Chapter 11: Developments
Laura stepped out of the bathroom in Remington's luxurious bedroom at Daniel's house. Wrapped in one of Remington's silk robes, covering one of his dress shirts she'd chosen to wear to bed, she peeked into 'her' closet, hoping by some miracle a wardrobe would appear, but that was not, of course, the case. She'd either have to find some time to do a bit of shopping or have Mildred ship her some clothes over, she mulled, then dismissed with a sigh the latter as impractical. Her shoulders slumping with resignation, shopping it would be, she acknowledged. Where she would find the time, she had no idea, but it would have to be sooner than later as she couldn't continue wearing the same trio of outfits day in and day out.
She snorted a quiet laugh. She was beginning to sound like the man sleeping in the bed now.
And speaking of that man, he'd been as surly as a lion with a thorn buried in his paw by the time they'd arrived at Daniel's earlier in the morning. Townsend had reluctantly agreed to Remington being moved to Daniel's under a pair of conditions: First, he would be transported by ambulance. Remington had fought the fight, but had lost in the end as Townsend had held firm and Remington had griped about it up until he'd fallen asleep in the bed where he now lay.
"An ambulance, Laura. How would it look if word got out Remington Steele was so frail as to require an ambulance?" he'd complained numerous times, each time saying the word 'ambulance' with a great deal of disdain.
And that second condition? Louise and Claudia would continue their twelve hour shifts at Daniel's. Remington's protests over that particular codicil were equally as vocal: Surely Townsend's visits would suffice; he didn't wish to abuse Daniel's generosity; a vow to continue his walks to regain his strength; and, finally, a sulking…
"The whole thing is positively ridiculous should you ask me."
He hadn't found it so ridiculous once they'd arrived at Daniel's. The long ride and the bone jostling trip up the staircase to his room had been a painful reminder of just how much he did need those nurses on hand. By the time he was tucked into bed, he hadn't the strength to offer up a syllable of complaint when Claudia had injected the sweet relief of a booster of morphine into his IV port. He'd fallen asleep, blessedly, only minutes later. After crawling beneath the sheets, she'd erected somewhat of a barricade between she and Remington out of a pair of pillows, in hopes it would keep her from accidentally rolling to him as they slept. Almost the instant she'd closed her eyes, she'd fallen to slumber.
Somewhat refreshed now, she changed into the last outfit remaining in the shopping bags Mildred had brought her: A pair of crisp navy slacks and a snow white sleeveless, scoop necked blouse. With a final look at Remington, who still slept soundly, she went in search of a cup of tea.
What she found was Tildy bustling about in the kitchen preparing a pair of trays of food.
"Good morning, Tilly," she greeted. Tilly turned with a smile on her face, then gasped when she took in Laura's appearance.
"My Lord in Heaven," she breathed, a hand lifting as though to touch the bruises. Laura didn't shirk away, but was nonetheless relieved when Tilly dropped her hand. She'd had enough of people prodding her injuries and wasn't keen on yet another.
"A hazard of my work, nothing more. I'm fine," she assured. Tilly looked unconvinced, but took the cue and didn't pursue the matter.
"I know it's nearly the noon hour," Tilly spoke, "But I thought Harry might enjoy some of his favored breakfast foods from when he was a lad." Laura examined the content of the trays: Sausage, bacon, eggs, grilled tomatoes, toast, butter, marmalade and a teapot of what she assumed was tea. Tildy returned to the counter holding an iron skillet with a gloved hand, then transferred the golden potato pancakes to a plate.
"You'll spoil him," Laura remarked. "Thank you for dinner last night. It was lovely."
"Harry's already far too thin for my liking," the elderly woman clucked as she returned the pan to the stove to cool. "Can't have him wasting away refusing to eat that hospital food, as he would," she added.
"You know him well," Laura mused.
"I should, given the time he spent here," Tildy replied, setting two plates topped with napkins and silverware on a tray. Finished with preparations, she directed her gaze onto the younger woman. "Harry's found a good one in you. You came straight away when he needed you."
"I did nothing more for him, than he would do for me," Laura dismissed the compliment.
"Still it speaks of a certain character that has been lacking in these parts since we lost the Mr. and Mrs.," Tildy sniffed. "Treacherous lot, Master Daniel's associates, if you ask me. Can't trust a one of them, man or woman alike." Laura couldn't disagree.
