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 Eighteen: Setbacks
Friday, 2 December 1988 -- 36 weeks, 1 day
Watching Remington and Siobhán board the airplane to Dublin mid-morning left Laura feeling bereft.
She’d slipped her husband’s birthday present into his carry-on that morning. She didn’t think he’d
noticed, but certainly he would remember that she hadn’t given him a gift this morning.
Per her usual modus operandus when at loose ends, she directed Fred to the agency, hoping that Ian had
stacked her appointment book today.
Unfortunately, her calendar was as clean as a whistle except for her appointment at one with the
obstetrician. The holiday season had officially kicked in for the agency, and the work would remain slow
until January. Annoyed, she handed the rolls of film Remington had taken to Sandra and asked her to
have them developed. Grateful for something to do, the other detective snatched up her hot pink purse
and disappeared out the front door.
While she was gone, Laura sorted through the three files on her own desk and determined again that
nothing could be done on them until after Christmas. Similar sorting on Remington’s desk came up with
the same results.
When the mail came forty-five minutes later, she strolled out to intercept the stack, hoping to find
something to do. She took the three bills, a catalog for security systems and a large envelope with her
name on it back to her desk.
She opened the envelope first, and dozens of pictures spilled out. Remington graced those photos, in
every disguise he’d assumed in those three days. With shaking hands, she put down the pictures, shoved
everything to the side and put her head on the desk. Three minutes later, she rediscovered the attitude
that had allowed her to build Remington Steele Investigations from a figment of her imagination. She
yanked the photos in front of her and began looking for clues.
Sandra returned with the pictures Mr. Steele had taken while in disguise and handed them off as Laura
headed out for her doctor’s appointment.
While Fred drove, Laura flipped through the stack, looking for someone taking pictures. But the culprit
had Remington’s number. Was he or she smart enough to avoid Rei's camera? Who in the hell could
this be?
Frustrated at the lack of answers, she meticulously replaced the pictures in their folders as Fred stopped
in front of the medical office building at Cedars-Sinai.
Laura paced in the waiting room, tapping her fingers on her elbow while she waited. Rei had missed only
two appointments so far; this would be the third. He’d been none too happy about it, but with the
cameras around yesterday, rescheduling wasn’t a consideration.
The nurse, a shy brunette with a lovely low-pitched voice, called, “Laura Steele?”
“Hi.”
“Hello. You know the drill?”
“Do I have to step on the scale?” Laura complained.
“Always. But you can take your shoes off,” the nurse, named “Cassidy” according to her badge, offered.
She did. “Twenty-seven pounds. I’ve gained twenty-seven pounds,” she moaned.
The nurse chuckled. “You’re on track to gain about thirty-two total. That’s about right, Mrs. Steele.
You were very small before getting pregnant.”
Mentally berating herself for the twice weekly ice cream trips, Laura tightened her resolve to eliminate
them. She followed the nurse into the exam room and sat in the pink chair for her blood pressure test.
“This is getting routine, isn’t it?” Cassidy asked as she placed the cuff around her arm.
“Yes. Four weeks to go.” While the machine puffed and hissed, Laura mulled over the clues they had
so far.
“Mrs. Steele?” Cassidy asked when the machine finished. “Can I do that again?”
“Uh, sure.” This time Laura watched in silence as the cuff tightened and loosened.
The nurse made several notations on her clipboard. “Thanks. Dr. Berger will be here in a few minutes.”
Laura fiddled with her wedding ring while she waited. Noting the time on her watch, she estimated that
Remington and Siobhán were somewhere off the eastern seaboard at this moment, heading over the
Atlantic Ocean. She wondered if Rei had found his present yet.
“Laura, how are you today?” Dr. Berger, with her wide grin and grey-streaked blond hair, projected
reassurance and confidence. Laura liked her a great deal and was grateful to Frances for the referral.
“Very well, thank you.”
“Uh oh. What’s got you uptight?” The older woman perused the chart with a grimace.
“What do you mean?”
She raised her eyebrows and tapped the chart. “Your blood pressure is quite elevated for you. Normally
you have excellent numbers, but last week your BP jumped, and today it's even higher. Now, I wouldn’t
ordinarily be concerned with this figure, except that it’s a significant change for you. So what’s
happening?”
Laura crossed her arms again. “Oh, uh. Remington had to take an unexpected trip this morning. He’ll
be back on Tuesday.”
“That explains today, Mrs. Steele, but what has been happening in the past two weeks?”
Shrugging a little, she looked away. “We have a case; it’s not an easy one, and it’s making both of us
nervous. We’re trying to get it wrapped up, but the clues have been few and far between.”
Dr. Berger’s eyebrows flew up again. “You said Mr. Steele is out of town?” Laura nodded. “Then I’m
going to prescribe bed rest. I want to see you again on Tuesday. If your numbers are still this high, we
might be looking at staying in bed for the rest of your pregnancy.”
Shocked, Laura echoed, “Bed rest? Whatever for?”
“Stress can bring on early labor. We don’t need that. Let’s try it for a few days and see if that will take
care of it.”
“But I have a business to run!”
Dr. Berger looked askance at her. “What are you planning to do when the baby is born? Look at this as
a trial to see how your office runs without you. Now … since Mr. Steele is out of town, who are you
going to call to come help you?”
Mouth opening and closing like a fish, Laura could only stare at the doctor. Finally, she said, “I’ll call my
sister. I was planning to spend the weekend with her.”
“Good. You can do that before you leave here. Go home, get what you need, then get in bed and stay
there. You are allowed to get up for the bathroom and to shower and that’s all,” she emphasized. “No
working on cases. Until Tuesday, Mrs. Steele, give yourself a break. Now, let’s get your exam done.”
Laura scooted up onto the table to lie uncomfortably on her back. Dr. Berger brought out the Doppler
instrument and the gel. The high-pitched thumping never failed to make her smile even as she worried
over how to tell Remington about this latest development.
