All language subtitles for Remington Steele s04e01 Part 1.eng

Where is he, Miss Holt?
Why has he abandoned us?

What are you doing here?

Use any methods required,
cut any corners necessary...

but find Steele... and stop him.

- Scotland Yard is after me.
- It sounds like you've been a naughty boy.

- I haven't done anything.
- Operator, I'd like the number of Scotland Yard, please.

Nowhere to run now, mate.

But he was here, I tell ya.
Well, he's got to be.!

Inspector! Over here!

Who are you?
Where did you come from?

"Michael O' Leary, Ireland. "

"Paul Fabrini, Italy. "

"John Murrell, France. "

"Richard Blaine, Australia. "

"Douglas Quintain, England. "

Who are you?

Who are you?

Who are you? Who are you?

Who are you? Who are you?
Who are you?

Who are you?

Mmm.

- Morning, morning, morning.
- Oh, that's just the way he used to greet me.

Kareem sets. Shoots.

- Swish!
- You're awfully chipper.

- Slept like a baby.
- I slept rotten.

I haven't had a good night's sleep
since he left.

Maybe you need a new mattress.

I tried watching television.
There was this old movie on.

Let's see what's on
the agenda for today.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

Kevin McCarthy, Dana Wynter.
Allied Artists, 1956.

Oh, how he loved that picture.

- Roger Mittleman at 10:00.
- Where is he, Miss Holt?

Why has he abandoned us?

Mildred, get a grip on yourself.

I told you, he's away on a case.

What case?
Why didn't he tell me?

It's not like him to take off like that.

I mean, without a word
or a note or a collect call.

It's all very hush-hush.
I don't even know all the details myself.

How's the progress on those names
Mr. Steele asked you to check out?

Oh, those guys really get around,
let me tell you.

The only way I could keep track of them
was with this visual aid.

Now, Richard Blaine went from Los Angeles
to Australia, then dropped out of sight.

But Paul Fabrini left Australia for Italy,
where he disappeared.

However, John Murrell
left Rome for Paris...

where he got lost somewhere, only to have
Michael O'Leary leave Paris for Dublin.

What about Douglas Quintain?

Nothing so far.
It's like a tag-team relay.

One guy arrives, another guy leaves.

What do you think they're up to,
Miss Holt?

I'm afraid only Mr. Steele
knows the answer to that one.

Bingo.!

The last name on Mr. Steele's list
just turned up.

Douglas Quintain in London!

Now, how do we get
this information to Mr. Steele?

I think Mr. Steele's
way ahead of us on this one.

What are we gonna do, Miss Holt?

Ain't lookin' for rooms, are you?

We're looking for a-
a Mr. Quintain.

- A Douglas Quintain?
- Quintain?

The hotel that he was staying at said
he left this address when he checked out.

I can never get these to stay right.

And I like them all to be even.

Makes a prettier picture
from the outside, you see?

About Mr. Quintain-

Yes. What do you want with him?

He's my cousin. My Aunt Millie wanted me
to look him up when I got to London.

Ain't no Quintain here.

Then why did he leave this
as a forwarding address?

Well, maybe he was gonna come...

and somethin' happened.

Thank you for your trouble.

She's lying. And what was that tug-o-war
with the shades all about?

Exactly, Mildred.

Hey! That's my purse!

- Oh!
- Come back here, you little thief!

You've got my purse.!
Come back.!

What are you doing here?

Oh! Uh-

- Sorry. Can't talk right now.
- Where are you going?

Lovely to see you again, Laura.
Keep in touch.

You creep!

Keep in touch?
I came 6,000 miles to see you!

"Laura Holt. " She works for
Remington Steele Investigations.

She's already been to Soho
asking after Douglas Quintain.

The circle's becoming
dangerously wide.

Use any methods required,
cut any corners necessary...

but find Steele... and stop him.

Swines, I tell ya.

Down on me hands and knees scrubbing
and mopping, and me with a condition.

Arthritis I got.
Do I get any sympathy from them?

Oh, no, sir. All they ever do
is make more dirt for me to clean up.

Swines. That's what they are.

"Your father always wanted you to have this.

Signed, Patrick O'Rourke. "

"To S.J. from K.L."
The inscription on the watch.

One of these must be your father.

Make it a quick one, Billy.

Here! Watch it!
I got a condition!

Well, ain't we splendid.

Off to see the royal mum, are we?

What some people won't do
for the Yankee dollar.

All dressed up like Oliver Twist...

so they'll toss you a quid or two.

Dear, oh, dear.

Must be going dotty in me old age.

Must be me condition. Yeah.

They'll drive a person
into their grave if you let 'em.

