Disclaimer: I don't own Due South.
Why Can't We Be Friends?
Chapter Five: I Bring My Money to the Welfare Line
Detective Jack Huey's grimace slowly transformed into a scowl as he found no answer forthcoming from the phone. With an annoyed growl, he cancelled the call, and tried to call Vecchio's phone again.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Still no answer.
"God damn it, Vecchio. Why do you have a cell if you don't answer it?"
He irritably closed his cell phone and refocused on where he was going.
"Okay, now think, Huey. Where would Vecchio or Fraser be?"
He turned a corner.
"Fraser's apartment…" he mused out loud, and decided to head there. If they weren't there, then he could always call Elaine for any leads.
After all, how hard could it be to find a Mountie and a bad tempered Italian?
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Debra glanced down at the phone nervously, hoping that it wouldn't ring again. When she checked the number, she recognised it as Detective Jack Huey's, and she didn't want anyone getting on to her and arresting her. Who would look after Ray?
A small voice at the back of her head questioned how taking his phone was helping Ray, but she quickly dismissed it. She could practically smell him on the phone. Ray, who had always been so kind to her. Who had always treated her with respect and attention.
Ray, who actually cared.
Debra sighed contentedly as she stepped off the train. She hoped that Benton hadn't gotten Ray in too much trouble by chasing her. She didn't like how unsafe life was for her Ray because of the Mountie. Not that she'd do anything about it; it was obvious that he was Ray's closest friend, and she didn't want to alienate him, no, certainly not.
But if Fraser kept on putting Ray in harms way, she would be left with little choice.
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Ray scowled at the elbow of his coat as they walked back to his car.
"Look at that!"
Fraser looked over curiously. "Look at what, Ray?"
"At that!" he said, pointing at a scuff mark on the elbow of his coat. "The finest Armani coat my money could buy, and you get it all scuffed."
"It told you not to grab on, Ray."
"It was my stalker, Fraser. My stalker, which makes it my case, which also means that I'm the one to grab on to the train using some insane Mountie and/or Canadian method! All right?"
"Well… no-one's asking you to wear the finest Armani coat your money can buy while working, Ray."
"Are you insulting the Armani coat?"
"No, I'm not, Ray."
"You are! You're saying that I shouldn't wear this thing! That sounds like an insult to the coat to me." Ray's eyes widened. "You don't think I'm good enough for the coat, is that it?"
Fraser sighed and rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb absent-mindedly. "I didn't mean anything of the sort, Ray. I'm merely saying that you don't see, say, Detective Huey wearing an Armani coat."
"No, he goes with substandard brands that try to look like Armani's."
The two reached the car, and Ray pushed the key in to unlock it.
"And besides, you're insulting my taste in clothes? Look at you! Half the time you look like a tomato!"
Fraser's expression darkened slightly. "Don't insult the uniform, Ray."
Ray grinned. "What are you gonna do, tie my hands in a Windsor knot?"
"Of course not, Ray. That would be cruel and unusual punishment."
"Right."
Ray's grin faded as he noticed that the car was already unlocked.
"What the hell? The car's unlocked."
"Well, yes Ray. After all, she had to get the flowers and the photograph inside the car."
Ray nodded in understanding. "But she got in without breaking in."
"She must have a key."
"How could she have a key?"
"I don't know, Ray. There are numerous possibilities. She could have taken your keys at some point and had them duplicated, claiming to be a spouse or relative. She-"
"All right, all right. Wait…" he said, looking up in alarm. "Does that mean she'd have a key to my house?"
"It's possible, Ray."
Ray swallowed loudly as his mouth suddenly dried up. "I'll call home," he said, opening the door and quickly flopping down into the seat. Fraser followed suit and got in.
Ray reached into his coat for his phone, and frowned. "Where-?"
He searched his other pockets, and looked around the car, searching for the absent phone.
"Ray?" Fraser asked, a curious eyebrow cocked.
"My phone. It's gone. I must have left it in the car, and she must have taken it," Ray said, staring forward as a state of slight shock.
"That would seem the most likely hypothesis."
"Oh, would it, Fraser. Would it really?"
"Well… yes."
Ray sighed and leant forward, resting his head on the steering wheel. "All right, let's get to this photo place."
"Are you sure you don't want to check on your family first?"
"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner Debra's back where she belongs and my family's safe."
Fraser nodded. "Very well."
Ray started the car, ignoring the protests of an approaching driver as he pulled out in front of him.
"You didn't indicate, Ray."
"Shut up, Fraser."
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Huey knocked on the door yet again. "Fraser? Vecchio? It's Huey, open up!"
Still no response. The detective felt as though he were being watched, and turned in time to see some of the Mountie's neighbours close their doors, being drawn from their apartments by the noise Huey was making.
In frustration, Huey grasped the doorknob and turned. To his surprise, the door opened. He smacked his head in realisation.
