Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele
Part 3: House of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Chapter Seventeen: Execution
Tuesday, 30 November 1988 -- 35 weeks, 5 days
For the next three days, after initial interviews with Ian and the agency’s detectives, Laura and Janet
covered what seemed to be most of the city of Los Angeles.
While Remington assumed various guises and snapped discrete photos of anyone in the vicinity, Laura
took Janet on a fictional trail of clues, making stops at the coroner’s office, photo lab, and police
departments along the way. At each place, Janet conducted a detailed interview, asking how the business
played a role in providing information to the detective.
Laura also reminisced about various cases, pointing out the park where they recovered a diamond
necklace, the Channel 3 TV studio from which Janet hailed and the Steeles uncovered a murderer on live
television several years ago, and the yacht slip where the Steeles “discovered” a gambling operation. The
fact that Daniel and Remington had set it up to flush out a murderer didn’t seem important enough to
point out to Janet--but it did provide another handy location to trot the cameras out and hold another
brief interview.
It wasn’t until the third stop on Tuesday that Laura spied Remington dressed as an auto mechanic as he
pretended to mess with the engine of a random car parked on the street. She nearly lost her train of
thought when he pulled out a spark plug and held it up to the sun.
She’d never figured out exactly how much he knew about cars, but he noticed her lapse and concealed a
grin as he bent under the hood again.
Janet helped by asking another question. “Laura, tell us how the agency has changed in the past five
years.”
Boy, that’s a loaded question! “As you know, Mr. Steele and I developed a partnership after the first
few years. We still prefer to work together whenever possible. As we’ve grown, we’ve added three
detectives to our arsenal. Mildred Krebs has been a boon to our agency since she began five years ago--
giving us a solid reputation for solving white collar crimes. The security side of our business has grown
exponentially as well. Mr. Steele personally designs the security systems and has become an innovative
industry leader in outwitting potential thieves.”
“What about you, Mrs. Steele? How has your role changed?”
Laura had spent a great deal of time thinking of ways to field that question when it came. “When
Remington Steele Investigations opened, Mr. Steele relied on me heavily for the day-to-day operations of
the agency--the bread and butter clients, if you will. Within a few years, we partnered on nearly every
case. In the last two years though, as we’ve expanded, I’ve taken on the bulk of supervising the new
agents. Mr. Steele has focused on the security side of the business. We still take on the toughest of
cases together and love every minute of it.”
“With Mr. Steele’s daughter living with you, what kinds of changes have you made to accommodate
her?” Janet asked.
“We’re parents first. Our daughter means everything to us. We schedule our days to allow for school
and other events. It’s a balancing act, but one that we gladly take on.” With humor, she added, “I think
we get a little less sleep and worry a little more, but that comes with the territory. I don’t imagine that
will be getting any better any time soon.” She looked down at her belly, and Janet had to stifle a laugh.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the answering gleam in Remington’s as he overheard the exchange.
Wednesday was easier as Laura had seen his “Johnny Todd” character several times before, but
Thursday morning had her stumped. Whatever disguise he wore fooled her completely.
When he met her at the penthouse after picking up Siobhán from school that afternoon, he wore his usual
elegant suit and had shaved away his afternoon shadow of a beard in preparation for the photo session.
Siobhán dashed into her room for a change of clothes and to freshen up.
Laura had worried that Siobhán might resent being “used” for a publicity photograph, but her daughter
had come to adore having her picture taken. From time to time, Remington would pull out his own
camera to take pictures of his “two girls.” His favorite hung on the wall of their bedroom--one where
they had been at the beach at the end of the summer. Laura had worn a white swimsuit at his request.
She’d sat on the sand, stretching out her legs as she tilted her face to the sun and let her hair stream
down her back in riotous waves.
He’d told her he’d intended to take one outrageously sexy picture of her while pregnant. But while Laura
settled on the beach, Siobhán had asked to touch her belly for the first time. At Laura’s nod, she’d sat
down on the sand with her legs off to one side and delicately laid a hand on her mom's rounding tummy.
Siobhán’s hair had blown to the side and streamed down in its own mass of curls.
Remington had personally developed the image in the darkroom he set up in their bathroom and had it
framed. More than once Laura had found him studying it with a curious curve to his lips. Fascinated by
the sheer beauty of the portrait, Siobhán had asked for her own copy and kept it in a smaller frame on
her desk.
Now the trio posed comfortably for Janet’s crew in their own living room.
When they finished, Laura crossed to shake hands with the reporter. “Janet, this has been a lovely
experience. I look forward to your show.”
