Chapter 26: Unveiling
"Good morning, Mildred," Laura greeted cheerfully, as she walked through the doors of Remington Steele Investigations at eight Wednesday morning. Mildred planted her elbow on her desk and rested her chin in her palm.
"Someone's in a good mood this morning. Does that have anything to do with a certain someone?" Laura's smiled widened.
"Could be," she replied. "Ready to head to your sister's for the week?"
"Oh, I can't go for the week. The Dragon Lady's play the Bowl Busters tomorrow night. The ladies would have my head if I missed it. But on Friday, I'm outta here. Bernard's going to be home for the long weekend. He graduates next weekend, you know." Laura's brows lifted in surprise.
"You never said anything!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Steele and I will have to pick him up a graduation present while I'm in London."
"Aw, you don't have to do that," Mildred waved her off. "I'm just so proud. My little Bernie graduating and preparing to start his Masters."
"I know we don't have to. I want to and I'm sure Mr. Steele will feel the same. I think he has a soft spot where Bernard is concerned," she shared as she picked up the mail and sorted through the stack. Nothing that couldn't wait until she came home. "Mildred, I want you to run a quick background check on our client. Keep it simple. Driver's license, criminal history, financials." Mildred straightened in her chair.
"We never run backgrounds on our clients. What's up?" Laura lifted her hand and dropped it.
"Just a feeling something's off, nothing more. Let's see what you dig up, if anything, and we'll go from there. But make it fast. We're expecting her within the hour." Mildred swung her chair around to face her computer.
"I'm on it. Give me thirty. If there's any dirt, Krebs will find it."
Twenty-eight minutes later, Mildred knocked on Laura's open office door. It only took a glance at the investigator-in-training's face to know she'd found something. Leaning back in her chair, she indicated with a hand for Mildred to have a seat.
"What did you find?"
"Well, whoever our client is, she's not Marney Denks, that's for sure." Mildred handed Laura a print out of Marney Denks's driver's license. "The real Marney Denks died in a car accident right before Christmas last year," she continued, handing Laura a copy of the obituary, "Leaving behind her husband, Virgil Denks and no other relatives to speak of." Laura propped her feet on the corner of her desk, and fingered her throat.
"So I see," she answered, thoughtfully.
"What's going on here, Miss Holt?" Mildred worried. Laura lifted a shoulder and dropped it.
"I have no idea. If she's a con using the Agency to steal those jewels, it's a brilliant strategy, certainly not something I've ever thought might happen. But, I suspect there's more to it than that and we're going to find out." Dropping her feet to the ground, she opened her drawer and removed her purse. Extracting her car keys from it, she tossed them to Mildred. "Wait a few minutes after she arrives, then call me on the intercom. Remind me that with us closing for a week you need to go to the post office."
"The post office?" Mildred asked, a baffled look upon her face.
"The post office," Laura confirmed with a emphatic nod of her head. "When Denks leaves I want you to tail her. I'll have Fred pick me up in the limo. Call me when she arrives at her destination. At the very least, we may find out where she lives. In the meantime," she tapped the jeweler's boxes on her desk with her index finger, "Once Ms. Denks pays the balance of her bill, she'll receive the jewels she hired us to retrieve."
"The balance of—" Mildred's eyes widened, "Wait a minute, you're giving her the jewels?!" Mildred's voice raised an octave she was so shocked.
"These," she tapped the boxes again, "Are the paste replicas. I put the originals back in the safe when I suspected something was up." A wide smile lit her face, and was reflected on Mildred's.
"I gotta hand it to you, Miss Holt, you're one sharp cookie," she praised. "Now what balance?"
"The Remington Steele Agency charges our premium rates when someone tries to put one over on us, not only wasting our time, but placing the Agency's reputation, not to mention ourselves, at risk," Laura advised, voice grown hard. "Double our normal hourly rate, and then hit her with every expense you can think of: Film for the camera, gas to and from Denks's home, cost plus on the replicas." She leaned back in her chair. "I think the least 'Mrs. Denks' can do is cover the Agency bills while we're closed. Think you can do that in the next…" she consulted her wristwatch "…ten minutes or so?"
"It's a snap," Mildred replied, snapping her fingers in emphasis as she stood up. "Just a matter of changing the hourly rate then adding a few lines for expenses. I'll have it to you before she arrives."
"Thanks, Mildred." Her brow furrowed as a thought came to mind. "And Mildred, no heroics. You're to follow her, then call me."
"You got it," Mildred agreed. "Be back in five."
