutes for Steele to uncover the safe in the tiny storeroom. He had it popped open in
another two. But no red diamond. Steele smiled. This was the decoy safe. It held a few showy stones
and a pretty bracelet. He pocketed the bracelet and shut the door.
He called Malone into the reception area. “Tell her what I’m doing.” While Rory made his explanations,
Steele skimmed fingers over every surface in her office, shifting pieces of furniture and rocking others.
In the back corner behind a file cabinet, he found it. The baseboard didn’t quite meet the floor as if the
caulk was missing from the bottom edge. Using his lockpick, Steele tickled a catch in that slot, lifting it
up so one of the wooden planks in the floor would shift backward a mere half a centimeter.
Malone and Murphy strolled over to watch Remington shift a second plank toward the first, then pry that
board up until it stood at a ninety-degree angle--revealing a black floor safe with blinking green lights.
Steele spun the combination lock, listening to the ticks and clicks inside. At the last quiet sound, he
flashed a grin at the receptionist and turned the handle. Buried inside was a carefully wrapped chunk of
ore and several stunning pieces of jewelry. When he pulled the silk from the rock and held it up, winking
flashes of red sparkled in the light. He made a show of looking at his watch. “Twenty-two and a half
minutes.”
“Bugger me, Mick. How’d ye know?”
Steele shut the safe and concealed it again before he stood and fished a card out of his wallet. He handed
it to Malone. “Remington Steele Investigations. Among other things, we handle private security
arrangements for a number of museums and individuals.”
Laughter pealed through the office. “Talk about puttin' the fox in the bloody henhouse.” Malone turned
red in the face as he mopped the tears from his eyes. “Come; let’s talk.” He waved both men into his
office again.
“Why does everyone have that reaction?” Steele murmured to Murphy as he turned the raw ore over in
his hands.
Rory poured each of them a glass of Irish whiskey before they took their seats again. “How did ye know
‘bout the floor safe?” he asked again.
Steele nipped the jeweler’s loupe off Malone’s desk and examined the rock in detail. Absent-mindedly
he answered, “More electronics than objects. The front door, your window and two air conditioning
vents make four sets of contacts. The safe in your office--I’ll assume you have one because I know you
like to keep the bulk of your gems close--and the dummy safe in the storage room only make six. You
have seven sets of electronics on your board, so we knew you had an additional safe hidden somewhere.
It has to be somewhere close to a wall or a floor so it can be hardwired into the circuitry.” Steele waved
toward Murphy. “Since both of us install these systems as a part of our work, we both know how to
bypass them on the panel.”
“But the floor?”
“Well, we’ll call that a lucky break, eh?” Remington lifted his glass in a mock toast before becoming
quite serious. “Malone, help me out here, and I’ll set up a system that no one else can compromise. It
won’t require much, just some clever thinking.” He handed the loupe and the chunk of ore to Murphy.
Murphy was startled to realize he could be holding something like two million dollars in his hand.
Rory was staring at his desk, tracing patterns in the wet rings left by the drink. Finally he said, “Aye
mate. I’m tellin’ ye because I’ve a feeling you’re playing straight with me. Ye always have. ‘Tis a fact
ye built a fair reputation for gettin’ the job done as ye say ye will. O’Callaghan’s not the most stable o’
the Six any more. Last few years, rumor has it he’s gone a bit loony. Even the rest o’ the Six tend not
to have much to do with him.”
“How’s that affecting his cash flow?”
“Hmm, hadn’t thought about that. Don’t know.”
“So tell me about the diamond.” Remington took it back from Murphy and waved it in the air. “What
does O’Callaghan want with a chunk of red diamond that’s so obviously flawed?”
“Now that, mate, is the million dollar question.”
“Flawed?” asked Murphy. “How can you tell?”
“Practice.” Steele was curt. “I thought you purchased it at auction?”
