Chapter 2:
After a brief detour to the pharmacy to get Laura's prescription and a bottle of water to start with her medical treatment, they took the highway to Santa Monica. Their next outdoor task was a meeting with a client. It was a new case, and by the information Mildred gave them in advance, the mystery was like the ones they both loved to solve. The client was a wealthy man, genuinely upper class and very well known because of his charity donations.
After traveling through a driveway surrounded by oak trees, they caught sight of the mansion. The view was magnificent. Autumn was hitting the place and leaves color ranged from gold to almost scarlet. They parked the car, and when they were climbing to the main entrance, the door opened, and a butler invited them in. Mr. Steele felt like a fish in the water. He enjoyed being in touch with such a sophisticated world. Maybe because it was all he didn't have when he was a boy; perhaps because it was the world Daniel had introduced him by default, or maybe because it was the world he'd watched utterly entranced in his favorite classic movies. The chance to run a case settled in such magnificent surrounding and full of exciting characters was a pleasure, and the fact that Laura would join him on this occasion was an extra bonus.
They waited for Mr. Stanhope at his office. The place looked like a classic wooden library, but only different because of the big English style desk settled in front of the big window.
Laura sat down, but Mr. Steele chose to walk through the place, paying attention to every small thing absolutely delighted. There were a lot of details calling his attention. One of them was the vital position the books occupied there. The fact that the desk was in front of the window, looking outside, was another. The classic atmosphere explained a lot about the spirit of the owner. Mr. Steele was immersed in his thoughts when he saw Laura standing up. Mr. Stanhope had come into the room. He stopped just in front of her.
"Good afternoon Miss Holt, I'm George Stanhope, a pleasure to meet you." He shook her hand and invited her to sit down again. It was then when he noticed Mr. Steele, who was coming from the opposite part of the room, "Good afternoon Mr. Steele."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Stanhope."
"Please have a sit and get the business started."
Given the circumstances, and taking into consideration that Mr. Stanhope was an old-fashioned man; as Mildred had already told them, Mr. Steele was going to be the one talking. Old fashioned clients deserved old-fashioned manners, and he was the best to play following that rules. Besides, the fact that he was the one speaking came handy this time. Laura was with part of her face still under the anesthesia effect, and she felt more comfortable speaking as less as possible.
"Our secretary told us you wanted to hire Remington Steele Investigations, but only on the condition that the case would be driven by me, am I right Mr. Stanhope?" asked Mr. Steele.
"Yes, that's exactly what I told her. I want you leading the case, and it's an exclusionary condition," answered Mr. Stanhope.
"Splendid. We've set that clear. Although, I must say that you'd have to tell us what the case is about because we need to evaluate if our agency is capable of bringing you a positive result. If we don't agree to take the case, be sure that our conversation would never get out of this room," said Mr. Steele.
"Your position is clearly established, Mr. Steele. I'll give you the details about the fact that is worrying me." He cleared his throat, trying to use the time to put the words in order in his mind while getting ready to start to talk. The man was in his mid-sixties, extremely cautious; and very self-confident, owner of a very stylish speaking manner. That he was very polite was really out of the question. He was a gentleman.
"I am a wealthy man, but not as a result of my own work. I've inherited a fortune the family owns since a century ago. Even it is an advantage; I believe in not living my life nonchalantly, not giving the chance to cultivate myself with quality in every area I'm allowed to. I've chosen a road to follow because I'm attracted to art in each and every branch itself. I love history, paintings, artworks, and literature," said Mr. Stanhope.
Mr. Steele was listening to his client like children listen to fairy tales. He was absolutely enchanted. Laura was trying to figure out what the man was going to ask them before the question escaped out of his mouth, but she couldn't guess anything.
"The issue, Mr. Steele, is that I write just for pleasure. I preserve my work only to myself because I am aware of its low quality. It's a private writing. I write about simple things, but mostly I write about my feelings."
Laura gave Mr. Steele a brief gaze, and their eyes met for a brief instant. Was Mr. Stanhope talking about something like a personal journal? The thought of a gentleman like him writing that kind of material sounded at last ordinary.
Stanhope continued his explanation, "I have my writing classified in several volumes. The reason originating my need for the services of Remington Steele Investigations is that two of these volumes have disappeared. They are not in its place anymore. And it goes without saying, that I am concerned about their contents being public. The manuscripts disappeared on July 13th. We returned from an appointment outside the house, and they were already gone."
"I see," said Mr. Steele. "Where did you keep them? Did anybody else have access to them?"
"They were in my desk drawer. It's a secure place. I open the lock when I start my work day, and I lock it back when I finish. The drawer is always locked when I am not working, and I carry the key myself."
"Is there a possibility of anybody else getting access to your private things? Asked Laura, saying a word for the first time since the meeting had started.
"I don't believe it is, Miss Holt. I'm not a very sociable man. I'm not married, and I don't have any siblings or relatives. I live here alone, except for the staff of the house. Each and every one of them have been working here for years. They deserve all my trust."
After a brief look at each other, they both knew they were taking the case. "Mr. Stanhope, I think you can count on our services. We'll have to work here for a while, trying to find anything useful, and we will have to interrogate your staff eventually. If you are comfortable with that, we can start right now."
"In that case, we have an agreement. Lehman, my assistant, will be ready to help you with anything you need. He'll be waiting for you in the next room." With that, Mr. Stanhope stood up, shook the detective's hands and left the room.
"What do you think it happened with those writings?" asked Laura.