“Sounds good, Laura. The baby’s heart is strong. Let’s keep it that way.”
“I will.”
“Good. Call your sister and let’s get that blood pressure back to normal.
While Fred drove her to the penthouse, Laura dialed.
“Hi, Frances. Do you still want me for the weekend? … I might not be much company. …”
Within two hours, Frances had her little sister ensconced in the guest bedroom. Laura looked at the
clock and missed Remington.
Kaleb stopped by Mildred’s office as she packed up for the day. “Ms. Krebs?”
“Yes, hon?”
“I’ve still got these pictures Mr. Steele had me take. They’ve been developed, but Mrs. Steele hasn’t
been back yet. What should I do with them?”
“Leave them on her desk. I’m sure she’ll be in over the weekend. She usually likes to pick up the mail
on Saturdays.”
“Sure thing, Ms. Krebs.”
By the time the airplane touched down in Dublin, Remington had discovered a whole new side to his
daughter. For months, he’d been congratulating himself on her easy transition into her new life. The five
months she’d been with them hadn’t been easy as they'd all had to make adjustments, but they hadn’t
been that difficult either.
He should have seen it coming. Siobhán had ventured to express her displeasure over this trip more than
once … in her shy, non-confrontational way. He thought he’d done an admirable job in soothing her
over.
Obviously, he was wrong. Her mutinous pout made it all too clear: she had little interest in making this
trip. They’d made light conversation as they left Los Angeles. She’d expressed a token interest in the
birthday present he’d found in his carry-on from Laura, but by the time they left American air space four
hours later, Siobhán had lapsed into an irritated silence. She’d briefly napped in the “afternoon” while he
did his own fair share of brooding on the flight over, uneasy at the idea of stepping foot in either of their
destinations.
She’d grown increasingly cranky as they crossed time zones. What should have been bedtime was
instead a change of planes in Paris. The next short flight didn’t allow for anything more than a catnap,
and by the time they touched down in Dublin, the morning sun graced the skies.
Like Siobhán, Remington hadn’t been able to sleep for more than a moment or two despite the comfort
of flying in first class. He blew out his breath, thinking of the long day they had ahead of them.
Eyes shadowed, Siobhán sulked and put her chin in her hand as she stared out the window. The seat
belt sign blinked off. Remington rose to gather their luggage from the overhead bins.
The baggage went on the floor, and he touched her cheek. “Come on,” he chivied. “It will be nice not
to wear the plane for a while.”
“I don’t want to go.” Siobhán’s grey eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms firmly in front of her.
More than ready to check into the hotel and call Laura, Remington’s curt tone emphasized his own
weariness. “Siobhán, we can’t stay here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Ah, bugger me. I don’t have time for a snit fit. “Excellent. You won’t mind me pawing through your
underthings at Carlisle's while I pack them up, will you?”
“You wouldn’t!” she accused, horrified by the prospect.
“A stór, there’s not much I haven’t done. Wouldn’t bother me in the least.” Actually, it would, but you
don’t need to know that. “Siobhán, berate me in the car all you want. Yell at me over breakfast. At
least let me get out of this airplane so I can stand up straight while you do it.” His levity must have
annoyed her because she snatched up her purse and her bag, stomping off the plane in a hurry. He
grabbed his own case and followed, grateful that she was moving along in any case.
In sullen silence, she walked beside him to hail a taxi outside the terminal. When they checked into the
hotel, the concierge handed him a message: Staying with Frances. Call whenever you arrive. Laura.
Glancing at his watch, he calculated it was still in the very small hours of the morning in LA. Siobhán
ignored him all the way to their suite and slammed the door to her room. He hoped she would take a
short nap while he made the necessary arrangements for the afternoon. Taking Laura at her word, he
dialed the Pipers’ number.
On the first ring, Laura answered. “Hello?”
He smiled, as he nearly always did when he heard her voice. “Hello, love.”
“Rei. You’re there.” She sounded relieved. “How was the flight?”
“Too damned long. Even longer when one has to sit with a miffed daughter the entire way.” He turned
to the window and drew back the curtain to see downtown Dublin staring back at him.
“Did you talk?”
“Not really. It seems she didn’t care for my charming banter. I’m not certain if the Walkman was a
good idea. She stuck the headphones on and ignored me for most of the flight.”
Laura laughed softly. “Sounds like a bored teenager. Did she sleep at all?”
“Some, but I think we’re in for a long day.” He scrubbed his face in his own weariness.
“What time is it there?”
“Not quite eleven in the morning. I’m hoping she sleeps for a bit, and then we’ll have lunch before going
to Johnny’s house. The solicitor and the court representative will be there at two.”
“Will you be all right?” The sincerity in her voice carried across the Atlantic and warmed him.
Exhaling slowly, he replied, “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Staring out the window again, he
picked out the streets and buildings that had served as his “range” the various times he’d lived here. “I
didn’t think I’d come back to Ireland.”
“At all?” she said in surprise.
“Only if you had wanted to come back. It’s not been full of pleasant memories of late. At the moment,
even Ashford Castle has lost some of its appeal.”
“I love you, Rei.”
“Ah, Laura--” he started.
“I know,” she interrupted.
He needed to change the subject before he became maudlin as old recollections crowded his mind. “I
should ask how you and the tyke are doing? Oh, and I found my birthday present. I like it. Thank you,
love.”
“I thought you might. We’re okay. We had our appointment this afternoon, and now we’re camping out
with Donald and Frances. I swear Frances is waiting on me hand and foot. It’s annoying.” Remington
scowled, hearing something in her voice but unable to put a finger on it as she continued, “I tried to look
through the pictures today, but she fussed at me for working.”
“Laura, if you’re with Frances, there’s no need to worry. We’ll deal with it together when I return.
Whoever it is can’t reach either of us at the moment.”
She stayed quiet for a moment before affirming, “Fred promises we weren’t followed. He did a lot of
maneuvering and backtracking to make certain.”