“I did. ‘Twas quite well-publicized. But afterwards, I had three different cutters look at the stone, and
they all said it couldn’t be cut. ‘Tis possible that a small unflawed area might be hiding inside, but ‘tis
only a quarter caret at best. The auction house offered to refund the money from the sale entirely, but I
was flush with cash, and we came to a new agreement for a pittance. I got a nice refund and kept the
stone.”
“Why was an uncut diamond put on the auction block anyway?” Steele turned the lump of rock over in
his hands and examined it with the loupe once more.
“Twas a test by the diamond mines to see what the open market would do with it. With the fiasco it
was, they haven’t tried since.”
“Still, even if you had a small stone cut from it, you would make a decent profit from it.”
“True.”
“So why haven’t you cut it?”
“Bit ‘o cowardice on me own part. So long as I don’t cut it, I don’t know how poorly a trade I made.”
He winked at Steele. “Don’t supposed ye’d be interested in liftin’ it for me so as I collect on me
insurance?”
Remington snorted. “I think not, mate. I’d rather not be shorted again.” He set the rock on the desk
and scratched his nose. “Besides, Mrs. Steele would get rather pissy about the whole affair.”
All three men laughed and Rory added, “Aye, they do at that. Been legit for nigh on six years now
‘cause me wife would turn me out on me arse if I wasn’t.”
Steele rose and splashed another round of Irish whiskey into each of their glasses. With a hand in his
pocket and a drink in the other, he paced while thinking. “Does O’Callaghan know the stone is flawed?”
“‘Tis unlikely unless he’s really paid attention. The auction house kept it quiet and I’ve not advertised.”
“So O’Callaghan thinks you’re sitting on the proverbial gold mine.”
“It’s possible.”
Remington sat on the corner of Rory’s desk. “Tell me something, Malone. How does O’Callaghan
know about the set of stones I lifted from you?”
Rory flushed. “’Cause he was the buyer for them when I realized they had been swiped. Pretty rubies,
by the way,” he said off-handedly. “He bought those, too.”
“Did you mention my name?”
Rory shrugged. “No. ‘Twas our agreement. Didn’t have to though. At that time, there were only two
or three master thieves working the Emerald Isle. Mick O’Leary was one o’ them and O’Callaghan had
to know that.”
“So he put two and two together after he picked me up and saw our wedding rings,” mused Remington,
“unless, of course, he knew the whereabouts of the others back then and deduced it was me in the first
place.”
“Ye packed up and left shortly after that and didn’t resurface ‘til a couple o’ years ago. Rumor then was
that Mick O’Leary passed through, but no one saw much o’ ye.”
Steele held out his hand to Malone. “Mate, ‘tis been a pleasure. Some advice?” Rory nodded. “Get
another dummy safe, put it somewhere obvious, and slap some electronics on it. Make it look like it’s on
your security network. It will fool even the best.”
Rory grinned. “Done then.”
Murphy spoke up, “Are you two through?”
“Quite so, I think,” said Steele.
“Good. Now, I’d like to see something for my wife.”
“Ye came to the right place, mate.” Rory retrieved several pretty pieces from the safe in his office after
giving Steele a complimentary nod for his earlier insight.
Murphy looked them over and selected a gorgeous emerald and diamond pendant for Kate. They
haggled a bit over the price, but Rory conceded at Steele’s arched brow. He sliced his final number in
half, muttering about bloody thieves and profit margins. When the two men were done and the jeweler
handed over a small wrapped package to Murphy, the three men shook hands.
As they turned to leave, Steele dipped his hand in his pocket and came out with the bracelet from the
dummy safe. The wide Art Deco platinum bracelet was studded entirely with diamonds and sapphires.
“One more thing--I want this for my wife. Send me a bill. You’ve got my card.”
Rory’s eyes widened. “Ye bloody buggering thief! Ye lifted the best bauble in me office. Ye could
have walked right out--” He shook his head. “Get out. Your bill will beat ye home.”
Steele and Murphy strolled nonchalantly out of the building. Malone spent the rest of the day doing
inventory.
