There was no denying it. Ray seemed to be having a spectacularly bad day.
Fraser was still finding it difficult to predict his new partner's mood swings, but had thought he was getting a handle on it. His new found confidence, however, was shattered when he arrived at the 27th precinct to discover Ray in the throes of what could only be described as a tantrum.
"Where's Ray," he asked on arrival, and was pointed in his friend's direction by Elaine, who followed the gesture with a warning. "He's in a bad mood."
Evidently. Fraser could hear the banging from the canteen all the way from the bullpen.
"Do you know did he hear yet?"
"Hear what?"
"Oh... you've not heard?"
"Heard what?" There was an odd tone to this conversation, even by the standards of the 27th Precinct. Normally, Elaine was quite straight forward. Today, however, she sounded evasive. Fraser tilted his head at her quizzically, wondering what she was so nervous about.
"Oh... if you've not heard then..." she brightened. "Maybe it's not true. Might just be gossip. I mean, I don't know, I only just got here... You know what this place is like... forget I said anything."
Oh dear...
By the time Fraser arrived in the canteen the banging had escalated to thumps, rattles and curses. It sounded like the station house had its own resident poltergeist. Fortunately, however, the canteen was empty, except for Ray. It seemed the rest of the station house knew to avoid him when he was in this kind of mood. So the violent assault on the coffee machine was only witnessed by Fraser. Ray was thumping his fist repeatedly into the metal of the thing, and kicking it against the wall. Fraser hovered for a moment, thinking he should step back and let Ray work out whatever was bothering him in privacy. Then he thought of the damage Ray was probably doing to his knuckles.
He cleared his throat. Ray froze, then turned swiftly, and glared at Fraser, with a bullish expression on his face. "What?" He snapped the word out like a wet towel, and it stung. Fraser flinched. Normally it didn't bother him when people were less than polite... but Ray got under his skin more than most people. He found himself running through the catalogue of his memories, trying to figure out what he might have done to upset Ray.
Other than interrupting his private vendetta against coffee machines, there was nothing that sprang immediately to mind.
"I just... we agreed to meet up at lunch time."
"Oh." The tension left Ray with a suddenness that left him limp and sagging against the wall. "Yeah... yeah we did."
"Are you okay, Ray?"
"Yeah... I'm fine. Just dandy. It's all peaches."
"It's just that you..."
"Look, Fraser, I know you're trying to help, but just... just leave it, okay?"
"Okay."
Ray shook himself out, like Diefenbaker coming up out of the water, then slouched across to one of the canteen tables. He sat on it, with his feet up on the seat of a chair, and looked at Fraser apologetically. "Look... I'm sorry, okay? But you know, I just... I don't feel very hungry. You'll have to go on without me."
"Oh, don't worry," Fraser lied, "I'm not hungry either. Is there anything you're working on now? Since I'm here, I might as well make myself useful."
"Well, I'm not hanging around here... you'd think I had the plague."
"In what way?"
"In the 'oh look, Ray's come into the room, let's all shut up and pretend we didn't see him' way."
"You mean, you feel people are keeping something from you?"
"Yeah, I think people are kee... actually, you know what, maybe they aren't." Ray kicked out at the chair, and it scraped across the floor. He hooked it back with one foot, and started to rock it backward and forward... two legs, four legs, two legs, four. Fraser tried not to be distracted by it. "Maybe it's just me," Ray continued, gloomily. "I'm like a bear with a machine gun today."
"I thought it was a sore head?"
"Yeah, that too." He glowered, and Fraser chided himself for his bad habit of correcting his friend. He knew it annoyed him, but he didn't seem able to stop himself. Before he could apologise, Ray was talking again. Rambling, actually.
"No... actually, no... yeah. Yeah... might as well do it..." Ray's scowl vanished unexpectedly, and he started to laugh. "Yeah... Let's go visit the witch."
"The witch? I trust you are not referring to Inspector Thatcher?"
"No... not that witch." Ray was scowling again. "Stella's mother. I mean that witch."
"Oh... I didn't realise..."
