CHAPTER 24
Laura's eyes blinked open, sleepily. She'd made it through the journal Eilis had titled simply "Eleven," taking her time to assure she didn't miss a word of what had been important enough to the young girl to record for all time. Eleven months out of the year, those entries had focused on her Aunt Molly and makeshift family, school happenings, math problems that were vexing her, lines from her favorite poems and books with birthday and holiday cards she received across the year, carefully taped to the pages within. It was as much scrapbook and sketchbook as it was diary, Eilis often sketching various flora and fauna she'd discovered on castle grounds. Through her reading she learned Remington's mother had been intelligent, inquisitive, empathetic and she'd had clear cut views on what she believed was right and wrong, which also showed she could be stubborn and temperamental… and thoroughly unafraid to go toe-to-toe for what she believed in, regardless of one's station in life.
As she'd read, her eyes had instinctively moved now and again to the man sleeping near her. She still wasn't sure if he'd honestly begun coming to terms with his parentage or if he was telling her what he believed she wanted to hear. He was sleeping better than he had the last pair of nights, but still, his brows would furrow occasionally, making her wonder: Dream… or nightmare? And, the more often her eyes fell upon him, the louder the siren's song, drawing her to him. She hadn't thought she was tired but the lure of his slim frame became too much, so after she'd read the final page of "Eleven," she set the journal aside and had turned to him, a touch of her hand saw him roll to his back and extend an arm. With her head pillowed on his shoulder, his arm resting over her waist and the warmth of his side pressed to her front, she fell asleep almost instantly.
Now, as she blinked her eyes and found her bearings, she wondered what had awakened her. The room was bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, attesting she'd needed the rest after a very late night followed by a very early morning. It was her stomach that found the answer to what had stirred her, growling loudly at the scent of some very American fare. Springing up into a sitting position, she scoured the room for her partner, only to hear him chuckling behind her.
"You continue your perfect run of the smell of food waking you," he teased.
"Good food," she qualified. "Tell me I'm not imagining-" Before she could finish the question, he held up a plate and whipped off the cover with aplomb. She went from salivating to nearly drooling. "Cheeseburgers?"
"A diner cheeseburger," he corrected, "Devoid of spices… and flavor… And French fries. For dessert, we have—I'll just let that be a surprise." She knew he was daring her to ask, but couldn't think behind the plate in his hands. Practically snatching it, she settled against the headboard with a sigh. He'd made it exactly as she liked: Mustard, ketchup, lettuce, onion and extra tomato. She took a massive bite.
"I've missed American food," she shared around the food she was chewing.
"Thought you might be," he smiled, taking a bite of his own burger.
"Do you have a napkin," she requested after the second bite.
"Mmm," he acknowledged. Taking one from the dinner tray he crossed the room and handed it to her, "Here you go."
"Thanks." She carefully cleaned any traces of grease from her hand and picked up Eilis's journal. "Eilis recorded the first argument she seemed to have with Thomas. She didn't care for how he was treating James?"
"Oh?" he wondered around the food in his mouth.
"Listen… Sometimes a girl just wants to play a game of tag rather than discuss the imagery in Moby Dick! Thomas has grown quite full of himself since last he was here and today I'd had quite enough of his insufferable behavior. Telling James he was a man now and couldn't have a child hanging on his coattails wherever he went! I'd had quite enough and gave him quite the blistering set down. Thirteen he might be now, I told him, but he was not a man, for a man understands except for God there is nothing more important than family. My ire left him shocked and sputtering, then for good measure, I dipped into a curtsy and bade him 'Good day, My Lord.' I've refused to acknowledge him since and will continue the course until he makes things right with James."
"Sounds as stubborn as another you woman with whom I'm acquainted," he laughed. Laura smirked at him.
"Only when required of me."