Chapter 17 -- Crisis
Steele despised early mornings. The only thing worse than getting up in the wee hours of the day was
leaving a comfortable bed and a warm wife in the process. He slapped off the buzzing alarm before it
woke Laura. As always, he snapped awake; too many years of needing to run taught him to rouse fully
alert. Only on very rare occasions did he stir slowly, and it generally involved his wife seducing him.
He found Laura snuggled up to his back with one arm draped across his chest and a leg twined with his.
He thought she must be feeling quite a bit better to lie like that. He loved waking with her this way, even
better when it wasn’t five in the morning. Easing out of bed, he padded in the darkness to the bathroom.
She was long asleep last night when he managed to relax enough to get between the covers. He had
rolled on his side and watched her, wondering when he would be able to look at her without having
visions of that awful night. Somehow she knew he was there and, in her sleep, had stretched out a hand
seeking him. He covered hers with his own. Comforted in spite of himself, he slept until morning.
Laura woke moments later as the shower came on. She glanced at the clock and grimaced at the time.
Remington hated mornings--except when he managed to sneak into the office before she did. Then he
loved poking fun at her for being late.
The last time that happened, Remington had kept her up late on a Sunday night, after an entire weekend
spent staking out an office building, eating fast food and sleeping in the car. Since that didn’t play into
his idea of a romantic interlude--at least not on a busy side street of LA--he made up for it with a grand
feast that evening, both of food and body. She woke that next morning at nearly eleven with a rose on
her pillow. She had to endure his supercilious smirks at the office for the rest of the day, and even
Mildred giggled at her expense.
Smiling at the memory, Laura eased out of bed and grabbed for the crutches. By the time she made it to
the bathroom, Remington had shut off the shower and was toweling himself dry. “Ah, love, I was
hoping not to wake you.”
“That’s all right. I’d rather not miss your leaving.” He quirked a smile at her and wrapped the towel
around his waist. She leaned against the door, propped herself on the crutches and watched him shave.
When he finished, he picked her up and set her on the counter so he could explore each of her injuries
much as he had the day before--only this time she looked much better.
The swelling was gone from her face, and the perpetual headache caused by the concussion had faded,
easing the lines from her forehead and allowing the glaze to disappear from her eyes. Her nose still had
to be taped while it healed, but the bruises were now entirely green and yellow. It made for a
Technicolor effect, but at least she was healing and her face had resumed normal proportions.
It was the same on her body. The contusions covering her front and back were changing colors and
beginning to lighten. Her ribs still hurt, but as long as she kept them supported, the pain was bearable.
Both her hands and feet were pink with new skin and healing well. She left her fingers uncovered for the
first time. “Another few days, darling, and you’ll be as good as new.”
She smiled at him and gave him a small shove. “Go get dressed. You don’t want to be late and give
Murphy a reason to rib you.”
His eyes twinkled. “Aye, love. That would not be the thing.” Today, he opted for one of his Brooks
Brothers grey suits. He wanted to impress and, perhaps, intimidate Malone. He couldn’t do that in his
"Michael O’ Leary" persona, but as Remington Steele? A cinch.
Laura needlessly straightened his tie and brushed her fingers through the lock of hair that perpetually
dipped over his forehead. As always, it fell perfectly into place. He grinned at the roll of her eyes and
lifted her off the counter. She waved him off and followed him into the bedroom on her crutches, where
she watched him tuck a new wallet with his warped driver's license into his suit coat for the short flight.
At last, Remington curved his hand around her cheek. He tried to cover his momentary hesitation before
touching lips to hers, but Laura noticed anyway and hid her dismay.
She propped up against the door frame until she heard the two men leave through the front door. Then
she did something she only did when she was scared and lonely. In their shared closet, she found a white
dress shirt Remington had rehung until it could be cleaned and pressed properly. She plucked it from the
hanger and buried her face in it, breathing in his lingering scent. Shedding her short nightgown, she
pulled on his shirt, managing only a couple of buttons and haphazardly rolling up the sleeves. She
crawled back into bed and put her head on his pillow. With the covers pulled up to her neck, she slept
fitfully.