"He doesn't have locks on his door…"
He stepped inside and looked around the bare apartment.
"Who lives like this…?" he murmured aloud, wandering around the room.
After searching for a minute or so, he came to the well thought out conclusion that no-one was in the apartment. Huey sighed.
"Fine…"
As he reached the door, a shuffling noise from the window attracted his attention. Frowning in confusion, Huey made his way over the window, eyeing it suspiciously. As he approached, the shuffling got louder and louder.
Suddenly, Diefenbaker's head popped up in the window, and Huey nearly fell over as he stumbled back in surprise. He glared at the wolf menacingly.
"Damn it…"
Dief scratched at the window impatiently, letting out a small grumble.
"All right, all right, I get the message," Huey said, once again making his way over to the window. With some effort, he managed to wrench it open, and Diefenbaker sprang through. Huey managed to wrangle the window shut again, and turned to face the wolf, who was now gazing at him curiously.
"Do you know where Fraser is?"
Dief cocked his head, letting out another grumble, this one in confusion. Huey remembered Fraser telling him the wolf was deaf, and mouthed his words carefully.
"Fraser. Fraser…" he said slowly, hoping that Dief would understand him.
The wolf didn't respond; he simply kept on staring at the detective curiously. Huey sighed.
"Fine, whatever."
He made his way to the door, and just as he was about to close it, Dief shot through the small opening in the door, heading downstairs.
"Hey! Hey! Wait!"
Huey shut the door behind him and set off after the wolf.
He was beginning to understand why Vecchio was so bad tempered all the time.
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Ray rolled his eyes and sighed.
Again.
"Don't you have a computer for this sort of thing?"
The man behind the counter, Joe Caiman, glared at him.
"Don't need it. I've got everything in here," he said, pointing at his head.
"You've definitely got something missing..."
Joe glared at him, and Fraser stepped forward. "Take your time, Mr Caiman."
"Yeah, it's not like it's an emergency or anything, right Benny?"
"You're not helping, Ray."
"Well, this guy should have this stuff on a computer!"
Joe shook his head. "Computers are worthless. A power outage or a virus and you can lose everything. Easier just to memorise everything."
Ray rolled his eyes. "And what have you got, a photographic memory or something?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"No you don't."
"I do."
"Okay then." Ray turned around. "What colour tie am I wearing?"
Fraser sighed. "I don't see what this is accomplishing, Ray."
"The guy said he had a photographic memory, and I just want to make sure he does. We don't want him giving us faulty information, now do we?"
"Well, no, Ray, but-"
"But nothing. Let the man work, Benny."
Joe, meanwhile, was staring intently at Ray's back. "That's a nasty scuff mark on your coat there."
"Yeah, I know," Ray said, shooting a look in Fraser's direction.
"How'd it happen?"
"Ask him. His Canadian habits did it."
Joe looked over at Fraser. "You're Canadian?"
"No, he's just eccentric. And don't change the subject. What colour tie am I wearing?"
"Gimme a minute…"
"A minute? What kind of photographic memory have you got?"
"The thorough kind."
"Oh yeah, right. Of course. Thorough. For a minute there I thought you were talking bull."
Fraser looked over at Ray disapprovingly. "That's a bit unwarranted, isn't it, Ray?"
"No, Fraser, it isn't. While my family is at the mercy of some crazy lady who thinks I'm the one for her, this guy, who holds the only clue as to where the hell she is, has decided, in a well played move, I might add, to store all information about his customers in his head. Now, that's not to say that's a bad idea for someone who actually has a good memory, which this guy really, really doesn't!"
"Blue."
Ray looked over his shoulder at Joe. "What?"
"Your tie. It's blue."
Fraser looked over at his companion, a vindicated and more than a little smug smile on his face, though he was hiding it behind his polite Mountie façade.
Ray pointed at him irritably. "You. Not a word. And you," he said, pointing at Joe, "what's the address of the woman you sold this canister to?"
Joe closed his eyes and began massaging his temples. "Let's see…"
Ray rolled his eyes and looked over at Fraser, who was stood next to him, waiting patiently.
"…I used to send 'em to this place in Chinatown… but then she moved…"
Ray leant forward. "Yeah, and where is it?"
"You keep interrupting me, I ain't gonna remember."
Fraser put a hand on Ray's shoulder. "Of course, sir. We'll wait over here," he said, pointing to the corner of the shop.
He almost had to forcibly move Ray over to the other side of the shop.
"Ray, I don't think you're helping the situation by letting your emotions control you."
"My emotions-!" Ray yelled, before stopping himself and taking a deep breath. "My emotions are perfectly under control."
"Ray. You just had an in-depth argument with that man over whether he had a photographic memory or not."
"It's an important question, Fraser! He's our only source of this info. If he gets this wrong, we go to the wrong place, and Debra's at my house trying to chop my ma's head off with an axe."
Fraser cocked an eyebrow. "An axe, Ray?"
