Chapter 2 – Playing With Fire

Arriving at the office at 12:15, Laura and Remington were grilled – there was no other word for it – by Mildred about the INS visit that morning. Laura had received a proud 'Good for you, Mrs. Steele' when she'd related how she'd shown her the door. The news from Meyerson, however, send Mildred to her feet, skittering around her desk to give both of her kids joyous hugs. A flushed Remington and a smiling Laura went to their separate offices to attend to the paperwork left for them by Mildred and to return phone calls as demanded by the messages shoved into their hands by the same.

At promptly 12:59, Mildred buzzed Laura to let her know that William Covington had arrived for his one o'clock appointment. Directing Mildred to escort him into Remington's office in two minutes then to bring coffee for each of them to his office afterwards, she stood and straightened her skirt before going into Remington's office to alert him to Covington's arrival. He surprised her by holding up a finger to her as she entered.

"I appreciate that Meredith… Yes, yes, Sunday morning at 11 o'clock… It's much appreciated… Bye bye now." Remington hung up the phone then stood to walk across the room and brush his lips against her cheek.

"Should I ask what that was all about?" she inquired.

"Veronica Kirk gave me a lead on a house in Holmby Hills that is going to market in the next week or so. She and Maxie insist that it is perfect for us. Meredith's arranged a private showing for us Sunday morning if you're up to adding one more to the list, that is," he explained.

"Why not? After all, what's one more?" she agreed as she took his jacket off the back his chair and held it out to him. "William Covington's arrived."

"Ah, yes, our one o'clock. Locating some assets hidden during a divorce, isn't it?"

"Yes, from what Mildred could wheedle out of him," she confirmed. "Mr. Covington wasn't very forthcoming when he called for an appointment, wanting to withhold the details until we met face-to-face."

The door to Remington's office swung open and Mildred showed Covington into the room. Covington stood a little shy of six feet, with brown hair graying at the temples, and carried an air of old money about him. Remington immediately put on his most affable smile and held out a hand.

"Mr. Covington, Remington Steele," he shook the man's hand, then held out a hand towards Laura. "My partner, Laura Holt."

"Mr. Covington," she greeted him, shaking his hand as well.

"If you'd like to have a seat," Remington offered, indicating the chair in front of his desk, before taking his own seat behind it. Laura slid up to perch on the end of Remington's desk facing Covington. "So, how can the Remington Steele Agency be of assistance to you, Mr. Covington?"

"I don't have much time, so I'll get straight to the point. In two months my divorce will be complete. Two days after I filed for divorce, my soon to be ex-wife claimed our house was burglarized with the thieves departing with three pieces of jewelry that have been in my family for more than a hundred years." He handed Remington a stack of photos and paperwork. Remington perused the information before handing the material over to Laura. "As you can see, the jewelry is insured for just over two million, although I wouldn't hesitate to say they hold even greater meaning to my family. I have good reason to believe Astrid is concealing the pieces and if the information I have obtained is correct, she is currently trying to identify a buyer for the them."

"From whom did you acquire this information?" Laura inquired as she continued to examine the pictures in her hand.

"I have a friend that's an antique broker. He was contacted by an anonymous individual inquiring if he might be interested in obtaining three antique pieces. Given the description of the pieces, his interest was more than piqued as he's been after me for years to consider allowing him to find a buyer for them. At the time he was unaware of the alleged burglary, or we may have been able to handle this matter ourselves." Covington glanced at his watch, then continued. "As it stands, I need to locate the jewels before Astrid is able to find a buyer or my family may not recover them."

"It would seem to me, then, that it's simply a matter of getting the right buyer to cross paths with your wife," Laura commented, casting a contemplative glance towards Remington. "Tell me, Mr. Covington, where does your wife spend a lot of time? Any interests, hobbies?"

"When Astrid is not emptying the coffers at any number of shops along Rodeo Drive, she is most likely to be found at one of two places: The country club working on her backhand and tan, or at one of her various committee meetings working on her… social… connections. Other than tennis and shopping, I don't know that Astrid any other hobbies one could pinpoint, although her list of interests is easily summarized: Men of affluence, the quality of their bank accounts, and discovering a way to partake of both."

"I take it those… interests… may have contributed to the current state of your marriage?" Remington posed.

"They most certainly did. It took me a while to realize, despite the warnings of friends and family, that Astrid is constantly looking for her next… victim… and is not opposed to using her considerable… charms… to draw them in," Covington supplied, bitterness tracing his words.

"Moves fast, does she?" Laura asked, an idea glimmering in her eyes. Remington caught the look and sat up a bit straighter in his chair.

"Quite. If she sees something she wants, she doesn't hesitate to go after it," Covington confirmed.

"Well, Mr. Covington, since that is the case I think we could have this case wrapped up and the missing pieces back in your hands within a week's time," Laura told him with a confident smile.