Remington never knew that long before they were married, she had hidden one of his shirts in her loft
and wore it the same way--many, many times since the night her house was destroyed years ago and he'd
offered her the clothes from his own closet.
On the way out of the hotel, Remington made a point of stopping by the concierge desk. Without being
obvious, he approached Sean. “Good morning, mate. Would you be so kind as to call a cab for me?”
“Of course, sir.” Sean swallowed nervously. He pressed a button and made the request.
“Excellent. I have a flight to Dublin to catch shortly and I’d rather not be late. My thanks.” Steele
lasered his eyes at Sean. “And mate, if there are any messages while I’m out, you’ll not disturb my wife
with them. Aye?”
“Of course, sir.” Sean read that one loud and clear.
Sir, Mr. Steele caught a flight to Dublin this morning. Early.
Excellent. Did he mention when he’ll return?
No, sir. But I’ll be sure to let you know when he does.
Good job, lad. I’ll have a bonus for you next time.
During the short flight, Murphy regaled Steele with the crazy twists and turns of one of his latest cases.
“Kate nearly strangled me, being gone for three days. Aiden was teething, so he wasn’t sleeping much at
all, and Ian had a fever. She looked like death warmed over when I got home.”
“I imagine you didn’t tell her that, mate?”
“Nooooooo,” Murphy drew that out nice and long. “I was hoping to get cozy with my wife that night.
Let’s just say I had to do some serious damage control before that was going to happen.”
In past years, the conversation might have bored Remington, but now--it seemed he had a vested interest
in listening. “So, what did you do?”
Murphy shook his head. “You really want to know? Come on, Steele, you don’t want to hear more
about my wife and kids.”
“Actually, I think I do.” Remington took a sip of his water.
Murphy gave him a curious look. He recalled what Laura told him shortly after her marriage, that
Remington had no family and had never experienced much of a “normal” life. “Okay, just remember,
you asked.” He drank his soft drink. “When I got home, Kate was seriously frazzled, so I called in
dinner and asked her to go pick it up. That’s a great way to get her out of the house long enough to cool
off and have a few minutes without one of the boys hanging all over her. Aiden was cranky so I let him
chew on a washcloth, and Ian just wanted to be held. The boys and I watched one of their videos until
Kate got home with dinner. I gotta tell you, all of them were in better moods when she got back.”
He snorted. “That week is what prompted us to get a nanny. She helps with the housekeeping and
making dinner so Kate has time with the kids. She’s a great extra set of hands when I can’t be there. I
don’t know how single parents do it at all.”
Remington looked a little dazed at Murphy’s description. He could easily see himself doing all of that.
He made a firm mental note about the nanny and refocused his attention when his friend kept talking.
“It’s different when kids come along. Your time isn’t your own anymore. Used to be, Kate would meet
me at a bar after work, and we could kill an evening just talking or catching a ball game. We both love
sports, so I can’t count how many times we shared a beer and nachos watching the Broncos at some
seedy sports bar near our apartment.”
“But once the twins arrived, everything changed. You’ve got to get home and get a decent meal on the
table for them, play with them, talk to them, put them into bed. And then you still have to do the
laundry, wash the dishes and pay the bills before you get time to snuggle up to your wife. And that’s
assuming that the baby’s not nursing, needs a diaper change or that your toddler actually stays in his own
bed for once. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever get our privacy back.”
“Is it worth it?”
Murphy looked at Remington for a long time before answering, “Yes. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever
done. But the fact that Kate’s doing it with me makes it worth everything. My family means the world
to me.”
While the men winged their way to Dublin, Laura rubbed her gritty eyes. The past few hours had been
filled with nightmares of car explosions and plane crashes, all layered in with the agony she felt when she
thought Remington was dead. After each horrible dream, Laura would wake in tears only to find the bed
empty time and again.
The whole setup with the car bomb played on her deepest fears of abandonment. It made her angry
because she had fought hard to accept that Remington loved her unconditionally and wasn’t about to
leave for any reason. It also didn’t help that she realized he was having a hard time touching her, even
casually.
