Remington Steele (1982) s04e03 Episode Script
Steele Blushing
- Bedside Babes? - Page 46- Babe of the Month Mind telling us what Laura Holt, private investigator, is doing in a publication of that sort? Secretaries- I'm talking teachers- taking Playmate-style pictures.
These women actually pay you to photograph them in the nude? - Is there something you're not telling me? - Whatever gave you that idea? Is there something you're not telling me? The F.
B.
I.
came to our office and you didn't tell me? You- - "Sly devil"? - Pervert! Your picture appears in a porno magazine, and I'm the pervert? - Colby.
- Rhodes.
- Krebs.
- F.
B.
I.
- Steele? Inside.
Coffee? - Tea.
- Cream? - Sugar.
- Lumps? - Two.
- Colby.
- Rhodes.
- F.
B.
I.
Bedside Babes? Page 46- Babe of the Month.
Good Lord.
You know her then? Obviously not as well as I thought.
Mind telling us what Laura Holt, private investigator is doing in a publication of that sort? Uh- Well, obviously she's, uh- She- - She's on a case.
- Undercover.
The photographer is Douglas Veenhof.
- Ring a bell? - Uh- Uh, yes.
Yes, Veenhof.
The Veenhof matter, yes.
A sleazy job, but someone had to do it.
You're aware then that Veenhof is wanted for interstate trafficking in pornographic materials? - Shocking, isn't it? - According to his appointment book Laura Holt was the last person to see him.
- She might know where he is.
- Well, I assure you, gentlemen as soon as Miss Holt gets in you shall be the first ones to know.
The Remington Steele Agency prides itself on its cooperation with the authorities.
Suppose we have a look at your files then? In the spirit of cooperation.
Oh, yes.
Mildred, look into that, will you please? As long as they have a warrant.
I'm sure you can make an exception this one time.
Oh, listen, pal- How long do you think we'd stay in business if we opened our files to every clown who came by flashing a badge? I could walk out that door and be back here with a court order in 30 minutes.
I could close you down in a day.
Don't threaten us with this bureaucratic beeswax, buster.
I didn't spend six years with the I.
R.
S.
fraud squad for nothing.
Uh, excuse me, gentlemen.
Just a moment, will you please? Miss Krebs.
Mildred, this is not a criticism, but what the hell are you doing? Clients' files are privileged information.
Oh, but the F.
B.
I.
, Mildred.
You remember London? You do remember London.
Five passports, deportation- - Once the begin excavating my past- - Relax, chief.
Noncooperation between agencies is the backbone of bureaucracy.
By the time Colby and Rhodes get back here with a warrant you'll be six feet under.
Let's just hope it's not an early grave, Mildred.
Uh- Okay.
In we go.
All right- You better start carving that tombstone right away, Mildred.
- Also, give me the file on the Veenhof case.
- There isn't one.
- What do you mean there isn't one? - That's what I mean.
We don't have a client called Veenhof.
Oh, God.
All right.
You mean- Uh- - Yes, could you get me the listing for, uh- - Veenhof.
Veenhof Photography.
Oh, hi.
Sorry.
I had a table that wouldn't clear and my boss wouldn't let me go.
I'm not too late, am I? I'm afraid you, uh, have the wrong person here.
I mean, I'm here now.
Might as well do what we can, don't you think? - Uh, Miss, Miss- - I have to admit, I'm a little nervous.
I never did this sort of thing before.
Uh, I'm a little new at this myself.
- Oh.
- Tell me, uh, Jackie.
- Yeah.
- Now, exactly, uh what kind of photographs did you have in mind? I was sort of hoping you could do for me - what you did for Betsy Bloomquist- - Uh-huh.
Only no leather.
Satin's more my style, don't you think? Oh.
Oh, absolutely.
There's really no question about it.
Now, uh, did I happen to mention what I'd do with the photographs? Well, you're not gonna do anything with them, I hope.
I wanna give them to Mikey for a wedding present.
That'll surprise him.
Don't you think? Not too much, I hope.
If you got a dressing room, I'll slip into something a little more- Oh, say no more.
Say no more.
Right through here.
Okay, Jackie? Take your time.
Take it, uh- Just breathe, okay? All right, don't worry now.
Don't worry.
Veenhof! Now, if you're not gonna be a human being about this, fine.
Maybe I can knock some sense into that Neanderthal skull of yours, Veenhof.
Hey! Hey! Okay.
Now hand over those files.
I- I'm not Veenhof.
- For the last time, give me those files! - I'm not Veenhof.
Where do you want me, Mr.
Veenhof? Hey, come on, you guys.
This is my hour.
Smile.
- Remington Steele Investigations.
- Laura Holt? I'm sorry, she's not in right now.
May I take a message? Tell her Veenhof called.
- Does Miss Holt know where you are? - Sometimes I wonder.
Look, I gotta move.
I'm getting stir crazy here.
No, uh-uh.
You're gonna stay right where you are until I can reach Miss Holt.
Okay.
In that case, tell her to bring me something to eat, will ya? Double cheeseburger, large order of fries, onion rings.
- Anything to drink? - Diet cola.
Okay, you got it.
What's the address? She's got me stashed at someplace called the Melrose Apartments.
Apartment 303.
Mr.
Veenhof? Mr.
Veenhof? Veenhof! Hey! What do you think you're doing? Somebody call the cops.
He's stealing my car.
Car thief! He's a car thief! Come back, you louse.
! Come back with my car.
! Hey, what's going on? - Veenhof? - Yeah.
What the hell did you do to my room? Come on.
It's not safe in here.
- Morning.
- Morning.
What happened to your lip? - Racquetball.
- Didn't know you played.
Laura, is there anything I should know about? I mean, clients, cases? - Not really.
Why? - Oh, no reason.
- I just thought we could have a bite to eat.
That's all.
- Sorry.
Promised a friend I'd do him a favor.
