Chapter One

Detective Ray Vecchio parked his beloved Buick at the gated entrance of the long snowy driveway.

"He did," Ray said bluntly, carefully exiting the vehicle and then slamming the door behind him. He made a few tentative steps out onto the snow and began to pick his way slowly up the path.

"He did not!" said Fraser, turning to his deaf wolf who was by now comfortably ensconced across the entirety of the rear seat. "Stay!" He mouthed. "Do not let anyone steal this vehicle!" Diefenbaker growled quietly and promptly circled himself around on the seat, effectively turning his back on Fraser, closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

"Oh fine!" Fraser sighed. "Be like that!"

Replacing his hat he hurried to catch up with Ray. Of course, Constable Benton Fraser was used to this kind of inclement weather and his RCMP issue boots kept excellent grip on the ice. Unfortunately Ray was not having so much luck, which was not improving his mood and making him even more irritable and tetchy than normal.

"He did!" Ray argued.

"He did not!" protested Fraser indignantly as he turned and caught Ray's elbow as he slipped for the third time since leaving the car. "Sherlock Holmes never actually said 'Elementary, my dear Watson'. I mean he did say those separate words that much is true, but they were never said as one complete phrase. The 'elementary' came quite a bit later on. It's a well-documented misquote Ray!"

"He did. I read it."

"Well, that is possible, but only if you'd read PG Wodehouse -"

"Shut up Fraser."

"- and not Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Shut up!"

As they reached the house, Ray stopped and looked up at the beautiful but somewhat imposing house in front of them.

"Wow! Would you look at this place! Just goes to show what you can do with Mob money huh?" He shook his head. "I'm telling you, I'm in the wrong job!"

Fraser turned to his colleague and frowned. "Was that a statement of truth or just a humorous aside?" He asked slightly confused.

Ray knocked on the front door. "A what?"

"Well, because personally, I happen to think that you a very good policeman and that you are in absolutely the right job. I mean, alright, you do occasionally break the law, but that's neither here nor there."

A young woman opened the door a small way and poked her head out through the crack.

"Good morning Ma'am." Ray pulled out his identity badge and held it up to the gap. "Detective Vecchio, Chicago PD. May we speak with Charles Malone please?"

The woman looked nervously between the two men as Ray replaced his ID badge and fished in his pocket for his notebook.

"Are you ..." He flipped it open and searched momentarily for the correct page. "Scarlett Malone – Mr Malone's wife?"

The young woman eyed him nervously. "How ... how do you know my name? Am I in some kind of trouble Detective?"

"Ah no Ma'am," Ray smiled. "We just need to speak with your husband, is he home?" Ray tried to peer further into the hallway behind her but his view became blocked when she stepped outside into the cold air and pulled the door closed behind her.

"No, no I'm sorry, I haven't seen him. He didn't come home last night." She brushed her hair nervously from her face and pulled her cardigan around her against the January cold.

"And ... you're not worried about that?" Ray asked. She shook her head and shivered slightly. Ray was about to ask her why not when his train of thought was interrupted by his cell phone.

"Excuse me for a second." He turned and answered the call. "Vecchio. Oh, hi Elaine ..." Ray wandered back down the pathway a little, leaving Constable Fraser and Scarlett Malone alone in the doorway. A prospect that did not sit comfortably with Fraser as he had never felt particularly at ease in the company of the opposite sex.

"You're ... a long way from home Ma'am," he said, having noticed her Canadian accent right away.

"As are you ..." She glanced briefly at the rank insignia on the sleeve of his uniform, "Constable."

"Oh!" Fraser smiled, slightly surprised. "You're familiar with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniform?"

"My father was a Mountie, in Fort Smith."

Fraser relaxed slightly. "A very nice part of the Northwest Territories, it's very beautiful."

Scarlett smiled. "Yes, although that's not what my mum used to say! She always referred to it as 'isolated' and 'too damn cold!'" She laughed. Detective Vecchio returned to the front door and was surprised to hear Fraser and Scarlett Malone deep in conversation.

"Well, I suppose some would see it like that, particularly in the bad weather!" Fraser continued.

"She did! That's why she moved us to the city, she couldn't stand the winters."

"That's understandable, they can be very harsh -"

"Excuse me!" interrupted Ray. "Can we get back to the point here please?!"

Fraser and Mrs Malone both blushed very slightly. "Sorry!" they answered in unison.

"Where's your husband Mrs Malone?" Ray asked testily.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I really don't know. He doesn't tell me where he goes. Have you tried the club?"

"And which club would that be?" Ray asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

"Angelo's on the corner of 34th and District. He owns it. That's normally where he ends up. Failing that, I'm sorry, I really have no idea."

Ray jotted down the name and replaced his notebook to his coat pocket. "Ok, thanks, you've been real helpful. Come on Fraser." He turned and began the return walk to the car.

Fraser smiled at Scarlett. "Thank you kindly Ma'am."

"What's a Mountie doing in Chicago anyway?!" she asked as he turned to leave. He stopped and walked back over to her.

"Well, I first came to Chicago on the trail of -"

Ray stopped on the driveway. "Let's go Fraser!"

"Understood." Fraser smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, goodbye Ma'am."

Scarlett watched the two men as they walked back towards the street. She took a deep breath and went back inside the house, closing the front door behind her.

Fraser and Ray continued up the long pathway back to Ray's prized 1971 mint condition Buick Riviera. Ray was deep in thought as he opened the driver's door.

"She was hiding something," he said eventually.

"Yes," Fraser agreed.

Ray smiled and sat behind the wheel. "You see! I'm starting to pick up on that stuff now. She had that shifty look in her eyes!"

"Oh!" said Fraser removing his hat and climbing into the passenger seat.

"Ah no – no, no, no!" groaned Ray, thumping his head gently against the steering wheel. "Don't do that Fraser!"

"Do what?" Fraser asked as he fastened his seatbelt.

"That!"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about Ray."

Ray turned to him. "I'm talking about that 'thing' you do when you know something that I don't, but you think that I do." Fraser sat in confused silence as his colleague continued. "You know, the 'thing'! Where you just naturally assume that everybody else knows what you do, when in actual fact they haven't got a clue, either because they haven't got a degree in Eskimo folklore or because they haven't started eating stuff off the ground yet!" Ray huffily started the engine and pulled away, headed for Angelo's Nightclub in downtown Chicago.

"Inuit," said Fraser indignantly.

"What?"

"Well, I trust you were referring to the indigenous tribes of the Yukon to which my anecdotes usually pertain. They're Inuit. Not Eskimo."

"See!" Ray exclaimed. "You're doing it again!" He sighed. "Look, forget it, it doesn't matter."

Fraser stared out of the window. "It matters to them," he muttered to himself.

The pair drove on in silence for a few minutes. But Ray's curiosity was starting to get the better of him. "Ok, I give up!" he said sulkily. "So, how did you know she was lying?"

"Well, I'm not certain she was lying Ray, but you're right, she was hiding something, and it was because of her eyes."

"I was right?!" said Ray incredulously.

Fraser shook his head. "Not exactly no. She was blinking."

"Blinking?"

"Yes, you see, excessive blinking and rapid eye movements are classic signs of fear. It's the body preparing itself for the 'Fight or Flight' response. It goes back to our days as primitive cavemen, when, at the first sign of danger you would have to scan the environment looking for signs of danger and decide -"

"Alright, alright!" snapped Ray.

"- and there was the way she stepped out of the house, rather than letting us in, it would suggest that she was hiding something. That, and the broken furniture in the lounge."