“Then you’re as safe as you can be. I know your sister will drive you insane before I come home, but
please, stay there … for me if not for you.”
“I will.”
Again, Remington detected something in her voice. “Love, are you all right?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I miss you. It’s hard to sleep when you’re across the Atlantic.”
“Try anyway.” He didn’t buy that explanation, even as he was sure of its truth.
“I will. Will you call me later?”
“Of course. I’ll call you this evening … ah, twelve hours from now.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Give Siobhán a hug for me.”
“I will once she starts speaking to me once more.”
Soft laughter again. “I don’t envy you. She’s been due for a meltdown for a while.”
“Yes, but did she have to do it on my watch?”
“I’m sure I’ll have my turn.”
“I love you, Laura.”
“I know.”
It took him another minute to say goodbye and put the phone down. His fingers rested on the receiver
for a moment before he could lift them away and begin unpacking his baggage. After that, two more
phone calls solidified their arrangements for the afternoon.
A quick peek into Siobhán’s room confirmed she slept soundly. She hadn’t bothered to kick off her
shoes. He did that for her, slipping them from her feet before covering her with the light blanket he drew
down from the shelf in her closet.
He tried to sleep. By LA time, it was nearly four in the morning, but he lay on the bed in nervous
anticipation of walking through the halls of a house he hadn’t seen in nearly three decades. Closing his
eyes, he tried to recall what he could of Johnny’s manor, but only vague memories of a light, clean room
and a warm place to sleep came to mind.
A half hour later, he gratefully gave up the idea of sleeping to sluice off the airplane dirt under the jets of
the warm shower. That, combined with fresh clothes and a hot cup of tea, helped him to shake off the
weariness.
A gentle rap on the door roused Siobhán. He knew the hour she'd had wasn’t nearly enough, but it
would have to do for now.
He waited for her to brush her hair and apply a touch of lip gloss. She glared at him before snatching up
her purse and walking to the front door. Arching a brow at her back, he trailed along in her wake.
Apparently, she’d paid a little too much attention to Laura in one of her irritable tempers.
In the circular driveway of the hotel, Remington slid into the driver’s seat of the Audi he’d decided to
rent while there. The privileges of money, he mused. With enough of it, one could have a private car of
one’s choice delivered where desired. Having been both miserably poor and comfortably wealthy, he
certainly preferred the latter and had done much to ensure he would remain that way. The irony that
Johnny Carlisle bore much of the responsibility for the former didn’t go unnoticed by him.
They stopped at a pub for a quick lunch before driving the short distance to the Carlisle estate on the
edge of Dublin. As he drove them through the gates, Siobhán unbent enough to reach for his hand.
“Da, promise you won’t leave me here?” she asked once more.
He knew the question wasn’t intended to hurt him, but it did. She still had little reason to trust his word.
Wishing he could lean over and give her a hug, the best he could do was to squeeze her hand.
“I promise, Siobhán. Try to remember I purchased two round-trip tickets. Laura will be most put out
with me if one of them goes unused.” He tried for levity, but the teen didn’t respond to his humor as
would Laura. Instead, she lapsed into silence and worried a curl of her hair.
At the enormous gates set into the walls surrounding the manor house, Remington pulled up to the
speaker and pressed the button. “Steele here.”
“Aye, sir. Be but a moment,” came a proper voice from the box. The gates moved ponderously apart.
Remington drove through, stopping in front of the imposing edifice.
Jonathan Andrews, Siobhán’s solicitor, met them at the heavy front doors. Behind him, a nervous
younger man with ashy hair introduced himself as Tim O’Malley, the court representative.
“I’ve brought boxes, Miss Steele,” Andrews said. “I’ll arrange for shipping to your home. Just let Mr.
O’Malley know what you are keeping. If he has a question, set the item aside, and we’ll negotiate later.”
The girl nodded before walking away to her room. Remington took his time following her. He’d
forgotten how beautiful the eighteenth-century manor was … or perhaps hadn’t realized through the eyes
of a young boy. Each room was delicately appointed with lovely antiques and small-but-valuable trinkets
that made the inner thief in him sit up and take notice. It still reminded him of a bloody museum though--
not that he’d been familiar with the concept as a lad. At the time he’d only understood that it was formal
and rather foreboding.
The only part of the house vaguely resembling a home was the small wing where Siobhán had lived. She
could have selected a larger room on the east side of the house, but she’d chosen to stay near the
servants and nursery quarters on the west side. Her room, decorated in lacey pinks, provided the only
bright spot of color in the dull, gray paneled hallway.
Andrews assembled boxes while Siobhán ransacked her closet first, leaving behind all but a few items of
clothing. O’Malley stood near the doorway, checking items off his inventory list and making notations on
another.
Remington frowned at both men. Andrews saw his look, shrugged and stepped out of the room to make
himself comfortable on the hallway settee. O’Malley eased into the doorway itself and propped up the
frame.
Feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the young man standing in his daughter’s room, he arched a brow at
O’Malley. “I’ll tell you what, mate. Why don’t you and Andrews find a place to relax. When Siobhán
is finished with a box, I’ll bring it to you so you can check off your sheet. I don’t particularly think she
needs anyone hovering over her.”
“But I’m supposed to supervise the packing, sir.”
“You really think a fifteen-year-old girl is going to be able to slip past your guard if you sit in the hallway
between here and the front door?” Remington scratched the back of his neck and leveled a hard look at
him. Of course, he failed to mention that at fifteen he could have flitted out a window, scaled the walls
of the house and dropped in again to lift a number of small valuables from nearly anywhere at all.
The other man squirmed. “Ah, yes, sir. I’ll wait with Mr. Andrews.”
“Excellent idea, mate.” He clapped the man on the back and closed the door enough that Siobhán
couldn’t see either of the men.
In the meantime, Siobhán sat on the floor stacking compact discs into the box by her side. Books
followed, along with a worn doll and an ancient stuffed teddy bear.