Oh, really? What sort of favor? Oh, it's an afternoon's work.
I wouldn't want to bore you with the details.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
I'll just come along for the ride.
You know- Breath of fresh air.
Really, Mr.
Steele, it's a personal matter.
- I wouldn't want to trouble you.
- Ah! No trouble.
- There you go.
- All right.
Follow me.
Keep a sharp eye peeled.
- What for? - Anything.
Anybody.
Oh.
Uh-oh.
Come on.
It's not safe here.
- How do you know? - I'm a trained investigator.
There's death behind that door.
This, uh, friend of yours- What does he do? - He's a photographer.
- Oh.
For a newspaper? No, no.
He has his own studio.
- Does portraits mostly.
- Ah.
I see.
Graduations, weddings, kids, dogs- that sort of thing.
- Um, more or less.
- Oh.
Has he, uh, ever taken your photograph? Mine? No.
Me? You know how camera-shy I am.
Oh, yes.
A veritable shrinking violet.
Hmm.
Mmm.
Uh, this, uh, friend of yours wouldn't be mixed up in anything, uh, illegitimate, would he? Your imagination never stops, does it? - At the moment, it's working overtime.
- All right.
Couple of days ago, someone broke into Veenhof's studio roughed him up and demanded he turn over his files.
- That's his name? Veenhof? - Yes.
Luckily he was interrupted by Veenhof's next appointment.
I managed to get a line on a man who fits his description.
If it's who I think it is, we may have a mini-Watergate on our hands.
- How so? - Ever heard of Ford Stevens? - No.
- He's the candidate for state senate and very likely the man I'm after.
What's his connection with Veenhof? When I find out, I'll let you know.
Is there something you're not telling me? Whatever gave you that idea? Is there something you're not telling me? Whatever gave you that idea? Sit tight.
I'll be back in a minute.
We need 1,500 flyers, and I want a turkey sandwich from the deli, okay? Thank you.
Thanks a lot.
I'll check that for myself.
Could you call the governor, please? Thank you.
Thanks.
Oh, I'll call this man.
Could you check on that contribution? Thank you.
Excuse me.
I'd like to see Ford Stevens, please.
Wait here.
Fred? Why don't you swing around the back and let me off? Take a leisurely drive up to Santa Barbara.
Have yourself a big, fat, juicy steak.
- Thanks, Mr.
Steele.
- Pleasure.
No.
! No way.
Look at the picture.
I look like an albino.
Make it darker.
Add some color.
I don't know.
Just make it work.
Yeah, right, right.
I gotta go.
What's up? "Laura Holt, Remington Steele Investigations"? What does she want? I don't know.
She wants to see you.
Uh, tell her I'm out.
Tell her, uh- No.
No.
Tell her I'm on a campaign swing up north.
Be in Fresno till Friday.
Okay.
He will return your call.
Thank you.
So? Stevens is campaigning up north.
- He won't be back till Friday late.
- Hmm.
- A likely story.
- Why do you say that? Well, obviously, from your tone of voice, you don't believe that.
According to his appointment book Stevens has an interview with Channel 6- tonight at his home in Fremont Place.
Isn't it a wonderful feeling, Laura being on the same wavelength? I mean, it's almost as though we can read each other's thoughts without actually having to articulate a thing.
No, you- I know you'll do your best, Sergeant but you've gotta understand that if my boss finds out that car has been stolen I am dead meat.
All right.
Good-bye.
Aren't those people ever in? Now what? Oh, Miss Holt.
Mr.
Steele.
Veenhof? Veenhof? - Remington Steele.
How do you do? - Hiya.
Yes, well, not quite what I'd pictured, but, well, never mind.
Mildred, it's been a terribly long day.
Perhaps you could fix us some cold drinks.
Please, will you? - Right away, chief.
- Thank you.
So, Veenhof, why don't you come and sit down? Miss Holt tells me that you two have known each other for quite some time.
Oh, well, yeah.
I guess about three- Years now.
- That long? - Mm-hmm.
- Uh-huh.
- I understand you're a photographer.
Well, yeah.
Yeah.
What I do is boudoir photog- " raphy.
" "Boudoir photog raphy"? Hmm.
Mildred, I'll give you a hand with the drinks, shall I? - What happened? - Somebody tore the room apart.
- Whatever you do, don't tell him you took my picture.
- Why not? I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea.
I don't know what game our taciturn colleague is playing.
I've given her enough opportunity to fess up, and she hasn't said a word.
- You know those two F.
B.
I.
guys? - Mm-hmm? They came to Veenhof's apartment.
I barely got him out in time.
Mmm.
Like a bad head cold, those two.
Hard to shake off.
By the way, Mildred, where's the Auburn? Uh, in the shop.
It has, uh, sticky lifters.
Again? So, tell me.
What exactly is this boudoir photography? Well, it's only the hottest new craze to sweep the country.
Women- and I'm talking housewives I'm talking secretaries, I'm talking teachers- taking Playmate-style pictures.
These women actually pay you to photograph them in the nude? Well, uh, yes and no.
I mean, most of them come in not expecting to do any real nudity you know, but, uh, couple of glasses of wine Oh.
little slide show of some of the previous clients and next thing you know, these women are, well getting into the real arty stuff.
Well, I'm sure we all find this very fascinating but, uh, we've got to go.
With any luck, this case will be wrapped up by tonight.
Thank heavens for that.
Next thing you know, he'll be wanting to take your picture.
Check upstairs.
- Mildred, when I'm behind that camera, sex never- - Who is it? - F.
B.
I.
Open up.
Get- - You got a warrant this time? - Hey! How are ya? Okay, Veenhof, let's move it.
He offered me 20 grand for my files.
Told me he's a talent agent.
He's no agent- not even from the F.
B.
I.
- How do you know? - That gun- - What about it? - It's not government issue.
- What? - Come on.
