Steeling a
Dream
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
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Steele
Holting On
Chapter 6 Citizen
Steele
A few weeks after that lovely celebration, a new representative from the Immigration and Naturalization Service made a surprise visit to the Steeles on a lazy Sunday morning.
Wearing only pajama pants and a silk robe, Remington expertly flipped an omelette loaded with vegetables while Laura, clad in her own pretty pj’s, stirred her coffee at the other end of the island. She loved to watch him cook and he enjoyed tempting her palate.
“Keep eyein’ the chef, love, and you’ll ne’er get a bit o’ breakfast that way.”
Laura smiled in her cup. Remington’s Irish brogue thickened whenever he was truly relaxed. She had been hearing it quite a bit lately. “Mmm, but you are a prime example of ‘easy on the eyes.’ ”
The doorbell rang. Laura leaned over to answer the intercom. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Holt-Steele?”
“Yes.” Laura frowned at the appellation.
“Elise Medrano from INS to see you and Mr. Steele.”
“Ah, okay. Yes, I’ll be right down.” Laura scrambled off the chair and sprinted to the bathroom while Remington smoothly plated the omelette and shut off the stove before following her.
“Bloody, buggering hell,” he muttered. The pair swiftly dressed in casual slacks and sweaters. Remington made a mad dash through the penthouse, looking for incriminating bras or underwear they might have left scattered about while Laura rode the elevator down to meet the INS agent. She finger-combed her hair and slicked on the lip gloss she'd snatched off the vanity and jammed into her front pocket on the way out the door.
The door opened to reveal a woman not much older than Laura carrying a brown briefcase and wearing a no-nonsense ivory suit. She flashed a card with her name and agency seal and then stepped into the elevator without a word. While the elevator carried them to the top floor, Laura stuck out a hand impishly. “Laura Steele, pleased to meet you.”
The woman took it sourly. “Elise Medrano, INS.” Elise had been warned that the Steeles were very slippery. It appeared they were married strictly to keep Remington Steele, if that was his real name, in the United States. Details about him were sketchy, but he appeared to have been living in the U.S. for the past few years, possibly illegally. However, she had also been cautioned that the initial agent assigned to Mr. Steele had seriously bungled the investigation. One way or the other, Elise was expected to close this case.
Laura continued, “They told us to expect a surprise visit. ... Ah, here we are.”
Remington perfectly timed opening the lobby doors with those of the elevator, creating a striking view of the morning skyline over L.A. Either the agent wasn’t impressed or she has a fantastic poker face, he thought. Behind her, Laura rolled her eyes. Ah, not impressed. “Good morning, madam.” The snooty British public school tones were back in his voice.
“Remington Steele? Laura Holt-Steele?” The agent sat on the plush leather sofa in the center of the apartment.
Gingerly taking a seat across from her, Laura corrected the woman, “Just Steele. Laura Steele. I
dropped my maiden name when we married in Ireland.”
Remington smiled. “May I offer you something to drink? Or breakfast? I just finished making my wife an omelette. I daresay it would be no trouble at all.”
“Ah, no. No, thank you.” Now the woman shifted awkwardly. “Married in Ireland, did you say? I don’t have that information.”
“I’ll get that for you.” A moment later, Remington returned with a file folder under one arm and Laura’s breakfast in his hands. He set the plate and coffee on the low table and handed the file to Ms. Medrano. He left again and returned with his tea, then relaxed on the sofa next to Laura.
Elise glanced through the file, noting the marriage certificate and the Marriage Registration Form. "These appear to be in order, but I’ll need a duplicate to take with me for verification.”
“We have a copier in our home office,” Laura responded as she sampled her eggs.
Elise opened her briefcase to pull out a stack of documents and a small tape recorder. “Mr. and Mrs. Steele, with your permission, I will record this interview. It will become a legal part of these
proceedings.” They nodded and she switched it on. “Your name is Remington Steele. Is that your legal name?”
He smiled broadly. “Yes, my full name is Remington Daniel Harrison Steele. There’s a copy of my birth certificate in the file I gave you.”
“Ah, the name matches the passport then.” She paused with her brow furrowed as if she saw something wrong. “And you’ve been working in this country for how long?”
“Ah, since 1982, when I became associated with Remington Steele Investigations.”
“And who owns Remington Steele Investigations?”
“I do.” Laura sipped her coffee.
“How did you two become associated?”
“I liked his name.”
“I liked her agency.”
“So you formed a partnership?”
Laura fielded this one. “No, I own the agency, but I needed someone who could project a certain image to attract the clientele I needed. Remington filled those shoes very well.” A tiny grin played around on her lips.