"Yes, an axe. You know, Lumberjacks use them to cut down trees."
"I know what they are, Ray, I'm just wondering why Debra would use an axe."
"Because it's the classic psycho murderer weapon, that's why."
"I don't think psychotics have any kind of weapon they use as a group, Ray. They simply use what they can find."
Ray let his head hang for a moment, before shaking it and whipping it back up to face the Mountie. "I meant in movies, Benny. In movies, all the psychotic killers always use an axe."
"What about in Alfred Hitchcock's 'Psycho', Ray? He used a knife."
"You've watched 'Psycho'?"
"Well, yes, Ray. It's one of the classic Hitchcock movies."
"You've watched Hitchcock movies?" Ray paused. "You've watched movies?"
"Well, yes, Ray."
"I thought you didn't have a TV."
"I don't. I go to the cinema."
"Oh. Wait, when?"
Fraser shrugged. "When I'm at a lack of anything else to do, and you're otherwise occupied, I go to the movies."
"And watch Hitchcock movies."
Fraser nodded. "If they're playing. They don't play them very often in the movie theatres in Chicago, but occasionally they will have a classics weekend."
"Classics week-" Ray stopped himself mid-sentence and shook his head. "Never mind. The point is…" he paused. "What was I talking about?"
"Axes, Ray."
"Right, right. The point is, this guy is wasting our time while Debra could be over at my house right now."
"Well, I suggested we go and check up on your family first, but you opted to come here."
"Yeah, but what do I know? I'm always screwing stuff up."
"Like what, Ray?"
"Like that little train thing earlier."
"Ah."
"'Ah'? What do you mean, 'ah'?"
"Nothing, Ray. It's just an expression of interest."
"No, no, you were picking up on something very specific there. That was a very specific 'ah'."
"Well, it's just that-" Fraser paused. "No, it's not important."
"Fraser…" Ray growled warningly.
"All right… it's just that, if you are admitting fault for the train incident, then I can't be held accountable for the scuff on your coat."
"Yeah, well- you- I-" Ray let out a frustrated breath through his nose. "Shut up, Benny."
"Got it!" Joe said suddenly, interrupting Fraser before he could reply. The two made their way over, and Joe handed over a piece of paper with the address printed on it. Ray snatched it up before Fraser could even see it.
"And you're sure this is it?"
"Absolutely."
"Not getting it mixed up with something else? Maybe your address?"
"Hey, I guessed your tie colour, remember?"
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean anything. I could have done that."
Joe smiled. "All right, then." He turned around. "What colour tie am I wearing?"
"This is ridiculous. I'm not doing this."
"Because you can't?"
"No, because it's stupid, you crazy-" Ray stopped himself in mid-sentence once again. "Fine." Ray stared at the back of the man's head. "Blue."
"Nope. That's yours."
"Green."
"Nope."
"Red?"
"Nope."
"Fine, then, I give up."
Joe turned around. "I'm not wearing one, smartass."
Fraser hid his smile as he turned to go. "Shall we go, Ray?"
"Yeah, whatever." He pointed an angry finger in Joe's direction. "But you still don't have a photographic memory."
Joe just smiled and waved goodbye to the pair.
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The phone was ringing again. But this time, it wasn't a police call. It was from the Vecchio household.
It could be Ray. Don't answer it.
Debra scowled.
Why shouldn't I? He'll want to thank you for all you've done for him.
With trembling hands, she pushed the accept button, and brought the phone to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hello? Who's this?"
It sounded like Francesca, Ray's sister. Debra had a few photos of her somewhere shopping in a department store.
"This is…" Debra paused. "This is Debra."
"Uh… this is Ray Vecchio's cell, right?"
"Yes… yes, it is. I'm just holding on to it for him."
"And… who are you? Are you a cop?" Amusement crept into her tone. "Or a lady friend?"
Debra blushed at the idea. "Well… it's nothing official."
"Oh, I see… hand on a second." There was a brief shuffling noise. "Hey, ma! Ray's got a lady friend!"
A voice replied from the distance, and Francesca's voice came back into focus on the phone line. "She says she'd like for you to come over for dinner."
"Oh, um… I, uh, I don't…"
"Oh, come on. You'll love it, I guarantee it. Let's face it, if you're crazy enough to be with Ray, we aren't gonna put you off him."
Debra felt anger rising in her at that comment about Ray. "What does that mean?"
"Well, you know how Ray is. Anyway, I suppose you know where the house is by now, right?"
"I, ah… yes, I do."
"Great, see you here about six?"
"I… uh…" Debra felt dizzy. She was going to the Vecchio household for dinner. To Ray's house.
Maybe she could even see his room.
"Sounds good," she said, smiling.
"Okay. See you then! Don't be late."
"I won't."
She hung up the phone and stared down at the phone blankly. "I won't…"
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(A/N: Not much to say, except… review!)