By the time they were married, Laura had become accustomed to his constant fiddling with her hair, the
kisses on her fingers, and the thousand other ways he touched her during the course of the day. And
she’d quickly found herself returning the little caresses. Ironically, instead of distracting her at the office,
it was a way to acknowledge the love and desire they had for each other while keeping their professional
demeanor. It was a hallmark of their relationship, whether in public or in private, and was usually one of
the first things other people commented on whenever the Steeles appeared together.
She didn’t think Remington had caught on to the fact that she could divine his moods by his hands. Any
time he struggled with his emotions, he had a tendency to withdraw those caresses. For him to stop
completely meant that he was seriously hurting inside.
At seven-fifteen, she gave up and dragged herself from the bed. It took over an hour to shower and
dress. Several times she had to stop and wait while the pain subsided in some part of her body. First,
she bumped her nose while scrubbing her face, and then she lost her balance in the shower and put too
much weight on her knee. By the time she wrapped up in a towel, she was miserable and sore.
Mildred knocked on the door but opened it without waiting for an answer. “Laura? Are you dressed?”
“Sort of,” came the reply. With one crutch, Laura prodded the door open. She looked pathetic holding a
bra and balancing on one foot, all the while trying to keep her towel in place.
Mildred’s brows shot up. “Looks like you need some help.” She waited a beat.
Sheepishly, Laura admitted, “Yes, I do. Will you help me, Mildred?”
Mildred bit her bottom lip while she fastened Laura’s bra and wrapped her middle with an Ace bandage.
The younger woman’s whole torso was covered in yellowing marks. “What do you want to wear
today?” Mildred asked.
“Something other than pajamas,” Laura said firmly. Using the crutches, she made her way to the closet
and pulled down a pair of navy slacks with an elastic waistband and one of Rei’s white dress shirts. She
sat on the vanity bench and pulled the slacks on, then waited patiently as Mildred buttoned up the shirt
and rolled up the sleeves.
“Isn’t that one of Mr. Steele’s shirts?”
“It is. It’s looser and more comfortable that anything I have.”
Mildred nodded and didn’t say anything. She knew Laura better than that.
Laura surprised her with a brief hug. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Aww, pshh. You know I would do anything for my kids.”
“I know, but thank you all the same.”
Mildred patted her cheek and looked her over. “You going to be okay, kiddo?”
“I think so. I’ll brush my hair and be out in a few minutes.”
The two women spent the day pouring over the data Mildred had gathered. They bounced theories back
and forth and tried to understand what O’Callaghan was after. Laura glanced at the clock every few
minutes, counting them down until Remington returned.
That afternoon the two men pressed a little buzzer on Malone’s office door. They heard the snick of the
lock being released and a voice from inside telling them to come in. They stepped into a tiny room with
only a surveillance camera, a microphone and a speaker. “Good afternoon. Is Mr. Malone expecting
you?” a musical young voice asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Michael Murphy and my friend, Steele. We have an appointment with Mr. Malone.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll buzz you through.” Another snick of the lock and the door swung open automatically,
revealing the men to the receptionist.
At first glance, her mouth fell open slightly. It wasn’t every day a blond-haired, broad-shouldered god
and a wiry, black-haired angel graced her office. Both men screamed elegance and money with their
custom-made suits and quiet demeanor. She turned up the little fan on her desk a notch and watched
their gorgeous backsides on their way into Malone’s office. She would love to see those butts in a great
pair of jeans. Too bad they both wore wedding rings.
Neither man missed the lady’s reaction. They carefully hid small smiles as they took in the layout of the
workplace and its security details on their way to the private inner office.
Malone stood as they walked in. “Hello, gentleman. Rory, Rory Malone. Have a seat.” Short and wiry
himself, he sported a thinning head of dark hair and a quick smile. He wore a store-bought suit and a
few pieces of well-crafted, if heavy, jewelry.
Murphy held out his hand. “Michael, Michael Murphy.”
