Date: Wednesday, 21 January, 2004
From: "Lightfoot" <>

DISCLAIMER: Yadda yadda yadda...

Well, we dig deeper into a thirty year old
mystery...without me getting hurt by certain warnings ahead for this part of the
chapter...and I know Steele hasn't made his appearance
yet, but don't worry, he will. So will a few
others...anyways, on with the story...


copyright 2004 by Conner MacBride

Kelly photocopied the pages and went to the help
desk. The grand motherly woman peered disapprovingly
over her glasses. Kelly grinned, knowing her eyebrow,
lip, and tongue rings completely annoyed the crap out
of the old bat. Hell, next time, she'd make sure the
tattoo on her back showed, just for the fun of it.
"What do you want, Kelly?" The glare didn't let up.
Kelly shoved the pages forward. "I need some more
information on the Steele murder. The one from back
in 1990?"
The glare changed to a startled puzzlement.
"Ah-well. That's an odd one. I thought only mystery
buffs ever hunted that one up."
Kelly smirked. "Yeah, well, it's a paper for an
elective class. A class about famous crimes.
Everybody's going to be doing Jack the Ripper and the
Manson cult. Everybody knows those. I just want to
dazzle him by doing something different, y'know?"
The librarian, Julia, frowned. "It was a murder of a
young woman. But let me get your information."
Kelly exhaled noisily, drumming her green nails on
the Formica desktop, watching Julia tap away at her
computer. Something occurred to her. "Hey Julia?"
"What?" Her gaze never left the computer screen.
The last thing she seemed interested in doing was
holding a conversation with a college student.
"Hey Julia, how did you know which murder I was
talking about? I never said anything other than the
last name." Julia chuckled as she retrieved the
printouts from the Epson LaserJet 6000. "You didn't
have to. I was just out of college and had just
started working here when it occurred. That was
thirty years ago. I remember when it happened."
The younger woman leaned forward. "Really? So you
know what happened?"
Julia passed her the papers. "Oh sure! It was big
news because they were such prominent people in Los
Angeles. Remington Steele Investigations was the most
famous firm in the city at the time. And," she
gestured toward the pages of information with a nod of
her head, "well, Laura Steele, well, she was still not
married to Remington Steele at the time I first met
her, used to come in here all the time. She would
drag him here after they were married 'cause she liked
to read. She was always checking out books."
Kelly held up the pages. "Well, I've gotta check out
these things. Are they all in?"
"Yes, they are."
"Thanks." She grinned. "Hey! Maybe if I really
want to write a fantastic paper, I'll go hunt out
Remington Steele."
There was the glare again. "I don't even know if
he's still alive. But I think that would be a bad
"Kidding! God, Julia! Lighten up! I'm off!" With
that she was gone.
Julia shook her head. "You most certainly are!"



/Why did I take this class again? I hate writing
papers./ Kelly rubbed her tired eyes and tried another
go at separating the facts from the tabloid soap opera
the newspapers had seemed to enjoy writing about.
Quickly, she began jotting down the easy facts.
November 2, 1990-Laura Holt Steele, 34, wife and
partner of Remington Steele, head of Remington Steele
Investigations. Found dead in an apartment, murdered
by her lover-named Tony Roselli-apparently after
sexual relations-Roselli committed suicide. Remington
Steele was said to be inconsolable. Questions over
Laura Steele's faithfulness and relationship to
Roselli. Laura Steele considered by press to be
/God, what is this? A soap opera?/ She kept reading
on, looking for facts to start pulling together.
Nothing too much other than more speculation.
Everybody seemed to have an opinion and the case
seemed to be cut and dried. Kelly threw the photocopy
of the L.A. Times down in annoyance.
/Jeez, my head!/ She looked at the picture of Steele
gracing her photocopied page. Nice. Black hair, blue
eyes, gorgeous face. /Hell, he was hot in his day.
Funny no picture of the wife though, seeing as she was
the one who bought the farm./
She rescanned a third time for anything else.
Nothing. She shuffled through all the copies looking
for a face shot of the wife. None. Almost like she
was an unidentified woman. Like she didn't exist.
What the hell?