Come on! It's not safe here.
Oh, that's fine.
Thank you very much.
Mr.
Steele, Miss Holt- Please.
I just don't have time to deal with you right now.
I'm right in the middle of my campaign.
I'm a very busy man.
I'm sure the news media would enjoy hearing just how busy, Mr.
Stevens.
Breaking and entering, extortion, assault and battery- quite an agenda.
I say, what does the name Douglas Veenhof mean to you? All right.
I'll tell you exactly how it happened.
But you have to understand something.
My whole life is invested in this campaign.
This house, my kids' future, pension plan- - The risk is enormous.
- We're all ears.
It's my wife.
She, uh- Excuse me.
Ohh! Bedside Babe- Babes.
Page 27.
Uh, your wife? No.
Lucille Bascom, our next-door neighbor.
She and Emily- that's my wife- went down to this boudoir photographer and had all these damn pictures taken.
Hell, when she first showed them to me, I was flattered.
In fact, it was kind of a turn-on.
We've been married a long time.
Then I saw this.
Are you saying Douglas Veenhof took this picture? Yes, that's why I wanted his files.
Can you imagine what it would do to my campaign if my wife ended up in a smut magazine like this? Well, I don't think there's much chance of that, Mr.
Stevens.
Your wife would have to sign a release before Veenhof could sell her pictures.
Lucille didn't sign any release.
Are you certain? Of course.
Don't be absurd.
Those pictures were meant for her husband's eyes only.
- Mm-mmm.
- As were mine.
I can see your predicament, Mr.
Stevens, but the question is- What's the question? - Uh- - Uh, the question is what are we going to do about Veenhof and this trash? It's already- It's already on the local newsstands.
- Probably hundreds throughout the city.
- Thousands across the country.
Mr.
Stevens- If we promise to deliver your wife's negatives to you will you leave Veenhof alone? Absolutely.
- We'll get right on it.
- And don't worry about Veenhof.
I have a feeling he's gonna get what's coming to him.
I hope so.
Uh, Miss Holt- I have the funny feeling I've seen you somewhere before.
- No, I don't think so.
- Wait.
Wait a minute.
- It'll come to me.
- Ford never forgets a face.
Oh, photographic memory, eh? Century Plaza Hotel- Presidential primary, 1984.
You were wearing some sort of provocative gown.
Provocative gown? Presidential primary? Where was I? Mind on the case, Mr.
Steele.
We may have gotten Veenhof off the hook with Stevens but he's not off the hook with me.
Obviously, he neglected to tell you he was peddling his pictures on the side.
I'm gonna ring his fat, greasy neck.
Oh, Laura, you're taking this awfully personally.
After all, it's not as though you were between those pages- I mean, the object of desire for every slobbering pervert every sex-starved marine every convict on death row who wishes to kind of- Mr.
Steele, please.
I've got a headache.
All right.
All right.
All right, Veenhof.
Mildred? Veenhof's wanderlust is beginning to annoy me.
I'm gonna find that creep and bury him.
What do you mean, Tijuana? What spare parts? No, no, list- No, listen to me.
I don't care if you've got I have got to have that Auburn back.
When? Yesterday was too late.
You hungry? How could you think of food at a time like this? We have killers on our tail and no wheels.
Yeah, I know, but if I'm gonna die, it might as well be on a full stomach.
Oh, please, don't whine.
You make me wish I was dead.
You got something against me or something? You've been putting me down all day.
- It's your job.
- What about it? - It stinks.
- Oh, hey, look, Mildred, let me tell you something.
When I was maybe five my dad bought me my first camera.
It was an old box kind of thing with a great big lens, worn leather case but I loved that camera.
He was an illustrator- My dad.
Worked in advertising.
And his father was a sculptor.
Well- mostly he was a farmer but he loved to sculpt the ice in the wintertime.
- What about your mother? - She believed in me.
I wouldn't be doing this boudoir stuff if I could sell my serious pictures, Mildred.
You don't believe me, do you? Maybe I can make us a pot of coffee.
Could tide us over.
Maybe a cookie? You go too far.
Let's call it a night, shall we? Pick up the scent in the morning.
You're becoming a regular fixture around here, aren't you? - You know him? - Passing acquaintance.
I can't afford to be a nice guy anymore, Veenhof.
I want those files.
- He isn't Veenhof.
- Uh-huh.
Uh, I think before you start anything, I should tell you there is an F.
B.
I.
agent right behind you.
You know him too? How do you know that guy? He came to the office this morning.
The F.
B.
I.
came to our office, and you didn't tell me? You came down here to this studio and didn't tell me? I would have, but I was too busy trying to figure out what it was that you weren't telling me.
You knew that picture was in that magazine all along, didn't you? - You-You- - "Sly devil"? - Pervert! - Pervert? Your picture appears in a porno magazine, and I'm the pervert? It isn't my picture.
Oh! Yeah.
Forget Veenhof.
I found him.
- Mildred.
! - Mmm! Oh, Miss Holt.
Thank God you're here.
- You know those F.
B.
I.
agents, boss? - Mm-hmm.
They're as phony as three-dollar bills.
- Ow.
- I've got just two words for you.
- "Bedside Babes.
" - Uh-oh.
I have never felt more humiliated more ashamed or more violated in my life! Whatever possessed you to put my face on that picture? I needed the money.
You needed the money? Yeah.
Well- You know, see, I had this great deal going with a magazine in Ohio.
They buy my pictures, no questions asked.
I never dreamed anybody'd find out.
You know what I'm saying? I'm talking Ohio.
Anyway- See, I had this great shot of a gal who's got the body of Venus de Milo.
Unfortunately, she's got the face of Buster Keaton.
Uh, so you did a little darkroom magic and you put Miss Holt's face on another woman's body.
You got it.
It's called digital retouching.
It is the latest thing.
You should see the shots I've got of U.
F.
