Disclaimer: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.
Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs.
The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Defining Connection 4
By Phenyx
05/15/2006
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Miss Parker straddled the corner of the desk carelessly. She gazed around the busy room and tried not to notice the smirk on Jarod's face. Her transformation amused him for some unfathomable reason.
When Miss Parker had appeared at her motel room door a few hours ago, Jarod had burst into delighted laughter. Miss Parker had ignored him and brushed by without a word. The night before, Jarod had voiced some concern at Miss Parker's ability to behave like a "normal" person. She had taken his comment as a challenge.
So now, Miss Parker sat in the bullpen at Chicago's 27th precinct and tried not to fidget. The loose ponytail at her neck felt strange. Her clothes were not tailored and didn't fit quite right, having been purchased off a rack at a department store. Without high heels on her shoes, each time she stood Miss Parker felt a moment's disorientation, as though she'd been on a boat for too long and had just stepped ashore. And when Jarod stood too close, Miss Parker became acutely aware of every inch that he towered above her.
Yet, as disconcerting as it was to be wearing ugly shoes and cheap clothes, Miss Parker had to admit that her discomfort was only minor. Like a mosquito bite, the itch was only on the surface. Underneath it all she felt better than she had in weeks, perhaps months.
During the last twenty-four hours, Miss Parker had slept for seventeen. Jarod had cooked for her twice more, and had plied her with cup after cup of the herbal tea. Wonder-boy could really cook when he got the urge to do so. The food was good, heavily laden with carbs, so that in combination with the tea, it had acted better than any sedative.
With a sigh, Miss Parker propped one hand on the desk behind her and leaned back. The shoulder holster she wore tightened under her arms, but it was a comforting tautness. Her badge was pinned to the leather strap across her chest, its weight rested against the curve of her breast.
A slender girl hurried past in a very short skirt. She was yelling across the room in a voice that could peel wallpaper. Miss Parker watched the girl go by and in doing so, she caught Jarod examining the scantily clan rear-end that swayed away from them.
Miss Parker frowned.
"What?" Jarod exclaimed when he saw her reaction. He smiled. "Jealous?"
"Dream on, Rat."
"I usually do," he teased.
Miss Parker felt heat in her cheeks at the thought that Jarod might dream about her. Jarod's soft laughter brought her head around to glare at him.
"Oh Miss Parker," he chuckled. "I would have never guessed that under all that makeup you wear, you still blush."
"Shut up," she snapped. She looked away. Her lack of makeup suddenly made her feel naked and vulnerable. The hint of pink on her cheeks and the touch of lipstick she had applied this morning were nothing compared to her usual harsh coloring.
"No," Jarod purred. "I like you this way. The sharp edges are gone."
Miss Parker shot him a vicious glare. "Looks can be deceiving."
"A fact of which I am quite aware."
A heavy-set middle-aged man walked up and interrupted their conversation. "Detective Parker, Detective Malloy." The man called their assumed names in greeting. "Step in to my office for a moment and we'll discuss a few things while we wait for my tardy subordinates."
"Anything in particular you wanted to discuss, Lieutenant Welsh?" Jarod asked. Miss Parker sat in the chair the lieutenant offered her while Jarod stood nearby.
The lieutenant heaved a long-suffering sigh. "In particular," he began. "I want to attempt to explain the particular peculiarity of my detective and his partner. Although the two do tend to defy explanation."
"Detective Vecchio and his partner have the best solve rate in the city," Jarod said. "We've come to learn from them, to see if there are procedures that we can replicate in Springfield."
The Lieutenant waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Believe me, Detective, there is no duplicating their singular oddness. I'd think they were succeeding out of sheer luck except that it happens with too great a regularity to be mere chance." The older man shook his head sadly and then went on. "First, you should understand that Vecchio's solve rate isn't due to Vecchio. Well, at first is was but then Vecchio went undercover and was replaced by Kowalski."
"Undercover?" Miss Parker asked.
The lieutenant shook his head again as though the subject was of no importance. "Something for the Feds," he said. "No one understands what those guys are up to. Suffice it to say that Vecchio was solving Vecchio's cases, until the Feds carried him off. For approximately the last two years, Kowalski has been working Vecchio's cases as Vecchio, not as Kowalski."
Jarod and Miss Parker blinked at each other in confusion.
"Now the Feds are done with him and everything is kosher," the lieutenant continued. "Vecchio's come back, though he's currently in Florida looking over some bowling alley real estate. So Kowalski is solving cases as Kowalski again not Vecchio. Of course, he's only been back from Canada for about six weeks and has been having a little trouble with the transition back to Kowalski."
