Chapter 2

"No Constable," Lieutenant Welsh sat in his office with his arms folded tightly across his chest. "I don't have the manpower. This is a Police department, not Social Services."

Fraser frowned slightly. "Surely the Police are exactly that Sir?" he queried. Welsh looked puzzled. "A social service, I mean," Fraser clarified.

"No Fraser," replied Welsh, "our job is to respond to crimes and catch the scumbag criminals. That's it. The community support is someone else's job."

"Sir, all I'm suggesting is that the Police maintain a visual presence among the homeless community until the conclusion of this investigation," Fraser explained, "if we show them that we are working to keep them safe, they may be more forthcoming with information. As I understand it, there is a certain animosity."

"Yes there is Constable," Welsh admitted, "and part of me wishes it wasn't like that, but unfortunately we spend far too much of our time chasing down the winos and the junkies because they go around robbing people to fund their habits. If you give these people money, nine times out of ten they spend it on drugs or booze, if only the do gooders realised that before they fell for every sob story." Welsh sighed and then added. "No offence Constable."

"None taken Sir," replied Fraser.

Welsh studied Fraser's expression. He hated to see the Mountie so disheartened and he was determined to show him that the people of his city did still have some good left inside them. He stood up. "OK Fraser," he said, "if you want to take this on, I'll authorise it. Go out there and talk to them, reassure them and see if we can get any info in return. Take Vecchio with you."

"Ah," Fraser replied, "I'm not sure that he would, um, that is, I'm not convinced that Detective Vecchio feels quite the same way as I do on this matter."

"Oh," replied Welsh, "of course he doesn't."

"Why do you say that Sir?" asked Fraser, but before Welsh had a chance to explain, the door burst open and Elaine walked in.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, "but there's another body. I thought you'd want to know."

xXx

"Well, cause of death is pretty obvious," sighed Doctor Esther Pearson, pulling off her examination gloves. "Same as the other two."

Fraser sighed and nodded. He was crouched in the snow with Doctor Pearson as she looked over the body of the victim who had a prominent bullet hole in the centre of his forehead. Meanwhile Ray was talking to potential witnesses. "Do you believe the bullet came from the same weapon?" asked Fraser.

Doctor Pearson shrugged. "You'll have to wait for the ballistics report Fraser," she said, "I've got to find the bullet first though. There's no exit wound so it's in there somewhere."

Fraser nodded in agreement as he carefully lifted the victim's left hand and studied his dirty fingernails. It appeared that Mary may have been right after all, someone had taken it upon themselves to murder homeless people, but why? He pulled open the man's coat and found a plastic bag in his inside pocket containing some loose change. He heard Ray's footsteps behind him and then his friend's voice over his shoulder. "So, what've we got?"

"Sixteen dollars and fifty one cents," replied Fraser, tying the top of the plastic bag and handing it to Ray.

"I don't mean in there Fraser!" exclaimed Ray.

"Oh, sorry Ray," replied Fraser, getting to his feet, "you were talking about the circumstances surrounding the death of this unfortunate individual weren't you."

"Yes Benny," snapped Ray, pulling his scarf up around his mouth and nose as the snowfall became heavier, "same as the other two?"

"Yes Ray," replied Fraser, glancing back at the body, "single gunshot, instant death."

"So some guy's going around executing street people," Ray shrugged. "Someone's gotta do it," he mumbled and walked off. Fraser was shocked and hesitated for a moment before running after Ray.

Fraser was really concerned about Ray's attitude to these murders. He was about to say something to his friend when Dief barked loudly and his attention was drawn to someone standing in the shadows of a doorway.

Fraser squinted in the fading light. "Jennifer?" he said quietly, not quite sure if his eyes were deceiving him and began walking over towards the figure, but as he did so, they ran out of the doorway and down an alley. Fraser picked up speed and tried to follow them, but as he rounded the corner the person was nowhere to be seen. Fraser looked at Dief and frowned. "I'm not sure Dief," he said, "it could have been." He shrugged and walked back towards Ray.

"Guess what Benny," said Ray, "nobody saw anything."

"I did suggest to Lieutenant Welsh earlier that we should work closely with the homeless community," Fraser explained, slightly nervously, "he agreed that you and I could spend some time here and attempt to demonstrate that we are on the same side. Hopefully we will able to convince these people to help us help them."

Ray sneered at Fraser. "Fraser, it's not gonna work. Cops and the homeless are never gonna get along, that's just the way it is. They're all scum and we've got crimes with real victims that need to be solved. Sorry Benny, you can count me out."