Filthy swines!

Hold up, Chalky.

I've been sitting in that pub waiting
for you, Chalky, for two nights, mate.

Yeah, well, I've been busy, Harry,
and that's the truth of it.

I can't go back to my flat because there's
a bloody army back there waiting for me.

I haven't changed clothes
in over a week, mate.

You are a little ripe, Harry.

- But it's nothin' a tub and a shave won't cure.
- Shut up. Shut up!

Who are they,
and why are they after me?

I don't know, Harry.
I promise you, I don't have an inkling.

Only it ain't healthy
to get too close to you these days.

Why? What have I done?
I don't understand.

I ran into Felicia.
She's got a flat in Kensington.

I thought maybe you and her
might have had a bit of a grab in mind.

- A painting here, a bauble there. Like the old days.
- No. I don't know what you're-

Not like the old days. I didn't
even know she was in London, Chalky!

No. No business.

This is personal.
Do you understand me?

This is personal.
And you owe me a name.

Yeah, and I am
working on it, Harry.

Honestly, I'm working my fingers
to the bone for you.

If I broke your neck ever,
ever so slowly...

I wonder if the name that I wanted
would catch in your throat.

- Hmm? Hmm?
- Jenny!

- Say again?
- Jenny Buchanan.

- Where can I find her?
- Paddington Station.

Come in, Miss Holt.

I'm Chief Inspector Lombard.

The officer on the phone said
my purse had been recovered.

- Ah.
- The money's gone, I'm afraid.

But everything else seems to be intact.

What were you doing in Soho,
may I ask?

Looking for a friend.

- Did you find him?
- Not yet.

I see from your identification...

that you work for
a private investigation firm in America.

Yes. Remington Steele Investigations.

Is he here on a case?

What makes you think
Mr. Steele's in London?

Oh, well, I just naturally assumed,
what with you being here and-

- I'm on vacation.
- Ah.

And this friend
you were hoping to find...

perhaps I can help you
to locate him.

That's awfully kind of you, Inspector...

but really, it's-
it's not that important.

In that case, I suggest
you give places like Soho a wide berth.

It would be a pity
if something were to happen to you.

And I can almost
guarantee it will...

unless you keep to the more
traditional tourist attractions.

I'm curious about something.

Is it customary for a chief inspector
of Scotland Yard...

to involve himself
in purse snatchings?

If you should speak to Mr. Steele...

kindly tell him I'm
most anxious to meet him.

Here I am, sir.
Johnny-on-the-spot.

- I came as soon as I found him.
- Where is he?

- He give me the slip.
- Then what good are you?

I know where he'll be.

Mister?

Nice time, mister?

Want a nice time, mister?

Prat!

- Jenny Buchanan?
- Oh, bugger off!

Jenny, wait. Jenny, Jenny.
I just want a few minutes with you. That's all.

You've got nerve, thinking I'd be available
for the likes of you. I got me standards.

Yes, and I'm sure they're incredibly high.
Look, I just wanna talk with you.

I'll even pay for the privilege.
Here's a tenner.

If you ask me, you could put this to better
use gettin' yourself a nice bath.

Spruce yourself up a bit.
Bit of eau de cologne.

Look, a while ago, a man named
Patrick O'Rourke sent me this watch.

It has to do with my past. Only before
I could find out exactly what, O'Rourke died.

- I don't know no Patrick O'Rourke.
- Just hear me out, will you?

I traced him back here to London.
He used to work in a pub in Whitechapel...

behind the bar as a barman.

Also, there was this fellow,
about four or five years ago...

who used to hang around
the pub where he worked.

O'Rourke used to look out for him- keep him
away from the coppers, that sort of thing.

Because this fellow had a very nasty habit
of getting drunk and beating up-

Well, beating up girls like you.

- Time's up, mister.
- Jenny, please. Look, look.

You know who I'm talkin' about,
don't you? You know who I'm talkin' about.

I know it's painful,
but it's very important to me.

It took some doin', but I've dug up
a name- Kevin Landers.

K.L. -The same initials here on this watch.

No, I swear. I never knew who he really was.

- Kevin. That was all he ever called himself.
- Where can I find him, love?

Where can I find him?

You haven't been looking very hard.

He's all over the place these days.

There he is.
There's your Kevin Landers.

Him?

Thanks very much, Jenny.
Listen, take care of yourself.

Okay? Thank you, sir. Okay.

Oh.

Hey, Geronimo.

You wanna make
some wampum? Huh?

Oh! Now, you see, I just rented
this little tepee, only I lost my key.

Now, do you think
you can open that door...

for, um, five
buffalo-head nickels?