O.
s flying through San Francisco.
All right, Veenhof, let's start at the beginning.
Aside from Ford Stevens did anyone else threaten you for your files? You mean besides my clients' husbands? Jealousy.
Mr.
Steele - jealousy is an epidemic in this country.
- Oh.
An epidemic! I mean, most of these guys just love the pictures of their wives.
You know, but then it occurs to them somebody had to take these pictures.
Now they freak out.
One guy actually threatened to bash my head in with a golf club.
- What did he look like? - I don't know.
I talked to him on the phone.
The man at the studio? Possibly, possibly.
Anyone else? Well, those two guys that said they were talent agents.
He means those F.
B.
I.
guys.
They offered him 20 grand for his files.
- And? - Are you kiddin'? I jumped at it.
But before I could get anything together- my filing system is not exactly up-to-date- guys started pouring out of the woodwork.
I realized, "Hey I'm not gonna get a chance to spend my 20,000 bucks.
" So when you suggested maybe I should hole up until you get things straightened out, I jumped at that too.
What's in those files that makes them so valuable? I don't know.
Names, addresses.
Maybe negatives.
How many other pictures did you sell to Bedside Babes? I don't know.
Couple, maybe.
Which couple? - Theory, Miss Holt? - The common denominator here seems to be that magazine.
The phony F.
B.
I.
came looking for me to get to Veenhof to get to somebody whose picture is in that magazine.
- Yeah, but who? - Her.
Do you remember her name? Uh, no.
Bet you it's in my files though.
Well, let's just hope we can get to them before they do.
Now come on.
You're the one with the connections, Sal.
Use them to trace the license number.
And, Sal- Make it snappy.
He knows we're on to him.
- Want anything? - Yeah.
- Get me a ham and cheese, no mayo and a little mustard.
- All right.
- And see if they can warm it up for me.
- Okay.
I thought you said you knew where everything was.
I do.
It's right here.
If the prices ever go down, I'd like to put all this on a computer someday.
- Hmm.
- I pity the computer.
- Aha.
Bingo.
- Hey, that's her.
Who is she? Eileen Fitzgerald, care of Castle Rock - 12312 Victory Boulevard.
- Castle Rock? Oh, yeah.
Miniature golf course out in the Valley.
- Now I remember her.
- Hmm.
- Home address? - Nope.
Well, we'll see if Mildred can dig one up.
Okay.
Ha.
Leave a mess.
"Not available.
" "Not available.
" "Not available.
" Not available.
She's got less of a past than Mr.
Steele.
Laura, where's the agency's gun? Uh, in the drawer, I think.
- Excuse me.
- Pardon me.
What kind of a person has no driver's license no Social Security number, no birth certificate? - No record of their existence whatsoever.
- Hide in Plain Sight.
- A murderer.
- A bigamist.
- Embezzler.
- We could be looking for anyone.
- Yeah, but who? - James Caan, Jill Eikenberry.
- Who? - United Artists, 1979.
Caan's ex-wife was married to a two-bit felon who testified against the mob.
The F.
B.
I.
gave him a new identity- Whole family disappears.
Much like our gun, actually.
Don't quote me, Mildred, but he may be onto something.
See what you can dig up on the Federal Witness Protection Program.
Some, uh- Somebody hire a P.
I.
? Shh! - Found the bullets.
! - Found the gun.
And I've found that the best place to go with a problem like yours is the police.
Maybe somebody at Castle Rock can give us a line on Eileen Fitzgerald.
Yeah, Hide in Plain Sight- That was brilliant, Mr.
Steele.
Not brilliant really.
Bit dull actually.
Not a bad idea though, eh? Eh.
It's a 1936 supercharged Speedster.
License plate: "Auburn 1.
" So, uh, why do you want me to find it? You're a P.
I.
firm.
Yeah, but we're a big P.
I.
firm.
Stolen cars are small potatoes.
- You got 24 hours.
- Hold the elevator.
! Keep an eye on Veenhof, Mildred.
Yeah? What's that? Miniature golf? Are you sure? Okay.
All right.
What's the address? Yeah.
Okay.
Thanks.
What time is it? - We got about five minutes.
- It's ironic- All this trouble to hide from them and we turn up right under their noses.
You didn't know Veenhof was gonna sell your pictures to that magazine.
I know.
Look, I've been through this a hundred times, Michael.
I never should have had those pictures taken.
Eileen, regardless of what's happened those pictures are the best birthday present you've ever given me.
Michael- If I hadn't testified - none of this would have happened to you, and- - Hey.
You're my wife.
I love you.
We're in this together.
It could be worse.
We could be at your mother's.
All right.
It's business as usual.
We get the money, we sign for it, just like we do every week.
As soon as they're gone, we're out of here.
Where to? As far as we can get on $5,000 and change.
- We could call the number.
- No.
No, it'll just be the same thing all over again- New name, new town, new job.
No.
From now on, we're on our own.
Come on! This way.
Oh! Oh, Michael! Oh, my God! Michael! Look, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you- It's not me you're in the doghouse with, mate.
Any advice? Well, put it in drive and pray you never cross her path again.
- Good advice.
- Okay.
Take care.
You know, boss, I didn't do bad on this one.
You have a keen nose for fraud, Mildred.
- Always a good asset.
- Does that mean you're proud of me? Well, if it hadn't been for your persistent shuffling of Veenhof from place to place the phony F.
B.
I.
would have grabbed him.
The poor old Fitzgeralds would be dead ducks.
I found your car.
Speaking of dead ducks- I suppose you're wondering why I went to Veenhof in the first place.
The thought had crossed my mind.
It all started innocently enough.
I needed a portrait for the alumni journal and- Of course you did.
You see? That's what I mean.
That's exactly why I didn't come to you about this in the first place.
I needed a portrait.
He took a portrait.
I didn't know anything about Veenhof's boudoir business until he came to me with his problem.