Remington sat down beside her and retrieved the bear. “Good Lord. Where on earth did you find this?”
Siobhán shrugged. “Housekeeper gave him to me when I was little.”
“Did you give him a name?”
Pinking a little, she nodded. “Corduroy. From the book.”
“I haven’t read that one. Remind me to get a copy for the house.” He looked the bear over, turning it
this way and that before peering into the one remaining brown eye. “I used to worry about this bear,
hoping he would have a good home.”
“He was yours?”
“Mm. Don’t know about that. But I remember hiding under the covers with him at night. Glad to know
he had a good friend.” He placed the bear back into the box.
Siobhán didn’t say anything, only folded the flaps closed and shoved the box out of the way. “I hate this
house,” she declared at last.
“I’ve gathered that. Any particular reason why?” He handed her another box as she opened a drawer
and took out ten or twelve small packages. Remington lifted the lid on one. “Good Lord.” He pulled
out a diamond-encrusted Cartier watch and lifted it to the light. “Did Johnny give this to you?”
“That and all the rest. Every Christmas, every birthday, Johnny would fly in, take me out to dinner and
present me with one of these. I hate jewelry.” She snatched up one of the boxes and threw it across the
room. “I hate it. I hate fake gifts. I hate Johnny. He left me here. No friends. No family. No one to
talk to." She punctuated each statement by winging another box. "All I had was Housekeeper. Johnny
wouldn’t even let me call her by name.” She buried her face on her knees. “Everyone called me Miss
O’Callaghan, not even Miss Carlisle. No one will tell me why.”
“Remind me to take back your Christmas present,” Remington quipped as he set the watch on the floor.
Siobhán looked up, her face drawn even as her eyes stayed dry. “From you it would be different.”
Remington tilted his head quizzically. “Johnny didn’t tell you why your mother brought you to live with
him?”
She shook her head. “I’ve always wondered if he was really my dad. If he was, why don’t I have his
name?”
He pressed his lips together to cool his ire, furious with Johnny again for neglecting this lovely girl.
Slowly he spoke, choosing his words carefully. “I have the answers, Siobhán, but I don’t think this is the
proper time to have this conversation with our guests sitting in the hallway. If you’ll agree, I’ll help you
pack today. Tonight, when we return to the hotel, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Do you promise?” she asked again, as a small child does when they’ve known too many forgotten
promises.
“Of course, Siobhán. Steele’s word is his bond.” He brought up the side of his mouth in remembrance
of the joke between him and Laura. Only now it wasn’t a joke anymore.
Awkwardly she rose, pulling another packing box toward her. “What should I do with this jewelry?”
“Do you like any of it? And I’m speaking fashion-wise, not feeling-wise.” He held up the watch again.
She shrugged again. “Maybe the watch and the diamond studs. But. …”
“But?”
“I don’t want to wear anything from Johnny.”
Recognizing that in her anger she might not have been thinking clearly, he only agreed. “Then leave
them here.” He walked over to pick up the boxes scattered across the far end of the room. One by one,
he piled them on the dresser, palming both the watch and the earrings. He would save them for her in
case she changed her mind one day.
While she packed a few other odds and ends, Remington made excuses and slipped into the hallway with
the two boxes she’d filled.
“O’Malley.”
“Sir.”
Tugging at his ear, he casually commented, “There’s some rather valuable jewelry in her room.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give it all to Andrews after we leave. I want it and anything else she leaves behind to be liquidated. I’
m keeping these two pieces for her.” He showed both of them the watch and the earrings. “She might
regret leaving them behind one day.”
Andrews nodded. “What do you want to do with the cash?”
“Set up a trust for her. It’s to be hers when she comes of age, no questions asked.” The solicitor
nodded again and made notes in his planner.
Remington turned back to O’Malley. “What is she entitled to out of the rest of the house?”
The young man cleared his throat. “Photos, or anything obviously personal, are hers. Everything else is
at my discretion. The bulk of it has to stay here for auction. Please be reasonable, Mr. Steele. It will
make this process easier for all of us.”
Remington scowled. “I’m not interested in dragging out this process for anyone, least of all Siobhán.”
It only took another hour for the teen to finish packing her room and O’Malley to complete his
inventory. By then, jet lag had caught up with the father and daughter pair. Remington called a halt for
the day.
“We’ll go through the rest of the house tomorrow, gentlemen.”
Siobhán half-dozed on the way back to the hotel. Remington didn’t bother stopping for dinner. Instead,
they ordered from room service. While they waited, she showered and dressed for bed. She sat cross-
legged on the little couch, eating a sandwich when it arrived.
“I promised you a conversation, a stór.”
“I’m tired, Da.”
Thank God. “Then we’ll have it tomorrow.”
She finished only half her meal before crawling into bed. Remington hardly had time to pat her on the
shoulder and kiss her temple before she slept soundly.
He slid under the covers of his own bed before reaching for the phone. He punched in the numbers to
the Piper house.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Frances. How are you?”
“Oh, wonderful, Remington. I’m sure you want to speak with Laura.”
“I’d like that.”
“Hold on. Let me walk the phone to her.”
That sounded odd, but when Laura’s voice came on the line, he forgot to ask why. “Rei?”
“Hello, love.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am. Siobhán’s already asleep.”
“Why aren’t you?”
The sound of her voice lulled him. He closed his eyes to listen. “Can’t without you,” he mumbled.
“Hmm … that’s a lovely thought. But I think Dr. Laura has just the thing for you.”
“What’s that?”
Softly, for his ears only, she began singing, “Moonlight and love songs … never out of date … hearts full
of passion, jealousy and hate .. woman needs man, and man must have his mate … it’s still the same old
story, a fight for love and glory, a case of do or die ... the world will always welcome lovers … as time
goes by.”
Only silence followed. “Hang up the telephone, Mr. Steele.”
“Mmm … sure, Miss Holt.” He rolled over to place the phone on the cradle and dropped into a
dreamless sleep.
