Ray and I are glad that we wrote up several chapters ahead of time, since the site is giving us an error message when we attempt to create a new document. We sent a message to the site administration concerning this issue, and with good fortune it will be resolved before we run out of chapters already uploaded. ~B. Fraser

Chapter Twenty-three: Mending Fences

Diefenbaker and I slept in until nearly eight o'clock Saturday morning. Then I got up and did some morning exercises before making breakfast. I began making a list of things my apartment still needed, such as a clock, a radio, window-dressing and the like.

The delivery truck arrived a little after ten, and I assisted two agreeable men in moving my couch and easy chair up the flight of stairs, down the hall and into my apartment. I gave them what I felt was a suitable tip and took a short rest before pushing the new furniture into place. It took me a little while to get it exactly into positions of my liking, and then I sat in the easy chair for a while, just enjoying the feel of it. Dief enthusiastically tested the couch.

After that, it was time to head to the consulate to see Inspector Lam. Since I would be taking the bus, I left Dief in the apartment. I went down the stairs and out into the late-spring sunshine.

I spotted Ray's car in the parking lot outside our building. I approached it and saw that he was still in the driver's seat, apparently lost in thought. I tapped on the passenger side window.

He put the window down and smiled in greeting. "Hey."

"Hello," I answered. "I was about to catch a bus to the consulate."

"Can that wait a little longer? Tate agreed to talk to you. I can drive you back over there."

"Yes, I suppose I can do that first. I take it the interview went well, then?" I got into the car and fastened my seatbelt.

"Kinda. We got the result we wanted, anyway. But I'm probably going to be suspended."

I was filled with misgiving. "Oh, dear... you kicked him in the head, didn't you?"

He snorted. "No, I did not kick him in the head. But... I hit him."

"Oh, dear," I said again. I could see that he didn't need me to tell him what a poor decision that had been, so I felt little but sympathy for him.

"Yeah. 'Oh, moose' is more like it."

I didn't have the heart to point out the spelling difference between "dear" and "deer." There being nothing more to say on the previous subject, and all else being dwarfed by it, we were silent all the way to the precinct. Ray turned on the radio, but kept the volume fairly low and didn't seem to really be listening to it.

"Tate won't talk to anyone but you," RayV told me when we arrived. "Of course, we'll be right outside in case there's trouble, but I know you don't lose your temper."

He shot a meaningful look at RayK, who looked duly chastised.

"I probably shouldn't let you be in the building," RayV told RayK. "But I'll leave that up to Welsh on Monday. Just do me a favor and don't let Tate see you."

"I'm staying at my desk until you tell me he's gone back to lockup," RayK answered.

"I'll let you know if you miss anything good," Francesca offered.

I gave RayK a bolstering pat on the back and followed RayV and his sister from the room.

"Good morning," I greeted Tate and his lawyer as I entered the interview room. They seemed disinclined to answer. I decided to proceed. "I'm glad you agreed to see me. I know this is a bit unorthodox."

I sat across from Tate, who seemed uncertain of my meaning.

"A Mountie acting as liaison between an American suspect and his next of kin," I clarified. "But actually, liaison is exactly my job description." I gave him a disarming smile.

"You live in my mom's building," he stated.

"Yes, I do. Your mother is a very dear lady. I met her well over a year ago, but only recently moved into her building. In all that time, she hasn't had contact with you except through whatever media has covered your criminal career. That's very worrying for a parent, you know. Much like the parents of soldiers, the parents of criminals are forced to wait and watch events as filtered through popular opinion when all they really want is some news directly from their loved one. Why did you refuse to see your mother, Mister Tate?"

He avoided my gaze and crossed his arms in what I know to be a defensive posture. "Figured there wasn't anything to say. I let her down."

"How so?"

He looked up at me with a scowl. "You see where I am, don't you? You think any mother would be proud of a son in the clink?" He looked away again. "She was real young when she married my father... deadbeat good-for-nothin'. She did all the work and he just lived off what she made. At least they owned the building jointly, so when he left he gave up his share in exchange for her takin' over his debts. Took her years to get out from under it, but she finally did."

I tilted my head. I was getting some picture of the family history, but I didn't see how it all fitted together. "But why do you think you've let her down?"

"'Cause I ran away. Didn't stay and help her. We were in touch for a while, and all she'd ever tell me was how I needed to clean up my act. What's she got to say now that I haven't heard before?"

"Some things are hard to say. Perhaps if the two of you communicated more regularly, those things would come a little more easily. God knows there was far too much left unsaid between me and my father before he died... and I swear, he came back to haunt me in order to get the chance to say some of it."

His mouth twitched as if he found that amusing.

"Regardless of what she's able to tell you directly," I went on, "it's clear to me that your mother loves you very much. Above all, she wants the chance to renew your relationship. To use your words, you see where you are—can speaking with her really harm your situation at this point?"

I let the silence reign until he spoke. "I guess you're right," he said. "Can't make things worse."