Miss Parker looked up at Jarod and asked, "Are you following this?"
He shrugged.
The Lieutenant sighed again. "Look, it's simple," he said. "You came to learn about Vecchio and his solve rate. I'm telling you that you are going to spend the next week with Detective Kowalski. But that is who you want anyway. Just don't be surprised if the guy answers to the name Vecchio once in a while."
"He was undercover a long time," Jarod said with an understanding nod.
"Two years," the lieutenant agreed. "A little personality disorder is to be expected. Call him 'Ray', that's the safe bet."
A few minutes later, Miss Parker and Jarod were back at Kowalski/Vecchio's desk, waiting for the detective to appear. He was nearly an hour late. Miss Parker crossed her arms and glanced at Jarod.
"So," she asked him. "Which of them do you suppose Victoria is after? Vecchio? Or Kowalski?"
"Good question," Jarod said lifting one eyebrow at her. He glanced around him cautiously. "What do you say we start rummaging through these filing cabinets and see what we can find?"
"If we get caught snooping…" Miss Parker started.
Jarod grinned. "We're here to learn," he said. "We're just doing research."
-
Several hours later, Miss Parker's mood had darkened noticeably.
She and Jarod had gone through every filing cabinet and had delved into the past cases of both detectives Vecchio and Kowalski. They'd found a case file on a woman named Victoria Metcalf. The file was unusually vague regarding details of the case. Evidently much of what had happened had not been officially documented. An officer had been injured, but there had been no arrests made. The dates indicated that it was a Vecchio case, not Kowalski's.
Knowing that they were waiting for the wrong man only increased Miss Parker's ire. They had been waiting for Kowalski to show for over three hours. Miss Parker's patience was wearing thin.
Jarod wasn't helping. He sat sprawled in Kowalski's chair, with his feet propped on the missing man's desk. He waited calmly, as though he hadn't a care in the world. Completely ignoring the near chaos that ebbed and surged around them in the busy precinct, Jarod twirled a pencil around his fingers like a baton.
Every few minutes, Jarod would toss a piece of PEZ candy into the air and catch it in his mouth. With each successful attempt, he would glance at Miss Parker. The first dozen times he'd done it, she'd offered him token applause. But in her opinion, that game had grown old ninety minutes ago. She wouldn't encourage him any further.
Miss Parker was bored, irritated and hungry. Surprisingly enough, her stomach was growling at her and the noises had nothing to do with any pain whatsoever. She was just about to suggest that they leave when Jarod's feet abruptly clomped to the floor and he sat up.
Miss Parker's eyes followed Jarod's gaze and as they watched, a large white dog jogged into the room. The dog weaved in and out among the various people standing about. No one seemed to notice the creature. Without pausing, the dog crossed the room, came directly toward the desk and sat at Jarod's feet. The dog cocked its head and looked at them expectantly.
"Hello," Jarod said to the animal.
The dog barked.
"What's your name?" Jarod asked as he reached out.
"Careful," Miss Parker cautioned. "He'll bite you."
Jarod was already crouched on the floor. "Dogs love me," he said, running a gentle hand through the dog's thick fur. "You're not lost are you, Boy?"
As if in answer, the dog turned and looked toward the doors it had slipped through moments ago. The double doors flew open and two men burst into the room.
"No! No, no, no," one of the men was saying. "I do not want to hear it, Fraser."
"But, Ray," the second man replied.
The first man was slender with a lean, wiry frame. His shoulder holster slashed dark lines across his light-colored t-shirt. He was soaking wet, his wheat-blond hair plastered to his head. He was so drenched that as he spoke, his frantically gesturing arms threw drops of water across the surrounding area.
"No Buts!" He yelled. "You pushed me into the lake!"
"Ray," the second man said calmly. "I'm terribly sorry. But as you know the Illinois Mud turtle is an endangered species and…"
"I know, I know!" Ray waved his hands in the air. "I am all about the turtles. You know that, Fraser. I am seriously rooting for our friend the turtle. But I draw the line at drowning for the cause." The wet man whirled around and began to stalk across the room. He left a trail of water on the floor as he went.
The second man rubbed at one eyebrow with the back of his thumb. He wasn't wet. As a matter of fact, his bold red uniform was neat and clean. It looked as though it had just been pressed. He had a hat tucked under one arm. He was in the full dress uniform of a Canadian Mountie.
The dark haired Mountie hesitated in the entryway for a moment. His deep blue eyes were troubled as he watched his partner retreat. "Ray," he tried again. He walked across the room, avoiding the puddles on the floor without looking.