8 November 2009
Chapter Nineteen: Secrets
Friday, 2 December 1988 -- 36 weeks, 1 day
Watching Remington and Siobhán board the airplane to Dublin mid-morning left Laura feeling bereft.
She’d slipped her husband’s birthday present into his carry-on that morning. She didn’t think he’d
noticed, but certainly he would remember that she hadn’t given him a gift this morning.
Per her usual modus operandus when at loose ends, she directed Fred to the agency, hoping that Ian had
stacked her appointment book today.
Unfortunately, her calendar was as clean as a whistle except for her appointment at one with the
obstetrician. The holiday season had officially kicked in for the agency, and the work would remain slow
until January. Annoyed, she handed the rolls of film Remington had taken to Sandra and asked her to
have them developed. Grateful for something to do, the other detective snatched up her hot pink purse
and disappeared out the front door.
While she was gone, Laura sorted through the three files on her own desk and determined again that
nothing could be done on them until after Christmas. Similar sorting on Remington’s desk came up with
the same results.
When the mail came forty-five minutes later, she strolled out to intercept the stack, hoping to find
something to do. She took the three bills, a catalog for security systems and a large envelope with her
name on it back to her desk.
She opened the envelope first, and dozens of pictures spilled out. Remington graced those photos, in
every disguise he’d assumed in those three days. With shaking hands, she put down the pictures, shoved
everything to the side and put her head on the desk. Three minutes later, she rediscovered the attitude
that had allowed her to build Remington Steele Investigations from a figment of her imagination. She
yanked the photos in front of her and began looking for clues.
Sandra returned with the pictures Mr. Steele had taken while in disguise and handed them off as Laura
headed out for her doctor’s appointment.
While Fred drove, Laura flipped through the stack, looking for someone taking pictures. But the culprit
had Remington’s number. Was he or she smart enough to avoid Rei's camera? Who in the hell could
this be?
Frustrated at the lack of answers, she meticulously replaced the pictures in their folders as Fred stopped
in front of the medical office building at Cedars-Sinai.
Laura paced in the waiting room, tapping her fingers on her elbow while she waited. Rei had missed only
two appointments so far; this would be the third. He’d been none too happy about it, but with the
cameras around yesterday, rescheduling wasn’t a consideration.
The nurse, a shy brunette with a lovely low-pitched voice, called, “Laura Steele?”
“Hi.”
“Hello. You know the drill?”
“Do I have to step on the scale?” Laura complained.
“Always. But you can take your shoes off,” the nurse, named “Cassidy” according to her badge, offered.
She did. “Twenty-seven pounds. I’ve gained twenty-seven pounds,” she moaned.
The nurse chuckled. “You’re on track to gain about thirty-two total. That’s about right, Mrs. Steele.
You were very small before getting pregnant.”
Mentally berating herself for the twice weekly ice cream trips, Laura tightened her resolve to eliminate
them. She followed the nurse into the exam room and sat in the pink chair for her blood pressure test.
“This is getting routine, isn’t it?” Cassidy asked as she placed the cuff around her arm.
“Yes. Four weeks to go.” While the machine puffed and hissed, Laura mulled over the clues they had
so far.
“Mrs. Steele?” Cassidy asked when the machine finished. “Can I do that again?”
“Uh, sure.” This time Laura watched in silence as the cuff tightened and loosened.
The nurse made several notations on her clipboard. “Thanks. Dr. Berger will be here in a few minutes.”
Laura fiddled with her wedding ring while she waited. Noting the time on her watch, she estimated that
Remington and Siobhán were somewhere off the eastern seaboard at this moment, heading over the
Atlantic Ocean. She wondered if Rei had found his present yet.
“Laura, how are you today?” Dr. Berger, with her wide grin and grey-streaked blond hair, projected
reassurance and confidence. Laura liked her a great deal and was grateful to Frances for the referral.
“Very well, thank you.”
“Uh oh. What’s got you uptight?” The older woman perused the chart with a grimace.
“What do you mean?”
She raised her eyebrows and tapped the chart. “Your blood pressure is quite elevated for you. Normally
you have excellent numbers, but last week your BP jumped, and today it's even higher. Now, I wouldn’t
ordinarily be concerned with this figure, except that it’s a significant change for you. So what’s
happening?”
Laura crossed her arms again. “Oh, uh. Remington had to take an unexpected trip this morning. He’ll
be back on Tuesday.”
“That explains today, Mrs. Steele, but what has been happening in the past two weeks?”
Shrugging a little, she looked away. “We have a case; it’s not an easy one, and it’s making both of us
nervous. We’re trying to get it wrapped up, but the clues have been few and far between.”
Dr. Berger’s eyebrows flew up again. “You said Mr. Steele is out of town?” Laura nodded. “Then I’m
going to prescribe bed rest. I want to see you again on Tuesday. If your numbers are still this high, we
might be looking at staying in bed for the rest of your pregnancy.”
Shocked, Laura echoed, “Bed rest? Whatever for?”
“Stress can bring on early labor. We don’t need that. Let’s try it for a few days and see if that will take
care of it.”
“But I have a business to run!”
Dr. Berger looked askance at her. “What are you planning to do when the baby is born? Look at this as
a trial to see how your office runs without you. Now … since Mr. Steele is out of town, who are you
going to call to come help you?”
Mouth opening and closing like a fish, Laura could only stare at the doctor. Finally, she said, “I’ll call my
sister. I was planning to spend the weekend with her.”
“Good. You can do that before you leave here. Go home, get what you need, then get in bed and stay
there. You are allowed to get up for the bathroom and to shower and that’s all,” she emphasized. “No
working on cases. Until Tuesday, Mrs. Steele, give yourself a break. Now, let’s get your exam done.”
Laura scooted up onto the table to lie uncomfortably on her back. Dr. Berger brought out the Doppler
instrument and the gel. The high-pitched thumping never failed to make her smile even as she worried
over how to tell Remington about this latest development.
