Chapter 4
Remington unlocked the great front door and stepped through the dim entryway of the building that Daniel had bequeathed to him. He stood for a moment, scratching the back of his neck, and looking up the stairs first, then down the long hallway before him. With a deep breath and a decisive nod of his head, he pulled off his jacket, hanging it on the end of the bannister, and rolled up his sleeves in preparation for the dusty search that lay ahead.
Choosing the far end, the first door he opened was to an enclosed stairwell. Figuring he had covered the upper floors already, he turned to the right and headed down the stairs to the door at the bottom. As soon as he opened it, he quickly ruled out the idea that Daniel would have hidden anything down there. Judging by the thick layers of dust and dirt that covered the floor and the equipment and the cobwebs that hung from the exposed pipes above, Remington determined that this space had not been disturbed in the recent past, and was torn between relief and jittery nerves that he had only the first floor rooms left to examine. On the one hand, his search was almost over, on the other, if he did not find anything else from Daniel, he feared the uneasy void his un-answered questions would leave.
Back up on the first floor, he started another systematic search of each room. The first two he entered were completely empty, the late day sun streaming in through the large windows, casting shadows across the hardwood floors.
Opening the third door, Remington felt a rush of triumph when he observed the cleanliness of the room. It had been swept, and a solid oak desk and large leather chair facing the door had been placed in the center of the room. On the desk sat nothing more than a phone, a cup of pencils and a work order. Remington picked up the work order and scanned the list, deciphering the shorthand of the writer, to discover it was only a list from the painters. He pulled open each drawer, searching inside and underneath. He crawled under the desk to check for hidden compartments. Finding none, he stood and slammed his hands off the top of the desk, frustrated again. He flipped the chair over, searching for tears or for any indication that anything could have been hidden there. Finding none, he righted the chair and sat down, his elbows on the desk, his chin resting on his folded hands. "You're a bloody fool, Remington Steele!", he said to himself, shaking his head, "If Laura were here, she'd find it."
With a swipe of his mouth, he stood abruptly, carelessly pushing back the chair, the scraping of it on the hardwood floor grating the air and bouncing raucously back and forth off the bare walls, as if recklessly willing the secrets to shake free. Instead, the deafening silence only served to magnify the empty space by his side. After a couple of more empty rooms and fruitless searches, Remington's mood darkened further. He sat on the steps, elbows pinned to his knees, a reluctant hand propping up his chin, the other hanging dejectedly between his legs.
He was reminded of another time he had felt this way, another time he had acted independently, and Laura was there to bolster his spirits. "You're still Remington Steele!", she had said, a warm hand on his arm. Alright, she had ulterior motives, namely exposing a killer, but they served many purposes, least of which were to acknowledge that he made a damn good Remington Steele!
But without his Miss Holt, he was as incomplete as she was without him. They were a team. "And teams should stick together!" she had said another time.
Once again he was sorry he had sent her away and had made a decision without telling her. He vowed to himself right then and there that he would never do that again. He had never felt the importance of her in his life more keenly than at this moment, and he sat up straight with a sense of renewed purpose. It was time for him to finish this search and return to his wife's side where he belonged.
He stood and, running his hand through his hair, he jumped slightly when he felt a cobweb. He hastily pulled it off, flicking the offending strands away, and thoroughly checked himself, brushing his hair and shirt vigorously. Relieved to be cobweb free, he patted his chest resolutely before proceeding to the next door. Taking a deep breath he opened it, stepping into what was, once again, a mostly empty room. This room faced away from the afternoon sun, the shadows deeper, darkening the dusty corners. Remington scanned the scant furniture scattered about. Everything was covered with dust and he had just about dismissed the room when something caught his eye.
Hanging on the far wall, hidden in shadow was the same portrait they had found in Daniel's loft, a very faded image of Queen Elizabeth II wearing a white gown with a blue shoulder sash. Although a long strand of cobweb had settled across it, Remington immediately discarded the idea that this room was not important. With long strides, he crossed the room, examining the wall around the frame of the portrait. Not finding anything unusual around it, he carefully lifted the portrait off the wall, revealing what appeared to be a wall safe.
