A/N: As I get older, I reference sex less in my writing. And I usually concentrate on the Hero. But Ray's a main character and he seems to get short shrift at times in fanfiction. I added it because the added characters add more background and their thoughts and viewpoints to the story. This is meant to be a more cerebral story than my normal writing. And it's fun to write sometimes too.
It was a few days after Ray had come back from Ottawa and Fraser had been completely unable to get him to explain his comment. Fraser noted that Ray was more relaxed than he had been previously but that was the entire sum of his knowledge.
Unfortunately, he didn't have the opportunity to question him further as Inspector Thatcher was due for a long weekend of leave and he would be in Charge of the Consulate.
Despite the thawing of their relationship, Inspector Thatcher was still very much his superior officer and her increasing recent tension had made her somewhat waspish at times.
He was, overall, quite relieved that she had plans to visit a spa.
And then tragedy struck: Ray was accused of the murder of an informant and had fled to the consulate for his assistance. He did the only thing he could do: He arrested Ray Vecchio.
(Because of his intense discomfort with lying, Ray Kowalski had legally filed a DBA for the name 'Ray Vecchio' so that Fraser could call him Ray Vecchio with perfect equanimity. That license was then ordered to be placed in confidential status by the Court.)
Immediately he had to begin investigating circumstances and the matter was pushed out of his immediate interest.
The odious man, Cahill, who was the Assistant State's Attorney was making it very difficult to get around as he had ordered the Chicago PD to enact a watch for Ray to step out.
There was an attempt to trap them by abducting them and placing them where the PD could catch them and then Cahill had successfully navigated the necessary steps to take Ray from the Consulate.
With a little more investigation, he had a working theory as to what had happened and who was responsible.
Fraser had finally decided that he would have to perform a gambit to force the guilty party to reveal himself. His work with the newspaper columnist had borne fruit and the scope of Cahill's plan to use Ray's arrest for publicity had become clear.
He called the other "suspects" and ensured that they would be present with the promise that their names would be cleared in connection to the murder of Damion Vulpe.
Curiously, as soon as the television news had broadcast the unmasking of Cahill as the guilty party and his completely asinine attempt to get away by taking Inspector Thatcher hostage (the stupidity of criminals amazed him at times), the Canadian Consulate received a call from an Ottawa reporter who specifically requested to speak to Ray rather than the any of the Consulate personnel.
Ray had a very curious smile on his face as he politely asked for a room which would allow him to speak privately.
"Curiouser and Curiouser," was his thought on the matter.
The next week, the pair of them had been specifically requested to become involved with a murder that had taken place in Toronto.
During their trip to Toronto to consult with the local RCMP officers in charge of the case, Ray had been remarkably sanguine about the marked differences between Canadian and US cultures.
Bemused, Benton at least appreciated that Ray didn't need to be managed had previously been necessary at times.
Working together, they finally uncovered that the murder was committed in a move reminiscent of the 1950 psychological thriller by Patricia Highsmith entitled Strangers on a Train. The 1951 adaptation by Alfred Hitchcock was known much more broadly but, as was often the case, lacked the depth of detail that the book offered.
Amazingly, an Ottawa newspaper apparently had sent a reporter team to interview the key participants in the investigation. He supposed that General Bowman's involvement had rated a more pointed interest in the case than they were used to.
However, the quite attractive reporter and her equally attractive photographer were of minor concern to him as he was distracted by his superior's apparent interest in his participation in allowing her to become a mother.
Distracted, he finally passed the two off to Ray to tour the 27th precinct and to take pictures and interview members of the Detective Squad. The matter out of mind, he planned how to approach Inspector Thatcher to inform her he was "willing to assist."
Ray Vecchio looked over at France Fennety as he drove toward his precinct house. "I cannot believe that your newspaper sent you and a photographer all the way here to Chicago to cover this story. Even with the Canadian connection it seems … I don't know … minor?"