- Ugh!
- Oh.!

You're my kind of savage.

Oh, here you go, Chief. Now,
don't you spend that all on firewater.

Flowers for the lady.
Tuppence a bunch.

Michael!

I thought you were safely
tucked away in Los Angeles...

playing that paragon of virtue,
Remington Steele.

Uh, yes, well, I'm sorry to
barge in on you like this, Felicia...

but I had nowhere else to turn to.

- You look like hell, darling.
- Uh, thank you, darling.

I feel like hell. I've been reduced
to sleeping in doorways...

like when I first hit London.

Also, all my old mates practically
run the other way whenever they see me...

on top of which
Scotland Yard is after me.

Well, it sounds like
you've been a naughty boy.

Yes, well, that's the frightening thing.
I haven't done anything.

Oh, by the way...

Chalky thinks we might have
something brewing.

All we have together
are memories.

Well, uh, will they buy me
a place to stay for a while?

- I don't think that would be wise.
- Why not?

I mean, you're not
up to anything, Felicia...

that might attract
undue attention, are you?

Darling, I'm simply here
to see a few shows...

buy a few gowns,
break a few hearts.

Simply recreational.

Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.

Well, uh-Well-

Let's hope he's not the jealous type.
That's all I can say.

- Well, you know how it is.
- Uh-huh.

I can't spend the rest
of my life pining for you.

Besides, unrequited lust
can be so tedious...

and very lonely.

I'm glad I found you again.

Your timing always was superb.

Operator, I'd like the number
of Scotland Yard, please.

- Where is he?
- The bedroom.

Get him in here.

Darling, are you awake?

I've made some food for you.

Everything you like-
bacon and eggs...

that special jam from Harrod's.

Come and get it
before it goes cold.

Nowhere to run now, mate.

Mildred, where have you been?

I've been stuck in this room
all afternoon waiting for you.

When you didn't show up
from Scotland Yard, I got antsy.

I picked up a new friend.
I spent the morning trying to lose him.

He's still here.
Have a look.

- Miss Holt?
- Yes?

This, um, Quintain guy
and some of these other guys-

Have their names come up
before this case?

Not that I remember.
Why?

Well, according
to my background check...

some of them are
pretty shady characters.

Well, it's quite possible
that Mr. Steele...

may have come across them
at some point in his career.

I never asked you this before, I guess
because I never thought it was important...

but how much
do you know about the boss?

I mean, before you two hooked up?

Why this sudden interest in Mr. Steele's past?
Exactly where have you been?

- Quintain's flat.
- And?

- And- - Mildred, what exactly did
you learn about Douglas Quintain?

We can probably find him
in this joint.

Good night, Lindsay, Jan.

Going down?

Am I glad that shift's over.

You're lucky, Doctor.
You get them when they're unconscious.

Can't complain.
If it's not the food or a draft...

it's what's on the telly.

Well, this is where I leave you.

"To S.J. from K.L."
The inscription on the watch.

- One of those must be your father.
- Mm-hmm. Perhaps.

Perhaps? You can't have
forgotten your own father.

I have a feeling that
I never knew who my father really was...

that I've never even seen
my birth certificate.

Is that why
you wouldn't tell me your real name?

Because you don't know it?

Don't know it?
Don't know it? Don't know it?

Hey, you.! Stop.! Police.!

You set the coppers on me, Chalky.
Didn't you, mate?

Harry, please!
That's a terrible thing to say.

If I didn't love ya like me own,
I'd be cut to the quick.

Do you hear that?

It ain't safe on the streets
for you, mate.

But you just stay put,
and I'll nip back...

with some bandages
and a bit of hot food, eh?

Old Chalky'll fix you up
right proper, he will.

- Out of my way.
- I thought I heard something.

Mildred?
Are you all right?

Oh, Miss Holt, I'm sorry.

I couldn't let you
come down here alone.

Take her to the hospital.
Get her attended to.

No doubt you'll want
to accompany her, Miss Holt...

since your disregard
of my warning resulted in this attack.

Come on, Mildred.

A pity you won't be able
to get any fingerprints from that.

Unless you tell me
what's going on, Inspector...

I shall be forced to inform your superiors
about that piece of evidence...

you're obviously trying
to conceal.

"The family crest
of the earl of Claridge. "

"Tenth in line
to the throne of England. "

And possible mass murderer.

There's no proof the earl
is responsible for these killings.

Isn't there?

Those are gifts he bestows
on a great many people...

any one of whom
could have dropped it.

I'd say that was
your problem, Inspector.

Mine is trying to understand
why you've had my purse snatched...

why you've had me followed and why
you're watching Douglas Quintain's flat.