"And did she? Stay the course?" She lifted her brows
"I don't know. I fell asleep. Let me look." They ate in silence as she skimmed the next several dates, eating with one hand and turning pages with the other. "Here," she announced. "'Thomas apologized to James today, the fourth time in these last days, but it has all be platitudes up until now. Knowing he's a rugby match tomorrow, I informed him I doubted the sincerity of his apology, and should he wish me to believe it's truly sincere, than he would take James riding after lunch on the morrow. I could see in the narrowing of his eyes that he suspected I was aware of that rugby match, but unwilling to test the veracity of that suspicion, agreed. We'll see with time if my point took. He's no idea how very fortunate he is to have a brother. Not having a sibling of my own has been one of my greatest regrets…"
"I've always suspected the same of you," he commented, shoving a pair of ketchup painted fries into his mouth.
"Me?" She reared back her head and pressing a hand to her chest, feigned innocence. "I have never..." She held up the last couple of bites of her burger. "Any chance there's more downstairs?" A corner of his lips twitched with amusement at her attempt to distract him.
"Not a one." She looked crestfallen. "But," he continued, while whipping the serving lid off a plate, "I do know how much you enjoy a disappointing hamburger."
"Not everyone requires sharp cheddar, applewood bacon and a bevy of spices, Mr. Steele." She took the second burger from him and held it up, "This is the perfect burger."
"Glad you think so," he replied then returned to his chair. A knock at the door have him rising again, catching Laura's attention. Normally the man just bellowed 'enter.' She watched as he spoke in a hushed tone to someone just outside the door, then closing it, crossed the room with two malt glasses perched on silver tray.
"A shake?
"Not quite. Molly didn't want it melting so sent it up for dessert. You slept a bit longer than we anticipated." She took a great deal of interest in what he'd just revealed.
"You spent time with Molly while I was sleeping?"
"Well, I did shanghai her kitchen," he quipped.
"How was it?" she asked with open curiosity. He considered his words carefully.
"Pleasant."
"Did she share more stories with you about Eilis or Thomas?" she inquired with open curiosity, while sipping at her shake.
"Only in terms of James. It would seem Thomas might have been the heir, but the entire family was devoted to James, even Thomas when not trying to shook loose from his younger brother then and there."
"Eilis speaks of him very fondly," Laura informed Remington. Sitting down her shake, she picked up the journal again and paged through it. "Ah, here it is: 'In only two day's time, Thomas and James will arrive. I can't even begin to imagine how much James must have grown this last year, leaving a toddler and returning a little boy. He's finally four, which means Thomas and I can finally take him round the paddock on the pony. I just know he'll fall in love with riding, as he does with anything Thomas enjoys. I know, I shouldn't and Auntie would scold me briskly should I say it aloud, but I often imagine James as the little brother I never had….'"
"Molly knew, as did the rest of the staff and, if they hadn't, by the way Molly tells it, in the days after James's death they would have."
"Mickeline said she'd grieved the little boy deeply," Laura reminisced.
"And withdrew from everyone and everything around her, to hear Molly tell it. For weeks on end, she sequestered herself a good part of the day in James's rooms, crying, praying or sitting silently, only leaving to go to the stables where she grieved the loss of Lancelot."
"All that self-blame would have been a heavy load to carry for a grown woman, let alone for a young girl," she observed. He gave his head a small shake, letting go of the past and focusing on the look at her from up under his lashes
"Tell me, Laura,, how have you managed to carry your own load of guilt?" Her temper piqued as soon as the words crossed his lips, then calmed immediately when she realized he'd doubled=back to the earlier conversation. She shrugged a careless shoulder.
"You're being paranoid," she accused,, breezily. She hadn't scheduled sudden dinner meetings or speaking engagements to intentionally inconvenience him as often as he seemed to believe. She'd only done so when he needed to be reminded he was expected to earn his paycheck. She raised her brows at him. "Maybe it's you who carries that load," she suggested, casually. His lips twitched with amusement, a fact he concealed by pressing the rest of his burger into his mouth and chewing. He circled a wrist in her direction.
"Please, enlighten me. What 'load' is it I'm carrying, exactly?"
A knock sounded at the door. Remington set his plate aside and rather than calling out his customary 'enter,' stood to answer it, leading Laura to slide out of bed and join him as he crossed the room.
"I told Mickeline we weren't to be disturbed unless the castle was burning down around us," he explained as they crossed the room. Reaching for the doorknob, he swung open the door.