"What, you didn't realise Stella has a mother? What, you thought she'd hatched from a dragon egg or something?"
"No..."
"Yeah, well, I'm sick of people round here all taking digs at her because she works for the DA. She's got feelings, you know."
"I never suggested otherwise."
Ray blinked, then rubbed his eyes wearily. "Yeah... yeah. I'm sorry, I guess I'm shouting at the wrong guy. Sorry."
"It's all right." Fraser patted Ray briefly on the shoulder. "So... why are we going to see your ex mother in law? Is she in some kind of legal trouble?"
"Nah... I mean, I don't know. I mean, no, probably not... she likes to over react to things, and then she, you know, she over reacts? But she 'requested' my presence. Actually, scratch that, she 'demanded' my presence. Like, you know, one of those things kings did, you know, when they'd er... send a messenger with a scroll and... what do you call it when you have to go to the king or he'll chop off your head?"
"A Royal Summons?"
"Yea, like that. So we'll go see what her majesty's after." Ray hopped down from the table, and shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "So... I need some moral support. You'll come too?"
"Certainly."
"Cool. So... better get it over with."
Ray seemed to have calmed down a little bit, but Fraser was going to stick close to him for a while, at least until he was certain that whatever was really bothering his friend was dealt with.
Ray shot him a look of relief. "Thanks, I just... yeah. Thanks for coming. Well, when you see her you'll understand."
…
Ray was, as usual, right in his appraisal of the situation. Fraser didn't like jumping to conclusions about people, but this woman made it well nigh impossible to withhold judgement.
They met her in the bar of her hotel. From behind she looked too young to be Stella's mother. Good figure, powder blue tailored suit flattering her waist. Her hair was artfully arranged, sun kissed golden with darker honey coloured streaks in it, more natural looking than nature itself. Then the woman swivelled on her stool, and Fraser startled a little at the incongruous face beneath those silken curls. What a pity, he thought. She must have been very beautiful once, before all that plastic surgery.
She flicked her gaze from Ray to Fraser, then back to Ray, and sneered. "What have you brought with you this time? What on earth is he meant to be?"
"I'm a Mountie, ma'am," Fraser interjected helpfully. "I first came to Chicago on the trail of the..."
"Oh for God's sake, man," she broke in, "I'm not actually interested. Nobody's actually interested." Languidly she lifted her cigarette to her lips, and inhaled, held her breath for a moment, then pursed her lips and sighed out smoke. She was moving as though she was a femme fatale in a black and white movie. Someone ought to tell her, Fraser thought, that smoking isn't considered attractive anymore.
"Mrs Hamilton," Ray was talking through a tense smile, and Fraser could sense just how much he wanted to crack. "We came because you said you needed help."
"Ah... yes. Well, it's all a lot of nonsense really. But I wondered if you could have a word with your … oh, I don't know what you would call him. Your boss. The person in charge at your police station, whatever it's called. Anyway, whoever he is, I want you to have a word with your 'boss.' There has been a... a slight misunderstanding." She pouted. "I did talk to Stella about it, but you know how she is. She point blank refused to help me."
Ray folded his arms across his chest, that brittle smile still frozen on his face. "Yes?"
"Yes, what?" She glared at him sternly and raised her pencil thin eyebrows.
"I mean, what do you want us to talk to our Lieutenant about?"
"Oh... 'Lieutenant.' Well, you understand, it's embarrassing for me to talk about, but I can't have this sort of thing on my record. I don't want people talking about it."
"Talking about what?" Ray sounded like he was rapidly losing patience. Fraser could almost see his last nerve fraying.
"It!" The woman barked the words. "I don't want people talking about it!"
"Mrs Hamilton," Fraser intervened before Ray lost what little grasp he had left on his temper, "I think what my colleague is trying to ascertain is the exact nature of your misunderstanding. What exactly happened?"
The woman gave him a long speculative gaze, looked him up and down from boot to hat, then rolled her eyes. "I thought you'd have heard by now, gossip being what it is. Never mind... well, the truth is... the truth is it's to do with my driving licence..."