Laura watched Mildred depart her office, closing the door behind her. Leaning back in her chair and propping her feet up on the corner of the desk again, she tapped steepled hands together.
She didn't like the fact someone had pulled a fast one on her, not at all, and couldn't help but wonder if, with the absence of her partner, she'd lost some of the edge that had contributed to the Agency's success. As that concern paraded about in the recesses of her mind, she reached for her phone and tapped a number out on the keypad.
"Fred, change of plans. How fast can you be at the Agency?"
Laura was furious – beyond furious – as she shoved her way through the cheap door of the diner downtown. She'd extended the meeting with 'Marney Denks' long enough to assure Mildred would be in place and ready to tail the woman when she left the office. In the meantime, she'd presented Denks with the bill. The woman had never batted an eye when presented with her bill, all too eager to get her hands on the jeweler's boxes sitting on Laura's desk. She'd never asked whether or not Laura had caught 'her husband' in a compromising position, instead coolly handing over a little more than thirty-four-hundred dollars in cash before sweeping out the door with the 'jewels' in hand.
The whole meeting had only underscored what she now saw as her own gullibility. It was out of habit, and nothing more, that she'd tossed the micro-recorder into her purse before leaving the Agency, securing the doors behind her.
As she looked around the retro diner, she reached into her purse and depressed the record button, then spying her prey, stalked across the room, brushing off the hostess who offered to seat her. Instead, dropping her purse on the table, she slipped, uninvited, into the booth next to 'Marney Denks', essentially blocking the woman's lone escape route should she choose to bolt.
It was only her rigid self-control that kept her from lunging across the table and putting her hands around the fat neck of 'Mrs. Denks's dining companion. Instead, in a moment of peevishness, she reached across the table, snatched the burning cigar out of Norman Keyes's hand, and ground it out in the middle of the stack of pancakes sitting before him.
"Hey!" he protested. "You owe me breakfast and a cigar."
"Consider it my tip for a job well done," she shot back. "Why am I not surprised you're behind this, Keyes?" Leaning back, he slung an arm over the back of the booth, earning a dirty look from the patron behind him when he knocked her in the back of the head.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Holt," he claimed, "I'm just here, enjoying breakfast with a friend." Raising a hand, he waved at the waitress, as Laura turned to Keyes's companion who'd remained silent until now.
"You and Norman know each other?" Marney inquired, with wide-eyed innocence. Laura's eyes narrowed on her.
"Another order of hot cakes," Keyes instructed the waitress as he shoved his plate towards her. "These have something in them." The waitress him a queer look, but took the plate away with her.
"Old friends," Laura deadpanned in answer to Denks's question. "I think the more interesting question is how do you know him?"
"We met here Saturday, actually," Denks replied. "The diner was crowded and he offered to share his table with me. He's such a kind man, taking time out of his busy schedule to show a stranger from out of town around the city."
"Nice try," Laura drawled, reaching for her purse. Pulling a piece of paper out of her purse, she slapped it on the table. "I have no idea who you are, Mrs. Denks, but I know who you're not. So cut the act." She turned a pair of hard eyes on Keyes. "What game are you playing, Keyes?" she demanded to know. His cackle surrounded them.
"Just enjoying breakfast with a friend," he repeated, a smug smile on his face.
"Let me guess. You have your friend hire me to recover a family heirloom from the husband she is about to divorce, providing her with all the documentation she might need to prove her ownership," she speculated. "I hand over the jewels to her and she disappears into thin air. You, in turn, 'recover' the jewels, and collect the recovery fee while bolstering your somewhat tarnished reputation." She easily read the slight smirk on his lips and gave her head a slow shake. "No, that's not it." Her mind sorted through all the possible variations. She paled slightly when the full scope of what he had planned came into focus. "You have a buyer."
"Why settle for pennies on the dollar when you can have it all?" he confirmed with a maniacal grin.
"And I suppose Vigilance is the actual insurer," she surmised.
"They terminated my services after that stunt you pulled, Holt," he fumed.
"That I pulled?!" she returned, appalled. "You're the one who tried to have Mr. Steele deported in a snit that you'd have to report to him. You're the one who barged into our offices, making threats and lewd comments. You're the one who put his hands on me. What exactly is it that 'I pulled'?"
"You made it personal," Keyes accused, pointing a finger at her face. "Nalbourne never needed to be brought into any of it. It was between me and Steele." Stunned by how his demented little mind reordered history at his convenience, she leaned fully against the back of the booth, crossed her arms, and slowly shook her head in disbelief.