“And what kind of business is this?”
“It’s a private investigation agency.”
“And what do you do?”
“It’s threefold. First, we have a securities arm primarily headed by Remington. Many of our clients wish us to provide security for particular events or items or even for their homes and businesses. We also have an Information Technologies arm that focuses on divorce cases, white-collar crimes and financial services. Last, we handle the more traditional PI work where we are hired to look into situations that may or may not involve the local authorities. That’s my end of the business, but we all tag-team and support each other wherever necessary.”
Elise nodded curtly and focused her gaze intently on Remington. “Mr. Steele, I have no record of your entering the United States as a legal immigrant, and your birth certificate here clearly indicates that you are an Irish citizen. Would you care to comment?”
Laura flicked a glance at her husband. “Certainly.” Remington’s eyes sharpened. Laura recognized that studied casual demeanor and knew not to believe it one bit. “I believe that illegal immigrants working and living in the United States since 1982 are granted amnesty under the Immigrant Reform and Control Act of 1986. I can provide evidence that I have been working and living here during that time.”
The woman was nonplussed. She noticed that the man did not answer her question directly. She was quite familiar with the IRCA 1986 and was prepared to exercise it in order to clear the case, but she decided to dig for more information about the marriage itself. If she could prove it a marriage of convenience, there still might be grounds for Steele’s deportation.
“All right, then, let’s talk about your marriage. It’s clear that your marriage that took place on the boat off the coast of California is questionable at best. However, you indicated that you were also married in Ireland a few weeks later. Why?”
The couple looked at each other, and Laura cocked her head for Remington to answer the question. “Laura and I danced around from the first day we met, trying to keep our relationship professional, yet we were obviously attracted to one another. Quite frankly, we became good friends and fell in love at the same time.”
Laura took up the story at his glance. “With all the chaos and confusion with INS before, once things settled down, we decided that we wanted to say our vows again in Remington’s country. Vows in Ireland seem to mean more than they do here because people there take marriage very seriously. We had to jump through quite a few hoops to gain the right to marry there.”
“And every one of them was worth it,” Remington added. He took Laura’s hand and brushed his thumb across her ring.
Laura’s eyes sparkled with glee. “We also, ah, had our wedding blessed by the Catholic Church just five weeks ago. Since our weddings were so private, our families and friends enjoyed celebrating with us after the convalidation.”
Elise frowned. Something else no one bothered mentioning to her. It did appear the Steeles were
serious. Marrying in the Catholic Church meant annulments would be in order if they chose to divorce and remarry elsewhere. “Tell me about your living and financial arrangements. Do you share a home?”
The couple laughed. “Take a look around. This is where we live,” Remington commented with a grin.
“I’ll do that.” Elise inspected the penthouse carefully, looking for personal items belonging to both of them. She found pictures of them, toothbrushes, clothes of all kinds in the closet and the laundry basket, and a very messy bed in the master bedroom. The shower held his and her shampoo, along with a razor on the edge of the tub and another in the top drawer next to the sink.
The other bedrooms were quite pristine, but the home office was obviously shared. The desk was broad with chairs on either side. Two computers and several files rested on it. In the living room, she opened the drawers of the entertainment center, noting the variety of videos inside. “Who’s the movie buff?”
“That would be Remington.”
“And who’s the Atomic Man fan?”
“Ah, that’s Laura.”
Of course, Elise thought to herself, a couple of detectives would be experts at planting evidence and staging a proper scene if they desired. She reseated herself across from the couple and smoothed her skirt.
“Let’s talk finances. Do you share a checking account?”
“Yes, we have one,” said Laura.
“Among others.” Remington handed Elise another file that he had retrieved during her tour of the house.
“What is this?”
“A list of accounts and assets held jointly between us.” Remington stole a glance at Laura and gently closed her dropped jaw with a finger before the agent noticed. He leaned over as if to kiss her and whispered, “Just sharing the spoils, darling.”
Elise seemed not to notice and began speaking, “You two are certainly making it difficult to extract
yourself from this marriage. At first glance, I have to conclude that both of you are quite serious about this arrangement.” She asked for copies of the relevant documents and stuffed them into her briefcase when Laura returned with them.
“Mr. Steele, if all this is in order as it appears to be, the IRCA of 1986 will, in fact, grant you legal
citizenship in this country. There will be a brief hearing in the next three months that will finalize your legal status. The fact that you have married an American citizen and appear to be committed to her will only help your case. “You will not receive a green card, and you will not be subject to the two-year probationary period associated with it as your citizenship is not dependent on your marriage. Thank you for your time. You’ll be hearing from INS soon to finalize your case.” She rose to shake their hands and left with expediency.
