Disclaimer: I don't own Due South.
Why Can't We Be Friends?
Chapter Three – I Seen You Walkin' Down in Chinatown
As Ray Vecchio stepped out of his car, he paused as he realised something was missing. He turned to Fraser, who was getting out of his side of the car.
"Where's Diefenbaker?"
The Mountie sighed. "Oh, he's off sulking about something or other."
"He's a wolf, Fraser. Wolves don't sulk," Ray replied as he made his way around the car.
"Well, you wouldn't typically think so, but the fact remains that Dief is sat at home despondent about some infraction that I have committed."
"'Infraction'? Benny, he's a wolf. He doesn't have rules that you can infract."
"On the contrary, Ray. Wolves have a stricter code of conduct than they would have us believe."
"Yeah, it's all one big wolf conspiracy."
A teasing look crossed Fraser's face. "Perhaps, Ray."
"What is it? The cat incident?"
"Most likely, Ray. Even after all this time, I still don't think he fully grasps the way one should behave in Chicago." Fraser shook his head. "Though I've certainly told him enough times," he muttered quietly.
The detective smiled as he entered the auto-shop he had visited the day previous. His smile disappeared as he took in the surroundings, quickly replaced by a troubled grimace.
The glass booth had several bullet holes cracking its smudged surface, and Ray could only so easily guess the fate of the man behind the counter who had tested his patience the previous day.
Fraser pulled out some evidence examination gloves and put them on, letting go of the cuffs after he had pulled them down with a snapping noise.
Ray looked over at him. "Why do you have those with you?"
"It's not important, Ray," Fraser replied quietly, making his way cautiously over to the scene of the crime.
Ray looked over and saw Huey finishing up taking a statement from the co-owner of the auto-shop. Huey nodded a thanks to the man and turned to look at Ray, beckoning him over.
"What happened? When?" Ray asked quickly, prompting Huey to put up his hands in mock surrender.
"Calm down, Vecchio. He says that he saw you come in and heard you leave about five minutes later after arguing with Mr Roberts," he said, pointing to the counter where Fraser was now inspecting seemingly everything in sight.
Ray rotated his hand in a 'go on' gesture. "Then what?"
"Then there was a gun shot."
"How long after I left?"
"A minute or so, more or less. He can't remember exact times."
Ray closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, blowing out a deep breath as he let his shoulders sag.
"Ray. Detective Huey."
The two looked over at Fraser, who was looking at the logbook curiously.
"I believe you may want to take a look at this."
Curiosity overriding his caution, Ray made his way over, looking down at the log book interestedly. Fraser pointed at an appointment window where someone's name had been hastily scribbled out, and Ray's had been added, though the handwriting was barely legible.
Ray frowned. "That's not right…" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Fraser looked up at him. "What's not right, Ray?"
"He said he could only give me a window in two months."
Huey cocked an eyebrow. "And you accepted that?"
"He's the only guy who treats my car with the respect it deserves."
Huey paused for a moment, before looking back down at the logbook. "Well, something sure changed his mind."
Fraser nodded, and flipped through the charts, going week by week until he had gone forward two months. He pointed at the 22nd, where 'Ray Vecchio' was written in handwriting nowhere near as illegible as on the front page.
"Curious…"
Ray frowned. "He didn't get rid of the later appointment."
Fraser nodded, and Huey looked between the two. "So?"
"Well," Fraser said, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb, "it would appear that Mr Roberts only changed Ray's 'window' under duress, which would explain the almost illegible handwriting on the front page, and also why Ray's previous appointment two months from now was not erased."
Ray looked over at Huey. "Does this place have security tapes?"
Huey nodded. "He's getting them now," he said, nodding in the direction of the doorway on the other side of the room.
"Right. So we wait for the tapes, go back to the station, and see what the hell happened."
"That would appear to be prudent, yes," Fraser said, whipping off his gloves with another snapping noise, this one somehow louder than before.
Huey pointed to Fraser's gloves with his pen. "Why do you have those on you?"
Fraser opened his mouth to speak.
"It's not important," Ray answered quickly, prompting Fraser to quickly close his mouth. "We'll be waiting in the car."
Fraser nodded as he passed. "Thank you kindly, Detective Huey."
Huey watched the two go back to wait in Ray's car, and shrugged and shook his head once they were gone.
"Way too much time together…"
Fraser considered the intense look on Ray's face as he fell into his chair, simply staring forward, his eyes blank.
"Ray?"
The detective looked over at him, his eyes still expressionless.
"Are you all right, Ray?"
"Fine, Fraser. It's just-" he stopped himself short and waved his hand dismissively. "Forget it. It's not important."
"You're certain?"
A pause. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."
"It just seems as though perhaps you know something about what could have happened."
Only a few short months ago, that kind of astute observation would have surprised the detective. As it was, he just found himself smiling at how well his friend knew him.
