We left Mr. Steele standing alone in the lobby of Steele Investigations. Wherever can Laura and Murphy be?
Sitting in a stationary car in front of a green screen projection, it seems. A (virtual) drive in the country. Laura looks a little tense, but Murphy seems very relaxed. Quality time with Laura!
“You know, I think they’re going to be pretty disappointed when we show up empty handed,” Murphy comments. What, you’re not bringing a hotdish, or even a jello salad? Remind me not to invite you to my next reunion potluck.
“Reunions are supposed to be about catching up with old friends, seeing how everyone is doing, finding out who put on weight. If they want to meet Remington Steele, let them drop by the office,” Laura responds.
“What has it been? Four years since we left Havenhurst Detective Agency. Boy, it doesn’t seem that long, does it?”
Thanks for the exposition, Murphy!
But Laura’s mind isn’t on the good old days.
“Imagine him, in a room full of detectives,” she chortles. “Ha! They’d be waiting all weekend for him to slip up – and when he did, they’d eat him alive.”
We learn some things here: Laura seems oddly fixated on Mr. Steele, considering she left him behind; the “old friends” they are going to see are apparently stab-you-in-the-back types; Laura’s “humor” seems a little forced. Is it possible she’s not as excited to see the old gang as she puts on?
The Rabbit arrives at the imposing gate to a huge estate.
Murphy is impressed. “Oh dear GOD,” he exclaims.
They turn on to the long, long driveway. An imposing edifice looms ahead.
“Sure does look like old Alan is doing well for himself,” Laura remarks.
“Oh dear God,” repeats Murphy, who apparently has never, ever been exposed to the lifestyles of the rich and famous before, despite living and working with upscale clients in L.A.
So whoever “Alan” is, apparently his fortunes have come up in the world over the past four years?
The scene cuts to some guy with a lot of hair. Alan, I presume? We’re now inside the mansion, I presume?
“No Remington Steele?” he presumes.
Laura, looking a little schoolgirlish in her A-line skirt and sweater, has his answer. “Couldn’t be helped. Last-minute thing in Marseille.”
The painting behind Laura is interesting. Lovers embracing? Could this be a clue to Laura’s former relationship with this Alan guy?
Alan’s not buying it.
“Marseille? Come on, Laura; this is Alan. You remember me?”
Quite the ornate decorating scheme. Is that a Samurai on the landing above him?
“I’m the fella that YOU to lie like that,” points out the fella who taught Laura to lie like that.
He draws Laura into what can only be described as an uncomfortable embrace.
Here’s a re-enactment. Awkward!
Alan demands that Laura ‘fess up: “He couldn’t come because the little missus put her foot down, am I right?”
Little missus? Really?
Raise your hand if you think this Alan is delightful.
“Actually, there is no Mrs. Steele,” Laura clarifies.
“You mean … not YET.”
You’re a funny guy, Alan. Is it just me, or is this guy leering at our Laura? Where’s Murphy, by the way?
“Ohhhh ….” Something tells me Laura ISN’T charmed by this banter.
Alan puts an arm around Laura. Laura visible recoils.
They seem … close, don’t you think?
“So tell me how good I look,” Alan prods.
“You do. You look wonderful,” she responds dutifully.
He tells her he’s lost 30 lbs.
“Oh, I’d kill to lose five,” Laura answers, looking away from him. He’s giving her quite the lookee-loo, though.
“Where?” he wants to know.
“Places YOU haven’t seen,” she says. Something tells me he never will.
Suddenly the elevator disgorges a little crowd, including Murphy, two other guys and a blonde.
“Well obviously, the reunion’s already begun,” Murphy remarks. I get the impression he doesn’t like how cozy Alan has made himself with Laura’s physique.
One of the other men – let’s call him the Obligatory Office Dork (OOD) – is astonished by the fact that Alan has an elevator in his home.
The blonde chick – let’s call her the Obligatory Office Bimbo (OOB) – starts to say something, but is interrupted by the Obligatory Office Gasbag (OOG). “Did anyone happen to notice my Seville when you pulled in? Just got it.” As the rest of the crowd ignores him and begins to shuffle off, OOB adds, “Very happy with it, actually. I recommend them.”
Meanwhile, OOD – who apparently arrived at reunion from his home in the 14th century – is pinned in place by his astonishment over the magical technology. “Alan has an ELEVATOR in his house.”
Apparently OOG is in the bathroom. He appears, foaming at the mouth (perhaps because his old pals weren’t impressed enough with his Seville). “Yeah?”
Murphy forgot a tie. I’m going to go ahead and assume casual Mr. Michaels just doesn’t OWN a tie. Let’s call him Obligatory Office Slouch (OOS).
“Alan’s gonna hate that,” OOG clucks. “He said formal.”
OOG’s got more to say. “You see all that help in the kitchen?” (Trying to hustle a sandwich, Carl?) “Reunion my Aunt Fanny. You know what this is?”
Nope, Murphy doesn’t know. But I bet OOG will tell him.
“The Alan Greavey Show,” OOG tells him. He suggests Murphy check through his suitcase for a spare tie.
That seems like rather intimate offer, rummaging through somebody else’s tighty-whiteys. Do you think OOG and Murphy were a couple? (Mash up name: MOOG.)
Murphy starts rummaging. OOG keeps yammering. “Some things never change. Alan Greavey was a snake at the Havenhurst Agency, and he’s still shedding skin.”
“You see him all over Laura?”
Oh, Murphy saw.
More exposition from OOG: “Havenhurst was such a zoo. Seventy detectives. I’m glad we all got out.”
So Havenhurst was quite a large agency – with an apparently high turnover rate.
Murphy puts on the least interesting of OOG’s ties. Meanwhile, OOG continues. “Everybody was always tripping over everybody else-“
Hello, what’s this? Ace detective Murphy discovers the gun in the suitcase. So now we know whose beat-up bureau that was in the opening. Looks like OOG isn’t doing as well as he’d like everyone to believe.
“Too big. Guys like me and you, they need some visibility.” Hm. I wouldn’t say Murphy is getting a lot of attention in his current gig, either. He’s pretty much invisible at the Steele Agency (at least since Steele arrived). Do you think OOG’s remark might give Murph something to think about?
Murphy, who knows that the proper place to keep a gun is in a shoebox on a shelf in a closet, is unnerved by his discovery.
“Expecting a little trouble over dinner?”
Carl looks out. “Huh?”
“A .38’s pretty serious baggage for a weekend in the country, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know. Never use one.”
BA-BA-BUM! The plot thickens. Now if we could just figure out what the plot is …
This is shaping up to be a weekend of deceptions, with everyone pretending to be someone other than who they are. Well, it’s just as well Mr. Steele wasn’t invited. He wouldn’t fit into THAT sort of environment at all.