- The alumni journal, eh? - Perfectly legitimate.
Oh.
Well, the alumni are gonna be delighted with this, aren't they?
These women actually pay you to photograph them in the nude? - Is there something you're not telling me? - Whatever gave you that idea? Is there something you're not telling me? The F.
B.
I.
came to our office and you didn't tell me? You- - "Sly devil"? - Pervert! Your picture appears in a porno magazine, and I'm the pervert? - Colby.
- Rhodes.
- Krebs.
- F.
B.
I.
- Steele? Inside.
Coffee? - Tea.
- Cream? - Sugar.
- Lumps? - Two.
- Colby.
- Rhodes.
- F.
B.
I.
Bedside Babes? Page 46- Babe of the Month.
Good Lord.
You know her then? Obviously not as well as I thought.
Mind telling us what Laura Holt, private investigator is doing in a publication of that sort? Uh- Well, obviously she's, uh- She- - She's on a case.
- Undercover.
The photographer is Douglas Veenhof.
- Ring a bell? - Uh- Uh, yes.
Yes, Veenhof.
The Veenhof matter, yes.
A sleazy job, but someone had to do it.
You're aware then that Veenhof is wanted for interstate trafficking in pornographic materials? - Shocking, isn't it? - According to his appointment book Laura Holt was the last person to see him.
- She might know where he is.
- Well, I assure you, gentlemen as soon as Miss Holt gets in you shall be the first ones to know.
The Remington Steele Agency prides itself on its cooperation with the authorities.
Suppose we have a look at your files then? In the spirit of cooperation.
Oh, yes.
Mildred, look into that, will you please? As long as they have a warrant.
I'm sure you can make an exception this one time.
Oh, listen, pal- How long do you think we'd stay in business if we opened our files to every clown who came by flashing a badge? I could walk out that door and be back here with a court order in 30 minutes.
I could close you down in a day.
Don't threaten us with this bureaucratic beeswax, buster.
I didn't spend six years with the I.
R.
S.
fraud squad for nothing.
Uh, excuse me, gentlemen.
Just a moment, will you please? Miss Krebs.
Mildred, this is not a criticism, but what the hell are you doing? Clients' files are privileged information.
Oh, but the F.
B.
I.
, Mildred.
You remember London? You do remember London.
Five passports, deportation- - Once the begin excavating my past- - Relax, chief.
Noncooperation between agencies is the backbone of bureaucracy.
By the time Colby and Rhodes get back here with a warrant you'll be six feet under.
Let's just hope it's not an early grave, Mildred.
Uh- Okay.
In we go.
All right- You better start carving that tombstone right away, Mildred.
- Also, give me the file on the Veenhof case.
- There isn't one.
- What do you mean there isn't one? - That's what I mean.
We don't have a client called Veenhof.
Oh, God.
All right.
You mean- Uh- - Yes, could you get me the listing for, uh- - Veenhof.
Veenhof Photography.
Oh, hi.
Sorry.
I had a table that wouldn't clear and my boss wouldn't let me go.
I'm not too late, am I? I'm afraid you, uh, have the wrong person here.
I mean, I'm here now.
Might as well do what we can, don't you think? - Uh, Miss, Miss- - I have to admit, I'm a little nervous.
I never did this sort of thing before.
Uh, I'm a little new at this myself.
- Oh.
- Tell me, uh, Jackie.
- Yeah.
- Now, exactly, uh what kind of photographs did you have in mind? I was sort of hoping you could do for me - what you did for Betsy Bloomquist- - Uh-huh.
Only no leather.
Satin's more my style, don't you think? Oh.
Oh, absolutely.
There's really no question about it.
Now, uh, did I happen to mention what I'd do with the photographs? Well, you're not gonna do anything with them, I hope.
I wanna give them to Mikey for a wedding present.
That'll surprise him.
Don't you think? Not too much, I hope.
If you got a dressing room, I'll slip into something a little more- Oh, say no more.
Say no more.
Right through here.
Okay, Jackie? Take your time.
Take it, uh- Just breathe, okay? All right, don't worry now.
Don't worry.
Veenhof! Now, if you're not gonna be a human being about this, fine.
Maybe I can knock some sense into that Neanderthal skull of yours, Veenhof.
Hey! Hey! Okay.
Now hand over those files.
I- I'm not Veenhof.
- For the last time, give me those files! - I'm not Veenhof.
Where do you want me, Mr.
Veenhof? Hey, come on, you guys.
This is my hour.
Smile.
- Remington Steele Investigations.
- Laura Holt? I'm sorry, she's not in right now.
May I take a message? Tell her Veenhof called.
- Does Miss Holt know where you are? - Sometimes I wonder.
Look, I gotta move.
I'm getting stir crazy here.
No, uh-uh.
You're gonna stay right where you are until I can reach Miss Holt.
Okay.
In that case, tell her to bring me something to eat, will ya? Double cheeseburger, large order of fries, onion rings.
- Anything to drink? - Diet cola.
Okay, you got it.
What's the address? She's got me stashed at someplace called the Melrose Apartments.
Apartment 303.
Mr.
Veenhof? Mr.
Veenhof? Veenhof! Hey! What do you think you're doing? Somebody call the cops.
He's stealing my car.
Car thief! He's a car thief! Come back, you louse.
! Come back with my car.
! Hey, what's going on? - Veenhof? - Yeah.
What the hell did you do to my room? Come on.
It's not safe in here.
- Morning.
- Morning.
What happened to your lip? - Racquetball.
- Didn't know you played.
Laura, is there anything I should know about? I mean, clients, cases? - Not really.
Why? - Oh, no reason.
- I just thought we could have a bite to eat.
That's all.
- Sorry.
Promised a friend I'd do him a favor.
Oh, really? What sort of favor? Oh, it's an afternoon's work.
I wouldn't want to bore you with the details.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
I'll just come along for the ride.