France looked at Ray and then looked at her friend Chantell in the back seat. For some reason the two started giggling in a decidedly wicked way. Finally France said, "They didn't."
"Huh?" He was now entirely confused.
France giggled again. "I had two days and decided to come visit. Chantell is a photographer for ze paper, but she had some days too." She gave a saucy grin. "I told her about your visit to Ottawa and she wanted to see the man I described."
Ray's eyed widened even as he tried to maintain his concentration on the road. "Oh." He glanced over. "To be sure I'm surprised. Happy to see you an' all that, but surprised. I thought the … visit was a one off."
France chuckled. "No, I didn't come to chase you. Yes. It was no strings. That doesn't change ze fact that you are fun to tease and fluster." She became a bit more serious. "But since I am here and you did just finish a case involving Canadians, we do want to work a bit for ze Mounties in Chicago feature back in Ottawa."
Ray nodded, feeling a little disappointed and relieved at the same time. France was a few years younger than him and, while very sexy, was probably not the best fit for anything long term.
The car finally reached the precinct and parked. Turning to his passengers he said, "Well, come on in. We're gonna need to contact HQ to get permission but I'll put in a good word and make sure they know you're more interested in the Canadian angle. That should make 'em a bit less nervous."
It took a bit of work (and a call ahead to the squad so that they were prepared) but the two achieved press passes on Ray's confirmation that they were from an Ottawa paper and wanted to see where the Mounties came when they liaised with the local PD.
It helped that both were quite hot – everyone except the women were quite distracted and the two kept it professional so as not to piss off the female officers.
Ray led the two up the stairs. At the entrance was … "Hey, Frannie. This is France Fennety and Chantell Doherty from Ottawa. They work at NewsEast, which put out a bunch of community papers there." He turned with a friendly smile and said, "This is Francesca Vecchio – Frannie – who is the Civilian Aide here."
France looked at the two. "Vecchio? The same name."
Ray grinned. "She's my sister."
"Yeah, this lug is my brother. I hope he's been nice. If he gets out of line, let me know and I'll set him straight." Frannie, although she had hesitated, decided to treat the two younger women in a friendly manner– she knew what they were about to experience. Glancing around she confirmed. "Hey!" she called out to the suddenly quiet room. "Stop drooling and get back to work! They're not here to be ogled!"
A voice cut through the room. "Thank you, Ms. Vecchio. I couldn't have put it better myself." Lieutenant Welsh gave the room the gimlet eye and those present nervously got back to work.
"Thanks, Frannie," Ray said quietly to her. Frannie nodded at the acknowledgement. "Ladies?" he led them over. "This is Lieutenant Harding Welsh, my boss. He's the one Fraser and I answer to about cases that we get involved in."
"Leiutenan' Welsh. I am France Fennety and this is my photographer and friend, Chantell Doherty. It is a pleasure to meet you."
Welsh was too old and controlled to react visibly to their looks. "We're glad to have you. Feel free to look around and talk to anyone you like as long as they aren't with a suspect or witness."
"Could we interview you, Lieutenan'? Ze view from a superior officer about the work done by Constable Fraser and Detective Vecchio would be quite welcome."
He considered it for a moment and then said, "Sure. Come on in to my office."
Ray said, "I'll be at my desk working on finishing paperwork. That will let you ask questions about me without being nervous I might get offended." He gave an easy smile showing humor indicating he wasn't truly worried.
Welsh gave a small smile at that. "That sounds good to me. Quickly completed paperwork: Such an elusive prize that we should ever strive for."
"Yes, Lieutenant." Ray nodded to the girls. Before he sat at his desk he went to Frannie and asked quietly, "Can you show 'em around an' make sure the guys don't treat 'em like fresh meat? They're nice girls an' they don't need that." His accent got worse the more he worried about something.
Frannie gave Ray a grin. "Sure. I'm glad one person isn't drooling all over them."