He looked around the room for an additional light source as the room was becoming darker by the minute. Not finding anything he suddenly snapped his fingers, remembering the key fob flashlight Daniel had left him. He tapped his pants pockets and recalled that he had left the smaller keyring in his jacket pocket. With a lively spring in his step, he returned to where his jacket still hung off the bannister, quickly finding the keyring. He hadn't even noticed that he was whistling until he had returned and heard the joyful sound echoing around the empty room.
Using the small light, he inspected the front of the safe. He saw nothing out of the ordinary so, leaning forward, he spun the dial, listening carefully for the tell tale sounds of the wheels and flies, clicking satisfactorily to indicate that the notches were lining up. Hearing the final gratifying click of the fence falling into place, Remington turned the handle downward and pulled the safe open. He reached inside and pulled out two envelopes , one large one standard, letter-sized, both addressed to him. Illuminating the safe's cavity with the key fob flashlight, he checked to make sure nothing was left behind. Laying the envelopes on an abandoned chair, Remington locked the safe and carefully repositioned the portrait, mumbling cheekily, "Much obliged, Your Royal Highness", as he straightened it gingerly, taking care not to alter it's neglected appearance. With one more sweeping look around the room, Remington closed the door behind him, the envelopes in hand, grabbing his jacket as he took the stairs two by two up to Daniel's loft.
Inside the brightly lit room, Remington unceremoniously pushed everything off the table in front of the settee as he sat down and laid his finds out before him. Unsure which to open first, he impatiently selected one with a shrug of his shoulders. He untucked the flap of the white envelope and peered inside, finding within it, a folded piece of paper, yellowed and fragile looking. He carefully removed it and, as he opened it, a small black and white photograph drifted to the table. Abandoning the letter for the moment, he picked up the image, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, and was immediately struck by the woman staring back at him. She was eerily familiar, her features so much like his own. She had long dark hair and light colored eyes. She was thin, although he could see her hands lovingly curled around her rounded belly. She had a smile on her face, her eyebrows lifted as if she was caught mid laugh. Flipping the picture over, he read the inscription by Daniel's hand, "Siobhán and her Acushla, March 1953".
With shaking hands, he placed the picture on the table and picked up the accompanying paper. Carefully he unfolded the delicate paper and focused on the scratchy faded words.
My Dearest Daniel,
I miss you every day. These last few months since you've been gone have been difficult. As your babe moves within my womb, I am reminded how much you are missing. I do not regret anything but look forward to our future where we can raise our Acushla together. Tomorrow, I will move in with Mara in County Galway until our babe is born. I hope to move out afterwards and find a place for us to live. I will send word when we are settled.
All my love,
Siobhán
Remington took in the words before him, his eyes darting from the picture to the fragile sheet in his hand. His breathing shallow, he bit his bottom lip, fighting the turbulence of emotions in his chest. My...Mother!... She wanted a life with Daniel, he thought to himself incredulously. She wanted to be with him. She wanted me!
Placing the paper back on the table, he held just the photograph in his hand as he covered his mouth with the other. A single tear slid down his cheek at the revelation he was loved right from the beginning, something he had never dared to feel. Wiping his cheek, he gently placed the photograph and the letter back into the envelope and turned his attention to the large envelope.
Taking a deep breath, he opened it, muttering lightly, "Well, Daniel, old boy, that's going to be a tough act to follow, but let's have at it, shall we?"
He pulled out the contents, a handwritten letter and a typed document. He scanned the typed one first, knitting his eyebrows in concentration, trying hard to follow the legal jargon on the page before he gave up and placed it back on the table. The handwritten letter was much shorter and easier to understand.
Dear Remington,
That would have taken some getting used to. What a moniker! But, you know, it suits you and I am pleased that it has been made official.