You know- Breath of fresh air.
Really, Mr.
Steele, it's a personal matter.
- I wouldn't want to trouble you.
- Ah! No trouble.
- There you go.
- All right.
Follow me.
Keep a sharp eye peeled.
- What for? - Anything.
Anybody.
Oh.
Uh-oh.
Come on.
It's not safe here.
- How do you know? - I'm a trained investigator.
There's death behind that door.
This, uh, friend of yours- What does he do? - He's a photographer.
- Oh.
For a newspaper? No, no.
He has his own studio.
- Does portraits mostly.
- Ah.
I see.
Graduations, weddings, kids, dogs- that sort of thing.
- Um, more or less.
- Oh.
Has he, uh, ever taken your photograph? Mine? No.
Me? You know how camera-shy I am.
Oh, yes.
A veritable shrinking violet.
Hmm.
Mmm.
Uh, this, uh, friend of yours wouldn't be mixed up in anything, uh, illegitimate, would he? Your imagination never stops, does it? - At the moment, it's working overtime.
- All right.
Couple of days ago, someone broke into Veenhof's studio roughed him up and demanded he turn over his files.
- That's his name? Veenhof? - Yes.
Luckily he was interrupted by Veenhof's next appointment.
I managed to get a line on a man who fits his description.
If it's who I think it is, we may have a mini-Watergate on our hands.
- How so? - Ever heard of Ford Stevens? - No.
- He's the candidate for state senate and very likely the man I'm after.
What's his connection with Veenhof? When I find out, I'll let you know.
Is there something you're not telling me? Whatever gave you that idea? Is there something you're not telling me? Whatever gave you that idea? Sit tight.
I'll be back in a minute.
We need 1,500 flyers, and I want a turkey sandwich from the deli, okay? Thank you.
Thanks a lot.
I'll check that for myself.
Could you call the governor, please? Thank you.
Thanks.
Oh, I'll call this man.
Could you check on that contribution? Thank you.
Excuse me.
I'd like to see Ford Stevens, please.
Wait here.
Fred? Why don't you swing around the back and let me off? Take a leisurely drive up to Santa Barbara.
Have yourself a big, fat, juicy steak.
- Thanks, Mr.
Steele.
- Pleasure.
No.
! No way.
Look at the picture.
I look like an albino.
Make it darker.
Add some color.
I don't know.
Just make it work.
Yeah, right, right.
I gotta go.
What's up? "Laura Holt, Remington Steele Investigations"? What does she want? I don't know.
She wants to see you.
Uh, tell her I'm out.
Tell her, uh- No.
No.
Tell her I'm on a campaign swing up north.
Be in Fresno till Friday.
Okay.
He will return your call.
Thank you.
So? Stevens is campaigning up north.
- He won't be back till Friday late.
- Hmm.
- A likely story.
- Why do you say that? Well, obviously, from your tone of voice, you don't believe that.
According to his appointment book Stevens has an interview with Channel 6- tonight at his home in Fremont Place.
Isn't it a wonderful feeling, Laura being on the same wavelength? I mean, it's almost as though we can read each other's thoughts without actually having to articulate a thing.
No, you- I know you'll do your best, Sergeant but you've gotta understand that if my boss finds out that car has been stolen I am dead meat.
All right.
Good-bye.
Aren't those people ever in? Now what? Oh, Miss Holt.
Mr.
Steele.
Veenhof? Veenhof? - Remington Steele.
How do you do? - Hiya.
Yes, well, not quite what I'd pictured, but, well, never mind.
Mildred, it's been a terribly long day.
Perhaps you could fix us some cold drinks.
Please, will you? - Right away, chief.
- Thank you.
So, Veenhof, why don't you come and sit down? Miss Holt tells me that you two have known each other for quite some time.
Oh, well, yeah.
I guess about three- Years now.
- That long? - Mm-hmm.
- Uh-huh.
- I understand you're a photographer.
Well, yeah.
Yeah.
What I do is boudoir photog- " raphy.
" "Boudoir photog raphy"? Hmm.
Mildred, I'll give you a hand with the drinks, shall I? - What happened? - Somebody tore the room apart.
- Whatever you do, don't tell him you took my picture.
- Why not? I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea.
I don't know what game our taciturn colleague is playing.
I've given her enough opportunity to fess up, and she hasn't said a word.
- You know those two F.
B.
I.
guys? - Mm-hmm? They came to Veenhof's apartment.
I barely got him out in time.
Mmm.
Like a bad head cold, those two.
Hard to shake off.
By the way, Mildred, where's the Auburn? Uh, in the shop.
It has, uh, sticky lifters.
Again? So, tell me.
What exactly is this boudoir photography? Well, it's only the hottest new craze to sweep the country.
Women- and I'm talking housewives I'm talking secretaries, I'm talking teachers- taking Playmate-style pictures.
These women actually pay you to photograph them in the nude? Well, uh, yes and no.
I mean, most of them come in not expecting to do any real nudity you know, but, uh, couple of glasses of wine Oh.
little slide show of some of the previous clients and next thing you know, these women are, well getting into the real arty stuff.
Well, I'm sure we all find this very fascinating but, uh, we've got to go.
With any luck, this case will be wrapped up by tonight.
Thank heavens for that.
Next thing you know, he'll be wanting to take your picture.
Check upstairs.
- Mildred, when I'm behind that camera, sex never- - Who is it? - F.
B.
I.
Open up.
Get- - You got a warrant this time? - Hey! How are ya? Okay, Veenhof, let's move it.
He offered me 20 grand for my files.
Told me he's a talent agent.
He's no agent- not even from the F.
B.
I.
- How do you know? - That gun- - What about it? - It's not government issue.
- What? - Come on.
Come on! It's not safe here.
Oh, that's fine.
Thank you very much.
Mr.
Steele, Miss Holt- Please.
