CHAPTER 1

It was going to be a glorious day, the ersatz Remington Steele pronounced to himself as the elevator decanted him to the floor of his still-new work place. What a feeling it was, to be doing an everyman's day of work, helping people with their problems, getting another splash of publicity in the newspapers, and having another go at storming the delectable Castle Holt. Positively glorious.

"Good morning, Miss Wolf!" He shared the day's glory with the agency's secretary as he swept into the offices. And deliberately ignored co-worker Murphy Michaels, who was doing something with something that looked suspiciously like a file. "I don't hear the cheerful lilt of Miss Holt's delightful cadence?"

"She's out of the office. With a deposition."

"My, my. I hope it isn't contagious."

"It's something we call 'work'," pointed out Murphy as he plunked the folder onto Bernice's 'in' tray. "All part of the boring job of being a private investigator."

"I never believed for a moment it would be anything less. And what's her brief? A fiendish murder brought to justice? A young child rescued from dangerous kidnappers? A…?"

Murphy grinned. It wasn't a pleasant grin. "She's at the D.A.'s office. Something about the attempted theft of the Royal Lavulite stones." Steele's smile vanished and Murphy's only broadened. "In fact, maybe she's telling them all about your role, right now."

"No need," Steele replied smoothly. But his hand rose unconsciously to check the lay of his impeccably-knotted tie. "The Remington Steele Agency did its usual magnificent and professional job in securing Gordon Hunter after his theft of the gems. My personal contribution was a mere footnote."

"A footnote?!" Two hours later, the beloved voice rang outrage from the front office. "He called it a footnote?!" Steele couldn't make out Bernice's muffled reply. He smiled happily.

"Ah, Laura's back. All's once again right with the world."

The door to his office flung open and only the wall stopper prevented yet more violence to the wall behind.

"Laura! How lovely to see you! I trust all went well with your little legal soiree?"

"It's not my little soiree that's the problem! It's yours!"

She thrust the heavy paper that Bernice had just handed her from that morning's mail, narrowly missing his nose. He reached forward and gingerly accepted it.

"Is this for me? I must have a word. How remiss of Miss Wolf to exclude me from my personal corresponden…" He looked up from the letterhead, his lips forming a perfect O.

"Yes, Mr. Steele. It seems that your past sins have caught up with you. You've been deposed."

"Me?!"

"By the defense."

"They deposed Remington Steele? Can people do that?"

"Is this a private party or can anyone play?" It was Murphy, entering from his own office. "Not that I was eavesdropping or anything."

"Murphy!" She wheeled around to include her friend. "Defense counsel subpoenaed Mr. Steele for a deposition on Gordon Hunter's prosecution."

To Laura's annoyance, Murphy laughed. "What's to worry? I'm sure he's been deposed more than a few times. Though speaking for the prosecution ought to be a novelty."

The interruption had given Steele time to recover his sangfroid, but Laura had not missed the brief moment of real alarm as he had scanned the letter from Hunter's legal team.

"I think it's a marvelous idea, Mr. Michaels. Your lovely country has the full support of Remington Steele. As does its charming criminal justice system, without which we would be all unemployed."

"Will you please take this seriously?" Laura cried. "This subpoena means that the D.A. listed you as a potential testatrix at Gordon Hunter's trial. And that means Hunter's defense team will be looking for any discrepancy in the prosecution's case. That includes our investigation, in hopes of either dismissing the case or confusing the jury. And I don't think we've ever had a case with so many discrepancies in my life."

"Now, Laura, don't be so glum. I think it will be rather fun."

"Fun! This isn't funny!" Her voice had taken a hysterical pitch. "You came here to steal those gemstones and now you're going to testify about how you prevented their theft?"

Murphy couldn't resist. "Come on, Laura. It should be interesting. It'll be a novel experience getting a couple hours of real work out of him. Be a nice change, watching Him sweat for a change."