"Oh, you got tickets you want to disappear, is that it?" Ray seemed relieved. "Well, it's not standard procedure, but you know, I'm sure I can look into it for you..."
"It's not tickets, you silly man." Fraser's teeth ground at the woman's tone, but she continued, seemingly oblivious to her own bad manners. "No... it's just... well, I was pulled over by a... I think the term you would use would be 'traffic cop.' And... I must have offended her in some way. Perhaps she was jealous, I don't know... but the thing is..." The woman cleared her throat, and looked away, obviously embarrassed. "Well, the thing is..." Beneath her foundation she was blushing. Apparently she could actually feel a real emotion, if only shame and self pity. "The thing is... I... well..."
"Oh God," Ray sounded disgusted, and not entirely surprised. "You got arrested for drunk driving."
"Don't put it like that! I wasn't really arrested... I mean, I wasn't held over night, they just... they just... You do know that I can make it financially viable for you to help me out here?"
"Oh great, bribing a police officer... let's add that to the list shall we? Just, fan crappy tastic." Ray strode away from the bar, leaving Fraser standing next to Mrs Hamilton. Fraser watched his friend, feeling somewhat at a loss. Should he follow him? Should he stand next to this... this truly horrible individual and wait for his partner to return?
Mrs Hamilton took the choice from him.
"So... you're a rather attractive young man. I'm sorry if I was sharp with you. What exactly do you do?"
"Well, I'm a liaison officer with the Canadian Consulate, and I work with local law enforcement on matters of joint national interest as well as..."
"Uh huh, uh huh," the woman was leaning back again, pretending interest, sucking on her cigarette, and giving him the kind of predatory look that made him uncomfortable, every single time. It must be the uniform, he thought. He couldn't for the life of him think why so many women were interested in him. "You know, a young man like you shouldn't bury himself in this kind of life."
"What kind of life?"
"Police work. It's corrupting. Working with criminals all day..."
"Isn't that what your daughter does?"
"Yes. Yes, and it's quite disgusting."
Ah, Fraser thought, and felt a tug of sympathy for Stella. Not just sympathy, but increased admiration. Somehow she had managed to carve a career for herself despite her mother's disdain for her chosen profession. And she had married Ray, despite her mother's obvious contempt. For a moment Fraser wondered whether he would have been able to work in a field his father hadn't approved of. He couldn't imagine going against the family's expectations like that. Stella was some woman. An appreciative smile tugged at the corner of his mouth for a moment. Unfortunately Mrs Hamilton saw it, and thought it was for her. She sidled up to him, and put her hand on his arm. "So... when are you off work?"
Oh good Lord...
Fraser smiled, blandly, and stood back. "I'm extremely busy today, Mrs Hamilton." He glanced across at Ray, wishing there was some telepathic method by which he could communicate his need to get out ASAP.
Almost as though he had heard him, Ray turned, and caught his expression. He nodded, made some more curt comments into the phone, and marched back across to Fraser.
"Okay buddy, we're out of here."
"Excuse me?" Mrs Hamilton's expression was moving from bored flirtation through irritation to outrage. "What are you going to do to help me?"
"Nothing."
The woman froze for a moment, then stood, for the first time, glaring like a basilisk at Ray. "How dare you..." she shook her head. "How dare you! After everything that my family has had to put up with from you! You... upstart, you complete and utter..." She hissed, and drew her hand back for a slap.
"Mrs Hamilton!" Fraser blocked her blow with his forearm, and inserted himself between her and Ray. "I must point out to you that assaulting a police officer will only result in your being arrested again, and brought down to the station."
"You're all the same. All of you." She was right in his face now, and he could see the ravages of plastic surgery more clearly. This wasn't just minor work, it was the result of many visits over a period of years. Fraser couldn't help himself. He felt sorry for her, excessively made up, dressed too young for her age, slightly tipsy as she was. The mistake was letting his pity show in his eyes.
"Don't you condescend to me, pretty boy," she snarled, and slapped again, this time striking Fraser across the face.
"Yeah, right, that's it lady." Ray seized his opportunity. "You are under arrest for assaulting a police officer, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to..."