"I understand," she replied diplomatically, tacitly agreeing with the woman's stance, as she could imagine the people of whom Tilly spoke, without casting aspersions of her own. With a brisk nod of her head that said Tilly considered the conversation closed, the older woman took a step back.
"Milton and I will bring your breakfast upstairs momentarily." An image of the frail, but proud, old man flashed through Laura's mind. Automatically, she reached for one of the trays.
"There's no reason to disturb Milton," she answered in a casual tone, "I'm perfectly capable of carrying a tray upstairs myself." The housekeeper appeared horrified by the suggestion.
"I thank you for the offer, Miss, but Master Daniel would have—"
"Don't worry about Daniel," Laura offered in a breezy tone as she picked up the tray and walked towards the kitchen door, "He's used to me not following his edicts."
Tilly allowed a rare smile to light her face after Laura disappeared through the door. Yes, Harry had found himself a good one, she acknowledged again as she lifted the tray and followed Laura from the room.
Waking Remington hadn't been difficult after his refined nose had caught scent of the feast awaiting him. He'd devoured the offering with glee, tickled that Tildy had spoiled him so only to have the entire meal ruined, in his opinion, when Louise had stepped into the room no sooner than he'd laid down his fork announcing…
"Time for a walk, Dr. Townsend's orders."
He'd done the deed with less assistance and more griping than the day prior, then had not only waved off Louise's offer of more medication but had insisted he'd spend the day reclining on the sofa in the sitting area. He hated being confined to bed and even though he'd spend the day immobile it didn't seem somehow quite so… boring. Much like her partner, Laura, too, had refused her morning dose of medication, given the headache seemed to be gone and had curled up by his feet at the opposite end of the couch, the crossword puzzle from that morning's paper in her lap.
"Ten letter word for 'lexicon'," she read aloud. The clue brought a smile to her lips and a small laugh bubbled up from her throat.
"I hadn't realized you found the word dictionary so amusing," Remington observed.
"Not the word, but the memory," Laura corrected.
"Oh?"
"One day, not too long after you'd become Remington Steele, we were having a slow day. It was around Christmas if I recall correctly," she speculated. "Murph was working a crossword puzzle in his office and was stumped by this very same question. I asked if he'd looked it up and he insisted that he had."
"I'd lay odds he had that very dictionary in hand when he asked," he noted, with a wrinkle of his nose. Murphy Michaels was not amongst his list of preferred topics of conversation. She rolled her eyes.
"The two of you," she huffed. "It's been three years!"
"Precisely my point," he shot back. "Three years, four since I appeared in your life, and he is still filling your head with warnings that I'll disappear into that misty night leaving you, what was it again?" he feigned faulty memory.
"It's not you. It's me. He worries about me. Worries I'll get it too deep. And you'll be gone. And I'll be left… in too deep."
He snapped his fingers.
"Ah yes, in too deep wasn't it?" He gesticulated with a hand. "Forgive me if I have difficulty believing that Michaels' nattering in your ear didn't play a part in making certain those fears of yours were constantly at the forefront of your mind."
"I seem to recall saying he wasn't the only one who was worried I'd find myself in that particular state," she reminded mildly, her mind already back on the puzzle. "Seven letters ending in -y, Found in—"
"Ah, yes, my inglorious past," he drew out each word with sarcasm. Head snapping up from the puzzle, she turned and considered him. He was trying to pick a fight and she had no idea why. She said as much.
"What has gotten into you? You're trying to bait me into a fight and I'm not sure why. And over Murphy, off all things? I seem to recall that when we were in New York I made it abundantly clear to Murph that I'd no longer listen to his criticisms and warnings. Did I not?" He drew his right hand over his face then held it up in apology.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized aloud, then sighed heartily. "Ah, Laura, I feel so bloody helpless. Someone has a price on my head and there's not a damned thing I can do about it, not like this." He held up his left hand, IV port still inserted and gesticulated towards his body with his right.
"I know it's far from ideal, but you are helping," she replied, soothingly, "Your descriptions of the men who assaulted you led to identifying Jones and Smith, after all," she finished with a bright note. Without thinking he tried to cross his arms, winced, then settled for a one-armed version while giving her a disgruntled look.