Rory shook his hand. “Ah, yes, you’re the one who called. A bauble for ye wife, ye said. And who’s
your friend, mate?” Rory shifted his hand and his gaze to Remington, who held out his right hand while
tucking his left into his pocket.
Malone held Steele’s grip, staring into the other man’s piercing blue eyes. He hesitated and then
breathed, “Fuck me. Mick O’Leary at me doorstep.” He sat down hard. The two detectives sat across
from him, and the three men assessed each other across the broad desk.
“What gives, Mick? What brings you to me after near a decade?” Malone fiddled nervously with the
buttons on his coat, noticed it, then rested his hands on his desk. “I--I’m clean now, mate. Haven’t
pulled a scam in a while. Got a couple of children, ye know?” He waved at a picture on his desk. He
took further note of Mick’s obviously expensive suit. Lady Luck had always been kind to the thief,
sometimes unfairly so.
Steele threw him an icy smile. “Just want a bit of information, mate. Nothing hard.” He propped his
foot onto his knee in studied casualness. “Denis O’Callaghan wants me to lift a rock from you. I want
to know why.”
“O’Callaghan. Holy fuck! I don’t need to be crossing the Six. I’m wantin' no part of this, Mick.” He
started panicking. “Whatever you want to leave me alone, you can have it.”
Remington uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, placing his clasped hands on the desk. “Relax,
Malone. I’m not here for your stock. I’m here because O’Callaghan threatened my wife. He thinks you
have an uncut red diamond here. He wants it. I want to know why.” He allowed a small bit of Irish to
seep into his voice to set Rory’s mind at ease.
As a matter of habit, Malone’s eye skimmed over Steele’s jewelry so it was mere seconds before Rory
threw his head back and began laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. He shook his head and waggled
his finger at Remington. “You brazen buggerin' bastard. Ten years since ye lifted those bloody rocks
from me place and you come waltzin' in here wearin' one of ‘em.” He caught Steele’s left hand and
examined the stone with a loupe. “Damn ye. Those were hell to come by too. Nice setting. I imagine
yer lass is wearin' t’other pair?” Rory grinned.
Murphy frowned. He knew the story and assumed Rory would be furious with Steele’s theft. Instead,
they were smiling and carrying on as friends.
Rory caught his expression and explained, “Don’t fret. I shorted Mick ‘ere. I needed the cash and I
hoped he would pick a different gem or two to make up the loss. I should’ve known a master thief such
as he would find me finest, rarest stones and pocket them for his own use. He even stole the papers with
it. Me own arrogance did me in, thinkin' I could hide them from ‘im. Cost me a fortune.”
He shifted his attention back to Steele. “Ye know, the insurance company called me a few years back
when ye insured them to check the provenance. They sent me your driver’s license. Can’t miss your
pretty face, so ye owe me fer that.”
“Aye, I do.” Steele nodded.
Rory snapped his fingers. “Steele ... Remington Steele is the name ye went by.”
Steele nodded again. “That is my name.” Rory raised his eyebrows, but Remington continued, “Now,
what do you know about this stone O’Callaghan wants.”
Malone assessed the two men. “I’ll make ye a deal, Mick. Ye figure out if I have it, and I’ll tell ye what
I know. If ye can’t do it, we shake hands and part friends.”
“How long?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Remington shot Murphy a wide smile, then glanced back at Malone. “Done.” He gave Malone’s office
a quick once over while the other detective began sizing up the security system. He decided to start with
charming the receptionist.
He wandered out to the front desk alone, giving the young lady the excuse that he didn’t want to interfere
with his friend’s negotiations. Several pretty gems and pieces of jewelry were on display in locked cases
around her office. The effect was simple, elegant and would impress many a young couple picking out
engagement rings. While the girl pointed out the various features of the stones, Remington began asking
her about more unusual stones such as canary and pink diamonds. She dropped her eyes down and to
the right before giving him an intelligent explanation for the phenomenon that created them.
Moments later, Steele found an excuse to leave her office to explore the rest of the office suite. With the
reception area at one end and Malone’s office at the other, the hallway was flanked by two small rooms.