“Sounds good, Laura. The baby’s heart is strong. Let’s keep it that way.”
“I will.”
“Good. Call your sister and let’s get that blood pressure back to normal.
While Fred drove her to the penthouse, Laura dialed.
“Hi, Frances. Do you still want me for the weekend? … I might not be much company. …”
Within two hours, Frances had her little sister ensconced in the guest bedroom. Laura looked at the
clock and missed Remington.
Kaleb stopped by Mildred’s office as she packed up for the day. “Ms. Krebs?”
“Yes, hon?”
“I’ve still got these pictures Mr. Steele had me take. They’ve been developed, but Mrs. Steele hasn’t
been back yet. What should I do with them?”
“Leave them on her desk. I’m sure she’ll be in over the weekend. She usually likes to pick up the mail
on Saturdays.”
“Sure thing, Ms. Krebs.”
By the time the airplane touched down in Dublin, Remington had discovered a whole new side to his
daughter. For months, he’d been congratulating himself on her easy transition into her new life. The five
months she’d been with them hadn’t been easy as they'd all had to make adjustments, but they hadn’t
been that difficult either.
He should have seen it coming. Siobhán had ventured to express her displeasure over this trip more than
once … in her shy, non-confrontational way. He thought he’d done an admirable job in soothing her
over.
Obviously, he was wrong. Her mutinous pout made it all too clear: she had little interest in making this
trip. They’d made light conversation as they left Los Angeles. She’d expressed a token interest in the
birthday present he’d found in his carry-on from Laura, but by the time they left American air space four
hours later, Siobhán had lapsed into an irritated silence. She’d briefly napped in the “afternoon” while he
did his own fair share of brooding on the flight over, uneasy at the idea of stepping foot in either of their
destinations.
She’d grown increasingly cranky as they crossed time zones. What should have been bedtime was
instead a change of planes in Paris. The next short flight didn’t allow for anything more than a catnap,
and by the time they touched down in Dublin, the morning sun graced the skies.
Like Siobhán, Remington hadn’t been able to sleep for more than a moment or two despite the comfort
of flying in first class. He blew out his breath, thinking of the long day they had ahead of them.
Eyes shadowed, Siobhán sulked and put her chin in her hand as she stared out the window. The seat
belt sign blinked off. Remington rose to gather their luggage from the overhead bins.
The baggage went on the floor, and he touched her cheek. “Come on,” he chivied. “It will be nice not
to wear the plane for a while.”
“I don’t want to go.” Siobhán’s grey eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms firmly in front of her.
More than ready to check into the hotel and call Laura, Remington’s curt tone emphasized his own
weariness. “Siobhán, we can’t stay here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Ah, bugger me. I don’t have time for a snit fit. “Excellent. You won’t mind me pawing through your
underthings at Carlisle's while I pack them up, will you?”
“You wouldn’t!” she accused, horrified by the prospect.
“A stór, there’s not much I haven’t done. Wouldn’t bother me in the least.” Actually, it would, but you
don’t need to know that. “Siobhán, berate me in the car all you want. Yell at me over breakfast. At
least let me get out of this airplane so I can stand up straight while you do it.” His levity must have
annoyed her because she snatched up her purse and her bag, stomping off the plane in a hurry. He
grabbed his own case and followed, grateful that she was moving along in any case.
In sullen silence, she walked beside him to hail a taxi outside the terminal. When they checked into the
hotel, the concierge handed him a message: Staying with Frances. Call whenever you arrive. Laura.
Glancing at his watch, he calculated it was still in the very small hours of the morning in LA. Siobhán
ignored him all the way to their suite and slammed the door to her room. He hoped she would take a
short nap while he made the necessary arrangements for the afternoon. Taking Laura at her word, he
dialed the Pipers’ number.
On the first ring, Laura answered. “Hello?”
He smiled, as he nearly always did when he heard her voice. “Hello, love.”
“Rei. You’re there.” She sounded relieved. “How was the flight?”
“Too damned long. Even longer when one has to sit with a miffed daughter the entire way.” He turned
to the window and drew back the curtain to see downtown Dublin staring back at him.
“Did you talk?”
“Not really. It seems she didn’t care for my charming banter. I’m not certain if the Walkman was a
good idea. She stuck the headphones on and ignored me for most of the flight.”
Laura laughed softly. “Sounds like a bored teenager. Did she sleep at all?”
“Some, but I think we’re in for a long day.” He scrubbed his face in his own weariness.
“What time is it there?”
“Not quite eleven in the morning. I’m hoping she sleeps for a bit, and then we’ll have lunch before going
to Johnny’s house. The solicitor and the court representative will be there at two.”
“Will you be all right?” The sincerity in her voice carried across the Atlantic and warmed him.
Exhaling slowly, he replied, “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Staring out the window again, he
picked out the streets and buildings that had served as his “range” the various times he’d lived here. “I
didn’t think I’d come back to Ireland.”
“At all?” she said in surprise.
“Only if you had wanted to come back. It’s not been full of pleasant memories of late. At the moment,
even Ashford Castle has lost some of its appeal.”
“I love you, Rei.”
“Ah, Laura--” he started.
“I know,” she interrupted.
He needed to change the subject before he became maudlin as old recollections crowded his mind. “I
should ask how you and the tyke are doing? Oh, and I found my birthday present. I like it. Thank you,
love.”
“I thought you might. We’re okay. We had our appointment this afternoon, and now we’re camping out
with Donald and Frances. I swear Frances is waiting on me hand and foot. It’s annoying.” Remington
scowled, hearing something in her voice but unable to put a finger on it as she continued, “I tried to look
through the pictures today, but she fussed at me for working.”
“Laura, if you’re with Frances, there’s no need to worry. We’ll deal with it together when I return.
Whoever it is can’t reach either of us at the moment.”
She stayed quiet for a moment before affirming, “Fred promises we weren’t followed. He did a lot of
maneuvering and backtracking to make certain.”