Ray gave a nervous smile and said, "Oh, I'm drooling. I'm just trying to keep it to myself so as not to make 'em uncomfortable."
Frannie was actually taken aback by that for a moment. "Okay, Ray." She appeared to be impressed by his honesty.
He nodded in thanks and went to his desk to finish the paperwork on the case they had just wrapped up. One guy would have to be extradited, actually both would, but they also had to be tried in Chicago. He was amazed that Stella hadn't already started breathing down his neck about it.
He hadn't even noticed that thinking about Stella hadn't stirred up his formerly suppressed emotions.
Ray was concentrating so much he at first he didn't even notice the girls come out and Frannie taking control of them.
Huey and Dewey tripped Francesca's ire when the two immediately became "very friendly." Huey had immediately focused on Chantell and Dewey on France .
Chantell and France were both between five foot five and five foot six. France was French Canadian and was slender with a fairly perky if average bustline. Her skin was pale but she had a healthy glow to her. Chantell was of a similar build but had skin the color of lightly creamed coffee. She was likely a mix of different races but the mix was quite attractive.
Huey actually asked, "Chantell. Is that Canadian?"
Being friendly but not overly so she answered, "My father is from Ohio and my mother is from Quebec. We lived in Cleveland until we moved to Ottawa when I was six. So I'm mostly Canadian now."
Dewey was asking France about her name too.
Finally Frannie couldn't take it anymore. "They're not here to flirt. They're reporters from Canada. They're here for a tour and to ask about the Mounties." She shook her head – these guys were all a bunch of horndogs.
France chuckled. "Actually, ze polite flirting doesn't bother me if it makes people relaxed. And we are interested in ze American side too." She looked at Huey and asked, "What is Detective Vecchio like when he works with Constable Fraser?"
At times France noted that Detective Vecchio had noticed them but he was also working. She was of too minds about that: While she appreciated how he looked at her as a woman, he did not lose all control. This was good and bad. Good because he was obviously competent as his job and bad because, well, a woman liked to see a man lose some control at her charms.
Ray Vecchio was different. He was as affected as other men and, unlike Constable Fraser, was willing to admit it. Constable Fraser was, for her, uninteresting. She lived in Ottawa around Mounties. She had bedded Mounties. And while Fraser was one of the more attractive ones, he wasn't particularly exotic to her.
Men such as him needed someone able to be all things at all times, to stimulate mind and body. At her age and in her position, she wanted to be able to be appreciated in her professional life but when she was in the bedroom, she enjoyed acting the whore. It would startle most people to have it described that way by a woman, but she was fairly confident about herself and open with her preferences. She wasn't currently interested in romance and long-term commitment. She wanted to have fun.
Thus her vacation with Chantell. She worked with Chantell at the newspaper, true, but Chantell could be hedonistic like herself. The two had enjoyed playing in the bedroom with each other when either or both did not have other acceptable routes to satisfaction.
Open she may be but she had standards and she was actually rather careful with whom she would play. She had seen enough stories about women who ended up beaten or used to be taken only by an attractive body and willing interest. Men she bedded had to have a certain quality before she would indulge.
This Ray Vecchio (and didn't his sister look quite different than he did?) was just her type: Good, but not too good; Idealistic, but not rigid; Opportunistic, yes, but honorable too; Noble in his own way, but flexible as needed. And not so proper that he would hold back for fear of being too forward. Their experience in Ottawa had shown her that.
She had enjoyed herself thoroughly with him.
Anyway, Detective Vecchio was concentrating on his work and she had Chantell take a picture of him at his desk as well. Americans would find it uninteresting as not being flashy, but Canadians appreciated people who were competent in all aspects of their employment.
Besides interviewing the American detectives, Frannie also took them on a tour of the rest of the building. The patrol area downstairs was kind of rough and there were different suspects being brought in and processed. Overall, much busier than an RCMP post or local Ottawa police station – the sheer number of suspects and officers was staggering when compared to a Canadian police station.