I just don't have time to deal with you right now.
I'm right in the middle of my campaign.
I'm a very busy man.
I'm sure the news media would enjoy hearing just how busy, Mr.
Stevens.
Breaking and entering, extortion, assault and battery- quite an agenda.
I say, what does the name Douglas Veenhof mean to you? All right.
I'll tell you exactly how it happened.
But you have to understand something.
My whole life is invested in this campaign.
This house, my kids' future, pension plan- - The risk is enormous.
- We're all ears.
It's my wife.
She, uh- Excuse me.
Ohh! Bedside Babe- Babes.
Page 27.
Uh, your wife? No.
Lucille Bascom, our next-door neighbor.
She and Emily- that's my wife- went down to this boudoir photographer and had all these damn pictures taken.
Hell, when she first showed them to me, I was flattered.
In fact, it was kind of a turn-on.
We've been married a long time.
Then I saw this.
Are you saying Douglas Veenhof took this picture? Yes, that's why I wanted his files.
Can you imagine what it would do to my campaign if my wife ended up in a smut magazine like this? Well, I don't think there's much chance of that, Mr.
Stevens.
Your wife would have to sign a release before Veenhof could sell her pictures.
Lucille didn't sign any release.
Are you certain? Of course.
Don't be absurd.
Those pictures were meant for her husband's eyes only.
- Mm-mmm.
- As were mine.
I can see your predicament, Mr.
Stevens, but the question is- What's the question? - Uh- - Uh, the question is what are we going to do about Veenhof and this trash? It's already- It's already on the local newsstands.
- Probably hundreds throughout the city.
- Thousands across the country.
Mr.
Stevens- If we promise to deliver your wife's negatives to you will you leave Veenhof alone? Absolutely.
- We'll get right on it.
- And don't worry about Veenhof.
I have a feeling he's gonna get what's coming to him.
I hope so.
Uh, Miss Holt- I have the funny feeling I've seen you somewhere before.
- No, I don't think so.
- Wait.
Wait a minute.
- It'll come to me.
- Ford never forgets a face.
Oh, photographic memory, eh? Century Plaza Hotel- Presidential primary, 1984.
You were wearing some sort of provocative gown.
Provocative gown? Presidential primary? Where was I? Mind on the case, Mr.
Steele.
We may have gotten Veenhof off the hook with Stevens but he's not off the hook with me.
Obviously, he neglected to tell you he was peddling his pictures on the side.
I'm gonna ring his fat, greasy neck.
Oh, Laura, you're taking this awfully personally.
After all, it's not as though you were between those pages- I mean, the object of desire for every slobbering pervert every sex-starved marine every convict on death row who wishes to kind of- Mr.
Steele, please.
I've got a headache.
All right.
All right.
All right, Veenhof.
Mildred? Veenhof's wanderlust is beginning to annoy me.
I'm gonna find that creep and bury him.
What do you mean, Tijuana? What spare parts? No, no, list- No, listen to me.
I don't care if you've got I have got to have that Auburn back.
When? Yesterday was too late.
You hungry? How could you think of food at a time like this? We have killers on our tail and no wheels.
Yeah, I know, but if I'm gonna die, it might as well be on a full stomach.
Oh, please, don't whine.
You make me wish I was dead.
You got something against me or something? You've been putting me down all day.
- It's your job.
- What about it? - It stinks.
- Oh, hey, look, Mildred, let me tell you something.
When I was maybe five my dad bought me my first camera.
It was an old box kind of thing with a great big lens, worn leather case but I loved that camera.
He was an illustrator- My dad.
Worked in advertising.
And his father was a sculptor.
Well- mostly he was a farmer but he loved to sculpt the ice in the wintertime.
- What about your mother? - She believed in me.
I wouldn't be doing this boudoir stuff if I could sell my serious pictures, Mildred.
You don't believe me, do you? Maybe I can make us a pot of coffee.
Could tide us over.
Maybe a cookie? You go too far.
Let's call it a night, shall we? Pick up the scent in the morning.
You're becoming a regular fixture around here, aren't you? - You know him? - Passing acquaintance.
I can't afford to be a nice guy anymore, Veenhof.
I want those files.
- He isn't Veenhof.
- Uh-huh.
Uh, I think before you start anything, I should tell you there is an F.
B.
I.
agent right behind you.
You know him too? How do you know that guy? He came to the office this morning.
The F.
B.
I.
came to our office, and you didn't tell me? You came down here to this studio and didn't tell me? I would have, but I was too busy trying to figure out what it was that you weren't telling me.
You knew that picture was in that magazine all along, didn't you? - You-You- - "Sly devil"? - Pervert! - Pervert? Your picture appears in a porno magazine, and I'm the pervert? It isn't my picture.
Oh! Yeah.
Forget Veenhof.
I found him.
- Mildred.
! - Mmm! Oh, Miss Holt.
Thank God you're here.
- You know those F.
B.
I.
agents, boss? - Mm-hmm.
They're as phony as three-dollar bills.
- Ow.
- I've got just two words for you.
- "Bedside Babes.
" - Uh-oh.
I have never felt more humiliated more ashamed or more violated in my life! Whatever possessed you to put my face on that picture? I needed the money.
You needed the money? Yeah.
Well- You know, see, I had this great deal going with a magazine in Ohio.
They buy my pictures, no questions asked.
I never dreamed anybody'd find out.
You know what I'm saying? I'm talking Ohio.
Anyway- See, I had this great shot of a gal who's got the body of Venus de Milo.
Unfortunately, she's got the face of Buster Keaton.
Uh, so you did a little darkroom magic and you put Miss Holt's face on another woman's body.
You got it.
It's called digital retouching.
It is the latest thing.
You should see the shots I've got of U.
F.
O.
s flying through San Francisco.
All right, Veenhof, let's start at the beginning.
Aside from Ford Stevens did anyone else threaten you for your files? You mean besides my clients' husbands? Jealousy.