Laura sank down into a chair beside the desk and pressed a hand against her forehead. "I should have foreseen this," she said with a moan. "With all the publicity around the case, of course Hunter's defense team would depose you. And that means the D.A. probably wants to use your testimony. Oh, my God. What are we going to do? You can't testify!"

Steele blinked. "Why ever not? I've seen all the right movies. Witness for the Prosecution, Inherit the Wind, Judgment at Nuremberg, All the President's Men. To Kill a Mockingbird! Gregory Peck, Mary Badham, Universal Studios, 1962. How difficult can it be?"

"This isn't a movie! And you're not Marlene Dietrich."

"Heavens, no! I rather fancy myself in the Atticus Finch role."

Murphy said, "Atticus Finch? My God, Laura, you're right. He can't testify at Hunter's trial."

Steele waved a hand. "Nonsense. Remington Steele is honor-bound to assist law enforcement in very nearly any way he can. As they say on your telly, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"Oh, no! The truth!" Now she looked like she really was going to cry.

One dark eyebrow arched. "I am capable of occasional truthfulness, you know."

"That's not what I meant," Laura moaned.

Murphy said, "I get it, Laura. The first thing our Mr. Steele will have to do is testify, under oath, that he is Remington Steele."

"And when he does," Laura added, "that's automatic perjury. What if the defense notices this is the first time anyone's ever seen you? Hunter already twigged to the idea. That's why we set up that penthouse suite in the first place. He kept insisting that he had to meet you, since no one else ever had. What if his defense decides to investigate your background? They'll find out that you didn't exist as of six months ago."

"Then what's to investigate?" Steele asked brightly. "There'll be nothing to find."

"Because if the defense figures out you're a fraud," she pushed past his protests, "Then not only does your testimony become tainted, so does mine and so does Murphy's. The case would get thrown out of court."

"Oh."

"And there goes the reputation of Remington Steele Investigations," Murphy concluded angrily. "Bang out the window. Laura, I knew he was bad for the agency! I don't know why I didn't foresee this sooner."

"I don't think any of us did, Murph. This is his first case that actually goes to trial. He wasn't involved in any of our other cases running through the courts."

"Pardon me, but 'He' is very much in this room and would prefer to be referred to in the first person," Steele interjected.

"Our whole reputation is going to be riding on this. Ironic, since that's why we took Hunter's business in the first case. Reputation gets us clients and credibility when we have to testify in civil or criminal court. I don't know if I can start all over again." To her horror, Laura realized her eyes were suddenly smarting. I'm not going to cry. I'm not! She felt a sudden surge of anger at the injustice, but one look at Steele's repentant, ashen face, and the anger deflated itself.

"It was never my intention to harm you or the agency," he said quietly. "Would it really be better if I did leave?"

"Yes!" Murphy exclaimed.

"No!" Laura surprised herself. They both gaped at her.

She appealed to both men. "Look, no matter what we think, he really does have to testify. If Mr. Steele refuses, then we're in the same predicament. Worse, in fact, because his failure to appear taints our testimony. The case will be dismissed. And not only will Gordon Hunter get off the hook, sorry as I feel for him, so will those men who murdered the real Ben Pearson. We can't let that happen."

"So we're stuck with him," said Murphy. "We're damned if we do, and damned if we don't."

"How elegantly you put it, Murphy," said Steele.

"We're just going to have to pull together and get through this. If the defense wants Mr. Steele, then we'll give them Mr. Steele. I think D.A. Hernandez can help us as well."

"I'd like the chance to testify," Steele surprised them all by saying. His voice was grim. "Not only to help the agency. But I very badly want to put away the despicable Kessler and Neff for what they did to poor Mr. Pearson. He didn't deserve being murdered. Not by half."

They settled on coaching. The blessed Assistant District Attorney Hernandez came through with transcripts of Laura's and Murphy's depositions, as well as the official police report, and they used that to keep Steele's story straight, as well as assure that the agency's head really did know the full backstory surrounding Hunter's hiring them to protect the gems. "The defense will compare our stories for errors and contradictions," Laura had explained. "Anything to destabilize the prosecution's case."

