Authors note: I originally wrote this story many years ago and recently found it again. I've dusted it off and tweaked to its current form!
Its setting is roughly sometime between Hunting Season and Call of the Wild.
The Knight Moves
Chapter One
"Vecchio!" Lieutenant Welsh stood, hands on hips, in the doorway to his office. His face was a mixture of quiet anger and well-honed patience, borne from years of experience. That patience began to wear thin when the Detective he was calling didn't respond but continued to stare into thin air. Welsh couldn't quite decide if he was deep in thought or deep in a coma, though he suspected there wasn't much difference between the two.
"Detective Raymond Vecchio!" he enunciated loudly, causing the object of his annoyance to suddenly snap out of his reverie and turn his head, "A word?" he continued more quietly, now that he had the man's attention, and gestured towards his office.
Stanley Raymond Kowalski had been undercover as Ray Vecchio for a quite some time now, but every now and then it would seem like people were talking to someone else.
'Ray' he could cope with, having persuaded people to call him by his middle name for most of his life. It was certainly better than Stanley and the embarrassment of his father being something of a Brando fan.
He made a very unenthusiastic walk toward the Lieutenant's office and took the time to shut the door behind him, bracing himself for the onslaught.
"Yes, Sir. What can I do for you?" he turned around and gave Welsh his best smile.
Welsh wasn't buying it, "Well Detective, let's see. First you can explain to me why I have an official from the British Consulate on the line, who is understandably concerned that we have a member of the British aristocracy, no less, in custody here and wants to know the reason why. And then you can explain why I can't answer the aforementioned question."
Ray shifted uncomfortably under the Lieutenants gaze, "He's a murder suspect."
"Oh perfect!" Welsh clapped his hands in feigned delight, "On what grounds?"
"Um, on the grounds he was standing over the victim with the murder weapon in his hand."
Welsh nodded appreciatively, "And you didn't think it important to apprise me of the situation?"
Ray ran his hand through his hair, well aware that he should have informed Welsh the very minute he brought the suspect into custody, "You looked….um….busy."
"Busy...?" Welsh sat down behind his desk and pointed at his phone, "Oh…answering telephone calls from the British Consulate you mean?" he remarked pointedly, "Listen, I want all the details of this case on my desk in half an hour."
Ray started to protest, "Half an hour? That's kinda..."
"Half an hour," Welsh's tone of voice made it very clear that he would brook no argument.
"Yes, Sir."
"Good," Welsh started to wave him away, before he stopped again, "Oh and the British Consulate are sending over a representative."
Ray sighed and muttered under his breath, "Great."
"You have a problem with that, Detective?"
"No, Sir," Ray lied. Of course he had issue with that. The last thing he wanted to deal with was some admin person checking over his shoulder, "It's my case though, right? I mean we're not just going to let the British walk in here and take over like they still own the country."
He was sure he saw Welch roll his eyes as he stood back up from his desk and ushered him towards door, "It's your case Detective. Just…" Welsh opened the door and pushed Ray gently out of it, "…play nice.
Ray trudged back to his desk, dropped heavily into his seat and flicked uninterestedly through the pile of paperwork there.
He had already spent three hours in an interview room with Lord Robert Calding and had nothing to show for it. Despite being caught with the murder weapon in his hands, standing over the body of his victim, Calding still emphatically denied killing anyone. Ray had decided that Calding could stew in his own juices for a while, before they got started on round two.
"Good morning, Ray!"
Ray looked up to see RCMP Constable Benton Fraser striding towards him, impeccably dressed in his red serge uniform, as always, and his tone of voice cheery.
"Is it?" Ray shot back at his friend.
"It's not?" Fraser stood by the side of his desk, his brow furrowed.
"As mornings go, Fraser, this one isn't shaping up to be the best."
"Oh. Well I'm sorry to hear that. Can I help?"
This was not at all the way Ray had imagined his life going and he certainly hadn't figured in that he'd be partnering a Mountie from Canada.