Mr.
Steele - jealousy is an epidemic in this country.
- Oh.
An epidemic! I mean, most of these guys just love the pictures of their wives.
You know, but then it occurs to them somebody had to take these pictures.
Now they freak out.
One guy actually threatened to bash my head in with a golf club.
- What did he look like? - I don't know.
I talked to him on the phone.
The man at the studio? Possibly, possibly.
Anyone else? Well, those two guys that said they were talent agents.
He means those F.
B.
I.
guys.
They offered him 20 grand for his files.
- And? - Are you kiddin'? I jumped at it.
But before I could get anything together- my filing system is not exactly up-to-date- guys started pouring out of the woodwork.
I realized, "Hey I'm not gonna get a chance to spend my 20,000 bucks.
" So when you suggested maybe I should hole up until you get things straightened out, I jumped at that too.
What's in those files that makes them so valuable? I don't know.
Names, addresses.
Maybe negatives.
How many other pictures did you sell to Bedside Babes? I don't know.
Couple, maybe.
Which couple? - Theory, Miss Holt? - The common denominator here seems to be that magazine.
The phony F.
B.
I.
came looking for me to get to Veenhof to get to somebody whose picture is in that magazine.
- Yeah, but who? - Her.
Do you remember her name? Uh, no.
Bet you it's in my files though.
Well, let's just hope we can get to them before they do.
Now come on.
You're the one with the connections, Sal.
Use them to trace the license number.
And, Sal- Make it snappy.
He knows we're on to him.
- Want anything? - Yeah.
- Get me a ham and cheese, no mayo and a little mustard.
- All right.
- And see if they can warm it up for me.
- Okay.
I thought you said you knew where everything was.
I do.
It's right here.
If the prices ever go down, I'd like to put all this on a computer someday.
- Hmm.
- I pity the computer.
- Aha.
Bingo.
- Hey, that's her.
Who is she? Eileen Fitzgerald, care of Castle Rock - 12312 Victory Boulevard.
- Castle Rock? Oh, yeah.
Miniature golf course out in the Valley.
- Now I remember her.
- Hmm.
- Home address? - Nope.
Well, we'll see if Mildred can dig one up.
Okay.
Ha.
Leave a mess.
"Not available.
" "Not available.
" "Not available.
" Not available.
She's got less of a past than Mr.
Steele.
Laura, where's the agency's gun? Uh, in the drawer, I think.
- Excuse me.
- Pardon me.
What kind of a person has no driver's license no Social Security number, no birth certificate? - No record of their existence whatsoever.
- Hide in Plain Sight.
- A murderer.
- A bigamist.
- Embezzler.
- We could be looking for anyone.
- Yeah, but who? - James Caan, Jill Eikenberry.
- Who? - United Artists, 1979.
Caan's ex-wife was married to a two-bit felon who testified against the mob.
The F.
B.
I.
gave him a new identity- Whole family disappears.
Much like our gun, actually.
Don't quote me, Mildred, but he may be onto something.
See what you can dig up on the Federal Witness Protection Program.
Some, uh- Somebody hire a P.
I.
? Shh! - Found the bullets.
! - Found the gun.
And I've found that the best place to go with a problem like yours is the police.
Maybe somebody at Castle Rock can give us a line on Eileen Fitzgerald.
Yeah, Hide in Plain Sight- That was brilliant, Mr.
Steele.
Not brilliant really.
Bit dull actually.
Not a bad idea though, eh? Eh.
It's a 1936 supercharged Speedster.
License plate: "Auburn 1.
" So, uh, why do you want me to find it? You're a P.
I.
firm.
Yeah, but we're a big P.
I.
firm.
Stolen cars are small potatoes.
- You got 24 hours.
- Hold the elevator.
! Keep an eye on Veenhof, Mildred.
Yeah? What's that? Miniature golf? Are you sure? Okay.
All right.
What's the address? Yeah.
Okay.
Thanks.
What time is it? - We got about five minutes.
- It's ironic- All this trouble to hide from them and we turn up right under their noses.
You didn't know Veenhof was gonna sell your pictures to that magazine.
I know.
Look, I've been through this a hundred times, Michael.
I never should have had those pictures taken.
Eileen, regardless of what's happened those pictures are the best birthday present you've ever given me.
Michael- If I hadn't testified - none of this would have happened to you, and- - Hey.
You're my wife.
I love you.
We're in this together.
It could be worse.
We could be at your mother's.
All right.
It's business as usual.
We get the money, we sign for it, just like we do every week.
As soon as they're gone, we're out of here.
Where to? As far as we can get on $5,000 and change.
- We could call the number.
- No.
No, it'll just be the same thing all over again- New name, new town, new job.
No.
From now on, we're on our own.
Come on! This way.
Oh! Oh, Michael! Oh, my God! Michael! Look, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you- It's not me you're in the doghouse with, mate.
Any advice? Well, put it in drive and pray you never cross her path again.
- Good advice.
- Okay.
Take care.
You know, boss, I didn't do bad on this one.
You have a keen nose for fraud, Mildred.
- Always a good asset.
- Does that mean you're proud of me? Well, if it hadn't been for your persistent shuffling of Veenhof from place to place the phony F.
B.
I.
would have grabbed him.
The poor old Fitzgeralds would be dead ducks.
I found your car.
Speaking of dead ducks- I suppose you're wondering why I went to Veenhof in the first place.
The thought had crossed my mind.
It all started innocently enough.
I needed a portrait for the alumni journal and- Of course you did.
You see? That's what I mean.
That's exactly why I didn't come to you about this in the first place.
I needed a portrait.
He took a portrait.
I didn't know anything about Veenhof's boudoir business until he came to me with his problem.
- The alumni journal, eh? - Perfectly legitimate.
Oh.
Well, the alumni are gonna be delighted with this, aren't they?