When the elevator doors closed, Elise leaned against the wall, fanning herself. In her many years with INS, she had learned to read the nuances of couples to determine which ones married for convenience and which genuinely cared for each other. The Steeles simply glowed. The quick looks, the way they finished each other’s thoughts, the shared smiles. Elise didn’t miss the way Mr. Steele brushed his thumb across his wife’s wedding ring, nor did she fail to notice how Mrs. Steele subtly defended her husband and deflected certain questions. Without a kiss, caress, or even a hug, the Steeles demonstrated their love in a thousand little ways. The air about them simply hummed. Elise thought her own husband might benefit from this little visit. She had no doubt the Steeles would find their own special way to celebrate.
Laura closed the foyer doors behind her. When the elevator shut, she yipped with glee and bounced into Remington’s arms. Stunned, he automatically closed his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. They held on for the longest time. In the silent corner of Remington’s mind, that tiny seed sprouted and put down roots.
*****
After a while, Laura leaned back. “Now, what about those accounts? Just exactly what do we jointly own that I don’t know about?
“Ah, well, love, let’s have a look, shall we?” He pulled her into the office where he retrieved a second file. “Would you like to see what we own or what you own first?”
An astonishing half-hour later, while Remington finally got around to scrambling himself a couple of eggs, Laura’s brain stumbled along as she processed all of the information her husband had spread out on the kitchen island. Once again, Remington’s generosity humbled her. More than half of his entire portfolio, including his inheritance from Daniel, was retitled in either both of their names or in hers alone.
“Why?”
“Because this was one way I could show you that I’m taking all this quite seriously.” He slid his eggs onto a plate and took a bite.
“All this?”
“Our marriage, our life. You want proof that I won’t walk out on you, ever. I can’t give you anything but my word on that. But I can damned well make things next to impossible for us to ever get divorced. It would take us years to unravel all of this if both of us weren’t perfectly willing to walk away.”
Laura looked down at her hands, somewhat embarrassed. “Your promise has always been enough, Remington.”
“I know, but indulge me a bit, okay, eh?” He nudged her chin up for a sweet kiss to her lips.
“It seems I do that a lot.”
“Yes, and you always have a wonderful time.”
That tickled a smile out of Laura, for she had decided the same not too long ago. “How did you accomplish all of this without my knowledge? Wouldn’t you need my signature? Oh, wait. ... Of
course, Mildred was in with you on this, wasn’t she?”
“Ah, Laura, you are so delightfully innocent in so many ways.” He speared his last bite of eggs. “I spent months copying and perfecting Remington’s handwriting and signature, which, of course, was your handwriting in the beginning.”
“So forging my signature was a snap.”
“Can we just call it being expedient and not forgery?”
“And, naturally, Mildred notarized everything; she recognized my signature because she witnesses
documents all the time.” Laura crossed her arms and tapped her fingers on her elbows. “I think I should be angry, but I can’t think of why at the moment.”
“Then perhaps we should forget about being angry and think about interesting ways to spend the rest of our Sunday.” He braced his arms on either side of her.
“I suspect I can manage that.”
“Good.” He landed a hot, lusty kiss on her mouth. They didn’t make it to the bedroom this time. Or the next.
*****
Six weeks later, Remington had the promised short hearing and was granted legal citizenship in the United States. Laura surprised him with a weekend trip to Disneyland. They spent the morning on roller coasters, fanciful rides and taking silly pictures of each other and the inevitable characters strolling in the park. After a quick, tasteless, and exorbitantly-priced lunch that appalled Remington, Laura dragged him to yet another of her favorite rides.
“Why are we here again, standing in ridiculous lines and wearing mouse ears?”
“Because you’re officially an American, and you can’t get much more American than Disney.”
“Yes, but really, Laura, I’m sure there’s a movie of this place somewhere. I’m thinking a nice, cool glass of champagne and a hot tub would be an excellent way to celebrate my new status. Besides,” he paused as a tow-headed child shoved past him to scamper up the line, “this is making me rethink wanting children.” Oh bloody hell, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. It's one thing to be comfortable with Laura; it's another to spill out your private thoughts. Ah, bugger it; she knows those too.
“You want children?”
Of course, she jumped on that one. She's a bloody detective, you flaming idiot. “Ah, someday,
perhaps. When the memory of this place wears off a bit.”
“You’ve never mentioned it before.” They shuffled forward a few steps.