Constable Benton Fraser had first come to Chicago on the trail of his father's killer and, for reasons, he'd stayed, attached as liaison with the Canadian Consulate. During this time, he had formed a partnership with a Chicago cop called Ray Vecchio, who was now deep undercover. Hence, when Ray had stepped in to 'cover the cover' he had inherited Fraser as a partner and, dare he say it, a friend.
He hadn't imagined it, but he didn't really dislike it either.
"Well it's like this, Fraser..." Ray jumped up and started pacing around his desk, gesturing animatedly with his hands, "...I have a guy in interview two who swears he didn't do it, despite being in the room and his prints being all over the weapon."
"Done what, Ray?" Fraser stared at him, unable to make the leap to Ray's train of thought.
Ray stopped in his tracks to look at him, "Killed the guy."
Fraser tugged at his ear absently, "What guy?"
"The victim," Ray held his hands out in an 'isn't it obvious' gesture.
"Who was?" Fraser spoke slowly as if trying to prise information from a small child.
"This guy," Ray pointed to a crime scene photo on his desk, which showed a man lying face
down on the floor.
He and Ray often found themselves having conversations much like this one. Ray had a slightly irritating habit of starting a story somewhere in the middle. Fraser on the other hand always found it best to start at the beginning.
"Does he have a name?" Fraser asked pointedly.
Ray made a face at him, "Does he have a name? Of course he has a name. What kind of question is that?"
Fraser fought the urge to sigh loudly, "A pertinent one?"
He watched his partner visibly back down. It was clear Ray's agitation was being misdirected. Fraser had long ago learnt to let it wash over him.
Ray sat down again at his desk, leaning back in his chair and picking up a pen, "Paul Carter," he said simply. He briefly leant forward again and opened a file in front of him, spreading some pictures out in the desktop, "This is the guy", again he pointed to a photo, only this time Fraser could clearly see the man's face. Ray continued, "Small time criminal. Robbed a couple liquor stores. Nothing big time."
"And the suspect?"
"One Lord Robert Calding."
Fraser snapped his head towards Ray, surprised, "Lord?"
"Yeah, yeah..." Ray waved it off, clearly less impressed. "English nobility or somethin'."
"He's a British citizen?"
"That's what I just said, Fraser. Anyhow, I figure blackmail," Ray clicked the end of the pen repeatedly.
"Blackmail?" Fraser didn't follow his friends logic again.
"Small time crook taken out by important rich dude. So, he must have had something on our British friend right? Calding doesn't want it to come out so he kills him. Simple."
"I see..." Fraser took a moment to think about his friends theory, "Isn't that a bit of a leap, Ray?"
"Leap?"
"Well, I'm assuming you have no proof of this?"
Ray distractedly put the contents of the folder away, "Ah...not exactly, no."
Fraser nodded, "And Lord Calding won't confess to the murder?"
"Not in so many words, no."
"In any words...?"
"Ok! Ok. But he was standing right over him, Fraser!"
"That doesn't necessarily mean he killed him, Ray, he could simply have been trying to help."
Ray stared at him with disbelief, "With the knife in his hand?"
"He may have removed it."
"Oh yeah, big help. You Canadians have some kind of deal with the British or somethin'?" Ray eyed him suspiciously.
Fraser shook his head, "No, Ray, although there are many similarities between our two nations and we do share a..." Fraser trailed off as he saw Ray's attention had been taking by someone approaching from behind him. He turned to look, as Ray got to his feet for the woman approaching his desk.
"Can I help you?" Ray asked a little too eagerly, stepping forward towards his visitor.
"Yes, I'm looking for a Detective-"
"Well, you found one."
"—Vecchio," Their guest continued non-plussed, and perhaps slightly amused.
"Also...me," Ray answered a little quieter this time, well aware that he'd just made a fool of himself. He was pre-programmed to react to just about any woman of about his age who he found attractive. It wasn't that he was a ladies' man, not by any stretch of his imagination, it was more about playing the odds.
"Oh."
Ray wasn't sure if that was a surprised Oh or a disappointed Oh.
She stuck out a hand towards him, "Suzanne Harrison. I'm with the British Consulate. I understand you arrested Lord Calding this morning?"