"I believe that Lieutenant Welsh wishes us to work together on this," Fraser explained.

"He can wish all he likes Fraser," snapped Ray, "he's not gonna get a genie out of a bottle and he's not gonna get me to spend any time down here. Now drop it Fraser. OK?"

Fraser studied Ray's face as he spoke. He couldn't quite understand what his friend was thinking and that made him nervous. Clearly, Ray had strong feelings about the homeless people of Chicago, but he had no idea why and it didn't make any sense. Ray had a habit of displaying a cynical, detached attitude sometimes, but Fraser knew that wasn't who he really was and it was just his way of coping with the terrible things he had to deal with every day as part of his job. This was different though, this was real. Ray really didn't seem to care about the three murder victims at all and Fraser was having trouble digesting that thought. "As you wish Ray," he said quietly.

"What time's the choir practice tonight?" Ray asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"Seven thirty," replied Fraser.

"I can't believe Susan wants you all rehearsing again tonight," Ray grinned. "Frannie was planning on watching some old Christmas movie on TV with Uncle Eddie."

"Susan is concerned that there's very little time before the concert and she wants us to fit in as many rehearsals as we can," explained Fraser, glancing back over his shoulder.

"What is it Benny?" asked Ray, catching the look of concern on his friend's face.

"Nothing," replied Fraser, "it was nothing."

"OK," shrugged Ray, "I gotta get back to the Two Seven, I'll pick you up for choir practice later."

"Thank you kindly Ray."

xXx

The choir practice went well and Susan Murphy started to feel more confident about the concert. Fraser was under the distinct impression that Jennifer had avoided eye contact with him all evening. Susan called them over as the others were getting their coats on. "You both sounded wonderful tonight," she said and she laughed as they both blushed. "I know it's a lot to ask, but would both of you be able to come back tomorrow evening? There are a few things I want to try out and I don't need the others here."

Jennifer nodded. "Yes, that's fine with me," she smiled.

"I am involved in a homicide investigation at this juncture with Detective Vecchio," began Fraser, "but that shouldn't prevent me from attending tomorrow." Fraser noticed that Jennifer was staring at him as he spoke and not in the way that Francesca stared at him. She appeared to be a little uncomfortable in his presence.

"Excellent," smiled Susan, "I'll see you both tomorrow then." She gathered up her music and headed for the door.

As the rest of the choir began to leave, Jennifer started to put on her coat and Fraser walked back towards Ray who had been listening from the side of the church. "Sounding good Benny," he said, holding out Fraser's coat for him.

"Thank you kindly Ray," replied Fraser, but he was a little distracted by Jennifer. He handed his coat back to Ray, "Could you please excuse me for a few moments?" he said and he quickly walked towards Jennifer, passing Francesca on the way.

"Where's he going?" Francesca asked her brother. She wanted to get home.

Ray just shrugged. "Beats me," he replied, although of course he'd noticed Jennifer's behaviour that evening too and he had a feeling Fraser wasn't going to be able to ignore it.

Fraser walked up behind Jennifer and spoke her name. She almost jumped out of her skin. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," said Fraser.

Jennifer managed a tiny laugh. "It's my fault, I'm a bit jumpy today."

"I hope you don't think I'm interfering," Fraser began, running his thumb over his eyebrow, "but I couldn't help noticing you still have the same dressing on your hand that you had on yesterday." Jennifer looked down at her bandaged hand and nodded. She knew that it was filthy and she was quite embarrassed about it. "If you wish, I could change it for you?" Fraser continued, "I know that Father Behan has a first aid kit in the back room."

Jennifer thought about it for a moment. She really just wanted to go tonight, but she knew that the bandage really did need changing. "Thank you," she said quietly and followed him out to the back room.

Fraser reached the first aid kit down from the shelf and Jennifer sat in an old chair. "So what did you do to your hand, is it cut?" asked Fraser, sitting in the chair opposite her and opening the box.

"Um no," replied Jennifer, "I burnt it. It was silly, I was cooking and I was just careless."

"Oh dear," said Fraser as he began unwrapping the dirty, makeshift dressing on the young woman's hand. "Burns can be particularly susceptible to infection," he continued, "so you really should..." but he stopped short as he revealed the injury. He quickly clicked on the table lamp and adjusted it so that the light was directed at her hand. "Oh," he said as the light confirmed his initial suspicions, "you were cooking over an open fire?"