Come now, Miss Holt.
I'm prepared to be candid with you.

Won't you extend me
the same courtesy?

- We both know who Douglas Quintain really is.
- Exactly what do you mean?

Shortly after the first murder...

this Quintain started making
inquiries about Kevin Landers.

I did some checking and soon discovered,
much to my horror...

that Douglas Quintain
was actually Remington Steele.

Why is your chief pursuing
this case so relentlessly?

Believe me, Inspector...

I'm coming at this
from a standing start.

Help me with why the connection between
the earl and this Kevin Landers is so disturbing.

Kevin Landers was the name used by the earl
on his forays into Whitechapel five years ago.

He was given to
drunken rampages in which...

he gleefully beat up prostitutes.

It was all dealt with very discreetly,
and the earl was shipped off to Canada...

where his family
has extensive holdings.

Sort of a royal remittance man.

Practically on the heels of his return
to England, these killings began.

And the first victim
was a Whitechapel tart.

And the others?

Emily Brent, solicitor's secretary.

Hilda Lake, charwoman.

Vera Claythorne, nurse
at Great Ormand Street Hospital.

Then your killer
isn't confining himself to prostitutes?

Another reason why Steele
must be stopped.

If he makes this public, he could
ruin a potentially innocent man...

and reduce me to station sergeant.

Lombard.

No. Don't do anything till I arrive.

It seems that one of our chickens
has come home to roost.

Now that I done my bit for queen
and country, you will whisper a word...

in the magistrate's ear for me,
won't you, guv?

But he was here, I tell ya.!

Well, he's gotta be.!
Well, he's hurt too bad to run far.

Inspector.! Over here.!

Inspector.! Over here.!

I think I saw something
move right in there.

What's that noise?

Ten quid a night in advance.
Loo's down the hall.

No baths after 10:00.
No flushing after 11:00.

Thank you, and good night.

Good night.

- Oh.
- Thank you very much.

Good night.

If you weren't such a pitiful wreck,
I'd clobber you.

Walking out on me like that...

without a note, a word,
a collect call.

Take off your shirt.

What kind of relationship did we have,
or ever hope to have...

if every time I turned around,
bingo, you were gone?

Lift your shirt.

Laura, you're the one who said
we needed time apart.

So you decided to spend it
a continent away?

I needed to find something.

What?

Me.

You were in Los Angeles
last time I looked.

What's the major
stumbling block between us?

- Hmm?
- Your aversion to legwork?

My name.

My real name.

I knew how you'd feel
if I wouldn't give you that...

and I couldn't be honest about...

other things.

I don't care what your name is.

- Make one up. It'll be all right with me.
- Perhaps.

But when it seemed our time together
had come to an end...

I realized...

Remington Steele was just
another name I'd borrowed.

And if I was gonna give it back...

I should have to replace it
with something that was truly mine.

And did you?

I've come up with a name...

for one of the initials
on the watch- Kevin Landers.

Only that isn't
the man's real name.

Are you ready for this?
He's the earl of Claridge.

Wouldn't that be a corker if
it turned out I was related to royalty...

after spending half my life
in dumps like this place?

I've always been afraid
of looking too deeply into the past.

Of- Never mind anyway.

I'll pay a visit to His Lordship
first thing in the morning.

No. You are in no condition
to call on anyone.

I'll go.
I'll do it for you.

But first, we have
to get you a doctor.

They have his passports, you know.

The police.
Confiscated all five of'em.

Five different countries,
five different names.

But only one picture- his.

I know, Mildred.

Miss Holt, I have a right
to an explanation, you know.

- And I promise you you'll get one.
- Mmm.

But first,
we have to help Mr. Steele.

Or whoever the hell he is.

Now, remember, I'm the reporter.
You're my photographer.

And you won't get
any award-winning pictures...

- if you don't take off your lens cap.
- Gotcha.

Katherine, dear.

This is the American magazine writer
I told you about.

Does that mean
I can take a breather?

I haven't sat this straight since
Miss Percy's School for Young Ladies.

Why don't you get
a few shots of Miss Galt...

while I chat
with His Lordship?

According to my notes, you've been
away from England about five years.

Yes, tending the family
interests in Canada.

That's where I met Katherine.
But I decided to have the wedding here.

England's really my home, and,
I must confess, it's been most rewarding.

As you know, America
has its own form of royalty-

rock stars, sports figures.

I was wondering if you suffered
the same inconveniences.

How do you mean?

Because of your marriage,
your picture is in all the papers, on television.

It must be very difficult for you to
go anywhere without being recognized.