"Blowing smoke. Creating uncertainty even when there isn't any."

"Exactly," she said with a smile. They were in his Rossmore apartment, reviewing the case materials one last time before the trial began. And, I must admit, he's taking this need for accuracy seriously. Much more than I expected.

"It's like a well-executed plan, Laura." It was uncanny how he could sometimes read her thoughts. "Pain-staking attention to detail, careful analysis of the alternatives, every contingency evaluated in advance. All leading to a smooth, successful operation."

"We're not stealing a painting," she said, remembering his mastery around the Five Nudes of Cairo, and that prompted a wistful smile.

"No. But it was rather fun."

She smiled back. "I suppose it was. Apart from getting arrested by the police. And being kidnapped by the other thieves." She shook her head. "You'll have to testify in their trial, too. You'd better get used to it."

"I admit all this cooperation with law enforcement and the wheels of justice is a rather novel sensation. But not an unpleasant one." He stretched his long length on the sofa. Rotated his head to relieve an apparent cramp, and then stood. "How about a break? Coffee?"

"What time is it? Nine-thirty already? Far too late for coffee."

"So it is." He disappeared into his kitchen and returned a minute later with a respectable Californian Zin and a pair of glasses. Laura watched as he expertly pulled the cork, poured, and handed her a glass before raising his own. "To new experiences."

"Cheers." It was a very good wine; he had an excellent palate, and she decided to say as much. "You really do have exquisite taste. Where did you develop it?"

"Oh, here and there. I had a good mentor who understood the finer things."

Laura chuckled. "I must be a great trial. For me it's wine-in-a-box and takeaway dinner. I guess I'm too frugal to spend the money, and work too much to spend the time cooking."

He shrugged it off. "You work hard to earn it. But no, I don't think that's it. I think your passion is elsewhere, and that's where your investments are."

He was right, of course, and his insight into her personality – and his willingness to comment on it – caught her by surprise. Why did she continually underestimate him? "Like the agency," she said.

"Like the agency," he agreed. "Or that piano in your home. I confess I've never heard you play."

"Really? I guess that's probably true. I've been so busy, I'm not sure I've played for myself lately, let alone for an audience. I used to play quite a lot. My grandparents were quite musical. When I play, it keeps their memories alive." She fell silent, thinking of them, and after a while realized that the silence had stretched. But it was a companionable silence and, she realized, it wasn't uncomfortable. She met his blue eyes and realized he had been quietly watching her. She blushed a little. "I'm sorry. I'm not being very good company."

"Nonsense. I was thinking a bit, myself."

"Penny for them?"

He shrugged. Sipped again. Clearly deciding how to reply. "Actually, I was thinking about you."

"Oh? Do tell." Time to take a chance, she decided, and see where those thoughts might lead.

"It started with Gordon Hunter. And that led to you. And passions."

She set down her glass, his words unexpected. She had expected something flattering, or seductive. "What? Me and Hunter? I don't-?"

"See it? I suppose not. You're too close. But I'm not insensitive, Laura. I've noticed the parallels." His expression was serious, and the charming rouge was replaced by a man who looked like he truly cared.

"Parallels? I don't get it."

He suddenly smiled. "I like that little furrow between your brows when you're puzzled."

"You like to puzzle me," Laura pointed out.

"Sometimes. But my point was Gordon Hunter. The two of you are very much alike in some ways."

She smiled at him over her glass. "You think I'm a thief?"

"You're both self-made. Worked and scraped and busted your – everything to create a vision that you're passionate about. Gone out on a limb to make that vision real. An automobile. An investigative firm. It's a remarkable quality. Most people can't do it. The closest they can come is to dream their fantasy. A very remarkable few accomplish it."

Laura blushed and buried her attention in her wineglass. And then another piece fit into the puzzle that was this man sitting beside her.

"Perhaps it takes one to recognize it in another," she said.

He cocked an eyebrow in that way that always caught at her heart. And he lifted his wineglass.

"Here's to the people who make their dreams come true."