“Laura,” in for a penny, in for a pound, “with the life I was living, even a year ago, do you really think I could imagine bringing children into the equation? What should I have told them about their father? ‘No, sweetheart, I don’t know your last name, and Daddy’s off to lift a bit of the blunt for supper.’”
Laura laughed. “You’re being dramatic again.”
“Aye, maybe so,” his Irish thickened again, “but bein’ a con artist or a thief is a perfect game so long as no one you love gets caught up in it. Once there’s a girl, a real lass you want to take home, you’ve got to give up the game. If you don’t, someone will get hurt or killed or left behind. And you never, ever leave someone behind that can’t take care of himself.”
Laura gave him an odd look, unsure if he was serious or not.
“You know, I should ask the same question of you. Do you want children?” Remington neatly turned the tables on Laura as they entered the last turn before the haunted ghost ride.
But Laura surprised him with her easy response. “I do. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to work for myself. A woman simply can’t maintain an effective career if she works for someone else. I love what I do, but I want the flexibility to have a family too.”
Remington was speechless. Since the beginning of their association, he had thought her entirely focused on her career. With all the grousing he heard from her about her family, not once had she dropped an inkling of a hint to him that she might want her own one day. Once again, she surprised the hell out of him. Laura gave him a small push as their turn arrived. They ducked into the car and held hands through the dark ride, but they were both quite distracted at the implications of their conversation. As they exited into the bright sun, Remington wondered, “What if I said I didn’t want children?”
Laura looked at him thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t believe you. I’ve seen you with Laurie Beth, Daniel and Mindy.” She referred to their nieces and nephews. “I know you love being with them, no matter what they dish out.” The kids adored "Uncle Remy" and were the only ones that could get away with that nickname. “I remember how much you enjoyed the baby we kept a couple of years ago. You didn’t want to give him back. In fact, you even sang him a lullaby--of sorts.” She grinned. "And don’t forget, I saw you with Kate at the reception when she told you they were expecting twins. The look on your face was nearly ... well, ‘reverent’ is the only word that comes to mind.”
“I don’t know anything about having a family, Laura.”
“Neither do I. But we can learn, right?”
Both were rather thoughtful before the afternoon parade diverted them from their musings.
*****
At dinner that night, the couple flirted over escargot and crème brulée, heavily laced with a celebratory bottle of Dom Perignon. They laughed over past exploits and some of the silly situations they had gotten into and out of in their career.
“How many buildings have we burglarized together? Was it more or less than in your previous profession? I mean, I’m bound to be catching up with you by now.” Laura smiled as she sipped from her champagne flute.
“Mrs. Steele, you have no idea.” He slipped a bite of dessert into his mouth. “Fifty-eight. I wrote them all down once. Then I burned the list.”
“Fifty-eight?” Laura was astonished.
“That doesn’t include the ones where we were invited in and lifted the merchandise. That was Daniel’s favorite method. I liked the sheer audacity of outwitting an entire security system to take what I wanted.”
“No wonder we’ve built such a reputation in the security field. I had no idea.” Laura couldn’t help admiring Remington for his daring feats. “Didn’t you tell me once that Interpol thought you were ‘Le Renard'?”
“Aye.” Remington speared another bite with one hand while he reached for her hand with the other.
“How did you wiggle out of that?”
“I met this lovely brunette in a fabulous red dress. I took one look at her, and she ensnared me with her wit, her sultry brown eyes and her iron-willed ability to keep me from her bed.” Remington dropped a kiss on the back of her hand and began stroking his long fingers in her palm.
Laura almost let him get away with the diversion as little electric shocks vibrated up her arm. She shook her head at him. “Nope. Not this time.” She pulled her hand away and dropped it in her lap. “Interpol left you alone. Why?”
“What's the phrase Murphy uses? Ah, yes. Bigger fish to fry, I imagine. Between the jewels in Mexico and the "Five Nudes of Cairo," I gained a fairly decent reputation. They even assigned an agent to track me: Peterson, I think his name was. But a year or so after that, I went underground in this delightful little agency and haven’t surfaced since.” He smirked.
Laura wrinkled her brow. “But Scotland Yard should have made the connection years ago when they confiscated your passports. They had to have known.”
“True. I’ve wondered about that myself. My best guess is that since we saved the Earl of Claridge from assassination, they buried the information and never reported it. Now if it became known, it would be an embarrassment to the British government, ... and you know how the British despise humiliation.”
“So you think Interpol hasn’t connected your old passports with Remington Steele.”
“No. If they ever do, I’d better hope they still have bigger fish to fry or else the statute of limitations has run out.”