"May I ask, Miss Holt, how you intend to accomplish that feat?" Covington asked, eyeing her with interest. Sliding off the desk, she rounded the desk to stand next to Remington's chair. Laying a hand on his shoulder, she turned her attention back to Covington.

"By making sure she crosses paths with both her interests and her desires: a wealthy man to pique her interest that also happens to have certain… connections… when it comes to finding buyers for unique pieces." Remington stilled under her hand before rising from his chair.

"Mr. Covington, if I might have a moment to… confer… with my partner," Remington excused them, as he palmed the small of Laura's back and urged her towards her office. "Miss Holt…"

"I'm rather pressed for time Mr. Steele…" Covington tried to interject.

"Just a moment, I assure you. We'll be right back," Remington told the man over his shoulder, closing Laura's office door behind them.

"What are you doing? Our client's a busy man, Mr. Steele," she demanded to know, turning to look at him, placing her hands on her hips.

"Laura, I thought some years ago we'd veered away from this particular, er… investigative tool as a matter of course," Remington reminded her. "I seem to recall we well learned our lessons between Dominick and Millicent."

"Things have changed," she answered with a small shrug of her shoulders.

"You're quite right. Things have changed," he told her pointedly. "Seems to me we've all the more reason not to follow this particular path."

"Don't you think you're being a little… overly dramatic," she asked with a frown. "I'm not expecting you to seduce her, merely to use your charm, within reason, to persuade her into showing you the jewels."

"Laura…" he hedged, a warning tone in his voice. Assessing him, she abruptly changed tactics.

"Don't tell me, Mr. Steele," she drawled, while walking her fingers up his chest, "That now that you're a married man you're worried you've lost your touch."

"Don't be ridiculous," he responded, affronted. "But that's hardly the point."

"It's business. That's the point," she told him firmly, getting irritated. "By all means, if you have a better idea, I'm all ears." Shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, he averted his eyes from her. "Then it appears its settled," she told him with a smile before opening the door and returning to his office. He tossed a frown at her back, before following behind and pasting the smile back on his face.

"As I was saying, Mr. Covington," Laura continued as though the conference between she and Remington had never taken place, "I'm fairly certain we can have this entire matter wrapped up for you within a week. Isn't that right, Mr. Steele?" she challenged, seeing that he was still none too happy with her plan.

"Yes, yes, of course, within the week," he answered, backing her up as she knew he would. She flashed him a smug little smile as he leaned against the desk, shoving his hands in his pockets again. "Tell me, Mr. Covington, when does your wife – Astrid, isn't it – normally indulge in her enjoyment of tennis?"

"Each Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday at 10 a.m. at White Oak Country Club. She is… fanatical… about not missing her matches," he supplied.

"Then we'll get started in the morning," Laura told him. Covington nodded, then stood to take his leave.

"I look forward to seeing the results you've promised," he told them both. After another round of handshakes he departed.

Mildred hustled into the office as soon as he left.

"A courier just dropped these by. I thought you'd want them immediately, Boss," she told Remington, handing him a manila envelope.

"Yes, quite right you are, Mildred." Taking the envelope from her he moved to sit down on the couch. At Laura's curious glance he gave her a nod. "Meyerson," he confirmed.

Laura crossed the room to sit next to him, tapping her foot anxiously as he opened the envelope and pulled out the paperwork as Mildred discretely left the room, closing the door behind her. Together, they went through the contract, Remington reading through a page then handing it to Laura for her perusal before moving on to the next.

"Seems rather straight forward," he commented as he handed her the last page. She nodded, as she skimmed its contents.

"I agree." She handed him her pen as she stood. "Go ahead and sign while I get the checkbook."

This was yet another change she'd had to get used to since returning home from their honeymoon. Two days after their return, Remington had dragged her off to the bank during lunch in order to change his personal checking account into a joint account. Three months later, she still wasn't used to seeing the six digits in front of the decimal point in a checking account with her name on it. She'd fully expected, once he'd revealed his shocking secret, that he'd suddenly begin spending lavishly. He'd confounded her again. While he enjoyed his fine clothing, dining and wine, he was perfectly content with their lifestyle and had no desire for any of it to change. Truth be told, he'd only spoken of two large expenditures: a house for them and vow that by the following summer they would own a sailboat to traverse the waters of the Pacific on the weekends.

After retrieving their checkbook from her purse, she returned to sit next to him. She watched as he wrote out the three thousand dollar check without so much as a blink of an eye. He slid the paperwork and check back in the envelope, then sat it on the table before leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes. At a glance, she knew he was still put out with her.

"Alright," she said with an exasperated sigh, "Let's talk about it." He opened an eye to look at her, then closed it again.

"Is there any point in doing so?" he queried. "I mean, is there anything that I can say that will change your mind?"

"Can you think of a better solution?" she persisted. He gave a shake of his head then stood up, gathering up the envelope from the coffee table.

"Where are you going?" she asked, as she watched him walk towards the door.

"To drop these round to the courier service. It would seem to me the sooner Meyerson gets underway the better," he explained.