“It should air on Wednesday morning. It’s a slow news week, and this will spark quite a bit of interest
before the holiday. We’re thrilled to work with you.”
“And I with you. We look forward to the follow-up in the spring.”
As soon as Remington returned from seeing the reporter and camera crew to their car, he and Siobhán
began packing for their trip. The doorman buzzed them a few moments later.
“Yes?”
“A Mr. Roselli to see you.”
“Send him up.”
Laura wasn’t happy having him back in their home, but they’d needed his help again getting Siobhán a
passport in her new name on such short notice. The elevator opened. Tony Roselli strode into the foyer
wearing jeans and a scuffed brown bomber jacket.
Remington walked up behind Laura just as she opened the foyer doors. Remington's voice was hard.
“Antony.”
“Steele.” They didn’t bother shaking hands, exchanging curt nods instead.
Laura sighed. These two men would always have a certain amount of animosity between them. Not that
she could blame either of them. Tony wasn’t exactly her favorite person either.
“What’s with the news team? Can’t get enough of the limelight, Steele?”
Laura crossed her arms. “Don’t start. Do us all a favor and try to remember that we own a detective
agency. Things aren’t always as they appear.”
“Yeah. I got that one already,” Roselli muttered. Then he looked hard at her figure. “Good God,
Laura. Do you really think this is a good time for Steele to take a little side trip?”
She glared at him. “As a matter of fact, no, I don’t. But none of us had much say in the matter. Did
you bring her passport?”
“I did.” He withdrew it from his coat pocket, and Laura took it from him.
“Siobhán Elspeth Steele,” she read aloud as the owner of that name wandered out.
“Yes?”
Tony did a double-take. Laura realized he hadn’t seen the teen since she’d had her little makeover and
gained a great deal of confidence. With a burnished tan, spiraling sun-streaked light brown hair and
enormous silver eyes, at five foot eight, the teen could pass for a model.
“Jesus Christ, Steele,” was all he said.
Remington wasn’t very discrete. “Thank you, Antony. We appreciate your help. I think you’re done
now. Go home.” He patted the other man firmly on the back and practically shoved him into the
elevator.
When the elevator doors closed, Siobhán turned to Laura. “Ewww! He thought I was cute. And he’s
old!”
Laura began laughing helplessly as she brought her arm around Siobhán’s waist. Remington followed suit
on the other side. He squeezed her shoulders as he said, “Don’t worry, a stór; I think you’ll be safe
from his clutches.”
“Can I see my passport?”
“Of course.” Laura handed her the blue ID.
“Siobhán Elspeth Steele,” she repeated. “Cool.” She squinted up at Remington. “Da? We really have
to go?”
He shrugged. “No. I’m testament to the idea that one can travel light through life, without pictures and
keepsakes. However, I can tell you that from time to time I wish I had a memento or two of those who
meant something to me. I do treasure the ones I’ve collected in the past few years, though I doubt I’ll
ever accumulate many. Still, I should have liked the opportunity to pick and choose.”
Grimacing, Siobhán nodded and handed the passport to him. “I’m almost done packing, then. Can we
eat? I’m starving.”
“I’ll make dinner while you two finish,” Laura offered. Remington and Siobhán exchanged apprehensive
looks, which turned into laughter when she shook her head at both of them. “Be nice to the chef or
you’ll both be eating peanut butter sandwiches.”
“It would be a step up from your grilled cheese.” He stole a kiss on her cheek as she let out a short curse
of frustration.
In reality, her cooking had come a long way in nearly three years of living with Remington. For one, the
freshest of ingredients had a great deal to do with improving the flavor of the recipes she did know how
to make. For another, he kept a variety of foods such as cooked marinated chicken or turkey prepped in
the refrigerator. Laura could put together any number of dishes with those as a base. Making dinner was
still something of a chore for her, but Remington had found ways to make it less of one--partially out of
desperation when he’d discovered that she would contentedly eat a bowl of cereal for dinner when
cooking failed to interest her.
She had learned to make a real Alfredo sauce for his birthday a couple of years ago. She made it now to
celebrate it again, stirring the sauce carefully as the fettuccine happily boiled. Thinking ahead, she added
an extra handful of pasta so she would have leftovers while they were in Ireland.
“Smells fabulous, Mrs. Steele.”
“Does it beat my grilled cheese?”