"No point hiding anything from you, huh, Benny?"
The Mountie remained silent, and Ray nodded, a sigh escaping his lips.
"I have an idea what happened. But I'm not sure, so I don't want to start digging stuff up if there's no point. Okay?"
Fraser nodded. "Very well, Ray. I understand."
Huey knocked on the window of the car, and Fraser rolled it down to allow Huey to speak to them. The detective leaned forward on the doorframe, poking his head through the open window.
"I've got the tapes. I'll see you back at the station."
Ray nodded. "Okay. See you there."
"Thank you kindly, Detective Huey," Fraser said, a polite smile on his face. Huey just smiled and shook his head as he made his way back to his car.
The Mountie looked over at Ray as he started up the car.
"Did I say something amiss, Ray?"
"Like what?"
"Well, I'm not sure. Detective Huey just seemed to find something amusing about my thanking him."
"It's an American thing, Fraser. It doesn't matter."
"Do you find it amusing when I thank people?"
Ray paused. "Uh… I meant… an African-American thing."
"Ah. I see." Fraser was silent for a moment as he thought on matters. "But not all African-Americans I have met have found my thanking people amusing."
"Benny, seriously. It's not a problem, so don't worry about it."
Surrendering, Fraser nodded. "Very well, Ray."
A pause.
"I just don't want Canadians to seem a laughing stock to my African-American colleagues and acquaintances."
"Fraser! Just… leave it alone!"
Another silence.
"Very well, Ray."
"Oy," Ray breathed in relief, shaking his head at the absurdity of the conversation they had just had.
There was silence as the two travelled back to the police station, the only noise being the sound of the engine and the sounds of the city. Ray pulled up to some traffic lights and began tapping on the wheel absent-mindedly.
"Just out of curiosity, Ray," Fraser began. "Do African-Americans laugh when you thank people?"
Ray slowly brought his head down until his forehead was resting on the wheel. Fraser gave pause at the strange turn of behaviour from the detective.
"Sorry, Ray."
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Ray shifted in his seat as he spotted something on the screen.
"There, stop, stop. Go back."
Huey pushed the rewind button, and the figures on the screen went back at double speed. The detective pressed play, and the three watched in the darkened room as Ray walked into the shop onscreen.
Ray and Mr Roberts exchanged words, and Ray frowned as he realised he was the last person to see him alive.
After finishing their conversation, Ray turned and stormed out of the auto shop. Mr Roberts chuckled to himself and shook his head as he filled in Vecchio's name on the logbook.
A few seconds later, a blonde woman walked into the shop, and promptly pulled out a gun, pointing it at Mr Roberts. After silently shouting something at Mr Roberts, she waited until he wrote something in the logbook.
"Writing in the name," Fraser murmured quietly, though Ray wasn't sure if he was talking to anyone else or himself.
Then the blonde woman fired. Mr Roberts stumbled back against the wall, and she fired several more times before putting the gun away and hurriedly making her way out of the shop. Huey reached out and pressed the stop button, filling the room with silence.
Fraser nodded to Huey. "Could you play it again from when the woman comes in, please?"
Huey pressed the rewind button and went back to the appropriate time. He pressed play and watched along with Fraser and Ray.
Ray looked over at the Mountie as he leaned forward, squinting.
"What are you doing?" Ray asked incredulously.
Fraser put up a hand to quickly silence him. "Ssssh…" He stared forward. "'Give him a new window'…"
Ray looked to Fraser in disbelief as he realised what he was doing: He was reading the woman's lips.
"'Ray Vecchio. Give Ray a new window'…"
He paused.
"'Good'."
Then she fired.
Ray's eyes remained on the woman as something clicked in his mind. He covered his eyes with his hand, rubbing them furiously. Fraser looked over at him as Huey pressed stop on the video recorder.
"Ray?"
He didn't respond. He simply kept on therapeutically rubbing his eyes.
"Ray."
The detective looked up at Fraser.
"What's wrong?"
Ray took in a deep breath. "It's my fault."
"Ray, there is no possible way that this could be your fault. This person has some kind of unhealthy fixation on you, and-"
"You told me to just go home. You told me that this is serious. But I didn't listen. And now the guy's dead."
"Ray, by that token, you could say that it's my fault for not convincing you to go home. You could say it was my fault that my father died because I wasn't there to help him. But it wasn't. There was no way you could have known that the stalker would take things this far."
Huey leaned forward. "Woah, woah. You knew you had a stalker? And you didn't tell anyone about it?"
"I didn't think it was anything serious."
"And we had no reason to," Fraser added, making the point as subtly as he could to Huey.
Ray looked over at Huey. "Play it again."
After a brief pause, Huey rewound the tape and hit play again. Ray squinted this time, focusing as intently as he could on the woman's face. He knew he had seen her before. There was something familiar there…
His eyes widened.
"I know her."
His two companions looked over at him.