She did notice that the average police officer was much less respected by the average criminal here. Canada's multiculturalism had created an expected tolerance toward others who were different. And the police officers here might try to be professional, but at the same time they refused to placate the suspects.
Americans tended to treat anyone as American. There was an expectation that one should follow the local customs rather than what was brought with you from elsewhere. And while Canadians seemed to feel everyone had their own rights to be as they wished and so avoided offending so as not to violate others' rights, Americans were confident in their own character and refused to allow others to impede them, even if they were a criminal dealing with authorities or an employee dealing with an employer.
Americans were more egoist than Canadians and they didn't change their own expectation to accommodate the expectations of others.
In truth, she could not decide who was more 'free': Canadians who had an expectation that others would respect their person or beliefs, or Americans who acted and believed as they wanted and ignored what others might say or think about them? Americans were certainly more noisy and brash, but in a way they enjoyed knowing that they could be themselves, others' opinions be damned.
She would have to pen an opinion story based on the whole idea.
Their tour guide had brought them back upstairs and shown them less visible places including the interrogation rooms.
France and Chantell had taken the opportunity to ask Francesca some questions away from others. "What's it like working as a civilian in a police station?"
Francesca was fairly open and willing to talk. France was a bit surprised that when the subject of Constable Fraser was brought up. Francesca had expressed a particular and extreme admiration for the man. Curious, Francis asked, "If you are so attracted to him why not seduce him?"
Francesca looked guilty at that. "Actually, I tried." She told Francis and Chantell about the incident. "Despite my best efforts he kept things strictly clean. And then my brother got all protective, trying to convince me he was wrong for me." Her smile went from wistful to a little more wicked. "But I'll eventually get him."
Francis nodded and then said, "Actually, I don't know why you try so much."
In disbelief Francesca asked, "Have you seen him?"
Francis and Chantell glanced at each other. Frannie absently noted her accent become stronger. "Actually, living around Headquarters, you zee Mounties all of ze time. While he is attractive, he is not particularly exotic." Lowering her voice she said, "I know ze type. You zink you can make them lose control, but zey hold back. Zey are … 'respectful'. I do not want to be treated so respectfully in ze bedroom, Yes?"
Francesca was taken aback as she considered what was said.
France continued, "If I were you, I would chaze ze other one, ze puppy-like one. He is just as good looking and polite, but I zink it would be easier to make him lose control. He would be mortified but zen a woman would have a better chance of convincing him to do what she likes in ze bedroom. No?"
Francesca was shocked. In the same disbelief she said, "Turnbull?"
France grinned. "Yes. But as I said: Not my type. I like adventure, excitement. Personally I am more attracted to Detective Vecchio." She gave a wicked smile. "Ray."
Francesca shook her head with emphasis while saying, "No. He's the brother. I won't try to picture him doing … that." She raised her hands and pushed them away for emphasis.
France and Chantell giggled and France said in a quieter voice again, "I do not have to imagine. He waz free when he visited Ottawa wizh a night before he had to return. I razzer enjoyed him. And zhat is all I would zay to a sister."
France grinned and started getting up with Chantell. Francesca was still stunned. "Ray? You did … that … with Ray?"
France giggled again. "Yes. And I will zay: You two look quite different but you are just as, as you Americans zay, … hot." She paused and contemplated. "It is almost regretful zhat I met him first and not you. But it would be wrong to chase ze sister after catching ze brother. But oh well: Ces't la vie."
At that, Francesca blushed a bright red, which would have shocked anyone who thought they knew her. The two Canadian women held back their laughter in respect. But it was quite amusing. As they moved to the door to go back to the main room, hoping to find Ray finished, France paused and looked at Frannie. "Oh. And I brought Chantell wizh me to take pictures, yes, but I alzo have plans for your brother tonight wiz her. Do not wait up for him to come home, no?" With one more wicked grin she and Chantell left the room.