"It's not enough. We should be out there," he flicked his right hand in the general area of the windows, "Following clues, using my contacts on the street, pursuing every lead until—"
"Careful, Mr. Steele, you're beginning to sound like a detective," she joked. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards at her attempt of levity, but he wasn't mollified. Well, she might not be able to help him get back on his feet any quicker than nature allowed but she could engage his mind. "Baker said something interesting last night when Lombard was questioning him." The disgruntled expression didn't slip but his eyes lit with curiosity.
"Oh?"
"'I'll be six feet under if I cross that viper.'" She shared the information with a neutrality meant not to tip him off as to where her thoughts had gone. It only took an instant for him to reach the same conclusion, his brows shooting upwards in surprise.
"A woman? You think whoever is orchestrating this is a woman?" She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.
"It makes sense. It's been my experience women are referred to vipers while men are referred to as—"
"Snakes," he concluded. Then another thought occurred to him, one that annoyed him. "You think this is some woman I've crossed in my past," he indicted, crossly, the frown – very real this time – returning to his face. "Why is it, Laura, that whenever I find myself in a situation like this, you automatically assume the worst of me?" Her jaw went slack and her eyes were widened.
"I do not," she denied, vehemently.
"Descoine…" he began ticking off.
"If you're asking me who it is, Laura. I just don't know."
"Well think about it-""What do you think I've been doing?! I've gone back over everything. Every barroom brawl, every jealous lover. There's no one I know with enough savvy to grind an axe this sharp! I just don't know!"
"Templeton…"
"As far as I can tell, all my old adversaries are either deceased, incarcerated or otherwise accounted for."
"Then you must be forgetting someone."
"How many enemies do you think I have, Laura?"
"Mr. Steele, I have great respect for your ability to generate animosity around the globe."
"Cranston.."
"Once a thief, always a thief. Isn't that what went through your mind? Hmmm… Laura?"
"I… I didn't want to think it. It just happened."
"Felicia, Daniel, Captain Rios, the Palermo Brothers, Candy…" she ticked off in return.
"That's not the point," he contested, loudly. "Despite the fact that I've been a faithful partner, laying my neck on the line with you for four years now, you automatically—" She sprang to her feet, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Am I out of line by suggesting it might be a woman from your past?" she demanded to know. His jaw clamped shut in anger while her arms spread wide in protest. "How many women fell for that charming little smile of yours and hoped for more, only to find themselves alone? How many Contessa's may be out for blood after you played your little seduction routine with them to relieve them of their treasures? How many more Felicia's who claim to care about you even as they blackmail you? How many more Anna's? Is it really all that unreasonable to question if it might be a woman from your past?"
"It seems to me we've interfered with any number of people's plans while on the Continent," he countered. "Perhaps one of their mothers, sisters, aunts or grandmothers is behind this, Laura!"
"You think I haven't considered that as well? I have! Margaret and Nanny Perkins come readily to mind, but it doesn't mean we can exclude looking at your past paramours or marks!" She spun on her heels when a knock sounded at the bedroom door. With a huff, she stomped across the room, another knock sounding while she composed herself. She answered the door with what she hoped passed as a smile on her face. "Inspector Lombard!" Damn, how much did he overhear? Of equal concern, how much had Daniel overheard, as he'd accompanied the other man upstairs. "Come in," she greeted, stepping back and holding out an arm toward the room.
"Miss Holt," Lombard nodded as he entered, scanning the room and finding Remington reclined under a blanket on the couch. "Mr. Steele," he nodded again, as he strode across the room then held out his hand. Remington exchanged the handshake with less gusto than he'd normally exhibit.
"I'd get up, but…" Remington indicated his prone form with his right hand.
"Quite understandable," Lombard acknowledged while indicting the nearby chair. "May I?"
"By all means…" Daniel took a seat in the other chair, while Lombard did likewise in the one he'd indicated.
"Daniel?" Remington inquired. In his experience, Daniel appreciated space between himself and any policing authority.
"As I was saying to the good Inspector, you're like a son to me, so I'd like to know where matters stand," Daniel offered. Remington's eyes narrowed on the older man, but in his silence allowed him to stay. Matter settled, Laura returned to where she'd been sitting earlier, on the opposite end of the couch from Remington.