As he walked into the passageway, Murphy held up seven fingers. “All set. Your turn.”
It only took four minutes for Steele to uncover the safe in the tiny storeroom. He had it popped open in
another two. But no red diamond. Steele smiled. This was the decoy safe. It held a few showy stones
and a pretty bracelet. He pocketed the bracelet and shut the door.
He called Malone into the reception area. “Tell her what I’m doing.” While Rory made his explanations,
Steele skimmed fingers over every surface in her office, shifting pieces of furniture and rocking others.
In the back corner behind a file cabinet, he found it. The baseboard didn’t quite meet the floor as if the
caulk was missing from the bottom edge. Using his lockpick, Steele tickled a catch in that slot, lifting it
up so one of the wooden planks in the floor would shift backward a mere half a centimeter.
Malone and Murphy strolled over to watch Remington shift a second plank toward the first, then pry that
board up until it stood at a ninety-degree angle--revealing a black floor safe with blinking green lights.
Steele spun the combination lock, listening to the ticks and clicks inside. At the last quiet sound, he
flashed a grin at the receptionist and turned the handle. Buried inside was a carefully wrapped chunk of
ore and several stunning pieces of jewelry. When he pulled the silk from the rock and held it up, winking
flashes of red sparkled in the light. He made a show of looking at his watch. “Twenty-two and a half
minutes.”
“Bugger me, Mick. How’d ye know?”
Steele shut the safe and concealed it again before he stood and fished a card out of his wallet. He handed
it to Malone. “Remington Steele Investigations. Among other things, we handle private security
arrangements for a number of museums and individuals.”
Laughter pealed through the office. “Talk about puttin' the fox in the bloody henhouse.” Malone turned
red in the face as he mopped the tears from his eyes. “Come; let’s talk.” He waved both men into his
office again.
“Why does everyone have that reaction?” Steele murmured to Murphy as he turned the raw ore over in
his hands.
Rory poured each of them a glass of Irish whiskey before they took their seats again. “How did ye know
‘bout the floor safe?” he asked again.
Steele nipped the jeweler’s loupe off Malone’s desk and examined the rock in detail. Absent-mindedly
he answered, “More electronics than objects. The front door, your window and two air conditioning
vents make four sets of contacts. The safe in your office--I’ll assume you have one because I know you
like to keep the bulk of your gems close--and the dummy safe in the storage room only make six. You
have seven sets of electronics on your board, so we knew you had an additional safe hidden somewhere.
It has to be somewhere close to a wall or a floor so it can be hardwired into the circuitry.” Steele waved
toward Murphy. “Since both of us install these systems as a part of our work, we both know how to
bypass them on the panel.”
“But the floor?”
“Well, we’ll call that a lucky break, eh?” Remington lifted his glass in a mock toast before becoming
quite serious. “Malone, help me out here, and I’ll set up a system that no one else can compromise. It
won’t require much, just some clever thinking.” He handed the loupe and the chunk of ore to Murphy.
Murphy was startled to realize he could be holding something like two million dollars in his hand.
Rory was staring at his desk, tracing patterns in the wet rings left by the drink. Finally he said, “Aye
mate. I’m tellin’ ye because I’ve a feeling you’re playing straight with me. Ye always have. ‘Tis a fact
ye built a fair reputation for gettin’ the job done as ye say ye will. O’Callaghan’s not the most stable o’
the Six any more. Last few years, rumor has it he’s gone a bit loony. Even the rest o’ the Six tend not
to have much to do with him.”
“How’s that affecting his cash flow?”
“Hmm, hadn’t thought about that. Don’t know.”
“So tell me about the diamond.” Remington took it back from Murphy and waved it in the air. “What
does O’Callaghan want with a chunk of red diamond that’s so obviously flawed?”
“Now that, mate, is the million dollar question.”
“Flawed?” asked Murphy. “How can you tell?”
“Practice.” Steele was curt. “I thought you purchased it at auction?”