It took a few minutes but Frannie finally gathered herself to rush back so she could at least witness what happened.
Frannie was shocked to see Ray introducing Stella Kowalski, the ex-wife lawyer woman for the city, with no particular obsession which he normally showed. Ray then left with France and Chantell to take them wherever, dismissing the ex-wife from his attention.
Frannie saw what Ray and the two Canadians didn't: Stella, despite her constant putdowns and complaints about their time married, was not relieved to see Ray so uninterested in her. She looked a slight bit disappointed, almost upset.
Mentally, Frannie lost her incredulity at what the two women had planned and mentally sent her best wishes after him to have some fun of his own. He deserved it and his ex-wife wasn't as much of the good person in the breakup as she tried to convince the world she was. Ray beat himself up far too much for that and was far more miserable about it than he deserved to be.
Few people realized exactly how observant Francesca Vecchio was, and how good a judge of character. She didn't even realize it herself. She had grown up in a large, loud Italian family with a brother who took a beating if it protected her. She knew good and bad on an instinctive level. She might not show it but she loved her brother to death for all he had done for her, both with their father and the pig she had married too young after ignoring his worser qualities in hopes of moving out as fast as possible. And this new Ray was cut from the same cloth – he'd do anything for the people he cared about.
She sighed to herself. If she thought about it, it was too bad the man was playing her brother. With what France said, it might be fun to try him out and see what he had. The beautiful French-Canadian woman had seemed quite happy with his performance. What was it she said? Sayla vee? Whatever that was.
She started mentally comparing Fraser and Turnbull even as she went back to work. And innocently curious what it would be like to add another woman such an experience.
Despite her carefree attitude, she was a vital part of the squad and did important work. Ray's reports as well as others had to be properly sent off and filed, and she was efficient in directing callers where they needed to go.
At the end of shift, she was getting ready to leave when Fraser showed up. "Hey, Fraser," she said in a friendly voice, less flirtatious and more casual than she normally spoke.
"Ah, Francesca." Fraser looked around. "I received the message that Ray would be out of the office but I was curious as to if you knew when he would be finished tonight."
"No," she said. "I'm sorry. He's playing host for those reporters from Canada, the bosses want to make sure they're treated nice." She wasn't about to say what she really thought he was doing with them.
Her observation skills kicked in again and she saw the Fraser was cheerful than normal. Even a bit disappointed. Few would notice but she did. Thinking quickly she said, "But, hey. It's been a while since you had dinner at our house and Ma keeps asking when you'll visit. Do you want to come over and have dinner with us? It would make her happy."
Fraser looked taken aback for a very brief second. And then he suddenly seemed a tiny bit happier. "Well, if it would make Ma Vecchio happier, I will of course come and have dinner though it is not necessary to put yourselves out for me."
Frannie chuckled. "I'm not putting us out, I'm keeping Ma happy which makes it nicer for all of us who live with her." She looked at the wolf and said, "She'll even be happy to see the wolf and feed him."
At Diefenbaker's enthusiastic wuff, Fraser sighed. "Oh, dear. It is unlikely my efforts to keep him from overeating will be successful."
Frannie laughed as she grabbed up her purse. "Sorry. Ma's Ma. Trying to keep her from feeding people or animals is futile."
Fraser was taken aback again but she noticed the hidden smile. "I do not believe I have ever heard you use that word before." This started a friendly banter.
Frannie noted that Fraser relaxed and became happier as they made their way over to her house and she didn't bug him about what he had been upset about or try to flirt with him too much. She still flirted a little – not doing it would make him worried that something was wrong. But France Fennety's comment about light flirting making things more relaxed sometimes worked for her too.
France and Chantell had been driven around a bit, allowing Chantell to take pictures of different things and places that were often talked about in the feature. Ray continued to expand on his and Fraser's experiences which formed the basis of the Mounties in Chicago column, things that the Americans didn't have to be told but that the Canadians didn't know about.