Ray shook her hand half-heartedly. Now that he thought about it, her accent was different. He should have known. She was pretty. He certainly hadn't expected that. A couple of inches shy of his height, long dark hair, and hazel eyes. She was dressed smartly, in a light blue dress and black jacket.
"Er...yeah. Ray Vecchio, pleased to meet you."
Fraser, who had been watching the whole exchange quietly, suddenly stepped forward, "Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP."
Ray gestured at him, "Er, yeah...he's my partner."
Fraser shook hands, "Pleased to meet you, Miss Harrison."
"Suzanne, please."
Ray watched Suzanne stare at Fraser for a while longer than he thought strictly necessary, "Ok!" he found himself trying to get back the attention. "If you guys have finished...?" he gestured towards the interview room. "He's this way."
It didn't take long for Ray to run through the details of the case. It was fairly straight forward, or least seemed to be.
An anonymous caller had reported a murder at The Albany Hotel and uniformed officers had responded to find Calding standing over the dead body of Paul Carter, knife in hand.
As they strolled toward the interview room, Suzanne found herself, rather unprofessionally, paying less attention to the details of the case than to the appearance of the man explaining it to her.
She assumed him to be in his late thirties, sort of scruffy in a way that seemed to work, unkempt blonde hair sticking up in various gravity defying ways. Attractive, great smile, blue jeans, biker boots and a band t-shirt covered by a blue hoody.
"...but he's not talkin'", Ray finished as they stopped outside the interview room.
Suzanne took a moment, nodding slowly as if taking the details in, before turning abruptly to Fraser, "So how does a Mountie come to be working for the Chicago PD?"
Constable Fraser couldn't have been more of an opposite from Ray. Dressed impeccably, not a hair out of place (despite an impressive hat), rod straight posture, fantastic manners and extremely eloquent. Also, she couldn't help but note, extremely attractive. Suzanne's day was looking up.
"It's an interesting story actually..." Fraser began, "I first-"
"Trail. Fathers Killer. Stayed. Liaison," Ray interrupted quickly, clearly keen to get on with the matter at hand, "Can we do the story later?"
"Sure," Suzanne nodded, unperturbed by Ray's sudden intervention. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and pulled some papers from her briefcase in preparation. When she looked up again she found Ray staring at her and Fraser standing off to one side. Nothing seemed to be happening she found herself gesturing toward the interview room door, "So..."
Ray held her gaze, "So..?" he sounded defensive.
"Can I talk to him?" Suzanne asked expressively, unsure what the Detective's problem was.
Fraser stepped forward and reached to open the door for her, before Ray rapidly pulled it closed again.
"Look..." Ray still held her gaze, hand on the door handle, whilst Fraser shrank back clearly unsure where to put himself, "...This is my case and I don't care if he's second in line to the throne of England-"
"Twenty first," Suzanne couldn't stop herself interrupting.
"Twenty first," just as Fraser said exactly the same thing at the same time.
This stopped Ray in his tracks, "What?"
Suzanne looked over at Fraser, but spoke to Ray, "He's twenty first in line..." she trailed off as she gestured at Fraser, "How did you know?"
Fraser shifted his weight and absently smoothed an eyebrow, "I calculated. From his file."
"You did?" she couldn't help but be impressed.
"Yes."
"Hey!" Ray got their attention back, "I don't care if he's due to be coronaded next week-"
"Coronated," Fraser corrected him.
"—whatever," Ray didn't miss a beat, "I don't need anyone breathing down my neck. What I need is to be left to do my job."
Suzanne took a moment before she responded. Ray wasn't the first overprotective detective she'd ever met. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, assuming his words probably weren't meant to be as hostile as they seemed.
"I don't disagree, but I'm sure you'll appreciate this delicate matter, given Lord Calding's position."
Ray clearly tried to look impressed.
"You can rest easy, Detective," she continued, "I'm not here to take over anybody's investigation. Couldn't if I wanted to. I'm just here to look after the interests of a British citizen in the American judicial system," she had lost count of the amount of times she had used this speech, "all I ask is that you allow me free access to Calding and the opportunity to follow the case," Suzanne gave Ray the friendliest and most unthreatening smile she could muster.