"Ray, this isn't entirely necessary..."
Ray glared at him, and carried on reading the rights, cuffing his ex mother-in-law as he did so.
She sneered at them both, and Fraser shook his head. He sympathised with Ray's actions, but he knew already... this was more trouble than it was worth.
…
"Have you finished?" Stella had finally stopped yelling at him. Ray held his breath waiting to see if it was a genuine break in hostilities, or just a breathing space.
Stella stared at him, all tense jaw and brittle gaze, then she let go with a sigh, and just looked miserable. "Surely," she said, wearily, "you could have thought of something else? Besides arresting her I mean?"
"Yeah... yeah, I could have..." Ray winced at her expression, but he had to be honest. Yes, he could have thought of something else. "But you know, I was within my rights. She had just smacked Fraser, you know, and she was trying to bribe a police officer."
"I know..." Stella walked to the window of her office, and leant her head against the glass. "She doesn't... she doesn't seem to know what she's doing half the time. I mean, since Dad died... she has, you know. She's got worse."
Ray felt a catch in his throat. He and Stella had been falling apart for years, but he still wished he could just hold her, and make it all better again. Holding her had never been a problem. They had been great at holding each other. The problem was letting each other go.
"Stella, you know I'm sorry..."
"Yeah, I know. It's not your fault."
"I mean... when we broke up... I wish I'd hung on a bit longer. I'm sorry about your Dad..."
Ray had liked Mr Hamilton. English, very proper, but never condescending. They had played pool together. The old man even allowed him to tinker around in the engines of his classic cars. And he'd never called him Stanley.
Mrs Hamilton called him Stanley. She also called him Pollack, or Mick, depending which of his parents she was insulting at the time. And Ray had enough of it... even before the marriage went pear shaped, he'd had enough. He stopped visiting Stella's family, even her Dad. One day the man just dropped dead, and Ray wasn't there. Not there for his girl, his Stella. He had promised always to be there, and then he had allowed work, and crap, and Stella's Mom to step in between them.
"Awh, Stella..." His heart went out to her. She looked so wretched standing there, with her face against the window pane. "Come here..." He tried to put his arm around her, but she turned, suddenly cross again, and pushed past him.
"That's all right Ray, you've done enough. Just... make it quick. I mean, get her processed and released quickly."
"Yeah..." As favours went, it didn't please him, but it was the least he could do, for Stella.
"Fine." She had her mask back on, and was briskly rifling through her filing cabinet. He supposed he was dismissed.
"Well, I'll ring you, let you know what happens."
"Yes, do that. Thank you."
Greatness, Ray thought, she was going on the steel face defensive, sounding like her mother. One thing he'd learned was never to suggest Stella sounded anything like the Spider Queen. Right now she did though. Things must be really bad. Stella must be very upset.
"See you."
She said nothing, and he left the room like the invisible man.
…
Breathe... she closed her eyes, and counted her heart beat. Breathe...
Ray had gone, and she was alone in her office for the first time in hours. She didn't know what she was feeling... anger with him, a secret gloating that he'd finally got to teach the woman a lesson, misery and shame that everyone would know by the end of the day, or just concern that her mother wasn't well. Again.
Once upon a time, when she'd felt like this, she would have turned to him, even in the middle of a fight, and hung on tight. They might have danced, might have gone to bed together, would certainly have loved each other. And it would have been better... better for a while at least.
Until the next day.
There was nobody now, nobody to hold onto her. For a while there had been Orsini... or she had thought there had been Orsini. A paternal figure, someone she had thought was safe. And she'd made a poor judgement. Well, she wasn't about to do that again. Just recently she kept making a fool of herself... she didn't need her mother to join in and make things worse. She didn't need Ray to join in and make things worse...
He was only trying to help.
He was only trying to get his own back...
"Shut up," she told herself sternly. Her voice sounded flat in the dreary office.
The fact was, she was lonely. She was sad. She missed her childhood sweetheart. Even more when he was in the room.
She sat behind her desk, and started organising her paperwork. That was something he would never, ever know. She didn't want him to know how much she missed him.