Finally, daylight was receding and it was time to take them back to their hotel. France hid her smile as she asked, "Did you see ze column which appeared after your visit to Ottawa?"
Ray thought about it. "No. I see the thing in the local paper, but they didn't print that."
"Ah. It is more for Ottawa than Chicago. Much less interesting for your paper here. I should have brought a copy with me. But if you want to see it, I have a copy in my bags. Come up to our room when we get there."
Ray hesitated but finally said, "Okay, then." He didn't expect anything really – it wouldn't have been polite for France and him to … do things while Chantell was sent off to watch after herself. So he took the offer innocently.
They actually stopped off and ordered some food from a nearby diner as none of them had eaten in hours. Ray actually covered their meals himself despite their protest that he didn't need to. He thought it was right as they had demanded they be allowed to pay for the gas and other things for their trip around the city.
Besides he kind of owed France a nice dinner for that thing in Ottawa, though he wasn't so crass as to use that as an argument. Despite being told Chantell knew what happened it didn't feel right to focus on it.
When they got to the hotel Ray did what was polite and offered to help carry the camera bag and whatever else back to the hotel room since they were going. As they came in from the parking lot and toward the elevator, France stopped. "What?" he asked.
"I am sorry. I need to speak to the front desk. Go on up and I will be along very soon."
Ray shrugged and said, "Okay, then." He girded himself and looked at Chantell. "So. What's it like being a newspaper photographer?"
France grinned as Chantell distracted their prey while she retrieved beer from room service. Ray had spoken of "throwing back brewskis" in answer to a question and the two girls liked beer too, although they usually drank wine or cocktails.
Ray was led into the room by Chantell, who seemed just as friendly as France . "Where should I put these?"
Chantell smiled and waved to the large closet which contained their hanging bag and two small suitcases. "Put them here. I'll grab the bag with that story."
"Okay, then."
As the bags were exchanged, Chantell led him over to the table in the room. He was curious. "How did you keep an American accent if you spent most of your life in Canada?"
She grinned. "Blame my father. Although he loves my mom, he was pretty adamant that I not 'lose my American' when we moved there for their jobs. Whenever I started sounding too Canadian, he would pull out the videos of American movies and television shows to expose me again. He especially loved Sydney Pottier's American accent even if he came from the Bahamas. My father grew up in the city and worked hard to lose the 'black accent' because it was better for him."
"What did he do?" Ray asked.
"Well, he worked a white collar job as an accountant, believe it or not. Not many black accountants from the inner city, but he is unbelievably good with numbers. Most of his clients are upper class and wouldn't appreciate the ghetto accent. It's actually strange that you have more of a city accent than he does."
Ray shrugged and smiled. "I never much paid attention. White, black, low class, high class – it's all the same to me."
"I noticed that." She narrowed her eyes. "And I also notice that your speech becomes better and worse depending on who you are talking to and the situation. You're far more intelligent than you want people around you to know."
He looked like he was going to disagree – and then suddenly smiled. His accent became less pronounced as he said, "You got me. It's a part of being a detective. If you act too differently, or better than them, they get more nervous. Actually, working with Fraser has been a great help. When we need to be more proper I let him take the lead. And when it's more casual, I do the talking. Between us, we can usually get anyone to relax enough to talk."
She looked at him for a moment with a slighty suspicious look. She then relaxed. "Sneaky! If I hadn't have seen it, I probably wouldn't believe it." She grinned at him. "I approve!"
Right then France came in through the door carrying a six-pack. "What wouldn't you believe and what do you approve of?"
Chantell looked at France and said, "Ray isn't as innocent and sloppy with his language as he makes himself out to be. He uses his 'bumpkin' speech to trick people into being more open."
France snorted as she set the six pack down. "I realized that when we were in Ottawa. He is more complex than he makes himself out to be."
Ray grinned at her. "Whatever gets the job done."