“Then you’re as safe as you can be. I know your sister will drive you insane before I come home, but
please, stay there … for me if not for you.”
“I will.”
Again, Remington detected something in her voice. “Love, are you all right?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I miss you. It’s hard to sleep when you’re across the Atlantic.”
“Try anyway.” He didn’t buy that explanation, even as he was sure of its truth.
“I will. Will you call me later?”
“Of course. I’ll call you this evening … ah, twelve hours from now.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Give Siobhán a hug for me.”
“I will once she starts speaking to me once more.”
Soft laughter again. “I don’t envy you. She’s been due for a meltdown for a while.”
“Yes, but did she have to do it on my watch?”
“I’m sure I’ll have my turn.”
“I love you, Laura.”
“I know.”
It took him another minute to say goodbye and put the phone down. His fingers rested on the receiver
for a moment before he could lift them away and begin unpacking his baggage. After that, two more
phone calls solidified their arrangements for the afternoon.
A quick peek into Siobhán’s room confirmed she slept soundly. She hadn’t bothered to kick off her
shoes. He did that for her, slipping them from her feet before covering her with the light blanket he drew
down from the shelf in her closet.
He tried to sleep. By LA time, it was nearly four in the morning, but he lay on the bed in nervous
anticipation of walking through the halls of a house he hadn’t seen in nearly three decades. Closing his
eyes, he tried to recall what he could of Johnny’s manor, but only vague memories of a light, clean room
and a warm place to sleep came to mind.
A half hour later, he gratefully gave up the idea of sleeping to sluice off the airplane dirt under the jets of
the warm shower. That, combined with fresh clothes and a hot cup of tea, helped him to shake off the
weariness.
A gentle rap on the door roused Siobhán. He knew the hour she'd had wasn’t nearly enough, but it
would have to do for now.
He waited for her to brush her hair and apply a touch of lip gloss. She glared at him before snatching up
her purse and walking to the front door. Arching a brow at her back, he trailed along in her wake.
Apparently, she’d paid a little too much attention to Laura in one of her irritable tempers.
In the circular driveway of the hotel, Remington slid into the driver’s seat of the Audi he’d decided to
rent while there. The privileges of money, he mused. With enough of it, one could have a private car of
one’s choice delivered where desired. Having been both miserably poor and comfortably wealthy, he
certainly preferred the latter and had done much to ensure he would remain that way. The irony that
Johnny Carlisle bore much of the responsibility for the former didn’t go unnoticed by him.
They stopped at a pub for a quick lunch before driving the short distance to the Carlisle estate on the
edge of Dublin. As he drove them through the gates, Siobhán unbent enough to reach for his hand.
“Da, promise you won’t leave me here?” she asked once more.
He knew the question wasn’t intended to hurt him, but it did. She still had little reason to trust his word.
Wishing he could lean over and give her a hug, the best he could do was to squeeze her hand.
“I promise, Siobhán. Try to remember I purchased two round-trip tickets. Laura will be most put out
with me if one of them goes unused.” He tried for levity, but the teen didn’t respond to his humor as
would Laura. Instead, she lapsed into silence and worried a curl of her hair.
At the enormous gates set into the walls surrounding the manor house, Remington pulled up to the
speaker and pressed the button. “Steele here.”
“Aye, sir. Be but a moment,” came a proper voice from the box. The gates moved ponderously apart.
Remington drove through, stopping in front of the imposing edifice.
Jonathan Andrews, Siobhán’s solicitor, met them at the heavy front doors. Behind him, a nervous
younger man with ashy hair introduced himself as Tim O’Malley, the court representative.
“I’ve brought boxes, Miss Steele,” Andrews said. “I’ll arrange for shipping to your home. Just let Mr.
O’Malley know what you are keeping. If he has a question, set the item aside, and we’ll negotiate later.”
The girl nodded before walking away to her room. Remington took his time following her. He’d
forgotten how beautiful the eighteenth-century manor was … or perhaps hadn’t realized through the eyes
of a young boy. Each room was delicately appointed with lovely antiques and small-but-valuable trinkets
that made the inner thief in him sit up and take notice. It still reminded him of a bloody museum though--
not that he’d been familiar with the concept as a lad. At the time he’d only understood that it was formal
and rather foreboding.
The only part of the house vaguely resembling a home was the small wing where Siobhán had lived. She
could have selected a larger room on the east side of the house, but she’d chosen to stay near the
servants and nursery quarters on the west side. Her room, decorated in lacey pinks, provided the only
bright spot of color in the dull, gray paneled hallway.
Andrews assembled boxes while Siobhán ransacked her closet first, leaving behind all but a few items of
clothing. O’Malley stood near the doorway, checking items off his inventory list and making notations on
another.
Remington frowned at both men. Andrews saw his look, shrugged and stepped out of the room to make
himself comfortable on the hallway settee. O’Malley eased into the doorway itself and propped up the
frame.
Feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the young man standing in his daughter’s room, he arched a brow at
O’Malley. “I’ll tell you what, mate. Why don’t you and Andrews find a place to relax. When Siobhán
is finished with a box, I’ll bring it to you so you can check off your sheet. I don’t particularly think she
needs anyone hovering over her.”
“But I’m supposed to supervise the packing, sir.”
“You really think a fifteen-year-old girl is going to be able to slip past your guard if you sit in the hallway
between here and the front door?” Remington scratched the back of his neck and leveled a hard look at
him. Of course, he failed to mention that at fifteen he could have flitted out a window, scaled the walls
of the house and dropped in again to lift a number of small valuables from nearly anywhere at all.
The other man squirmed. “Ah, yes, sir. I’ll wait with Mr. Andrews.”
“Excellent idea, mate.” He clapped the man on the back and closed the door enough that Siobhán
couldn’t see either of the men.
In the meantime, Siobhán sat on the floor stacking compact discs into the box by her side. Books
followed, along with a worn doll and an ancient stuffed teddy bear.
Remington sat down beside her and retrieved the bear. “Good Lord. Where on earth did you find this?”