"Sorry ta be disturbin' ye, Ye Lordship. The gentleman was most instant 'bout seein' ye—" Murphy Michaels stepped into their line of vision.
"Murph!" Laura greeted joyously, shoving her way past Remington to throw herself into Murphy's arms for a hug… one longer than Remington felt necessary.
"Hey, Pal," Murphy greeted warmly. His temperature cooled considerably when he greeted Remington. "Steele."
"Michaels," Remington returned with the most minute of nods. He turned his attention to Mickeline. "We'll take it from here, Mickeline."
"Murph, are you hungry? I'm sure Mickeline could find you something in the kitchen," Laura offered.
"Starving," he admitted.
"I'll see to it straightaway, Yer Ladyship."
"And, Mickeline?" The elderly man turned his attention to Remignton.
"Yes, Yer Lordship?"
"See to it we're not disturbed again." Mickeline nodded his head in acknowledgement.
"Yes, Yer Lorship, 'ceptin' wit' yer guest's meal, o' course.
"Of course," Remington agreed, stepping aside and waving Murphy into the room. He and Laura entered, with their arms around each other's waist. Following, Remington shut the door behind them.
"How was the trip?" she asked.
"Exhausting," he admitted. "I was packed and flying out of Denver within two hours of the call. By the time I got in LA, Mildred had everything you asked for ready to go, so I took the next flight out of LA to London, flew to Dublin and hired a car to bring me here."
"I'll make sure has a room made ready for you," Laura promised. "We'll talk while you eat and then come up with a plan of action sometime tomorrow."
"You're not going to get an argument from me." He dropped his duffle bag and backpack on the floor next to a chair as Laura sat down on the couch catty-corner from the chair. Remington joined her there. "Now, would someone mind telling me what all this 'Yer Ladyship' and 'Yer Lordship'stuff? Nice digs, by the way."
"Bit cozy for my tastes," Remington quipped. Murphy looked at him with disapproval.
"Is anything ever enough for you, Steele?" He reached for Laura's hand to tweak the man further.
"To the contrary. There are things that are far more than I even imagined or hoped for," Remington replied, honestly. Laura withdrew her hand and scowled at him, knowing a dig when she heard it.
"The titles are part of our cover," Laura explained to Murphy. "The Lord and Lady Naas. Mickeline is aware of who we really are, but he's the only one."
"Thank God. I was beginning to think those rings you're wearing were real." So they were going to get straight to it, then. Her back straightened suddenly.
"The wedding bands are the rings we use when undercover. When Daniel called me and told me he'd informed the hospital I was Mr. Steele's wife, it seemed wise to wear the rings to bring credence to his claims."
"Good! I thought—"
"The engagement ring, however, is very real." Murphy's jaw dropped and his eyes widened.
"Have you lost your mind, Laura?" Murphy bellowed, jumping to his feet. "You can 't seriously be considering marrying this guy!?" This time it was Laura who reached for Remington's hand, giving it a 'let me handle this squeeze.'
"I am and I'm going to," she answered with calm confidence. "I'm not asking you to support that decision, because clearly you don't, but if you can't respect my decision, then I'll make a reservation for you to return to Denver tomorrow after you've had a chance to get some rest." Both men stared at her, agog, and a stunned silence descended on the room. She didn't speak until Murphy lowered himself back down into his chair. "Good. Now let's get to work…"
"I've got it!" Remington announced leaping to his feet, then turning to point a finger in the direction of Laura and Murphy. "The Devil's Playground!"
"I don't recall that movie," Laura commented, drily.
"He's still doing the movie thing?" Murphy asked, incredulous.
"I've realized those movies can be incredibly insightful when it comes to a case," she offered, off-handedly.
"I'm not referring to a movie, but a case," Remington corrected. Laura's eyes widened further.
"Of course!" she exclaimed in agreement.
"Why does that name sound familiar?" Murphy wondered.
"It's a case Mr. Steele and I worked not long after he arrived. The murderer used digitalis leaf to make it appear she'd been killed," Laura explained. "It slows the heart rate to a nearly undetectable level." She hadn't been this excited in longer than she could recall.