"Beer?" she asked with a smile even as she handed Chantell one.
"Sure," he said easily.
Even as he opened it and took a drink, Chantell took hers and moved to sit on the bed – there were only two chairs. France sat down with her beer and started opening the bag. "I have ze story here somewhere."
She pulled it out and handed it over. Ray quickly read through it. "It's amazing to me that you Canadians are so interested in what happens in Chicago."
France said, "We see Mounties all of ze time, but seeing how they handle Americans is interesting. You Americans are a puzzle for us."
Ray flashed a grin. "You Canadians confuse us too." He got to the part about what had sent Fraser to Chicago. "Oh. This is really nice. It's exactly what I wanted people to know from my viewpoint." He looked up from the story. "What reactions did my defending Fraser have up there?"
France sipped her beer as she thought of how to word it. "There was a mixed reaction with RCMP members. Ze oldest and the youngest actually seem to agree with you. It is ze middle aged, mid-rank members who are more dismissive. They tend to want to not, as you Americans say, 'rock ze boat.' The young and idealistic and the old and experienced found the argument compelling."
Ray nodded. "And the average reader?"
"Many citizens wrote letters supporting your views. A very few wrote letters saying effectively 'he got what he deserved' but those were very few. And quite unpopular. I will have to send a copy of ze whole editorial section which followed ze column being published."
Ray nodded. "Thank you." He mused, "I wonder why the middle ranks are so against him."
France nodded. "Twenty years ago, there was a scandal involving police activities in ze RCMP. It was a black eye and ze Canadian Security Intelligence Service was created and most intelligence responsibilities were taken from them. Most of those who view it negatively were trained around that time and remember ze emphasis in their early years on keeping one's head down and doing your job quietly."
Ray shook his head. "You don't get anything done keeping your head down even if most of the higher ups prefer it. Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there."
"I agree and so did our editors. Which is why we were sympathetic despite having to report in a neutral manner. People like Constable Fraser are why the RCMP is so respected."
"I can see that." Ray then thought about it. "Do you mind if I keep this? I don't think Fraser or the Ice Queen have seen this."
France looked surprised. "Ze Ice Queen?"
Ray blushed. "Sorry. My name for Inspector Thatcher. She can get a little harsh. She doesn't like messy."
France nodded. "I can see that. Most of ze commanders can be strict." France then giggled and then her accent changed. "But I don't zink zat zhe is so unemotional as zhe makes herself seem."
Ray was curious. "What do you mean?"
France had a particular smirk as she said, "I zaw how zhe looked at Constable Fraser. Zhe hides it, but the tall, handsome man lights a fire in her. I am a wo-man. I saw."
Chantell volunteered with her own wicked grin, "Oh, yes. If she wasn't so concerned about propriety, she would definitely be taking advantage of their close and constant proximity."
"Really?" he asked. "Fraser and the Ice Queen … that just seems … freakish." Ray then grinned. "But I do tend to call him a freak when he goes all wilderness Mountie on me."
France said in a gossiping tone, "Zey actually match well. He is intelligent enough for her and zhe is no personne stupid. Zey would challenge each other in far more zings zen duty."
Ray thought more and then gave a little shudder. "That's kind of hard to wrap my brain around."
Chantell nodded as well. "Definitely." Chantell then stood up. "We've been out and about all day."
Ray interrupted. "That's a Canadian about." He grinned at her.
Chantell rolled her eyes even as she grinned. "I think I need to go freshen up." She set her half-drunken beer down on the table.
France stood up herself with a smile. "Ze bathroom is large enough for both of us to freshen up. We will return soon."
Ray smiled easily. "Okay. I'll just sit here and drink my beer."
The two women moved across the room, both already whispering to each other. Ray shook his head. Women.
As he drank his beer, he looked around he actually twigged on something for the first time. "Hey! There's only one bed. Do you have separate rooms or bunk together?"