"Why don't we make an inspection around the house starting here in this room, and following through the whole mansion? We should ask Lehman for Mr. Stanhope's desk drawer key. It would be a good idea to check the lock."
"It seems the right way to start. Let me look for him while you start with the checking," said Laura. She was starting to feel the absence of the anesthesia effect, and the need to do something to distract her was imperious. She made her way across the hall, and after taking a look at the room on her left, she noticed a man dressed in a neat suit. He was standing there waiting for somebody needing him.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Lehman?" she asked. "I'm Laura Holt. Mr. Stanhope told us to look for you."
"Yes, I'm Richard Lehman. I'm at your service madam. Please tell me how I can help you," he politely said to Laura.
"Would you come with me, please?" She tried to speak just the necessary words. The rest of the conversation would be conducted by Mr. Steele.
Once in the study, the detective asked him for the key. Then Lehman retrieved it from Mr. Stanhope. He returned with the item and gave it to Mr. Steele, who inspected it in detail, before opening the drawer. Once the detective had taken it off, Mr. Steele made an exhaustive revision of the entire stylish furniture. Once he'd finished, he returned the key to Lehman.
By the time they were done, with nothing else to check, Laura's mood was going down towards the danger zone. She was very uncomfortable, and Mr. Steele's decision to call it a day was very welcome by both of them.
"Do you want to stop by the office or we should go right the way home, Laura?" asked a cautious but decided Mr. Steele. She seemed to be in real discomfort, and he was determined to be with her just in case the situation turned out worse.
"I think we can skip the office for today. The place is a mess, and so do I. Take me home, to the loft, and then go to Rossmore. I can manage myself for the night," she told him making an effort to speak.
He noticed her punctual intent to mention their respective homes. She wanted to be alone, as always, showing herself as a brave auto-sufficient woman. But he wasn't going to give her the pleasure this time. He was going to stay with her for the night. He was concerned, and she would have to respect his need to be near her. The decision was taken. "Laura, we are going to the loft. You are going to try to relax, and I will be staying for the night. It's a taken decision," he stated.
"And since when you feel yourself with the right to decide about my whereabouts, or about your possibilities to spend the night at my place without asking?"
"Since the moment you are in no condition to give a wise opinion on the matter. You want to stay at the loft, and I'm going to stay with you there. If you happen to disagree, Laura, let me tell you that you will have to live with it. I'm going to spend the night right there in the loft. And it's a no negotiable fact."
He kept his eyes on the road, not giving her the chance of a retort. She was fuming, but he was going to remain firm in his plan.
They arrived at the loft and Laura led the way straight to her room. She changed her work clothes for a sweat pant and a t-shirt, and after collecting a glass of water from the kitchen, she sat on her bed, took her medicine, and turned off the light. She was off for the night. Or at least, that was her wish.
Mr. Steele remained on the couch trying to relax after their quarrel in the car, savoring a glass of wine. Once he had got some of the stress out of his body, he decided to check on her. Laura's body was in the same position than when she'd turned off the light. She was finally sleeping, but although her breathing was calm, the pain was reflected on her face. He took off his clothes and got into bed beside her, carefully. After a few minutes, he'd also sunk in a deep slumber.
He woke up around midnight, realizing he was alone in the bed. Laura was on the couch, a book in her hands. "How are you feeling, Laura?" he asked, a trace of worry in his voice.
"I'm all right; not in a way to party at the moment, but getting better," she answered closing the book and looking at him.
"I'm glad you are feeling better. I hate to see you in pain." He sat on the couch beside her and took her hand between his.
"I know. I am sorry about earlier. I was out of myself with pain, and didn't measure my words." She leaned her body against him with a sigh, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"I know. We both said things that we knew we would be regretting later. Don't worry and keep the energy to heal yourself," Mr. Steele took her chin in his hand, and gave her a sweet and slight kiss, avoiding the soreness in her face.
They resumed their rest cuddled together in bed, and by the time the alarm woke her up, a delicious smell was invading the loft. Laura turned off the tormenting device and began her way to the bathroom. Once she had the chance to take a look of her reflection on the mirror, she couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing. Half of her face was swollen. The positive part was that she was not in pain anymore. She showed some water over her face, washed her teeth with extreme caution, and followed the delicious smell just to its origin. "Good morning. Mr. Steele."
"Good morning Laura," he looked at her, "Nice to see you are feeling better."
"How is that you can do wonders with nothing, I will never know. It smells delicious!"
"I've found all I needed. I have to confess that I have a secret place in your kitchen, where I hide some of my usual breakfast ingredients. It seems that for you, the kitchen is not a place deserving to waste your detecting instincts, I reckon."
"I have everything I need in my kitchen just in the correct place, Mr. Steele," answered Laura pretending to be a bit offended. "I don't feel the need to waste my detecting instincts in such an ordinary place."
"And which are the needed things you say you have in your kitchen, Laura? Just give me a clue, and maybe with a bit of my detective training I would be able to find anything edible in your fridge."
"I have some yogurt, orange juice, some fruit, and a variety of cereals. That's all a woman with a healthy diet needs for breakfast," she answered him with a touch of arrogance.
"Well, maybe a woman following a healthy diet would take the chance to enjoy a not so healthy breakfast with her favorite chef for once…" he looked at her like begging.
She couldn't help a laugh. "Of course she will. It will be her pleasure. Do you think he is ready to satisfy every one of her appetites?" she asked him in her most suggestive voice.
"Let's start with breakfast, and we'll work about your other appetites later, Miss Holt."
He took the dishes from the counter and started their way to the table.