Chapter 2
As Laura sped toward the train station, Remington was only a few miles away surveying the mess around him, angrily shoving one of the kitchen chairs to the side as he cursed, "Damn you, Daniel! Where the bloody hell did you hide it!" He had spent the better part of the early morning searching every inch of the Daniel's bedsit. As each hour passed, his frustration mounted until his anger took over. He began flipping the furniture, cutting through parts of the mattress and furniture pillows. He emptied every cabinet he could and was only rewarded with a few more gems and a small stack of cash. He searched the small space in the closet again, hoping they may have missed something the night before but came up empty handed.
Finally, he irritably submitted to the inevitable task of searching the entire premises and grabbed the large keyring on his way out the door. Most of the rooms on the second floor were in good condition, much like the bedsit Daniel was living in, although devoid of any furniture or personal items to indicate it's previous residents. On the third floor, Remington found evidence of the construction Daniel had mentioned in his letter. Ladders and paint buckets were scattered about, the rooms were bright and smelling of fresh paint.
A worn, but elegant set of stairs led to the top floor which consisted entirely of an elaborate ballroom with high ceilings and a beautifully ornate parquet floor. As he stood in the center of the ballroom, he couldn't help but appreciate the grandeur of the room. Running his hand through his hair, he shook his head slowly as he closed his eyes. Visions of Daniel smoothly posing as counts, barons and a multitude of other prestigious titles flooded his memory. They would tag team to maximum effect. While one charmed their mark, the other would pilfer private quarters or purloin jewelry in plain sight. And the most skilled aspect of their trade was convincing their marks, through cunning and shameless exploitation of their weaknesses, to willingly hand over their riches,m. These were the conquests that were best carried out on the dance floor.
Unbidden, Remington's hand moved to his mouth, where his fingers brushed his lips as he opened his eyes, staring straight, fully absorbed in a memory of thievery on a whole other level.
In that instant, his recollections of Daniel were replaced by his early acquaintance with Laura. One memory in particular painted itself onto the canvas of his memory, the space he was standing in reminiscent of where it had taken place. Laura and he moving in step as they waltzed and swayed together during a charity ball in Los Angeles where they had hoped to uncover a murderous plot. Laura had stunned in a simple, sophisticated backless gown of a deep red velvet. His fingers tingled with the remembrance of the soft material hugging her body as she moved gracefully within his arms as they danced. Remington smirked upon remembering his bafflement at the juxtaposition between this elegant vision and the cool, logical, aloof assessment of the suspects surrounding them as they danced. He, likewise, had kept his compliments cool and nonchalant, never wanting to reveal how much she had upset his equilibrium, his ability to keep his romantic interests detached from his heart. Inexplicably angry at himself now, he abruptly left the room, slamming the large, heavy doors behind him.
Quickly he descended the steps toward the second floor again, slowing as he reached the landing. He stopped and slumped down on the stairs, feeling defeated for the moment. Hanging his head, he rested his forearms on his knees, clasping his hands together. He sat quietly in the same position and it wasn't until his stomach rumbled noisily that he stirred. Checking his watch, he was surprised at the time.
It was after two o'clock, well past the ferry's departure time. Sighing heavily, he stood gradually, stretching his tight muscles as he straightened completely. Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, he advanced down the hall toward Daniel's flat, vaguely undecided between forging ahead or going in search of food. Once inside, he shook his head in disgust at the mess he had made during his outburst. "Not now," he muttered as he grabbed his leather jacket and pulled it on. Locking up behind him, he lumbered down the stairs toward the main entrance of the building. He glanced at the doors on the first floor, rooms he had yet to investigate, before leaving the building and stepping into the warm sunlight.
Closing and locking the door behind him, Remington explored the street to his right. Finding mostly multi-family dwellings, he continued further down the street until he came to an alleyway between two towering brick buildings where he caught a brief scent of fried food and spices as the wind gusted. On a hunch, he followed the alley, where he found a small pub tucked into the back of one of the buildings. He pulled the wooden door open and was greeted by the smell of fish and chips, spicy Chicken Tikka Masala and even a hint of tangy Piccalilli. The pub was quiet, with only two additional patrons sitting at the bar watching a soccer match on the small TV in the corner, sipping pints of beer.
Remington settled himself at the end of the bar, away from the other men. Mesmerized by the multitude of colourful and elaborate taps before him boasting an impressive array of draft beers, he nodded at the bartender and, at his recommendation, ordered a smoothflow bitter. Sipping the copper ale, he grimaced slightly at the butterscotch-like flavor. "Not what you're used to there, mate?" the bartender observed. Remington shook his head, acknowledging his usual aversion to beer. The bartender returned, "Well, you should have told me as much, mate!"
Remington lifted the pint to him with a wink, saying, "When in Rome...", and in the spirit of that notion, took a healthy swig. "What's good on the lunch menu?" he asked, smacking his glass down jovially and pulling the folded menu from the stand before him.