Chapter 7 -- Steele Partners
A few weeks after that lovely celebration, a new representative from the Immigration and Naturalization Service made a surprise visit to the Steeles on a lazy Sunday morning.
Wearing only pajama pants and a silk robe, Remington expertly flipped an omelette loaded with vegetables while Laura, clad in her own pretty pj’s, stirred her coffee at the other end of the island. She loved to watch him cook and he enjoyed tempting her palate.
“Keep eyein’ the chef, love, and you’ll ne’er get a bit o’ breakfast that way.”
Laura smiled in her cup. Remington’s Irish brogue thickened whenever he was truly relaxed. She had been hearing it quite a bit lately. “Mmm, but you are a prime example of ‘easy on the eyes.’ ”
The doorbell rang. Laura leaned over to answer the intercom. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Holt-Steele?”
“Yes.” Laura frowned at the appellation.
“Elise Medrano from INS to see you and Mr. Steele.”
“Ah, okay. Yes, I’ll be right down.” Laura scrambled off the chair and sprinted to the bathroom while Remington smoothly plated the omelette and shut off the stove before following her.
“Bloody, buggering hell,” he muttered. The pair swiftly dressed in casual slacks and sweaters. Remington made a mad dash through the penthouse, looking for incriminating bras or underwear they might have left scattered about while Laura rode the elevator down to meet the INS agent. She finger-combed her hair and slicked on the lip gloss she'd snatched off the vanity and jammed into her front pocket on the way out the door.
The door opened to reveal a woman not much older than Laura carrying a brown briefcase and wearing a no-nonsense ivory suit. She flashed a card with her name and agency seal and then stepped into the elevator without a word. While the elevator carried them to the top floor, Laura stuck out a hand impishly. “Laura Steele, pleased to meet you.”
The woman took it sourly. “Elise Medrano, INS.” Elise had been warned that the Steeles were very slippery. It appeared they were married strictly to keep Remington Steele, if that was his real name, in the United States. Details about him were sketchy, but he appeared to have been living in the U.S. for the past few years, possibly illegally. However, she had also been cautioned that the initial agent assigned to Mr. Steele had seriously bungled the investigation. One way or the other, Elise was expected to close this case.
Laura continued, “They told us to expect a surprise visit. ... Ah, here we are.”
Remington perfectly timed opening the lobby doors with those of the elevator, creating a striking view of the morning skyline over L.A. Either the agent wasn’t impressed or she has a fantastic poker face, he thought. Behind her, Laura rolled her eyes. Ah, not impressed. “Good morning, madam.” The snooty British public school tones were back in his voice.
“Remington Steele? Laura Holt-Steele?” The agent sat on the plush leather sofa in the center of the apartment.
Gingerly taking a seat across from her, Laura corrected the woman, “Just Steele. Laura Steele. I
dropped my maiden name when we married in Ireland.”
Remington smiled. “May I offer you something to drink? Or breakfast? I just finished making my wife an omelette. I daresay it would be no trouble at all.”
“Ah, no. No, thank you.” Now the woman shifted awkwardly. “Married in Ireland, did you say? I don’t have that information.”
“I’ll get that for you.” A moment later, Remington returned with a file folder under one arm and Laura’s breakfast in his hands. He set the plate and coffee on the low table and handed the file to Ms. Medrano. He left again and returned with his tea, then relaxed on the sofa next to Laura.
Elise glanced through the file, noting the marriage certificate and the Marriage Registration Form. "These appear to be in order, but I’ll need a duplicate to take with me for verification.”
“We have a copier in our home office,” Laura responded as she sampled her eggs.
Elise opened her briefcase to pull out a stack of documents and a small tape recorder. “Mr. and Mrs. Steele, with your permission, I will record this interview. It will become a legal part of these
proceedings.” They nodded and she switched it on. “Your name is Remington Steele. Is that your legal name?”
He smiled broadly. “Yes, my full name is Remington Daniel Harrison Steele. There’s a copy of my birth certificate in the file I gave you.”
“Ah, the name matches the passport then.” She paused with her brow furrowed as if she saw something wrong. “And you’ve been working in this country for how long?”
“Ah, since 1982, when I became associated with Remington Steele Investigations.”
“And who owns Remington Steele Investigations?”
“I do.” Laura sipped her coffee.
“How did you two become associated?”
“I liked his name.”
“I liked her agency.”
“So you formed a partnership?”
Laura fielded this one. “No, I own the agency, but I needed someone who could project a certain image to attract the clientele I needed. Remington filled those shoes very well.” A tiny grin played around on her lips.