“I did. ‘Twas quite well-publicized. But afterwards, I had three different cutters look at the stone, and
they all said it couldn’t be cut. ‘Tis possible that a small unflawed area might be hiding inside, but ‘tis
only a quarter caret at best. The auction house offered to refund the money from the sale entirely, but I
was flush with cash, and we came to a new agreement for a pittance. I got a nice refund and kept the
stone.”
“Why was an uncut diamond put on the auction block anyway?” Steele turned the lump of rock over in
his hands and examined it with the loupe once more.
“Twas a test by the diamond mines to see what the open market would do with it. With the fiasco it
was, they haven’t tried since.”
“Still, even if you had a small stone cut from it, you would make a decent profit from it.”
“True.”
“So why haven’t you cut it?”
“Bit ‘o cowardice on me own part. So long as I don’t cut it, I don’t know how poorly a trade I made.”
He winked at Steele. “Don’t supposed ye’d be interested in liftin’ it for me so as I collect on me
insurance?”
Remington snorted. “I think not, mate. I’d rather not be shorted again.” He set the rock on the desk
and scratched his nose. “Besides, Mrs. Steele would get rather pissy about the whole affair.”
All three men laughed and Rory added, “Aye, they do at that. Been legit for nigh on six years now
‘cause me wife would turn me out on me arse if I wasn’t.”
Steele rose and splashed another round of Irish whiskey into each of their glasses. With a hand in his
pocket and a drink in the other, he paced while thinking. “Does O’Callaghan know the stone is flawed?”
“‘Tis unlikely unless he’s really paid attention. The auction house kept it quiet and I’ve not advertised.”
“So O’Callaghan thinks you’re sitting on the proverbial gold mine.”
“It’s possible.”
Remington sat on the corner of Rory’s desk. “Tell me something, Malone. How does O’Callaghan
know about the set of stones I lifted from you?”
Rory flushed. “’Cause he was the buyer for them when I realized they had been swiped. Pretty rubies,
by the way,” he said off-handedly. “He bought those, too.”
“Did you mention my name?”
Rory shrugged. “No. ‘Twas our agreement. Didn’t have to though. At that time, there were only two
or three master thieves working the Emerald Isle. Mick O’Leary was one o’ them and O’Callaghan had
to know that.”
“So he put two and two together after he picked me up and saw our wedding rings,” mused Remington,
“unless, of course, he knew the whereabouts of the others back then and deduced it was me in the first
place.”
“Ye packed up and left shortly after that and didn’t resurface ‘til a couple o’ years ago. Rumor then was
that Mick O’Leary passed through, but no one saw much o’ ye.”
Steele held out his hand to Malone. “Mate, ‘tis been a pleasure. Some advice?” Rory nodded. “Get
another dummy safe, put it somewhere obvious, and slap some electronics on it. Make it look like it’s on
your security network. It will fool even the best.”
Rory grinned. “Done then.”
Murphy spoke up, “Are you two through?”
“Quite so, I think,” said Steele.
“Good. Now, I’d like to see something for my wife.”
“Ye came to the right place, mate.” Rory retrieved several pretty pieces from the safe in his office after
giving Steele a complimentary nod for his earlier insight.
Murphy looked them over and selected a gorgeous emerald and diamond pendant for Kate. They
haggled a bit over the price, but Rory conceded at Steele’s arched brow. He sliced his final number in
half, muttering about bloody thieves and profit margins. When the two men were done and the jeweler
handed over a small wrapped package to Murphy, the three men shook hands.
As they turned to leave, Steele dipped his hand in his pocket and came out with the bracelet from the
dummy safe. The wide Art Deco platinum bracelet was studded entirely with diamonds and sapphires.
“One more thing--I want this for my wife. Send me a bill. You’ve got my card.”
Rory’s eyes widened. “Ye bloody buggering thief! Ye lifted the best bauble in me office. Ye could
have walked right out--” He shook his head. “Get out. Your bill will beat ye home.”
Steele and Murphy strolled nonchalantly out of the building. Malone spent the rest of the day doing
inventory.
Chapter 17 -- Crisis