"I beg your pardon, Ray?" Fraser asked.
"I know how she is…" Ray said quietly, before getting up and making his way out of the darkened room. Fraser looked over at Huey curiously, who just shrugged.
The Mountie got up and followed after his friend, who had already begun making his way down the corridor and to the office.
"Ray."
He didn't respond as he turned the corner into the bustling room, heading for his desk. He pulled his coat from the back of the chair on which it was draped before making his way over to Elaine.
"Elaine, could you bring up Debra Wilson?"
She blinked a few times and looked over at Fraser curiously before getting to work. "May I ask why?"
"For poops and giggles."
Fraser cocked a curious eyebrow. "Poops and giggles, Ray?"
Ray paused for a moment. "It's an expression."
"Of what?"
"What?"
"What is 'poops and giggles' an expression of?"
"It's not an expression of anything, Fraser. When I said it's just an expression, I didn't mean that it expresses anything."
"Then why call it an expression?"
"Because that's what it is!"
"Then why did you call it an expression?"
"Because that's what I say when people ask, Fraser. They say, 'what does that mean?' and I say 'it's just an expression'. It doesn't mean it means anything; it's just an expression."
"I see," Fraser replied, nodding. "So when would one use the phrase 'poops and giggles'?"
"When… when you do something for no reason."
Fraser creased his brow as he tried to understand. "Why would one do something for no reason, Ray?"
Ray smiled. "For poops and giggles, Fraser. For poops and giggles."
"I… see."
Elaine finished her typing, bringing up the file of a not unattractive blonde woman on the screen.
"Let's see, Debra Wilson. Was in the Chicago rehab clinic for a few years before being transferred to the psychiatric ward."
Ray leaned forward to get a better look at the screen. "Has she been let out?"
Elaine searched through the records quickly, her eyes darting across the screen. "Yes; a few months ago."
"So much for a full recovery…" Ray muttered. "Do you have an address on her?"
Elaine nodded. "It's a place in Chinatown," she said, pointing at the screen.
Ray grabbed a pen and paper and hurriedly scribbled the address down, before pushing himself up off the desk and out into the corridor.
Fraser looked over at Elaine. "Thank you kindly Elaine." With a quick nod, he had turned and was now in pursuit of his partner.
"Ray."
Ray turned the corner, and Fraser increased his pace to keep up with him.
"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray."
"What?"
"Who's Debra Wilson?"
Ray seemed ready to reply when he looked around, and, surmising that there were too many people, beckoned for Fraser to follow him. Fraser remained silent as he followed his partner outside and got into his green 1971 Buick Riviera.
The two sat in silence for a few minutes, simply staring out at the heavy rain that assaulted the windows. It was almost hypnotising to watch.
"She was a victim in a drug dealer case I was working on." Ray said matter-of-factly, prompting Fraser to look over at him. "The guy treated her like crap, beating the snot out of her every chance he got, getting her hooked on the drugs he was peddling, and forcing her to pay double the price because they were closer. A real Romeo."
He paused for a moment, allowing that information to sink in.
"We tried- I tried to get her to help us bring him in, but she wouldn't. He'd messed her up so bad she thought he was protecting her and that he loved her. She'd been told she was nothing for so long, when I came along actually giving a crap she latched on to me. Eventually, she helped us bring him in, and she was put into rehab. Once she was out of there, she still had this obsession with me, and she was put in a pysch ward."
"But now she's out again."
Ray shrugged. "They must have thought she was okay, I guess."
"Are you sure confronting her is the best approach?"
"I don't know, Fraser," he sighed. "But she's out there killing anyone who gets on my nerves, so I've got to do something before we have a mass murderer on our hands."
Fraser couldn't help but agree as they drove away, heading for Debra Wilson's apartment.
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Sue's cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much. Her other cheeks were beginning to ache from being sat in chair for too long as well, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat in a vain attempt to feel better.
"Thank you for your custom, sir," she said, and the man opposite her simply scowled and stormed away in response.
Sue mentally scowled back at him. It wasn't as though it was her fault the cheque had bounced. She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath before ramming the smile back onto her face. She brought her lips to the gap in the window.
"Next, please."
A man wearing a long coat approached the booth, a friendly smile on his face.
At last, someone human.
"And what can I do for you today, sir?"
The man leaned forward. "I want you to press that silent alarm button beneath your desk and get on the floor, hands behind you head."
The colour drained from Sue's face. "W-what?"
He sighed and paused. "I said…" He whipped back his coat and pulled out a shotgun. "Push the silent alarm button and get down on the floor, hands behind your head!"
Prompted by this sudden outburst, several men around the room stood and pulled out similar weapons. Customers screamed and panicked as the full gravity of the situation dawned on them.
The man turned back to look at Sue.
"Now. Please press the button, dear."
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(A/N: Not much to say, except thank you kindly for the reviews, and please continue to do so. It's very much appreciated.)