“And what kind of business is this?”
“It’s a private investigation agency.”
“And what do you do?”
“It’s threefold. First, we have a securities arm primarily headed by Remington. Many of our clients wish us to provide security for particular events or items or even for their homes and businesses. We also have an Information Technologies arm that focuses on divorce cases, white-collar crimes and financial services. Last, we handle the more traditional PI work where we are hired to look into situations that may or may not involve the local authorities. That’s my end of the business, but we all tag-team and support each other wherever necessary.”
Elise nodded curtly and focused her gaze intently on Remington. “Mr. Steele, I have no record of your entering the United States as a legal immigrant, and your birth certificate here clearly indicates that you are an Irish citizen. Would you care to comment?”
Laura flicked a glance at her husband. “Certainly.” Remington’s eyes sharpened. Laura recognized that studied casual demeanor and knew not to believe it one bit. “I believe that illegal immigrants working and living in the United States since 1982 are granted amnesty under the Immigrant Reform and Control Act of 1986. I can provide evidence that I have been working and living here during that time.”
The woman was nonplussed. She noticed that the man did not answer her question directly. She was quite familiar with the IRCA 1986 and was prepared to exercise it in order to clear the case, but she decided to dig for more information about the marriage itself. If she could prove it a marriage of convenience, there still might be grounds for Steele’s deportation.
“All right, then, let’s talk about your marriage. It’s clear that your marriage that took place on the boat off the coast of California is questionable at best. However, you indicated that you were also married in Ireland a few weeks later. Why?”
The couple looked at each other, and Laura cocked her head for Remington to answer the question. “Laura and I danced around from the first day we met, trying to keep our relationship professional, yet we were obviously attracted to one another. Quite frankly, we became good friends and fell in love at the same time.”
Laura took up the story at his glance. “With all the chaos and confusion with INS before, once things settled down, we decided that we wanted to say our vows again in Remington’s country. Vows in Ireland seem to mean more than they do here because people there take marriage very seriously. We had to jump through quite a few hoops to gain the right to marry there.”
“And every one of them was worth it,” Remington added. He took Laura’s hand and brushed his thumb across her ring.
Laura’s eyes sparkled with glee. “We also, ah, had our wedding blessed by the Catholic Church just five weeks ago. Since our weddings were so private, our families and friends enjoyed celebrating with us after the convalidation.”
Elise frowned. Something else no one bothered mentioning to her. It did appear the Steeles were
serious. Marrying in the Catholic Church meant annulments would be in order if they chose to divorce and remarry elsewhere. “Tell me about your living and financial arrangements. Do you share a home?”
The couple laughed. “Take a look around. This is where we live,” Remington commented with a grin.
“I’ll do that.” Elise inspected the penthouse carefully, looking for personal items belonging to both of them. She found pictures of them, toothbrushes, clothes of all kinds in the closet and the laundry basket, and a very messy bed in the master bedroom. The shower held his and her shampoo, along with a razor on the edge of the tub and another in the top drawer next to the sink.
The other bedrooms were quite pristine, but the home office was obviously shared. The desk was broad with chairs on either side. Two computers and several files rested on it. In the living room, she opened the drawers of the entertainment center, noting the variety of videos inside. “Who’s the movie buff?”
“That would be Remington.”
“And who’s the Atomic Man fan?”
“Ah, that’s Laura.”
Of course, Elise thought to herself, a couple of detectives would be experts at planting evidence and staging a proper scene if they desired. She reseated herself across from the couple and smoothed her skirt.
“Let’s talk finances. Do you share a checking account?”
“Yes, we have one,” said Laura.
“Among others.” Remington handed Elise another file that he had retrieved during her tour of the house.
“What is this?”
“A list of accounts and assets held jointly between us.” Remington stole a glance at Laura and gently closed her dropped jaw with a finger before the agent noticed. He leaned over as if to kiss her and whispered, “Just sharing the spoils, darling.”
Elise seemed not to notice and began speaking, “You two are certainly making it difficult to extract
yourself from this marriage. At first glance, I have to conclude that both of you are quite serious about this arrangement.” She asked for copies of the relevant documents and stuffed them into her briefcase when Laura returned with them.
“Mr. Steele, if all this is in order as it appears to be, the IRCA of 1986 will, in fact, grant you legal
citizenship in this country. There will be a brief hearing in the next three months that will finalize your legal status. The fact that you have married an American citizen and appear to be committed to her will only help your case. “You will not receive a green card, and you will not be subject to the two-year probationary period associated with it as your citizenship is not dependent on your marriage. Thank you for your time. You’ll be hearing from INS soon to finalize your case.” She rose to shake their hands and left with expediency.