“By a long shot, love.” With his fingertips, he drew lightly down her neck before fastening his lips and
sucking delicately for a moment. Then he brushed the mark away. “You know … I don’t think I’ve
told anyone this, but I’m going to miss you. We haven’t been apart for more than a night here and there
since our wedding. I don’t like it.”
Shivering at the feel of his breath on her neck, she turned in his arms to meet his kiss. “I don’t either.
Especially not now,” she admitted.
He leaned back as she turned away to move the sauce off the burner and drop the heat to the pasta down
a notch. “Laura--”
She came back, putting a hand to his lips. “It can’t be helped; I know that. I’m glad that you two are
going to Ireland and getting away from whoever is sending us the pictures. We both know that this trip
has to happen. But I am frightened, Rei. I’d rather be going with you--even if it means going … back.”
“Will you stay with Frances this weekend?”
“I’m thinking I might. Until we have a chance to develop the pictures and figure this thing out, I
don’t--” She hesitated on the words.
“Don’t what, Laura?”
Looking anywhere but at him, she admitted, “I don’t want to be alone.”
He caught her in a tight hug, made awkward because of her belly.
Laura and Siobhán sang “Happy Birthday” to Remington in a quiet celebration only for the three of
them. The trio split the small cake Siobhán had made--beating anything Laura might attempt by several
miles. Siobhán gave him a tie as a father-daughter joke, but he liked it well enough to declare he’d wear
it at the first opportunity, making Siobhán smile in delight. Laura insisted that he couldn’t have his
present from her until tomorrow. After all the years of Remington's not knowing his birthdate, now that
they had his birth certificate, she'd made a point of having a private celebration exactly on the second of
December.
That night, Remington held Laura closer than usual after their lovemaking. He stretched out so that his
body touched her back side from her feet to her head. It was the only way they could get close enough
at this stage of her pregnancy. With hardly six weeks to go, her belly didn’t let her lie draped across him,
or him on her. But this would do for now. It reminded him of the first time they consciously shared a
bed at Ashford Castle. Laura had been shy about crawling under the covers with him, and they had
nestled like this then too.
For a couple of hours, Remington stayed awake, worrying about their mysterious photographer and the
challenges to be faced in Ireland.
Then Laura reached behind her and caressed his cheek. “Go to sleep, love. Tuesday will be here soon
enough, and you’ll be home.”
Closing his eyes, he did.
8 November 2009
Chapter Eighteen: Setbacks
Tuesday, 30 November 1988 -- 35 weeks, 5 days
For the next three days, after initial interviews with Ian and the agency’s detectives, Laura and Janet
covered what seemed to be most of the city of Los Angeles.
While Remington assumed various guises and snapped discrete photos of anyone in the vicinity, Laura
took Janet on a fictional trail of clues, making stops at the coroner’s office, photo lab, and police
departments along the way. At each place, Janet conducted a detailed interview, asking how the business
played a role in providing information to the detective.
Laura also reminisced about various cases, pointing out the park where they recovered a diamond
necklace, the Channel 3 TV studio from which Janet hailed and the Steeles uncovered a murderer on live
television several years ago, and the yacht slip where the Steeles “discovered” a gambling operation. The
fact that Daniel and Remington had set it up to flush out a murderer didn’t seem important enough to
point out to Janet--but it did provide another handy location to trot the cameras out and hold another
brief interview.
It wasn’t until the third stop on Tuesday that Laura spied Remington dressed as an auto mechanic as he
pretended to mess with the engine of a random car parked on the street. She nearly lost her train of
thought when he pulled out a spark plug and held it up to the sun.
She’d never figured out exactly how much he knew about cars, but he noticed her lapse and concealed a
grin as he bent under the hood again.
Janet helped by asking another question. “Laura, tell us how the agency has changed in the past five
years.”
Boy, that’s a loaded question! “As you know, Mr. Steele and I developed a partnership after the first
few years. We still prefer to work together whenever possible. As we’ve grown, we’ve added three
detectives to our arsenal. Mildred Krebs has been a boon to our agency since she began five years ago--
giving us a solid reputation for solving white collar crimes. The security side of our business has grown
exponentially as well. Mr. Steele personally designs the security systems and has become an innovative
industry leader in outwitting potential thieves.”
“What about you, Mrs. Steele? How has your role changed?”
Laura had spent a great deal of time thinking of ways to field that question when it came. “When
Remington Steele Investigations opened, Mr. Steele relied on me heavily for the day-to-day operations of
the agency--the bread and butter clients, if you will. Within a few years, we partnered on nearly every
case. In the last two years though, as we’ve expanded, I’ve taken on the bulk of supervising the new
agents. Mr. Steele has focused on the security side of the business. We still take on the toughest of
cases together and love every minute of it.”