Siobhán shrugged. “Housekeeper gave him to me when I was little.”
“Did you give him a name?”
Pinking a little, she nodded. “Corduroy. From the book.”
“I haven’t read that one. Remind me to get a copy for the house.” He looked the bear over, turning it
this way and that before peering into the one remaining brown eye. “I used to worry about this bear,
hoping he would have a good home.”
“He was yours?”
“Mm. Don’t know about that. But I remember hiding under the covers with him at night. Glad to know
he had a good friend.” He placed the bear back into the box.
Siobhán didn’t say anything, only folded the flaps closed and shoved the box out of the way. “I hate this
house,” she declared at last.
“I’ve gathered that. Any particular reason why?” He handed her another box as she opened a drawer
and took out ten or twelve small packages. Remington lifted the lid on one. “Good Lord.” He pulled
out a diamond-encrusted Cartier watch and lifted it to the light. “Did Johnny give this to you?”
“That and all the rest. Every Christmas, every birthday, Johnny would fly in, take me out to dinner and
present me with one of these. I hate jewelry.” She snatched up one of the boxes and threw it across the
room. “I hate it. I hate fake gifts. I hate Johnny. He left me here. No friends. No family. No one to
talk to." She punctuated each statement by winging another box. "All I had was Housekeeper. Johnny
wouldn’t even let me call her by name.” She buried her face on her knees. “Everyone called me Miss
O’Callaghan, not even Miss Carlisle. No one will tell me why.”
“Remind me to take back your Christmas present,” Remington quipped as he set the watch on the floor.
Siobhán looked up, her face drawn even as her eyes stayed dry. “From you it would be different.”
Remington tilted his head quizzically. “Johnny didn’t tell you why your mother brought you to live with
him?”
She shook her head. “I’ve always wondered if he was really my dad. If he was, why don’t I have his
name?”
He pressed his lips together to cool his ire, furious with Johnny again for neglecting this lovely girl.
Slowly he spoke, choosing his words carefully. “I have the answers, Siobhán, but I don’t think this is the
proper time to have this conversation with our guests sitting in the hallway. If you’ll agree, I’ll help you
pack today. Tonight, when we return to the hotel, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Do you promise?” she asked again, as a small child does when they’ve known too many forgotten
promises.
“Of course, Siobhán. Steele’s word is his bond.” He brought up the side of his mouth in remembrance
of the joke between him and Laura. Only now it wasn’t a joke anymore.
Awkwardly she rose, pulling another packing box toward her. “What should I do with this jewelry?”
“Do you like any of it? And I’m speaking fashion-wise, not feeling-wise.” He held up the watch again.
She shrugged again. “Maybe the watch and the diamond studs. But. …”
“But?”
“I don’t want to wear anything from Johnny.”
Recognizing that in her anger she might not have been thinking clearly, he only agreed. “Then leave
them here.” He walked over to pick up the boxes scattered across the far end of the room. One by one,
he piled them on the dresser, palming both the watch and the earrings. He would save them for her in
case she changed her mind one day.
While she packed a few other odds and ends, Remington made excuses and slipped into the hallway with
the two boxes she’d filled.
“O’Malley.”
“Sir.”
Tugging at his ear, he casually commented, “There’s some rather valuable jewelry in her room.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give it all to Andrews after we leave. I want it and anything else she leaves behind to be liquidated. I’
m keeping these two pieces for her.” He showed both of them the watch and the earrings. “She might
regret leaving them behind one day.”
Andrews nodded. “What do you want to do with the cash?”
“Set up a trust for her. It’s to be hers when she comes of age, no questions asked.” The solicitor
nodded again and made notes in his planner.
Remington turned back to O’Malley. “What is she entitled to out of the rest of the house?”
The young man cleared his throat. “Photos, or anything obviously personal, are hers. Everything else is
at my discretion. The bulk of it has to stay here for auction. Please be reasonable, Mr. Steele. It will
make this process easier for all of us.”
Remington scowled. “I’m not interested in dragging out this process for anyone, least of all Siobhán.”
It only took another hour for the teen to finish packing her room and O’Malley to complete his
inventory. By then, jet lag had caught up with the father and daughter pair. Remington called a halt for
the day.
“We’ll go through the rest of the house tomorrow, gentlemen.”
Siobhán half-dozed on the way back to the hotel. Remington didn’t bother stopping for dinner. Instead,
they ordered from room service. While they waited, she showered and dressed for bed. She sat cross-
legged on the little couch, eating a sandwich when it arrived.
“I promised you a conversation, a stór.”
“I’m tired, Da.”
Thank God. “Then we’ll have it tomorrow.”
She finished only half her meal before crawling into bed. Remington hardly had time to pat her on the
shoulder and kiss her temple before she slept soundly.
He slid under the covers of his own bed before reaching for the phone. He punched in the numbers to
the Piper house.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Frances. How are you?”
“Oh, wonderful, Remington. I’m sure you want to speak with Laura.”
“I’d like that.”
“Hold on. Let me walk the phone to her.”
That sounded odd, but when Laura’s voice came on the line, he forgot to ask why. “Rei?”
“Hello, love.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am. Siobhán’s already asleep.”
“Why aren’t you?”
The sound of her voice lulled him. He closed his eyes to listen. “Can’t without you,” he mumbled.
“Hmm … that’s a lovely thought. But I think Dr. Laura has just the thing for you.”
“What’s that?”
Softly, for his ears only, she began singing, “Moonlight and love songs … never out of date … hearts full
of passion, jealousy and hate .. woman needs man, and man must have his mate … it’s still the same old
story, a fight for love and glory, a case of do or die ... the world will always welcome lovers … as time
goes by.”
Only silence followed. “Hang up the telephone, Mr. Steele.”
“Mmm … sure, Miss Holt.” He rolled over to place the phone on the cradle and dropped into a
dreamless sleep.
8 November 2009
Chapter Nineteen: Secrets