*****The Lasso of Truth*****
Summary:
After marrying Roz Doyle, Frasier Crane adopts her daughter Alice, setting in motion a wild string of events. How does Frasier handle being the father of a girl? And being the husband of Roz, the most prominent radio executive in Seattle?
*****Author's Notes*****
I do not own the TV show Frasier. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes only. I get no compensation from it.
*****Doug, unplugged - Frasier narrates******
When we got to the police station, my one phone call was to Dad, not Roz. If anyone could help me work through this mess, it was my father the retired cop. In the meantime, since I knew I'd be asked, I tried to recount in my mind what had happened. Most of it was a blur, but I did remember what happened after the fight ended.
When the police had begun to arrive at Scoops-N-Scones, I was sitting in a chair holding the side of my face that had somehow bashed into the surface of a table. Alice sat beside me holding tight onto my arm. Sitting in a corner was Doug's son, unhurt but still crying. Claude sat on the floor in the middle of some debris, still rubbing his face in what appeared to be a futile attempt to expunge the memory of receiving the full force of Doug's spittle. Most of the crowd in Scoops-N-Scones had moved outside, although the four teens who had been sitting at the next table were still inside, only now they slowly moved around the room looking at the mess.
Out of the corner of my eye, the good one, not the one that had almost swollen shut, I noticed that Doug was crawling out the emergency exit that someone before him had pushed open. Strange that he didn't want to stay and talk with the police, I thought.
A minute later I heard two raised voices outside, one of which was Doug's. Soon there were more raised voices as a car engine started. When the engine revved to life, the voices became yells. Then the yells became screams as the car's tires crackled as they moved across some gravel in the parking lot. After that came a brief flurry of car horns out on the street followed by the shriek of a car skidding then the grinding noise of metal crashing into metal. Silence followed for a few seconds until the yelling resumed. I couldn't see much outside but I did see a cloud of vapor rising above the street. A police officer ran inside Scoops-N-Scones, snatched a fire extinguisher from the wall, and ran back outside towards where the vapor was now forming a thick cloud mixed with swirls of black smoke. Soon enough the cloud began to dissipate.
What a mess!
The police officer that we rode with told Alice and me that it was standard procedure for us to separate once we got to the station. She was very sympathetic to Alice and me and assured the two of us that Alice would be OK - Alice could stay with her. Hearing that lifted a burden off my mind. Regardless of what happened to me at least Alice was safe and secure.
For want of a better place, another officer had left me in an interrogation room alone and told me to stay put. Being the son of a police officer, I knew something of the rhythms of police work. For me now, there was nothing to do except to sit, wait, and stare at the institutional biege-colored walls that enclosed me.
Being alone gave my fears a chance to take flight. Everything from bankruptcy to court trial to prison ran through my mind, and I forced myself to not even think about the effect all of this would have on my marriage and my family.
"Get your hands off me, you *&%$^& pigs! Let me go! I don't want my son to see me like this. Please. Let me go!"
In the midst of my depressed musings, yelling shattered the silence. Through the room's inside window, I saw three police officers struggle to move Doug down the hallway. It was a slow process, what with Doug trying to kick the officers with every step they took. Fortunately for the poor officers, a pair of handcuffs had restrained Doug's hands at least. Slowly they made their way past where I was on their way to who knows where. The string of profanities continued to ring out in the hallway until they turned a corner and the noise faded away.
It took Dad an hour to get to the station but it seemed like eons to me. When the door to my room opened and Dad's smiling face appeared a rush of relief washed over me. Following behind him were Niles and Daphne, two more welcome faces.
"You OK, Fras?" Dad asked.
"As well as can be expected, I guess. Who I'm most concerned about now is Alice."
While I was telling Dad this, Daphne was giving me a hug. Then she responded to what I said.
"Don't worry about her, Niles and I will take her home with us tonight."
"We had Niles meet us here. It was a good thing you called when you did. Daph was over at my house running me through my daily torture, er, I mean exercises. I needed an excuse to escape," said Dad.
"Hush, Old Man."
Their familiar good-natured banter relieved some of the tension that had welled-up inside me. Quiet up until then, Niles smiled like he'd been waiting his turn to speak.
"Frasier, the folks from Wrestlemania called. They want to sign you and me for a tag-team rematch with the Kreisel brothers. What-da-ya say, Bro? We can take 'em this time!"
The laugh that we all shared reminded me of the old days at my apartment when our quartet did something together. The good cheer that my family brought had chased away my worries for a moment, but glancing around the room brought me back to reality.
"Niles, I feel like I just lost a cage match with reality."
Dad spoke before Niles had a chance to say anything in reply.
"Fras, before you get too down in the dumps, let me tell who runs this precinct."
"Who?"
"George. We saw him on the way in. He briefed us on the situation and let us see the officers' reports."
A wave of hope washed over me at the sound of the name. Dad had met George when George first joined the department, and they had partnered for awhile. George was considerably younger than my father, closer in age to Niles and me than to Dad. Maybe because of that closeness in age we had always connected with George more than Dad's older police friends. Also he would always find some way to make Niles and me laugh, usually by saying something he had learned growing up on a farm. He was so different from Niles and me, and yet so warm and full of life that you couldn't help but feel good around him. No one, and that included Niles and me, could ever be a snob when George was in the room.
"I'm glad to hear that."
Daphne looked at Niles.
"We should go retrieve Alice and be on our way home," she said.
Before he joined Daphne at the door, Niles spoke.
"Frasier, there's something I need to say before we leave. I don't tell you this enough. Maybe I never have said this, but I've always respected my older brother. And never more so than today."
"Thanks, Niles. And Bro, we'd mop up the floor with the Kreisels!"