"Miss Holt informs me you're able to provide a description of your assailants?" Lombard jumped right in.
"I can," Remington confirmed. He rattled off the descriptions he'd provided Laura, while she watched Daniel out of the corner of her eye. The man was avidly filing away every detail in his head. Just what is he up to?
"You were able to confirm the identities of two of these men how?" Lombard inquired.
"I obtained a copy of their driver licensings from the companies they'd been connected to for work at the Haven House," Laura provided, then directed her next comments to Daniel. "You might want to inform the Earl that I made mention of a small bonus for the workers if the project comes in under budget."
"Spending his Lordship's money freely now, are you?" Remington asked. Amusement sparkled in his eyes, their argument forgotten for a moment.
"You will, of course, provide me a copy of those licensings?" the Inspector requested. "It would save us a good deal of time and trouble as both are fairly common names."
"I'll bring them by your office this afternoon," Laura agreed. But not until after I make copies for us.
"You're certain of your identification of these men?" Lombard asked, returning his attention to Remington.
"I am," Remington replied with confidence.
"And the man who attempted to assault you last evening? Did you recognize him?" Remington lifted and dropped his hand.
"I never got a good look at the man. The room was dark and I only woke when Laura dove on the bugger." Lombard removed a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Remington. With a glance towards Laura, he folded open the paper and studied the mug shot image. "Never seen him before," he informed the inspector, handing the paper back.
"Has Baker said anything?" Laura wondered. The name drew Daniel's full attention.
"Baker?"
"Bartholomew Baker," Lombard provided, "The man Miss Holt aided in apprehending last evening. Still maintaining his silence in HM Brixton, I'm afraid," he added, addressing Laura.
"Straight to prison, then?" Remington speculated.
"Prison? Not jail?" Laura asked with curiosity.
"We don't have jails here as you do in America," Lombard informed her. "Most offenders are stripped of their passports and released until trial. Only the most serious of offenders or those we deem a flight risk are held over."
"I see."
"HM Brixton isn't for the feint of heart, Laura," Remington elaborated. "I've heard tales of the most hardened of criminals begging for their mothers after a few nights."
"Given Baker's lack of serious criminal history, I imagine he'll be willing to cooperate in a matter of days," Lombard concurred. "Now, Mr. Steele, have you any idea who is behind this plot against you?" The slight flicker of Laura's brow clued Remington in that they would play this one close to the breast.
"Laura and I have been working under the assumption it is someone who wishes to see Haven House closed down."
"And should it not be related to this project of yours and the Earl's?" Lombard prodded. Remington made a helpless gesture.
"Well, we've made any number of enemies on the Continent in the course of our work, including here in London, as you know. I wouldn't even dare hazard a guess who it might be."
"You will, of course, inform me should someone come to mind." Laura and Remington's eyes flitted to each other then away. It wasn't a request Lombard had made but a directive.
"Wouldn't dream of doing anything else," Remington assured.
"Good, good. I can't have you haring about London stirring up trouble," Lombard gave notice, leading to another exchange of looks between the detectives.
"Well, pffft," Remington indicated his body with another sweeping gesture of his hand, "I believe you can rest assured I won't be haring off much of anywhere for a while."
"You said there had been a development in Keyes' murder?" Laura switched topics, when Lombard seemed unconvinced.
"A pair of witnesses, in fact," he confirmed. "They'll be in this afternoon for a formal interview."
"Would you mind if I sat in?" she requested.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. As the witness who found Mr. Keyes, I'd prefer not to taint your testimony. In fact, while I'm here, I'd like to take the opportunity to get your full statement." He glanced at Remington and Daniel. "If, that is, you have the time." She held up both hands, palms up.
"I told your men everything I know," she answered, dropping her hands, "which isn't much."
"I'd prefer to hear it first hand, if you don't mind. Unadulterated by someone else's interpretation, if you will."
"Alright."
"How did you come to be at Mr. Keyes' hotel?" Lombard began.
"I was tracking down the leads on Smith and Jones," Laura relayed. "When I arrived at Peters Fuller Contracting, I was concerned I'd have difficulty finding another taxi, so I asked the driver to wait for me. He agreed and said he'd just grab lunch at the convenience store across the street. When my business was concluded, I went in search of him and found Keyes waiting in the store instead."