"Depends on what you're in the mood for. Fish and chips is always a safe bet, or the stotty cake's fresh, if you're the sort of bloke who likes a sandwich for lunch. We also serve a touch of India for the well-travelled lot, if you're in for something spicier," the bartender offered.
Remington closed the menu and slid it to the side, "Fish and chips will be fine. Nice little establishment you have here. Found it by accident."
"Well, glad you did. Andrew's the name," the bartender reached across the counter extending his hand. Remington shook it firmly and replied, "Steele, Remington Steele." He began coughing, his name caught in his throat as he introduced himself. Patting his chest, he coughed again, the bartender quickly offering him a glass of water, "You okay, mate?"
Remington nodded as he cleared his throat several times, trying to find his voice again. As he had introduced himself, realization had struck anew, that this was his name. His name, not an alias, not someone he was pretending to be. Coughing again, he answered the bartender who was watching him nervously. "I think I've been around the construction mess for too long today," he replied with a weak smile.
"Oh, you must mean the old Baker house. Colonel Frobish mentioned he'd have a crew working there. Sent quite a bit of business in my direction the last few months, he has," the man began with a smile. Remington's eyebrows shot up at the mention of Daniel's alias. "Will you be working there for a while?" Andrew asked.
"Working there? Um, no, not working there. Not now. I was just, um… searching for something the Colonel left for me," Remington said smoothly, hoping to conceal his surprise. "You've spoken to him, I take it. Colonel Frobish, I mean."
Picking up a wet glass, Andrew pulled a towel off his shoulder as he dried it. "Colonel Reginald Frobish of the Tenth Royal Hussars," he laughed. "He hasn't been around in a bit, but that's not unusual. Seems the good Colonel is off on another adventure," he added with a glance in Remington's direction.
Remington lifted his beer and saluted the bartender with a simple reply, "Something like that."
Andrew nodded, picking up another glass. "He's probably doing a bit of travelling with his son. Last time he was here he went on and on about his son making him proud. 'A father couldn't ask for more of a son' he said."
Remington remained silent, but raised his eyebrows upon hearing such an admission. He was surprised, mostly because he himself had not been privy to that important piece of information at the time of Daniel speaking in these terms to a virtual stranger.
Andrew continued rambling amiably as he dried more glasses. "He even said he thought that the lad may have found the love of his life!" Now, Remington just about choked on his beer again, but recovered just in time to hear him continue, "Yes, he almost seemed to get a little melancholy at that...not typical of the Colonel, mind you. But I must have imagined it, because the next minute he was laughing and saying, 'Bah, who even believes in true love!'"
Andrew shook his head as he remembered the conversation, then continued, "'Still,' says he, 'she must be something special to have turned my son's head so completely.' And then he said, almost to himself really, that he had to admit that she was more deserving of him than any other woman he had ever seen on his son's arm. All in all, he seemed quite happy with the match."
"Happy with the match?!" Remington could not resist verbally reacting to this. He was flabbergasted, first, at the thought that Daniel had ever even entertained the notion of a "match" for him and second, that he had had anything good to say about Laura. "That's quite a statement coming from the Colonel! He was rather… particular… about his son's assignations over the years...from what I understand, at least...," Remington continued his thoughts out loud, "Sort of figured he had wanted the lad to continue on that path..." Andrew slowed in his task looking a little confused at Remington's comments and was about to attempt a response when the waitress brought over Remington's plate. Thanking the woman, he quietly turned to his meal and ate in silence, ruminating on the fact that Daniel had never, in all their years together, told him about their relationship to each other, told him that he'd like to see him settle down with one woman, to build a life with one person. It was always about the con, the next big take. At length, he continued, hoping Andrew would share more stories about Daniel, "I've never known the Colonel to be so open about discussing his son's life."
Andrew dried the last glass on the tray, stacking the clean dishes on the back of the bar before he spoke again. "Colonel Frobish must have been very proud of the lad. Every time he was here, all he could do was talk about him. Never called him by name though. Always 'my boy' or 'my son'. Thought that was a bit odd, but then again, I'm just the bartender here. I see all walks of life come through those doors."
Remington finished his meal in silence as Andrew attended to the other patrons and a few new ones that had entered. He felt cheated and inexplicably irritated at having been left in the dark on such a grand scale. And this was precisely why, now, he wouldn't rest easy until he thoroughly searched the building he had inherited. If there were any nasty surprises, he wanted them resolved as quickly as possible, so that he could get on with his life. Having finished the meal, Remington reached into his pocket to pull out a few bills to pay for his meal. As he tossed the money onto the bar, Andrew returned again. "Was your meal satisfactory?"
With a half hearted smile, Remington replied, "Just fine, mate. Thank you. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again."
"If you see Colonel Frobish, please, tell him we said hello. Last time he was here he said things were changing for the better. I hope that's true. We could use some good luck in these parts," Andrew said.
"Will do. Have a good day, sir," Remington slipped his hand into his pocket as he gestured goodbye with the other. Outside, with both hands now jammed into his pockets, he blew out a breath to calm himself and, taking long strides, made his way back to the building with renewed determination to uncover any and all secrets Daniel had left him.