Why do you suggest that I should have to
go around London without being recognized?

As beautiful as it is here, you must
get the urge to stroll through Hyde Park...

visit a museum,
ride in a hansom cab.

Exactly what are you driving at?
What sort of an interview is this?

- What's the matter? Lost your lighter again?
- It's around somewhere.

Miss Holt, may I introduce
Bradford Galt, Katherine's brother.

A pleasure.

Miss Holt is one of those
American magazine writers...

no doubt with a deadline.

Would you be kind enough to entertain her
before she's forced to leave?

- I suppose I'll have to get used to this.
- What?

- Reporters.
- Do you have something against publicity?

I've led a very private life
in Canada, Miss Holt...

and I find it quite disconcerting...

to have people trying
to snap one's picture all the time.

Your accent sounds
more English than Canadian.

Both Katherine and I
were born in London.

However, Canada seemed
to offer more opportunity.

You know, this seems
strangely out of place.

The earl's ancestors all rode
to their weddings in one of those.

He plans to carry on the tradition.

His Lordship's a stickler
for tradition.

He even has Katherine and me
sequestered in a Mayfair flat.

No hanky-panky before
the vows are exchanged.

- Oh!
- What happened?

- She became dizzy.
- Oh, I am so sorry.

Perhaps you should take her upstairs
for her to lie down for a while.

Nonsense. I'm sure it's nothing serious.

Oh! Oh, I'm s-
I'm afraid I've hurt my ankle.

Clara, make up some rooms.

Do stay until Miss Krebs
is ready to travel.

- You're so kind.
- Thank you.

- Now, lean on me.
- All right. Oh, I am so sorry.

Excuse me.

What's going on? Why do we have
to make sure we stay the night?

Oh, Miss Holt, come on.
You can tell me. I can keep a secret.

You may have to keep more than one
if things turn out the way I think they will.

Hold the fort, Mildred.

- Why aren't you where I left you?
- Why aren't you?

I've been waiting for you to come back
with some word on who I am.

- We didn't get around to that. What are you doing?
- This is my past we're chasing.

- All right. Sit tight.
- Have you driven one of these things before?

I saw Smokey and the Bandit.

Now that we've seen London by night,
would you mind telling me...

why we're following someone who could
possibly be a very, very close relative of mine?

Hmm? And why, incidentally, he's
bouncing around on top of that carriage?

You've been a little busy...

trying to track down
your past and such.

You probably haven't paid much attention
to the news, the happenings of the day.

I can always tell when you're about
to impart something very unpleasant.

- Your left eyebrow starts twitching.
- It does not.

Laura- Laura, what the hell
are we doing?

Chasing a murderer.

The earl of Claridge is a murderer?

I didn't want to have
to tell you this way.

What were you gonna do,
send me a postcard?

- Hey, you all right?
- My knee.

Okay, let's get up.
Okay. Sit down over here.

Stay here.
Stay here, okay?

Laura?

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Laura?

Laura?

Bradford Galt.!

Who the hell is he?

One of the most cold-blooded killers
I've ever encountered.

We're still trying to sort out
the grisly details.

But from what we've been able
to piece together so far...

Bradford Galt worked as an odd-job man in
a boarding house for women several years ago.

Rumor had it that the old lady
who kept the place...

had a considerable sum of money
hidden somewhere in the house.

So, being an ambitious
young man...

hungry for a proper start,
Galt began to search for the treasure.

Unfortunately, for her...

she surprised him,
and he killed her and then fled to Canada.

However, he left behind
a bloody fingerprint...

on the hammer he used
to bludgeon the poor old woman.

And he realized the publicity
surrounding his sister's marriage...

would spill over onto him.

There he'd be,
escorting her up the aisle...

his picture in all the newspapers,
on the television.

Surely one woman in that
boarding house would recognize him.

But I still don't understand
why the earl runs around in this carriage.

Galt supplied the answer to that.

The earl is a very proper man...

and he didn't want anyone
to know he was...

seeing his fianc�e
before they were married.

Reporters from some of our more sensational
tabloids were camped outside the estate.

With the hansom cab, he could cut across
the grounds and leave without being seen.

Galt knew he had several uninterrupted
hours to use the earl's carriage.

Mr. Steele is going to join us,
isn't he?

Uh, he just needed a few moments
to make himself presentable.

I'm afraid I can't look
the other way on these.

I do hope he has a passport
in his real name.

- You're late.
- I am?

I didn't think
you'd take it this hard.

Nice to see you again.

- It was nice to be seen.
- I hope you prepared.

Prepared? For what?

Why, darling, you're going
to kill the earl of Claridge.

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