Jennifer hesitated for a moment. "Um, yes," she eventually replied.

"It does appear to be slightly infected," said Fraser, "but don't worry, I have some ointment that will clear that up." Jennifer nodded appreciatively and Fraser set to work cleaning the burn on the palm of her hand. "So, where do you live?" Fraser asked casually, as he worked, "perhaps we could drive you home? The snow is quite persistent now."

"No," replied Jennifer sharply, "I mean, thank you, but I prefer to walk. I don't live too far from here, that is, I'm staying with a friend."

"I see," replied Fraser, waiting for her to elaborate. He didn't want to push her to much, but he was concerned about her.

"Um, I didn't know you were a Policeman," Jennifer said, somewhat nervously.

"Yes I am," replied Fraser proudly, "Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"Oh," said Jennifer, surprised, "you're the Mountie. I've heard people talk about you."

"Oh dear," Fraser smiled and he applied some antibiotic ointment to her hand.

"Don't worry, it's all good," Jennifer smiled back. "They say...they say you help people."

"I try to, wherever I can," replied Fraser. He stopped dressing her hand for a moment and looked at her. "Do you need help?" he asked her seriously. Jennifer didn't quite know what to say, so she said nothing. Fraser waited for a reply, but when it didn't come he continued wrapping her hand in a clean bandage, a little disappointed that he hadn't been able to get her to open up to him He was now more convinced than ever that he'd seen her at the scene of the murder that afternoon and now he had concluded, going by her appearance and given that she'd sustained a burn while cooking over an open fire, that she was in fact homeless and living on the streets. "There," he announced, "how does that feel?"

Jennifer flexed her fingers gingerly. It was much more comfortable now and the ointment had taken away much of the discomfort that she'd been struggling with for a few days. "Thank you," she said and got up from the chair.

"I'll check it again tomorrow evening," said Fraser and Jennifer nodded. "Before you go," Fraser said suddenly, stopping her from leaving the room, "I know it's not chivalrous of me to ask you this," he continued, "but how old are you?"

"Nineteen," Jennifer replied quickly. "I'm nineteen, I've always been small for my age."

"I see," nodded Fraser. Unless he was very much mistaken, she was a few years younger than nineteen, possibly as young as sixteen, he thought to himself. "One more thing," he added, reaching up to replace the first aid box on the shelf, "did I see you this afternoon? At the scene of the murder."

"Murder?" replied Jennifer, trying to sound surprised, "what murder?"

Fraser smiled at her. "My mistake," he said.

As Ray drove him back to his apartment, Fraser contemplated telling his friend his suspicions regarding Jennifer, but given Ray's apparent malevolence towards homeless people, he decided against it. Francesca was talking at full speed about her nail polish anyway and Fraser really didn't think this was the time or the place. He was very concerned about Jennifer now though.

xXx

The next morning, Fraser arrived at the Twenty Seventh early. He was pleased to see that he'd arrived before Ray and he crossed straight to Elaine's desk. "Good morning Elaine," he said.

"Oh, hi Fraser," smiled Elaine and immediately stopped making paper chains. She'd found the box of Christmas decorations at the back of a cupboard in Lieutenant Welsh's office late last night and thought she'd better make some new chains this year.

"Elaine, I was hoping you'd be able to assist me with something," Fraser asked her as he picked up the paper chain and added a considerable length at lightening speed.

Elaine was totally amazed and very grateful. "Anything," she smiled and she really meant it too.

"I wish to search through the missing persons reports," continued Fraser, rubbing at his left eyebrow with his thumb. "I'm looking in particular for a girl, aged around sixteen, most likely reported missing within the last six months."

Elaine clicked a few keys on her computer keyboard and brought up the relevant information and Fraser began scanning down the list of names and photographs. "How's the investigation going?" Elaine asked him.

Fraser stopped looking at the computer screen for a moment. "Not too well," he admitted, "at this juncture there is neither a suspect nor a motive."

"I imagine Ray's not busting a gut on this one," Elaine said, a little dejectedly, but before Fraser had a chance to query her statement the fax machine buzzed into life and Elaine got up to see what had come in. Fraser refocussed his thoughts on the missing persons register. Elaine walked back to her desk and held out a piece of paper for Fraser. "Ballistics report," she explained.

Fraser took the printout from her and scanned down the report. "Ah," he said, "so the three victims were killed by bullets from the same gun." He made a mental note of the make and model of the murder weapon.

"Did you expect a different answer?" Elaine asked, taking the fax back from him.