When the elevator doors closed, Elise leaned against the wall, fanning herself. In her many years with INS, she had learned to read the nuances of couples to determine which ones married for convenience and which genuinely cared for each other. The Steeles simply glowed. The quick looks, the way they finished each other’s thoughts, the shared smiles. Elise didn’t miss the way Mr. Steele brushed his thumb across his wife’s wedding ring, nor did she fail to notice how Mrs. Steele subtly defended her husband and deflected certain questions. Without a kiss, caress, or even a hug, the Steeles demonstrated their love in a thousand little ways. The air about them simply hummed. Elise thought her own husband might benefit from this little visit. She had no doubt the Steeles would find their own special way to celebrate.
Laura closed the foyer doors behind her. When the elevator shut, she yipped with glee and bounced into Remington’s arms. Stunned, he automatically closed his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. They held on for the longest time. In the silent corner of Remington’s mind, that tiny seed sprouted and put down roots.
*****
After a while, Laura leaned back. “Now, what about those accounts? Just exactly what do we jointly own that I don’t know about?
“Ah, well, love, let’s have a look, shall we?” He pulled her into the office where he retrieved a second file. “Would you like to see what we own or what you own first?”
An astonishing half-hour later, while Remington finally got around to scrambling himself a couple of eggs, Laura’s brain stumbled along as she processed all of the information her husband had spread out on the kitchen island. Once again, Remington’s generosity humbled her. More than half of his entire portfolio, including his inheritance from Daniel, was retitled in either both of their names or in hers alone.
“Why?”
“Because this was one way I could show you that I’m taking all this quite seriously.” He slid his eggs onto a plate and took a bite.
“All this?”
“Our marriage, our life. You want proof that I won’t walk out on you, ever. I can’t give you anything but my word on that. But I can damned well make things next to impossible for us to ever get divorced. It would take us years to unravel all of this if both of us weren’t perfectly willing to walk away.”
Laura looked down at her hands, somewhat embarrassed. “Your promise has always been enough, Remington.”
“I know, but indulge me a bit, okay, eh?” He nudged her chin up for a sweet kiss to her lips.
“It seems I do that a lot.”
“Yes, and you always have a wonderful time.”
That tickled a smile out of Laura, for she had decided the same not too long ago. “How did you accomplish all of this without my knowledge? Wouldn’t you need my signature? Oh, wait. ... Of
course, Mildred was in with you on this, wasn’t she?”
“Ah, Laura, you are so delightfully innocent in so many ways.” He speared his last bite of eggs. “I spent months copying and perfecting Remington’s handwriting and signature, which, of course, was your handwriting in the beginning.”
“So forging my signature was a snap.”
“Can we just call it being expedient and not forgery?”
“And, naturally, Mildred notarized everything; she recognized my signature because she witnesses
documents all the time.” Laura crossed her arms and tapped her fingers on her elbows. “I think I should be angry, but I can’t think of why at the moment.”
“Then perhaps we should forget about being angry and think about interesting ways to spend the rest of our Sunday.” He braced his arms on either side of her.
“I suspect I can manage that.”
“Good.” He landed a hot, lusty kiss on her mouth. They didn’t make it to the bedroom this time. Or the next.
*****
Six weeks later, Remington had the promised short hearing and was granted legal citizenship in the United States. Laura surprised him with a weekend trip to Disneyland. They spent the morning on roller coasters, fanciful rides and taking silly pictures of each other and the inevitable characters strolling in the park. After a quick, tasteless, and exorbitantly-priced lunch that appalled Remington, Laura dragged him to yet another of her favorite rides.
“Why are we here again, standing in ridiculous lines and wearing mouse ears?”
“Because you’re officially an American, and you can’t get much more American than Disney.”
“Yes, but really, Laura, I’m sure there’s a movie of this place somewhere. I’m thinking a nice, cool glass of champagne and a hot tub would be an excellent way to celebrate my new status. Besides,” he paused as a tow-headed child shoved past him to scamper up the line, “this is making me rethink wanting children.” Oh bloody hell, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. It's one thing to be comfortable with Laura; it's another to spill out your private thoughts. Ah, bugger it; she knows those too.
“You want children?”
Of course, she jumped on that one. She's a bloody detective, you flaming idiot. “Ah, someday,
perhaps. When the memory of this place wears off a bit.”
“You’ve never mentioned it before.” They shuffled forward a few steps.