With a thumbs-up from Niles and a wave from Daphne, the pair made their way down the hallway leaving Dad and me alone in the room.
"How you holding up, Fras?"
"Better now that you're here and now that Niles and Daphne are taking care of Alice. What am I going to tell Roz, Dad?"
Dad put one hand on each of my shoulders and made me look him at him.
"The truth. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You stood up for what was right and you protected Alice. You were in a dangerous situation."
"I lost control myself."
"I saw the reports, Fras. You didn't start that mess."
All of a sudden the door swung open and 6 feet, five inches and 250 pounds of police uniform and thinning hair bounded into the room.
"Hey, Marty, I heard your son got in a fight after school today!"
What a welcome sight!
"Captain..." I began to say but got cut off.
"Oh come off it. I'm not Captain to you, Frasier, I'm just 'George.'"
George placed a notebook computer on the table in the center of the room and came over to me. While I was happy to see George, the bear-hug he put me in threatened to break my already bruised ribs.
"Marty told me you were in here. Of course I immediately assumed it would be for livestock theft."
"Yes, George, now that I got married again I figured 'Why not farming?'," I replied.
"Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha. Marty, can't you just picture your boy wearing hip boots and covered head-to-toe in manure."
"George, a lot of people would say that's like what happens on the radio show every day, metaphorically speaking of course."
"Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha. 'Metaphorically speaking.' Frasier, only you could add that to what you were saying and it still be funny. I remember the first time I heard you say metaphorically speaking. You were twelve years old. I couldn't figure out what you'd just said. Luckily Niles explained it to me. You boys sure were two peas in a pod."
"Glad I amused you, George."
The laughter began to drain away from George as soon as I said that. His brow furrowed and suddenly he no longer resembled the young cop who performed magic tricks for Niles and me every time we came by the precinct to see Dad. It was as if he had aged thirty years before my eyes.
"I don't get to laugh much nowadays, Fras. Not in this job." said George. Dad nodded in sympathy.
"Sorry, George."
"Don't be. Seeing the Crane boys has lit up my day. I can't wait to tell Madge about seeing you when I get home tonight. But enough about me. I've got good news and bad news for you. We need to talk about this kerfuffle you got into today."
"'Kerfuffle,' George? Now you sound like my son."
"Can't help it, Marty. It's the only ten-dollar word I know so I need to get as much out of it as I can."
"Well, the word fits for what Frasier got into today," Dad said.
"Actually, Marty, it was more than just a kerfuffle. Frasier, did something seem off about that Doug fella to you?"
"Yes. He was far more belligerent than a normal person. His behavior bordered on the classic textbook definition of instability that would manifest..."
"So, in other words we're agreed that all his dogs ain't barking," George said as he cut me off with one of his just-off-the-farm sayings.
"George, you put it better than I ever could."
"Fras, something is seriously wrong with that man. What kind of a dummy would crawl into his car after a fight, start it up, and drive straight out into oncoming traffic while three cops were already there yelling at him to stop? I'll tell you what kind of dummy - one under the influence."
"So he was drunk," I said as a confirming statement, not a question.
"Doug was 30% over the legal limit on alcohol."
"Hard to believe it was just alcohol, George."
"Yeah. You and I are on the same wavelength. He had some other stuff in his system too. The lab will let us know the specifics soon enough."
Someone else popped up in my mind.
"Doug had his son with him. He wasn't hurt physically but he was very upset. What happened to the boy?"
George shook his head.
"The boy's doing OK for now. We called his mother. She picked him up an hour ago."
"What a mess," I said.
"Hey, Fras. You're the son of a cop. You know stuff like this happens to people who don't deserve to have it happen to them. Even children like that poor boy."
"You're right, George, but it still hurts to see that."
"Well, if anything good came out of this for the boy, it's that Doug will lose his visitation rights. According to court files, the boy's mother had fought to deny Doug any visitation. Now she has enough ammunition to make that happen."
"What about Doug?" I asked.
George and Dad exchanged a knowing look.
"Fras, your father and I have seen too many Dougs over the years."
Dad nodded.
"When you look at his police and court records you can see things won't end well. He was headed in a downward spiral even before today. Apparently he was a stock broker for a long time, then suddenly he wasn't. A lot of the time that suggests that a brokerage firm has found something amiss with a broker but doesn't want anything out in public. They just make good on any losses to customers and cashier the broker. After he left the brokerage firm, he really started showing up in our records. Two prior DUIs over the last six months, a couple of domestic disturbance calls, that court battle over visitation rights, and a restraining order against him from some woman he used to work with. Now something like what happened today will only accelerate the spiral."
As George recapped Doug's list of problems, I felt sorry for Doug but a self-centered part of me also felt thankful. I felt thankful for my family. My recollections from this morning flitted back through my mind. My own version of the New York Yankees in the form of Dad, Niles, and Daphne had come to my aid in time of need.
"So sad," I mumbled.
"Let's get back to you, Fras. Here's your good news: we've got your legal issues cleared away. The arresting officers and I talked with Doug and explained a few things to him. He's in enough trouble right now that he doesn't need to concern himself with you. He's dropped his charges against you, and we're not gonna pursue anything ourselves. How's your writing hand?"
"OK, I guess," I replied.
"Good, cause it's gonna get a workout. You've got a stack of paperwork to wade through, but when you finish you're free to go."
"Thank you, George. You've always been a good friend."
"Glad to help you, Frasier. But I still haven't told you the bad news." As George said this, he opened up the notebook computer then swung it around so the screen faced Dad and me.
"What is it?" I asked.
"You fellas need to see for yourselves. One of my officers found out when he was talking to witnesses. Someone at the ice cream shop videoed the whole fight, and now it's posted on the internet."
*****To Be Continued*****
*****Author's Notes*****
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