“With Mr. Steele’s daughter living with you, what kinds of changes have you made to accommodate
her?” Janet asked.
“We’re parents first. Our daughter means everything to us. We schedule our days to allow for school
and other events. It’s a balancing act, but one that we gladly take on.” With humor, she added, “I think
we get a little less sleep and worry a little more, but that comes with the territory. I don’t imagine that
will be getting any better any time soon.” She looked down at her belly, and Janet had to stifle a laugh.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the answering gleam in Remington’s as he overheard the exchange.
Wednesday was easier as Laura had seen his “Johnny Todd” character several times before, but
Thursday morning had her stumped. Whatever disguise he wore fooled her completely.
When he met her at the penthouse after picking up Siobhán from school that afternoon, he wore his usual
elegant suit and had shaved away his afternoon shadow of a beard in preparation for the photo session.
Siobhán dashed into her room for a change of clothes and to freshen up.
Laura had worried that Siobhán might resent being “used” for a publicity photograph, but her daughter
had come to adore having her picture taken. From time to time, Remington would pull out his own
camera to take pictures of his “two girls.” His favorite hung on the wall of their bedroom--one where
they had been at the beach at the end of the summer. Laura had worn a white swimsuit at his request.
She’d sat on the sand, stretching out her legs as she tilted her face to the sun and let her hair stream
down her back in riotous waves.
He’d told her he’d intended to take one outrageously sexy picture of her while pregnant. But while Laura
settled on the beach, Siobhán had asked to touch her belly for the first time. At Laura’s nod, she’d sat
down on the sand with her legs off to one side and delicately laid a hand on her mom's rounding tummy.
Siobhán’s hair had blown to the side and streamed down in its own mass of curls.
Remington had personally developed the image in the darkroom he set up in their bathroom and had it
framed. More than once Laura had found him studying it with a curious curve to his lips. Fascinated by
the sheer beauty of the portrait, Siobhán had asked for her own copy and kept it in a smaller frame on
her desk.
Now the trio posed comfortably for Janet’s crew in their own living room.
When they finished, Laura crossed to shake hands with the reporter. “Janet, this has been a lovely
experience. I look forward to your show.”
“It should air on Wednesday morning. It’s a slow news week, and this will spark quite a bit of interest
before the holiday. We’re thrilled to work with you.”
“And I with you. We look forward to the follow-up in the spring.”
As soon as Remington returned from seeing the reporter and camera crew to their car, he and Siobhán
began packing for their trip. The doorman buzzed them a few moments later.
“Yes?”
“A Mr. Roselli to see you.”
“Send him up.”
Laura wasn’t happy having him back in their home, but they’d needed his help again getting Siobhán a
passport in her new name on such short notice. The elevator opened. Tony Roselli strode into the foyer
wearing jeans and a scuffed brown bomber jacket.
Remington walked up behind Laura just as she opened the foyer doors. Remington's voice was hard.
“Antony.”
“Steele.” They didn’t bother shaking hands, exchanging curt nods instead.
Laura sighed. These two men would always have a certain amount of animosity between them. Not that
she could blame either of them. Tony wasn’t exactly her favorite person either.
“What’s with the news team? Can’t get enough of the limelight, Steele?”
Laura crossed her arms. “Don’t start. Do us all a favor and try to remember that we own a detective
agency. Things aren’t always as they appear.”
“Yeah. I got that one already,” Roselli muttered. Then he looked hard at her figure. “Good God,
Laura. Do you really think this is a good time for Steele to take a little side trip?”
She glared at him. “As a matter of fact, no, I don’t. But none of us had much say in the matter. Did
you bring her passport?”
“I did.” He withdrew it from his coat pocket, and Laura took it from him.
“Siobhán Elspeth Steele,” she read aloud as the owner of that name wandered out.
“Yes?”
Tony did a double-take. Laura realized he hadn’t seen the teen since she’d had her little makeover and
gained a great deal of confidence. With a burnished tan, spiraling sun-streaked light brown hair and
enormous silver eyes, at five foot eight, the teen could pass for a model.
“Jesus Christ, Steele,” was all he said.
Remington wasn’t very discrete. “Thank you, Antony. We appreciate your help. I think you’re done
now. Go home.” He patted the other man firmly on the back and practically shoved him into the
elevator.
When the elevator doors closed, Siobhán turned to Laura. “Ewww! He thought I was cute. And he’s
old!”