"Do you think?" Remington asked.
"It tracks of what we know about Norman Keyes…" She replied.
"Greedy little bugger."
"I should have known his head was too hard to crack with a lamp. The telephone received dozed him less than a minute." Murphy watched the exchange his head turning from person-to-person as the pair spoke.
"Care to share?" he finally asked.
"The case in Vegas when we first tangled with Keyes," Remington began.
"He walked in on Mr. Steele right after he'd discovered a body," Laura added.
"Was going to have me arrested on the spot," Remington continued.
"So I had Mildred knock him over the head with a phone," she finished, with a shrug, then added contemplatively. "It seems our first step is determining where Norman Keyes was allegedly buried."
"What did you do to piss this guy off?" Murphy wondered openly, then couldn't' resist adding, "Other than by being yourself."
"We bested him on a couple of recovery jobs," Remington answer, leaning his a shoulder against the fireplace mantle.
"Then, I arranged to have Vigilance put us on retainer for future jobs," Laura offered.
"Thereby potentially taking future recovery fees out of Keyes pocket and putting them into ours," Remington concluded.
"How much are we talking about here?" Murphy questioned further. Remington lifted and dropped a hand.
"Standard recovery rates are ten-percent of the total value," Remington supplied.
"But I negotiated fifteen-percent with Vigilance since the Agency would be taking on the front end charges," Laura chimed in.
"Giving us the potential to take tens of thousands a year out of Keyes's fat little hands," Remington wrapped up. Murphy gave a low whistle.
"An amount some might be willing to kill for," Murphy noted.
"Or frame someone for murder for," Laura amended. "The only problem with this scenario of ours is that if Keyes is 'dead,' he wouldn't be collecting those fees any longer."
"Life insurance, then," Remington speculated. "I imagine working in the insurance industry he's insured himself." Laura returned to the couch. Picking up her notepad and pen off the table she scribbled a reminder to have Mildred research life insurance policies.
"Why come after Laura, though?" Murphy posted "In the past, he's targeted you," he reminded. Remington glanced at Laura, to see if she'd prefer to field that particular question. A slight tip of her head gave him permission to share that truth.
"Keyes is not only a petulant prig, but a dyed-in-the-wool misogynist. It would never occur to him Laura was behind that contract, let alone that it is she who is the owner of the Agency." He sighed heavily. "A few months back, Keyes got handsy with her and I expressed my displeasure."
"With a right hook I hope," Murphy clipped. For the first time since Murphy's arrival, Remington smiled.
"Something along those lines, yes," he confirmed. "Somewhere along the line, Keyes figured out Laura and I were involved on a… personal level. What better way to take revenge upon me than by putting her in jail for life." Murphy smirked.
"Putting you behind bars for life?" Remington wrinkled his nose at the man in return for the snarky comment.
"Okay, boys, you've manage to play nice the last two hours, let's not start," Laura reprimanded. "We need Mildred to dig further into Marney Denks. We know she's using an alias and who she actually is, but what we don't know is how she's tied into Keyes. I still can't shake the feeling that she was the so-called 'niece' who reported overhearing me killing Keyes." Laura added that to the list she'd been creating the last two hours.
"There's another possibility," Murphy announced. Laura and Remington's heads swiveled to look at him. "If the alleged niece is his heir, she killed Keyes for the money." Laura pursed his lips, while nodding her head with agreement and scribbling another note.
"Either way, we need to figure out if Denks is the 'niece'." She tapped her pencil against her pad. "Murph, we're not going to be able to make direct contact Mildred until—"
All three heads turned to consider the bedroom door, then each other, after a knock sounded.
"Apparently, Mickeline doesn't understand the concept of 'do not disturb'," Remington groused, crossing the room and swinging open the door.
"I beg yer pardon, Yer Lordship. I've told 'im time 'n again yer not in residence but 'e—" A beefy man who stood slightly shorter than Remington stepped into the doorway and flashed a badge.
"Tony Roselli, MI-5…"