Fraser shook his head. "No," he admitted, "but it's always important not to jump to conclusions."

Elaine took the fax and walked it over to Ray's desk so that it would be there when he got in. She walked back to her desk again and stood looking over Fraser's shoulder. "Wow," she sighed sadly, "you just don't realise how many missing sixteen year old girls there are."

Fraser turned and looked up at her. "Indeed," he agreed. "Elaine, what did you mean about Ray just now?" he asked. Elaine looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Elaine, please," Fraser continued, "I think Lieutenant Welsh tried to tell me yesterday, but we were interrupted. If this has some bearing on Ray's ability or willingness to solve this multiple homicide..."

"Fraser," Elaine interrupted him, sitting back down on her chair, "to be honest I thought Ray would have told you already."

"Told me what?" asked Fraser, tugging at his ear and frowning, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're referring to."

Elaine took a deep breath, glanced over her shoulder to make sure nobody was listening and then spoke in a low voice. "Four years ago, there was an armed robbery at a jewellery store. Ray was heading up the investigation, but he had no leads. Then a witness came forward, a boy, a street kid. His name was Charlie and he'd seen the whole thing. He identified the perps and they were caught and charged. The boy was scared but Ray persuaded him to agree to testify at the trial and the two guys went down for it. Then Ray would see Charlie out on the streets with some of the other homeless people and sometimes Ray would take him to a diner or something and treat him."

Fraser smiled at Ray's compassion, but Elaine's face had become grave. "What happened?" he asked her.

"The weather turned really cold just before Christmas, we had more snow than I've seen in years and Ray got concerned about Charlie," Elaine explained, "so he gave him one of his old coats. A long wool coat, really warm, I think it was Armani, but it was really old, not worth a light, but Charlie was really grateful. Then Ray arranged to meet Charlie on Christmas morning on his way back from church because I think he'd got the boy a Christmas present. Anyway, Charlie never showed up. So after having Christmas dinner with his family, Ray went out to look for him." Elaine went quiet.

"Did he find the boy?" prompted Fraser.

Elaine nodded sadly. "Ray found him down an alley, behind a dumpster, he was dead." Fraser drew a sharp breath as Elaine spoke. "He'd been stabbed four times. He wasn't wearing the coat any more."

Fraser took a moment for the information to sink in. "Oh no," he said quietly, "he was killed for the coat." Fraser closed his eyes.

Elaine nodded. "He was fourteen years old Benton. Ray was devastated and he went searching for the killer. It was one of the other homeless guys, he was easy to find of course."

"He was wearing the coat," said Fraser sadly.

"Ray went crazy," Elaine continued, "when back up arrived, the guy was on the floor and Ray was...well, it was self defence."

Fraser looked up at her and narrowed his eyes. "Self defence?" he queried.

"The guy still had the murder weapon on him," said Elaine, "so Ray was forced to defend himself." Fraser raised his eyebrows questioningly as Elaine hadn't sounded very convincing with that last part. "IA were all over him of course," she sighed, "but he was cleared, thanks to Lieutenant Welsh. I think Welsh put his own career on the line for Ray."

Fraser let out a slow breath. "Poor Ray," he said. "So now his opinion of the homeless is forever scarred by that incident."

Elaine sighed sadly. "I think he can see past it most of the time," she explained, "he's not stupid, he knows that they're not all like that, but I think at Christmas it just all comes back to him. It hit him so hard."

"I wish he'd told me all this," Fraser coated his lower lip slowly with his tongue as he tried to comprehend it all. "We could have talked about it. I would have understood."

"Yeah well, maybe I didn't want you to know," Ray's voice cracked as he spoke.

Elaine nearly jumped out of her chair. "Ray!" she exclaimed. "I didn't realise you'd come in."

"Obviously," snarled Ray. "Y'know Elaine, I thought you had some integrity."

"Ray it was entirely my fault," said Fraser, looking at his friend apologetically.

"Shut up Fraser," hissed Ray.

"Hey don't talk to him like that," Elaine snapped defensively. "He's your best friend. I just thought..."

"You don't know nothing Elaine," replied Ray, his voice getting higher as he got angrier, "if you wanna be a real cop, then you need to learn when to keep your big mouth shut!" With that Ray stormed across to his desk.

Elaine was close to tears, but they were mainly tears of anger. Fraser looked at her supportively. "It's alright, he really didn't mean that," he said reassuringly, "I'll talk to him when he's had a chance to calm down."