Laura began laughing helplessly as she brought her arm around Siobhán’s waist. Remington followed suit
on the other side. He squeezed her shoulders as he said, “Don’t worry, a stór; I think you’ll be safe
from his clutches.”
“Can I see my passport?”
“Of course.” Laura handed her the blue ID.
“Siobhán Elspeth Steele,” she repeated. “Cool.” She squinted up at Remington. “Da? We really have
to go?”
He shrugged. “No. I’m testament to the idea that one can travel light through life, without pictures and
keepsakes. However, I can tell you that from time to time I wish I had a memento or two of those who
meant something to me. I do treasure the ones I’ve collected in the past few years, though I doubt I’ll
ever accumulate many. Still, I should have liked the opportunity to pick and choose.”
Grimacing, Siobhán nodded and handed the passport to him. “I’m almost done packing, then. Can we
eat? I’m starving.”
“I’ll make dinner while you two finish,” Laura offered. Remington and Siobhán exchanged apprehensive
looks, which turned into laughter when she shook her head at both of them. “Be nice to the chef or
you’ll both be eating peanut butter sandwiches.”
“It would be a step up from your grilled cheese.” He stole a kiss on her cheek as she let out a short curse
of frustration.
In reality, her cooking had come a long way in nearly three years of living with Remington. For one, the
freshest of ingredients had a great deal to do with improving the flavor of the recipes she did know how
to make. For another, he kept a variety of foods such as cooked marinated chicken or turkey prepped in
the refrigerator. Laura could put together any number of dishes with those as a base. Making dinner was
still something of a chore for her, but Remington had found ways to make it less of one--partially out of
desperation when he’d discovered that she would contentedly eat a bowl of cereal for dinner when
cooking failed to interest her.
She had learned to make a real Alfredo sauce for his birthday a couple of years ago. She made it now to
celebrate it again, stirring the sauce carefully as the fettuccine happily boiled. Thinking ahead, she added
an extra handful of pasta so she would have leftovers while they were in Ireland.
“Smells fabulous, Mrs. Steele.”
“Does it beat my grilled cheese?”
“By a long shot, love.” With his fingertips, he drew lightly down her neck before fastening his lips and
sucking delicately for a moment. Then he brushed the mark away. “You know … I don’t think I’ve
told anyone this, but I’m going to miss you. We haven’t been apart for more than a night here and there
since our wedding. I don’t like it.”
Shivering at the feel of his breath on her neck, she turned in his arms to meet his kiss. “I don’t either.
Especially not now,” she admitted.
He leaned back as she turned away to move the sauce off the burner and drop the heat to the pasta down
a notch. “Laura--”
She came back, putting a hand to his lips. “It can’t be helped; I know that. I’m glad that you two are
going to Ireland and getting away from whoever is sending us the pictures. We both know that this trip
has to happen. But I am frightened, Rei. I’d rather be going with you--even if it means going … back.”
“Will you stay with Frances this weekend?”
“I’m thinking I might. Until we have a chance to develop the pictures and figure this thing out, I
don’t--” She hesitated on the words.
“Don’t what, Laura?”
Looking anywhere but at him, she admitted, “I don’t want to be alone.”
He caught her in a tight hug, made awkward because of her belly.
Laura and Siobhán sang “Happy Birthday” to Remington in a quiet celebration only for the three of
them. The trio split the small cake Siobhán had made--beating anything Laura might attempt by several
miles. Siobhán gave him a tie as a father-daughter joke, but he liked it well enough to declare he’d wear
it at the first opportunity, making Siobhán smile in delight. Laura insisted that he couldn’t have his
present from her until tomorrow. After all the years of Remington's not knowing his birthdate, now that
they had his birth certificate, she'd made a point of having a private celebration exactly on the second of
December.
That night, Remington held Laura closer than usual after their lovemaking. He stretched out so that his
body touched her back side from her feet to her head. It was the only way they could get close enough
at this stage of her pregnancy. With hardly six weeks to go, her belly didn’t let her lie draped across him,
or him on her. But this would do for now. It reminded him of the first time they consciously shared a
bed at Ashford Castle. Laura had been shy about crawling under the covers with him, and they had
nestled like this then too.
For a couple of hours, Remington stayed awake, worrying about their mysterious photographer and the
challenges to be faced in Ireland.
Then Laura reached behind her and caressed his cheek. “Go to sleep, love. Tuesday will be here soon
enough, and you’ll be home.”
Closing his eyes, he did.
8 November 2009
Chapter Eighteen: Setbacks