"So what was your plan? To frame me for the theft of the jewels?"
"Steele has a soft spot for you," he answered by way of explanation. She threw up her hands.
"It would have never worked!" she protested. "I have proof that we were hired to retrieve goods that were being withheld from the rightful owner, payment for services rendered—"
"Do you?" he challenged. Her skin crawled as she wondered what else it was she might have missed.
"No one will ever believe you," she retorted. "My reputation, the Agency's reputation, stands for itself."
"A desperate woman has been known to do worse," Keyes provoked. As intended, she took umbrage at the slight, her back straightening and her eyes shooting darts in his direction.
"I'm not a desperate woman," she spit the words out with distaste.
"Woman with a boss who has a questionable past, a boss that has recently been investigated for being in the country illegally then disappears right afterwards. Maybe she believes her job security is at risk and decides to take matters in her own hands, create a little nest egg for herself," he proposed, then laughed long and loud.
"A fantasy, and again, not only will no one ever believe it, but you have no evidence other than my own case files that I was involved in any of this." Reaching for her purse, she prepared to leave, her hand stalling over it at his next words.
"As they say, 'a picture's worth a thousand words,'" Keyes bragged with smirk. "The photos of your little B&E last night are being developed as we speak." To her credit, she never so much as let him see her blink. Standing she reached into her purse and removed the micro-recorder.
"And a confession is worth far more," she informed him, taking pleasure in the way his face reddened. Dropping the recorder back in her purse, she slid the strap over her shoulder then pressed flattened palms on the table, leaning in until she was nearly nose-to-nose with the man. "You, Mr. Keyes are a twisted little man. Good luck selling those jewels. Your 'friend' was given paste replicas." As he fumed she turned to Denks. "As for you, I have no idea who you are, but I will find out." Grabbing a napkin off the table, she picked up the woman's coffee cup then wrinkled her nose at the contents. "I prefer my coffee black." With a smile, her attention returned to Keyes and she emptied the contents in his lap then shoved the empty cup into her purse. "The coffee's on you."
As he sputtered with fury, she turned on her heel and strode towards the door of the diner, head held high.
"I'll get you for this, Holt, if it's the last thing I do," he yelled at her departing back. "I used to think you were the brains in this operation. Steele would have figured it out long ago!"
She held her composure until she slumped down into the backseat of the limo.
"The office, Fred," she directed, in a dull voice.
As the limo pulled away from the curb, she couldn't help but wonder if Keyes was right.
Laura's eyes blinked open when the flight attendant laid a soft hand on her arm.
"We'll be landing in ten minutes," the attendant advised.
"Thank you," she replied, graciously.
When the attendant departed, she sat up and stretched. She'd managed a little over four hours of sleep, having spent the first six-and-a-half hours of the flight filleting herself. A check of personal and business accounts showed nothing amiss, so unlike with Descoine no mysterious deposits had appeared to secure the net Keyes had intended to cast around her. It was Denks's file, however, that had left her resting her head in her hands. The registration, insurance paperwork and the will she'd been provided were no longer part of the file and she had no idea when they had disappeared.
Framed, surveilled, their office breached and she'd missed it all.
Had Keyes been that slick or had she been careless… unobservant… obtuse…
The list of self-deprecating words she'd levied upon herself had been considerable.
Now, her unhappiness with herself was overshadowed, at least temporarily, by the anticipation of seeing Remington for the first time in weeks. Removing her compact from her purse, she dabbed a little powder on her face, and slicked on a layer of lipstick over her lips. She patted back the stray hairs that had come loose from her French braid, and decided it would have to suffice.
She was inexplicably shaky as she walked through the jetway towards the terminal gate. Was it because she was roused at what was her three A.M. after too little sleep? Was it because of the day's discoveries? Or was it because she needed to see Remington's eyes, to see that the warmth, the pride, the tenderness… and yes, even the need… was still in their blue depths? She couldn't say for sure if was any one thing or all the things combined.
When she stepped out of the jetway into the terminal, there he was, hair slightly shorter than the last time she'd seen him, one hand shoved in a pocket, the other raised to his mouth as he nibbled at his thumbnail, a testament to his own nerves.
His eyes landed on her and there was that look she needed to see.
He edged his way through the throngs waiting for their parties, as she eased around the people disembarking in front of her.
His hand reached for her waist when she neared. Without hesitation, she dropped her overnight bag at her feet and stepped into his waiting embrace…