Chapter Seven
Ray and Fraser made their way through the bowels of the busy District 27 Station House of the Chicago Police Department.
"You were stalking her?!" Ray asked.
"No, I wasn't. I wanted to make sure she was alright."
"You were stalking her!"
"No I wasn't!" Fraser protested.
Ray turned to his friend. "You were standing outside her house, in the dark, watching her. I'm sorry but here in the States that constitutes stalking. It's not her husband she should report – it's you!"
"Come on Ray! She needs our help, she's vulnerable."
Ray stopped. "Fraser, you can't just go around helping people who don't want it! They don't thank you for it."
Fraser looked confused. "But – I don't want her thanks!"
Ray shook his head and walk off towards his desk. "That's not what I meant!" Suddenly he leapt back, pressing himself against the wall. "Oh my god," he shrieked, as one of the previous night's drunks proceeded to throw up all over the floor in front of him, narrowly missing his designer shoes. "That is truly disgusting!"
"Sorry Ray!" apologised the accompanying officer who was busy trying to keep a grip on his prisoner whilst too avoiding being vomited on.
Ray jumped over the puddle of sick and turned his attention back to Fraser. "How come you never get puked on?!"
"Lightning reflexes," he replied as he followed him across the squad room to Ray's desk and sat down opposite him. He battled with his conscience as to whether to break Scarlett's confidence, eventually deciding it would be in her best interest. "He hits her Ray," he said quietly.
Ray frowned. "Has she reported it?"
Fraser shook his head. "No."
"Well, I'm sorry," said Ray regretfully as he leaned back in his chair. "There's nothing we can do."
Fraser looked up at his friend. "She's afraid."
"I know Fraser, but we can't arrest him if she won't press charges."
"But -"
"- I'm sorry Benny, you know how this works. Sometimes the law stinks." Ray sighed, he hated refusing him anything, and after all, Fraser was the guy who would do almost anything for anyone, as long as it was within the long arm of the law of course. "Look, hopefully we can bring him in on this Mob stuff. I'll see what I can do to speed things up, alright? "
Fraser smiled gently. "Thanks Ray."
The door to Lieutenant Welsh's office swung open and the larger than life made his way out in to the main Squad Room. Although Lieutenant Welsh never exactly had an air of happiness and light about him, this afternoon, he had a decidedly crabby misdemeanour. His eyes looked about the room and settled on Vecchio's desk.
"Uh-ho," said Ray quietly as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Lt Welsh approached but much to Ray's surprise, it was not he who was Welsh's victim today.
"Constable Fraser – I need to speak with you please, in an official capacity." He turned and walked back to his office. Fraser looked back at Ray, who simply shrugged his shoulders. Fraser quickly rose to his feet and followed the lieutenant. He entered the office, as Welsh settled himself behind his desk.
"Is there something wrong sir?" Fraser asked as he turned to shut the door, almost hitting Ray in the face.
"Detective Vecchio do you mind - this is a private matter," stated Welsh.
"No, it's alright sir," said Fraser. "Detective Vecchio can stay."
"OK Constable," Welsh continued. "Constable Fraser I need to ask you some questions concerning your relationship with Mrs Scarlett Malone."
Fraser's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry?"
"Her husband, Charles Malone, has just filed a complaint against you accusing you of assaulting her -"
"- What the hell?!" Ray interrupted angrily.
"- Yesterday evening," Lt Welsh continued regardless. "Do you have anything to say?" He looked up at Constable Fraser. He looks like a Boy Scout, thought Welsh, he wouldn't even be caught littering. He hated having to do this; it was one of the less attractive roles of his job as the Station Lieutenant. He knew damned well that Constable Fraser wouldn't even consider doing something like this. He was a good cop, for a foreigner, and truth be told, he'd swap any one of his officers to have him on the Chicago PD payroll. But, it was his job nonetheless and, in a way, he was glad that he was going to be the one fighting Fraser's corner, rather than any of the others.
"I – I don't understand," Fraser stammered.
Lt Welsh presented Fraser with a collection of professional medical photographs showing close up views of Scarlett Malone's face, complete with cut lip and heavily bruised cheek, and wounds on the fingers of both hands. Whilst Fraser was studying the photos, Welsh pulled out a typed statement from the folder on his desk.
"Scarlett Malone was seen entering your building, with you, at 11.45 yesterday morning and she didn't return home until 18.00 last night. Mr Malone states that when she arrived home she was very distressed and had sustained cuts and bruises to her face and hands. He has accused you of inflicting these injuries whilst his wife was alone with you in your apartment. Do have any idea how she got these wounds Constable?"
Fraser was dismayed. "Sir, Mrs Malone already had the cut on her lip, she told me that ..." He paused, again trying to decide whether to break Scarlett's confidence in him for a second time that day. As usual, he decided to tell the truth, in a manner of speaking. "She told me that she'd had a fall, earlier in the day. And the cuts on her hands, they were from my broken cup, but as to her facial -"
"Broken cup?" Welsh interjected. "What broken cup?"
"My cup Sir," he admitted. "The one she broke when she accidentally dropped it."
"So, Scarlett Malone was inside your apartment Constable?" Welsh asked slowly.
Fraser nodded. "Yes sir, but -"
"Would you mind telling me just how Mrs Malone ended up in your apartment?"
"Well Sir," Fraser explained. "We went there so that she could put on some warmer clothes."
"She had no clothes on?" Ray asked incredulously.