“Laura,” in for a penny, in for a pound, “with the life I was living, even a year ago, do you really think I could imagine bringing children into the equation? What should I have told them about their father? ‘No, sweetheart, I don’t know your last name, and Daddy’s off to lift a bit of the blunt for supper.’”
Laura laughed. “You’re being dramatic again.”
“Aye, maybe so,” his Irish thickened again, “but bein’ a con artist or a thief is a perfect game so long as no one you love gets caught up in it. Once there’s a girl, a real lass you want to take home, you’ve got to give up the game. If you don’t, someone will get hurt or killed or left behind. And you never, ever leave someone behind that can’t take care of himself.”
Laura gave him an odd look, unsure if he was serious or not.
“You know, I should ask the same question of you. Do you want children?” Remington neatly turned the tables on Laura as they entered the last turn before the haunted ghost ride.
But Laura surprised him with her easy response. “I do. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to work for myself. A woman simply can’t maintain an effective career if she works for someone else. I love what I do, but I want the flexibility to have a family too.”
Remington was speechless. Since the beginning of their association, he had thought her entirely focused on her career. With all the grousing he heard from her about her family, not once had she dropped an inkling of a hint to him that she might want her own one day. Once again, she surprised the hell out of him. Laura gave him a small push as their turn arrived. They ducked into the car and held hands through the dark ride, but they were both quite distracted at the implications of their conversation. As they exited into the bright sun, Remington wondered, “What if I said I didn’t want children?”
Laura looked at him thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t believe you. I’ve seen you with Laurie Beth, Daniel and Mindy.” She referred to their nieces and nephews. “I know you love being with them, no matter what they dish out.” The kids adored "Uncle Remy" and were the only ones that could get away with that nickname. “I remember how much you enjoyed the baby we kept a couple of years ago. You didn’t want to give him back. In fact, you even sang him a lullaby--of sorts.” She grinned. "And don’t forget, I saw you with Kate at the reception when she told you they were expecting twins. The look on your face was nearly ... well, ‘reverent’ is the only word that comes to mind.”
“I don’t know anything about having a family, Laura.”
“Neither do I. But we can learn, right?”
Both were rather thoughtful before the afternoon parade diverted them from their musings.
*****
At dinner that night, the couple flirted over escargot and crème brulée, heavily laced with a celebratory bottle of Dom Perignon. They laughed over past exploits and some of the silly situations they had gotten into and out of in their career.
“How many buildings have we burglarized together? Was it more or less than in your previous profession? I mean, I’m bound to be catching up with you by now.” Laura smiled as she sipped from her champagne flute.
“Mrs. Steele, you have no idea.” He slipped a bite of dessert into his mouth. “Fifty-eight. I wrote them all down once. Then I burned the list.”
“Fifty-eight?” Laura was astonished.
“That doesn’t include the ones where we were invited in and lifted the merchandise. That was Daniel’s favorite method. I liked the sheer audacity of outwitting an entire security system to take what I wanted.”
“No wonder we’ve built such a reputation in the security field. I had no idea.” Laura couldn’t help admiring Remington for his daring feats. “Didn’t you tell me once that Interpol thought you were ‘Le Renard'?”
“Aye.” Remington speared another bite with one hand while he reached for her hand with the other.
“How did you wiggle out of that?”
“I met this lovely brunette in a fabulous red dress. I took one look at her, and she ensnared me with her wit, her sultry brown eyes and her iron-willed ability to keep me from her bed.” Remington dropped a kiss on the back of her hand and began stroking his long fingers in her palm.
Laura almost let him get away with the diversion as little electric shocks vibrated up her arm. She shook her head at him. “Nope. Not this time.” She pulled her hand away and dropped it in her lap. “Interpol left you alone. Why?”
“What's the phrase Murphy uses? Ah, yes. Bigger fish to fry, I imagine. Between the jewels in Mexico and the "Five Nudes of Cairo," I gained a fairly decent reputation. They even assigned an agent to track me: Peterson, I think his name was. But a year or so after that, I went underground in this delightful little agency and haven’t surfaced since.” He smirked.
Laura wrinkled her brow. “But Scotland Yard should have made the connection years ago when they confiscated your passports. They had to have known.”
“True. I’ve wondered about that myself. My best guess is that since we saved the Earl of Claridge from assassination, they buried the information and never reported it. Now if it became known, it would be an embarrassment to the British government, ... and you know how the British despise humiliation.”
“So you think Interpol hasn’t connected your old passports with Remington Steele.”
“No. If they ever do, I’d better hope they still have bigger fish to fry or else the statute of limitations has run out.”
Chapter 7 -- Steele Partners