Harry, the long and short of our tale is simply this. You have made me immeasurably proud in your pursuit of an honest life and that is why I hope you will carry on this legacy I leave you. Use this building to protect boys from growing up the way you did. Give them a place they can call home, learn and grow, and to develop skills that will ensure them a chance at a better life. You have your mother's heart so I know you will rise to the challenge I have given you.
You will likely have guessed Mr. Taylor can help you. He has been an old friend and knows much more than he'll ever let on. He has been given instructions once you bring the attached document to him. Reach out to those you can trust. Katherine Galt, the Earl's soon to be wife will be one of your biggest supporters. I have already spoken with her. She can help direct you to others here in London. Accept her help and Taylor's guidance.
If you are reading these letters alone, all I can say is, go back to your Miss Holt. Once in a lifetime you meet the woman who captures your heart. Don't ever take it for granted. It was plain to see the devotion you two felt for each other. It is with her you belong.
So Harry, my boy, until we meet again.
Daniel
PS. Don't worry about the list in the briefcase. It's nothing more than that - a list, my boy. Feel free to burn away your past. D
Remington laughed loudly as he read the end of Daniel's letter. "Ah, Daniel. Well done, old chap. I'll take up the torch for you," he announced.
Returning the papers to the envelope, Remington stood and surveyed the chaos he had created around him. He spent the next hour righting furniture, picking up books and items off the floor where he had discarded them in his haste and frustration. When the room was orderly once more, Remington placed the envelopes from the safe in the briefcase and stood to leave. After turning out all the lights and locking up, Remington stood outside on the street and hailed a cab, feeling at peace for the first time since the attorney appeared at Ashford Castle, summoning him to London.
Before stepping into the waiting vehicle, he turned to look up at the tall building that promised so much. His eyes traveled higher to the brilliant cotton candy clouds that graced the sunset sky. He smiled enigmatically, his eyes dropping as he turned to sit in the cab. "The St. John's Hotel, my good man. And don't spare the rubber."
As he collected his room key from the front desk, the clerk handed him a package. "What's this?" he asked, confused.
"A delivery, from Harrods late last night. Mrs. Steele told the staff to give it to you," the clerk explained.
"Ah, yes, Harrod's. Thank you, thank you very much indeed." His eyebrows furrowed as he asked, "Did um… did my wife say anything else this morning?" Remington asked.
"Just that you would be taking care of the bill, sir," the clerk smiled at him.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure she did. Can I ask if you might have a copy of the train schedule to Holyhead?" he asked with a smile. The clerk handed him a folded pamphlet. Pressing it into his inside jacket pocket and scooping up the parcel, he headed toward the elevators. He rode up to his room in silence, mentally planning what needed to be done to get him back to Ireland as quickly as possible.
Conflicting feelings coursed through his mind. He was eager to share his findings from his search of the building with Laura, but was now fairly certain that she might not be too happy to see him. The parcel of his surprise purchase of the clothing Laura had modelled so effectively at Harrod's was evidence of that. She didn't even bother opening it. Not a typical course of action for the insatiably curious Miss Holt. She had probably guessed what was in it, and rejected it in a huff. Nevertheless he was determined to put all of this behind them and if there would be a bit of kicking and screaming, so be it. Afterall, he thought to himself, faint heart never won fair lady! He had to further admit to himself that that quote was from an animated Disney movie, a musical nonetheless. Robin Hood, 1973, starring a menagerie of anthropomorphized forest animals.
Hours later,after eating and packing, Remington lay in bed watching the only movie he could find, "On the Waterfront" (Marlon Brando, Karl Malden Columbia Pictures 1954). But it wasn't diverting enough to get the image of Laura walking toward him in a stunning evening gown, the vision of her alluring assets through the sheer fabric second only to her face, her lips, her soft glowing skin...This won't do! Now he would never get to sleep. But the exhaustion from the rigours of the day soon overpowered him. It may only have been his imagination, but as he drifted off to sleep he could smell her perfume enshrouding him, caressing him, comforting him.