Fraser laughed with embarrassment. "No! I mean yes, yes of course she had clothes on Ray! She was wearing her pyjamas."
"Pyjamas," Welsh stated flatly. This was not going the way he had initially hoped.
"Yes Sir. I saw her in the park. She was cold so she came to my apartment to get warm." Fraser was feeling warm. In fact, he was sweating. He never sweated. Well, that wasn't strictly true; of course he sweated, he just tended to not sweat under these circumstances. Not that he'd ever been in these circumstances before. Oh dear, he thought, this is not going well.
Lt Welsh took a deep breath and exhaled heavily as he rubbed his forehead. "She was wearing her pyjamas, in the park?"
"Yes Sir."
"She was wearing her pyjamas, in the park, in the snow?" This was going from bad to worse.
"Yes, you see Sir, she and her husband had had an argument, and he locked her out of the house. I was merely trying to help. Sir."
Lt Welsh stared at him. "Of course you were Constable. By taking a known mobster's wife, into your apartment, wearing only her pyjamas?"
"Has he never seen frostbite of the lower extremities?" piped up Robert Fraser's voice from the back of the room. "It's extremely painful! I remember being stuck out in the Northwest Passage with Grady O'Pickern. We were on the trail of some Peary caribou hunters. Stupid old goat lost his boots and ended up knee deep in the snow in just his socks. By the time we made it back to camp his toes looked like tiny, little dried up pieces of liquorice ..."
"Not now Dad!" muttered Fraser.
Lt Welsh turned to Ray. "Did he just call me dad?"
"Oh no sir -" said Fraser apologetically. "I'm sorry sir, not you." He glared at his father who had crossed the room and now stood directly behind Welsh, reading Malone's statement, over his shoulder.
"Do you realise just how much trouble you're in Constable Fraser? Charles Malone, who we are currently investigating as part of the local Mob, has accused you of assaulting his wife?"
"Oh come on!" barked Ray. "Are you seriously buying this Lieutenant?!"
Fraser turned to console him. "It's alright Ray."
Lt Welsh recapped from the typed statement. "He claims that Mrs Malone was fine when she left the house to take a walk -"
"Yeah right!" Ray snapped sarcastically. "She went for a walk … in her pyjamas?"
Lt Welsh looked up sheepishly. "To be fair, there was no initial mention of pyjamas. She was last seen, Constable Fraser, entering your apartment building, with you. When she returned home later that evening she was in a state of undress, with heavy bruising to her face, and cuts on both her hands."
"And you've seen Scarlett?" Fraser asked. "She confirmed this?"
Lt Welsh leant back in his chair. "We haven't been able to talk with Mrs Malone as yet. OK Constable Fraser we've established that her hand injuries were sustained whilst in your apartment -"
"This is bull-crap!" said Ray, running his hands through what little hair he had left.
But Fraser's mind was racing. Something else was bothering him. "But sir - you have seen her?" he asked.
"No, apparently she's been sedated," Welsh replied.
Now he was really concerned. "Sedated how?!"
Lt Welsh tried to bring him back to the point in hand. "Constable remember – although she hasn't made a formal statement or pressed charges against you -"
"Then what is this?!" asked Ray angrily.
"- her husband has," Lt Welsh pressed on. "So we have to take this seriously, play it by the book and be prepared. Believe me, I don't like this any more than you do, but, we can't have Internal Affairs poking their nose in and then losing the mob case on the grounds of harassment."
"So wait ..." Fraser asked anxiously. "Scarlett's in the hospital?"
"No," Welsh replied. "She's at home. Constable Fraser I will ask you again," he indicated to the photographs on the desk. "Can you explain how Scarlett Malone came by these facial injuries?"
"No Sir, I cannot," Fraser replied desperately. "But this - this is Charlie's doing. Sir, he is hurting her and she needs our help! Scarlett Malone came to my apartment yesterday after she and Charlie had a fight. He hit her; hence her cut lip, and then he locked her out of her home. We met, purely coincidentally, in the park and we started talking. She was cold and had nowhere else to go. She cut her hands when she dropped a cup which then broke as it fell. Now, as to the rest of her facial injuries I can't definitely say how she got those, but I do have a very good idea and Sir, you have to get her out of that house. She's not safe there. Lieutenant - If someone you loved and cared for got injured, you'd want the best for them wouldn't you?"
"Of course."
"So, if they'd been assaulted, like you say, where's the one place you would take them?" Fraser asked them both.
"... To the hospital ..." answered Ray.
"… or a Police Station," Fraser continued frantically. "And yet, he's taken her to neither. He's keeping her at home – apparently sedated - why?"
"To stop her telling the truth!"
"Yes," Fraser agreed. He turned to Welsh. "He's punishing us both and now he's isolating her so she that she is unable to tell the truth about what has really happened."
"Constable Fraser, are you suggesting that Charles Malone has beaten and now drugged his own wife?" asked Welsh.
"At the very least, I believe so sir, yes."
Lt Welsh sighed resignedly. "Look Constable, you know I don't believe for one minute that you are capable of this, but we have to play this by the book, like I said, we can't have I.A getting involved. So for now, you stay put. Detective – get me proof that Constable Fraser is in the clear. I'll get a detail over to the house to check on Mrs Malone. In the meantime I'll question Mr Malone further myself, make him uncomfortable. If he's lying – I'll prove it."
"Thank you kindly sir."