"Remington, we need to talk about this," she urged.

"Seems to me that we already have." He gave a shake of his head. "We'll see this through your way, Laura." Walking back to her, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek. "I'll see you at home. I need to pop round to Kleinfeld's to check on the system installation then run by Monroe's to see how the stores are faring, cancel our tennis date for this weekend."

"Oh no," she lamented. "I forgot all about our plans with him and Jocelyn."

"I'm sure they'll understand. They're well aware of our business before personal policy, as am I." With those final words he left the office. Watching him depart, Laura lifted her hand to her left brow and began to rub.

"Damn it," she muttered softly, then leaned against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.

Laura frittered away the afternoon at Agency accomplishing… absolutely nothing, as her mind continued to wander back to her husband and his obvious annoyance with her over her decision on how they'd approach the Covington case. His attitude surrounding the plan completely perplexed her. A chance meeting, a few dinners, a modicum of romance, and he'd have Astrid Covington eating out of his hand. She knew better than most, after all, the power of his charm when he turned it on. Further, it was a compliment to him that not only did she trust him implicitly not to take things to far, but that she believed in his powers of persuasion so thoroughly.

Instead he seemed to be… insulted, almost. She shook her head several times that afternoon as she continued to return to that sticking point. She had no idea what had gotten into him and clearly he had no intention of sharing. Stubborn man, she thought to herself, not for the first time that afternoon. Tossing her pencil down, she glanced at her watch. Four-thirty. Remington had left the office nearly two hours before and not once had he checked in. She considered the phone on her desk for the dozenth time in the last half hour. With a shake of her head, she picked up the receiver then dialed his car phone. Her call went unanswered. With a growl of frustration, she hung up then stood and grabbed her purse.

Home, change, run, she thought to herself.

Remington was more than a bit surprised when he arrived home and found Laura's purse laying on the entryway table. A quick look at his watch confirmed that it was only shortly after five. Since they'd returned from their honeymoon, she'd been no less dedicated than she was before, seldom leaving the office before five-thirty, more often six. Having taken the time to work things through in his head, he'd decided to come home and whip them up dinner. A little candlelight, a little wine, a bit of dancing and things should right themselves once more. In his frustration with her that afternoon, he'd nearly forgotten that they had cause for celebration: the removal of the INS's intrusion in their lives, very shortly.

"Laura," he called out. The apartment remained still and silent around him. With a lift of a brow, he recognized the very real possibility that his refusal to talk things through with her this afternoon may well have earned him the silent treatment. Stubborn woman, he thought to himself, as he walked into their bedroom to see if she was in there. Instead, he found the suit she'd worn to work that day laying across the end of the bed and a quick check of the closet confirmed her running shoes were gone. Off to run off her frustration with me, I see, he thought to himself.

He gave a deep sigh. He knew that he shouldn't have shut her out as he did that afternoon, but he'd honestly had no idea how to explain what he was feeling. Offended, certainly. Worried, most definitely. Yet to put those thoughts into words? He didn't even begin to know how. He was struggling with the why's, not that he didn't know what those were, for he did. More the 'why' of why this time it bothered him so deeply.

She'd given him an out. He'd ruminated on it as he'd check on the security install, on his way to Monroe's, on his way home. Nothing. He couldn't come up with a single idea outside of the one she'd devised. Since they had no idea where Astrid Covington had stashed the jewels, even a midnight foray was out of the question. He didn't like it, but it appeared her course of action was the most expedient one.

And now it appeared some serious effort would need to be made to make up his petulance towards her that afternoon. In the kitchen he turned on the oven then opened a bottle of Silver Oak Cabernet Sauvignon so that it could breathe. After sliding the brown sugar and mustard glazed salmon into the oven, he moved to the bathroom. Lighting several candles, he filled the tub with hot water and a generous portion of her favored bubble bath before returning to the kitchen to prepare them a salad to accompany the salmon. A few short minutes later, he heard the front door open and close and he went out to meet her.

"There's a bath waiting for you," he told her, brushing his lips against her cheek. "Dinner should be ready in thirty minutes, give or take."

"Sounds wonderful." She tilted her head slightly and considered him. "Are we okay?"

"Better than okay, I hope," he answered, taking her head in his hands and leaning down for a quick taste of her lips. "I believe we have cause for a small… private… celebration this evening, don't we?"

She stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers toying with the hair at the back of his neck.

"Why don't you turn down the oven and join me?" she suggested. His gratitude that she was willing to let go, so easily, of his behavior that afternoon shone in his eyes. He leaned down to press his lips against her neck.

"I can think of little I'd enjoy more," he answered with a smile. "Go ahead, I'll join you shortly." He nudged her towards the bedroom. Remington watched as Laura strolled away, taking the time to enjoy the gentle sway of her hips and the way her jogging shorts hugged her magnificent bum. With a smile, he moved to the kitchen and made quick work of turning down the oven before pouring a glass of wine for each of them, then joined Laura in the bath.