It seemed work and she watched him visibly deflate and he finally opened the door so she could enter the interview room, "After you."
It hadn't seemed appropriate for Fraser to enter the interview room with Ray and Suzanne, as there was no compelling reason for the presence of a Canadian. Instead Fraser studied Calding through the two-way mirror in the next room.
Lord Robert Calding sat arms folded at the interview table. His expression was of a man highly unimpressed with his current surroundings and certainly not a man fearful of a murder conviction. He certainly had the look of nobility about him; it was the way he held himself. He appeared younger than Fraser had imagined, though he knew him to be in his 50's. He was tall, but his frame was very slight. His shoes, clothes and watch were expensive, and beautifully tailored.
Calding rose to his feet as soon as Suzanne and Ray entered the room, and when he spoke his accent was crisp, "I've already told you, I not willing to talk until I have consulted my lawyer," he directed his words towards Ray who simply stood next to the door, arms folded across his chest, and said nothing.
Suzanne rounded the table and extended a hand toward him, "Lord Calding? My name is Suzanne Harrison, I'm from the British Consulate General."
Calding looked visibly relieved as he shook her hand and sat back down."I was beginning to wonder if the British government had abandoned me to this madness."
"I apologise, Sir, we weren't told of your arrest," Suzanne shot a look towards Ray, who made a face at her.
Calding lent across the table as she took a seat opposite, "I wish to speak to my lawyer. Can you arrange that?"
"Of course," Suzanne arranged some papers on the table, "My Assistant is arranging legal representation as we speak."
Calding took in Suzanne's words before looking up at Ray, "Can we have some privacy?"
Ray looked as though he was going to argue but he nodded slightly and headed for the exit. Seconds later he came through the door to room where Fraser was secreted, nodded and stood alongside him. They watched as Suzanne and Calding started to converse.
After a few moments, Fraser started to feel as if they were prying, "Maybe we should..." he made to move for the door, but stopped when he realised Ray wasn't following suit, "Ray?"
"Just a second," his partner continued to watch Suzanne and Calding through the mirror.
"They are entitled to privacy," Fraser reminded him.
Ray either didn't hear or didn't choose to respond. Fraser sighed and rubbed his temple as he stepped back towards the mirror, knowing that he wouldn't dissuade his partner.
Suzanne and Calding spoke in hushed tones that even Fraser struggled to hear, until they both stood up abruptly, Suzanne making animated gestures her voice louder, "I'd have to advise you against that."
Calding seemed adamant, "I want to speak to my own lawyer."
"Your lawyer is in London. It will take at least a day to get him flown out."
Calding didn't blink, "Then it takes a day."
Suzanne appeared to draw in a breath, "He won't be licensed to practice here in Chicago. I can arrange excellent representation for you here. I'm liasing with the-"
Calding cut her off impatiently, "My Lawyer has been with me for 15 years-" he began before Suzanne returned the favour.
"You have been detained pending a murder one charge," she told him firmly, "In this state, that can carry a death sentence. I'm afraid your status doesn't mean very much here and I think it's imperative that you speak with a lawyer as soon as possible," she paused, "and personally, I also think it would be a good idea if you spoke with Detective Vecchio."
Calding snorted, "Not until I've spoken with a lawyer."
Suzanne shook her head, "Normally I'd agree, but you'd simply be making a statement. It can only help you. You're making yourself look guilty right now."
Calding paced the room, before turning back to Suzanne and nodding tightly, "Very well, but must I talk to that...Detective. He's so..."
"American?" Suzanne finished for him, "And yes, it's his case."
Suzanne walked toward the interview room door, before turning back to Calding, "I'll ensure that representation is here shortly. You should read through some of the paperwork I've left, it explains the process here. You need to cooperate with the police."
Calding nodded and Suzanne left the room, causing Ray and Fraser to bolt for their door, falling out the other side into the corridor just as Suzanne turned in their direction. She looked at them quizzically.