Suddenly he heard the sink louder as the women cracked the door. France's voice came floating out. "It is a big bed. More zan enough room for both of us."
Ray nodded and then was surprised when Chantell's voice added, "Besides. It isn't as if we aren't unfamiliar with sharing."
Huh, he thought. "You two take trips together often?"
Chantell answered, "We are close friends even if we are co-workers." There was a pause. "Besides, I'm not just talking about hotel beds." There was a distinct mixed giggle.
"Really?" he answered back with a slightly nervous tone.
France's cheerful voice with a slightly wicked tone came back, "We are very close. Zere is a reason why Chantell" and wasn't the accent she said her friend's name with sexy? "iz ze only one who heard my description of your visit to Ottawa." There was another giggle. "Or at least ze last night."
"Oh." Ray couldn't say much. "I wasn't aware."
France poked her head out. It was strange as only her head could be seen at a right angle to the door. "We are not, how you zay, exclusive? but we bozh find ze other quite sexy. It it not so strange for women to enjoy each ozzer's company even if zhey like ze men too." France was grinning wickedly with innuendo and then pulled her head back into the bathroom.
Ray contemplated that and said, "Well, whatever floats your boat. I'm an accepting kind of guy." But his pants definitely showed that he was imagining the two women together in a bed.
He was lost enough in the fantasy that he didn't notice the two come out at first. "Ray?" France's voice sounded.
He turned his head and said, "Sorry! Just thinking …." He then noticed exactly what he had missed coming out of the bathroom.
France was, once again, down to lacy red bra and panties – no stockings because she hadn't been in a skirt. Chantell was sporting her own lacy bra and panties and hers were white – the contrast between them and her skin tone was quite alluring.
France gave a wicked grin as the two took in his reaction. "Chantell?" She looked at her friend. "I do believe zhat he likes what he zees. Yes?"
Chantell's grin was just as wicked and she didn't look back as she kept her eyes on him. "I also think he likes what he is seeing. Even if he looks a bit surprised."
France mock pouted. "An' here I zought zhat I had been clear in my intentions … our intentions."
Chantell shrugged, and her breasts jiggled a bit even if they were confined. "Men can be a bit dense at times. But that's okay. We like them anyway."
"Yes. We do."
The two women strutted over to him and reached down to draw him up to a standing posture. He didn't resist. Walking on either side, they led him over to the foot of the bed. France then pulled his head down a bit and delivered a deep kiss which showed she was French Canadian. And while she did that she reached down to grab the hem of his t-shirt to pull it up so it could come off.
Even as she did that, he could feel Chantell's hands on his Dockers. France pulled back a bit to make room for his t-shirt even as Chantell pulled his pants and underwear down. Grinning, France pushed him back so he was sitting on the bed allowing Chantell to coax him into lifting his feet so they could be removed with his shoes leaving him in socks only.
France looked down at Chantell, who was on her knees. Chantell nodded. With that France undid the clasp on her bra and Chantell undid the clasp on hers.
Unlike Ottawa, he wasn't standing and so could have watched as Chantell moved forward, but his view was blocked as France threw her leg over above his stuff and suddenly pushed her chest forward into his face.
Ray spent quite a bit of time with one or the other or both or just watching as the two were with each other.
It was even better than his experience in Ottawa.
Early the next morning it was a bemused Ray who made his way into the squad room. Lieutenant Welsh was there. "The two Canadians get off okay?"
Startled from his memories he said, "Uh. Yes, boss. I got them to the airport this morning and they're making their way back as we speak."
After a momentary suspicious look Welsh said, "Good. Now get to work."
"Yes, boss."
Francesca walked by from the back of the room and past his desk. In a quiet voice she said, "Oh, yeah. I'm sure they got off great."
Startled, Ray looked at Francesca, who had her head turned toward him. She gave him a saucy smirk and a quick wink and then went on to her desk.
"Busted," was Ray's only thought as he started reaching for his first file.