Mr. Steele is on the case!
The partners don’t look completely in tune, however.
Laura points out that they have no motive, no suspects, not case. Steele counters that the motive depends on the guilty party, they in fact have three good suspects and he now believes there is a case.
“If I’ve learned nothing else from you, I’ve learned to trust your instincts. You smelled a case and that’s good enough for me.”
“But I don’t smell it anymore!”
Want your man to smell like Steele? According to several websites, Pierce Brosnan’s signature scent is Green Irish Tweed by Creed, a cologne supposedly created for Cary Grant. It’s said to smell like “a walk in the Irish countryside.” Though for the price, you might just as well send your man to actually walk around in the Irish countryside and soak up some of the native aroma.
The detectives arrive at their destination, which turns out to be Charlotte’s penthouse. Steele rings the bell. Laura looks on, still disgusted.
Mr. Steele looks confident.
They are welcomed by Forsythe into what is apparently another swank party. Notice the woman in the Grecian gown, inexplicably facing the wall. Also notice the art piece, which resembles a urinal. In any case, Laura is seriously under-dressed for the occasion.
Forsythe catches us up: “The man calls and tells me he want to nail down a book deal, asks me if he gets a party like the one I threw for Charlotte, I put it all together and invite over the world and what happens? The man is a half hour late.”
“Playful little bugger,” Laura grimaces, rubbing her hands together.
Forsythe gathers the crowd for a big announcement: “The reason I’ve asked all you freeloaders here …”
The assembled guests titter appreciatively at his funny, funny joke.
” … is that I’d like you to meet an exciting man who’s going to be writing his very first book for Forsyth House.”
Laura looks pretty excited about this.
“I guess it’s no secret, the man is Remington Steele and the book, Remington Steele’s Ten Most Famous Cases!” Forsythe concludes. He leads the crowd in polite applause.
Time for Mr. Steele to take the floor to deliver a thrillingly incise dissection of the crime!
“Thank you so much,” he begins dramatically. “I, too, am excited at the prospect of sharing my most, uh, exciting and intriguing cases with the reading public. Take, for instance, the case of the late ghost writer.”
Forsythe seems surprised by this turn of events. “What the hell are you doing?”
“About twenty minutes. Depends though; this looks like a tough room.”
You’re a funny man, Steele.
“It all started at a party … a party very much like this one.” Steele is just getting warmed up.
We’re treated to a screen dissolve meant to represent the next 20 minutes of Steele’s dissertation. Finally he concludes his soliloquy:
“And so, I quickly deduced whoever it was who wrote the third book also murdered the ghost writer. Suddenly a baffling mystery fell into place, for there was but one person who fits the bill!”
I’m not sure Forsythe and Laura appreciate the master’s eloquence. The butler looks pretty bored, too.
Steele continues: “A woman who longed for the day she could enjoy all the spoils of her fame and not have to share them with the man she regretfully… regretfully … called her husband. The woman who, in fact, wrote the third book, then pushed her husband off the 35th floor balcony to his death, hoping to bury the secret of his ghost writing forever.”
“I am speaking, of course, of none other than – Charlotte Knight!”
Now, I’m not a brilliant sleuth like Mr. Steele, but Laura’s expression suggests to me that our debonair detective might be mistaken.
This is getting pretty long, so I’ll stop here. I love Mr. Steele in this scene. So confident in his “role” as the brilliant detective. It’s the scene he’s seen played out in countless detective movies. He is Sherlock Holmes! Charlie Chan! Nick Charles! Or is he … To be continued.