"You said previously there was an altercation." Laura frowned.
"Not an altercation," she corrected, "More an… interaction. He was acting… well, like Keyes," she tried to explain with another lift and drop of her hands. "He was intentionally creating a scene, claiming I had been following him when the opposite was true. He must have dropped the paper when he paid for his food."
"Paper?" Remington stepped in to ask. It was the first time he'd heard the nitty gritty of the story from her. She turned her head to look at him.
"His hotel registration form," she supplied, the returned her focus to Lombard. "Between Keyes showing up at Haven House when the three of us were there…" She indicated Daniel with a nod of her head "…following me and then that… insane… display her put on, I'd had enough. I went to his hotel to confront him, to find out what he's up to."
"I assume you traveled to the hotel in the cab that was awaiting you?" Lombard speculated.
"Yes. The hotel was in a more populated area and taxi traffic was heavy on the streets, so I paid the driver and he left."
"And when you arrived at the hotel?" the Inspector prompted.
"I knocked on his door—" she began, only for Lombard to cut her off.
"From the time you arrived please." Her brows furrowed, but she complied without question.
"I walked through the lobby and went directly to the elevator. I was alone on the elevator and got off on the eleventh floor. I knocked on the door twice and when no one answered I pressed my ear to the door. The sound was muffled but I could hear movement beyond the door. I knocked harder and called out to him. When—"
"Pardon me," Lombard interrupted again. "When you called out to him, what did you say?" Her brows drew together again as she tried to recall her exact words. "I know I called his name and something along the lines of I could hear him in there, or knew he was in there?" she shrugged and Lombard nodded.
"Continue."
"I heard glass breaking and a moan. I banged on the door and called out his name again." Well, she wasn't about to admit to the Inspector of London Yard that she'd used her lock picks to enter Keyes'room. "When he still didn't answer, I tried the knob. Finding it unlocked, I opened the door, called his name again. I looked into the room and that's when I saw him lying on the floor at the foot of the bed with a broken lamp close to his head."
"And no one was in the room?" He already knew the answer to this question.
"No one," she confirmed, a bewildered note to her tone, "And I didn't have the chance to see if anyone was hiding in the bathroom or the closet before your officers arrived."
"My men said you assumed from the start it was murder. Why is that?" Lombard wondered. "Couldn't it have just as likely been an accident?"
"No," Laura refuted with a shake of her head. "The lamp matching the broken one near Keyes was sitting on the far bedside table. If Keyes had broken the lamp in, say, a fall, he would have been near that bedside table, not in the middle of the room."
"An astute observation," Lombard complimented.
"We are asked to size up a situation in an instant every day in our line of work," Laura replied. "Has an autopsy been done yet?"
"The coroner has determined Mr. Keyes was murdered by a blow to his head of significant enough force to fracture his skull," Lombard shared solemnly.
"How awful," Laura murmured. "I may not have cared for him—"
"With good reason," Remington interjected.
"But still…" she allowed the thought to hang.
"Have either of you any idea who would wish to see Mr. Keyes dead?" Lombard questioned.
"Norman Keyes was a man who inspired enmity wherever he went, Inspector," Laura noted. "Mr. Steele and I have no way of knowing whom he may have angered during his stay here in London."
"Thank you, Miss Holt. You're help in this matter is greatly appreciated."
"Anything we can do to help you catch the person responsible." Lombard stood and offered his hand to Remington who exchanged a tepid handshake with the man.
"May you be in better health next time we meet, Mr. Steele."
"From your lips…" Remington quipped with a lightness he didn't feel. Lombard offered his hand to Laura.
"Miss Holt. We'll be speaking again soon, I'm sure." The pair exchanged handshakes. "I'll be expecting the paperwork we discussed this afternoon."
"I have a couple errands to run this afternoon. I'll drop it off then," she agreed as Daniel stood as well.
"I'll see you out, Inspector," Daniel volunteered, then looked at Remington. "It's been some time since the two of us engaged in a game of chess. Perhaps while Li-… Laura is running her errands?"
"I'd enjoy that," Remington agreed.
The time alone would give him the opportunity to try to ferret out whatever it was Daniel was up to….