The first man stopped in front of Jarod and Miss Parker. He glared at them in fury. "This is my desk," he growled.
"Ray!" The Mountie's voice sounded scandalized. "I'm sure if you'll just calm down, you'll find that these are detectives Parker and Malloy. The detectives from Springfield, remember?"
Ray whipped around, spraying an arch of water across the desk. "Calm down?" he hissed. "Mounties in dry clothes do not get to tell me to calm down!"
"I'm terribly sorry," The Mountie said to Miss Parker. He bent at the waist in a formal gesture of recognition. "But he hasn't eaten. I'm afraid that Ray's mood can become rather taciturn when he has missed lunch."
The blond detective moved around his desk and dropped into his chair with an undignified splat. Grumbling under his breath he began to yank open desk drawers and slam them closed in a random pattern.
The Mountie continued without pause. "How do you do," he said. "My name in Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father and, for reasons that don't merit exploring at this juncture I've remained, attached as liaison with the Canadian consulate. This," he gestured to the other man. "Is Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski." The Mountie leaned over the desk and in an exaggerated stage whisper said, "Say 'hello' to our guests, Ray."
Ray's hazel colored eyes flickered upward. With a sigh he stood and stuck his hand out to Jarod. The two men shook hands briefly then the detective reached across his desk to Miss Parker. As she exchanged greetings with him, Miss Parker noticed that he wore a heavy chain bracelet made of silver. Visible on his bicep, just below the sleeve of his t-shirt, was a blue and red tattoo that looked like a logo of some sort.
A strange whining growl sound came from beside the desk.
The Mountie looked down at the dog and said, "I did not forget. I simply had not yet found the opportunity to introduce you." The dark head looked back up at Miss Parker. "This is Diefenbaker."
Jarod smiled at the dog. "Hello, Diefenbaker." Glancing up at Constable Fraser, Jarod said, "Canis lupus?"
"He's half wolf, yes," the Mountie replied.
Jarod crouched next to the animal to get a better look. "Arctic or MacKenzie?"
"Arctic."
"Are you sure?" Jarod asked with a frown. "He's a bit big for an Arctic wolf."
Constable Fraser rubbed at his eyebrow. "Well, that is what he's always claimed. But his mother was rather prone to exaggeration. And his sire was killed in a disturbing encounter with a badger while he was still quite young, so one can never be sure."
The dog in question made an indignant sound.
"Come now Diefenbaker," Fraser said. "I am not insulting your mother. You've described her with far harsher terms on many occasions."
"That dog can't possibly understand you," Miss Parker said with a frown.
"Dief understands just fine," Ray assured them. "Especially since he's deaf and just reading our lips."
"Detective Kowalski!" Lieutenant Welsh bellowed from the door of his office. "So kind of you to grace us with your presence."
The blonde detective whirled toward his boss. The resulting spray of water made everyone take one step back. "Sorry, Lieu," Kowalski said. "But there was this dead guy and he had traces of this white powder on his clothes and we followed a tip from a sort-of-witness and wound up in a warehouse where we found these turtles…"
The lieutenant held up a hand to stop the detective's narrative. "Put it in your written report Detective. Meanwhile, I expect you to cooperate fully with our colleagues from Springfield."
"Yes Sir!"
The Lieutenant nodded once at the group then turned and walked away.
The moment the office door closed behind the older man, Kowalski's body seemed to deflate. He hung his head dejectedly and his shoulders slouched. He had a look on his face much like that of a four-year-old who has just watched a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone and land in the dirt.
"Fraser," he said in a forlorn tone. "My shoes are squishy."
"Yes, Ray," the Mountie replied. "I suggest you go to the locker room and change clothes."
The blond head nodded. "Okay. Then we'll grab some grub."
"We should see Mort before we leave the building," Fraser added.
Ray frowned. "Ugh. Let's see Mort first. Then I'll change, otherwise I'll be wearing morgue stink all afternoon."
"Ray," the Mountie scolded. "The morgue doesn't smell that bad under normal circumstances."
"It's all in the nose of the beholder, Frase." Ray, suddenly animated again, turned and strode away from the desk. He glanced over his shoulder and waved frantically at Miss Parker and Jarod. "Pitter patter boys and girls. We got bad guys to catch!"
Miss Parker looked up at Jarod for direction. "These guys are loons."
"Yeah, I like them too," Jarod answered with a grin. "Let's go or we'll lose them."
The Mountie, the wolf, Jarod and Miss Parker all trailed out of the bullpen behind Ray. No one gave the odd parade a second glance.
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End part 4