Ray stood and brushed himself off, "Mob thing," he said by way of explanation and walked off in the direction of his desk.
Fraser stood stock still a few seconds longer, unsure what to say.
"Lord Calding is ready to make a statement," Suzanne spoke first.
"Ah," Fraser nodded.
Suzanne took a seat next to Calding while Ray paced opposite, a ball of pent-up energy, "So maybe we could get somewhere this time, 'cause I'm tired of banging my head against a brick wall."
"I wasn't involved in a murder."
"So you keep saying," Ray retorted.
"Then maybe that should tell you something, Detective," Calding replied coolly.
Ray simply smiled a fake smile, "Then what were you doing at the scene of the crime?"
"I was attending a function."
"Is that what they call murder in the UK?"
Suzanne couldn't stop herself jumping in, "Why don't you start at the beginning?" she spoke calmly.
Calding sighed, but started to talk anyway, "My wife and I arrived at the Albany Hotel about 7pm. The evening proceeded as expected, until I received a phone call at about 9.30 from someone asking me to meet them in one of the hotel bedrooms."
"Who was the call from?" Ray asked as he walked around the table.
Calding shook his head, "I don't know. I didn't recognise the voice. He was very insistent that I meet with him."
"And you agreed?" Ray was now behind Suzanne's shoulder.
"He said it was in my own best interest to meet with him and his tone of voice he made it quite clear I was in no position to argue."
Suzanne nodded, "He threatened you?" she was well aware that it was not her job to be asking these questions, but she couldn't stop herself.
"Not directly, but the threat was there nonetheless. I walked to the room number he had told me," he paused, "The door was ajar when I arrived and no-one answered my calls, so I pushed the door open and...and that's when I saw him."
"The victim?" Fraser asked quietly.
"Yes," for a moment the English reserve faltered, "He was just lying there," he paused again, "Well...I was shocked. I went over to see if there was anything that I could do, but..."
"He was already dead," Fraser finished for him.
Calding shook his head sadly.
"Do you remember what time it was?" Suzanne leant forward in her chair.
"It was 9.40pm. I checked my watch before I entered the room."
Ray spoke from the back of the room, "So how did you come to be holding the knife?"
Calding looked over at him, "I just picked it up, I don't know why. It was silly really. I just saw it lying there and..."
Suzanne heard Ray mumble under his breath 'how convenient' but ignored it and pressed on herself, "And the victim, had you ever seen him before?"
Calding shook his head, "No. Not that I can recall," he paused, changing the subject, "Is it possible for me to speak to my wife? She will be worried."
Suzanne rose from her seat, "I'll see what I can arrange," she gave him a weak smile and turned to Ray, "Detective?"
Ray ignored her, "You hadn't seen the victim before, huh?"
Calding eyed him coldly, "No, I had not."
Suzanne intervened, "Detective, I think you have your statement," she deliberately opened the door. Fraser followed her out, with Ray not too far behind.
As soon as the door had closed behind him Ray launched, "I waited hours for that? That's it?"
Suzanne turned to him calmly, "He didn't do it."
"What?" Ray looked at her like she had two heads.
Beside her, Fraser shifted his weight and then spoke, "I would have to agree, Ray."
Ray looked at Fraser, then back to Suzanne, then back to Fraser, "You know this day just keeps getting better and better. I get what seems like the most straight forward arrest in the history all straight forward arrests, but turns out my suspect is nobility or somethin'. And I could handle the fact he tells me he didn't do it, because that's what every collar says, but then I get British here..." he smiled at Suzanne wryly to emphasise his point, "...taking over my interrogation, asking stupid questions and then hanging me out to dry."
Suzanne opened her mouth to apologise but Ray wasn't finished.
"And then on top of that, my partner backs her up. Great. Just greatness," he emphasised, before storming off leaving Fraser and Suzanne standing.
She looked over at the Mountie, "Is he always like this?"
Fraser nodded, "Frequently, yes," he paused, "But I find you get used to it after a while."
"And how long does that take?"
Fraser paused, "Months."