I smiled. "May I inform her that you're willing to see her, then?"

"Well... I know the cops want something from me..."

"Indeed they do, but your reunion with your mother is by no means dependent on that."

"Okay."

"Good. As for what the police want, implicating your employer could greatly help you on your way to becoming a free man again. Be sure to discuss that with your mother when you see her. If you can see her as early as tomorrow, that will give you time to make an official statement to the investigating detectives before Mister De Luca's arraignment Monday. If you feel so inclined."

He nodded. "Okay," he said again.

I pushed back from the table.

"Could you give me some time to confer with my client?" the lawyer asked.

I nodded. "Of course."

RayV met me at the door as I came out. "'Atta boy, Benny," he said, smiling. "Got him right where we want him."

We filled RayK in on what had happened. Tate was escorted back to his holding cell and then we went our separate ways.

RayK offered to drive me to the consulate, and along the way, we talked about the newer case with the cutthroat victim. When the car was safely parked, I presented him with the pros and cons of different killing methods to show why I believed the killer to be experienced.

Constable Edwards came off his rare day shift as we were wrapping up our discussion. "Good afternoon, Constable Fraser," he said.

I turned toward him, bringing Ray around with me. "Ah, Constable Edwards."

"Building camaraderie with your CPD liaison?"

"Oh, we were just..." Ray started and trailed off.

He seemed to feel warm under my hands, and I suddenly worried that I might be aggravating the irritated area Tanner had attacked on his neck. "Discussing various aspects of a murder investigation," I finished for him. I let go of Ray, giving him an apologetic pat. "I understand the inspector wished to see me."

"Yes, he's been expecting you," Edwards replied. He nodded to Ray. "Detective."

Ray gave him an inverted nod in return. "You want me to wait?" he asked. "We can get lunch."

"It is lunchtime, isn't it?" I realized. "Yes, if you would wait, I'd appreciate it. I'd like to take something home, though. Diefenbaker has been cooped up for a few hours."

"Sure, that's fine."

"You can come inside," I offered, but I knew Ray had a checkered past with this building and might not want to accompany me inside.

He shook his head. "I'm good out here."

"Please send Constable Turnbull out to relieve me," said Edwards.

I nodded. "I'll do that." I went inside and soon found Turnbull at the reception desk. "Constable..."

Turnbull got to his feet and saluted. "Good afternoon, Constable Fraser!"

"Good afternoon. Constable Edwards advised me that you're meant to relieve him."

"Yes, so I am. Thank you for the reminder." He rushed toward the front door.

"You're welcome." I continued on to Inspector Lam's office and knocked.

"Enter," Lam called. When he saw it was me, he said, "There you are, constable."

"I hope I haven't inconvenienced you by waiting so long to see you," I apologized. "You did say to come at my convenience."

"I did," he acknowledged. He opened a drawer and pulled out a file. "I have here a record which shows an overview of your career with earned time off and furloughs. Please, look it over and see whether there might be any error."

I did, and there didn't seem to be anything amiss.

"So, to clarify, you've taken very little vacation time until recently, and even so, you have a lot of days still allotted to leisure time. The RCMP is supposed to make certain that its officers are well suited to the tasks before them, and that includes getting adequate rest."

"An admirable policy, sir," I commented.

"Yes, but when a man stacks up this much vacation time and doesn't take it, it reflects rather poorly on our division of law enforcement. Even counting the weeks off here," he pointed at the file, "and this excursion here, which we may call a furlough, do you realize that you still have a shocking number of weeks through which you've inappropriately worked? You've made arrests even during allotted time off, and didn't take any bereavement leave when your father died, except to attend the funeral."

"Oh, dear."

"Exactly. Now, I won't insist that you take it all immediately, but at the very least, I want you to take two more weeks' vacation before the year is out. One will be paid."

"That's very generous, sir."

"Not at all. Will you see that you take that time off?"

"I will, sir."

"Good. Try to choose dates soon."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

I rejoined Ray outside and we went to a local delicatessen to pick up sandwiches. Along the way, I explained what the inspector had told me, and I finally confronted Ray about his recent agitation.

As it turned out, the source of Ray's discontent was Francesca. He believed he could never pursue a personal relationship with her unless I clarified my own feelings toward her. I thought he must be exaggerating the situation, but when he reprimanded me for my inattention to detail, I felt it my duty to take him seriously. I remembered how RayV had spoken to me at his house. If both Rays believed that action was required on my part, I should surely listen to them.

"We're just looking out for you," he said. "Both of you. You keep dancing around each other and someone's going to get stepped on, you know?"

I nodded. "Very well. For all our sakes, I will try to speak to Francesca about this soon."

"And don't be ambiguous."

"I won't be ambiguous."

"Lay it on the line."

"I'll be as clear as I can."

"Okay."

"By the same token, do you intend to make your feelings clear to her?"

He seemed caught off guard, but in the end he allowed that it was something he needed to do, and said it would be easier if I held up my end first. I agreed.

When we got back to my apartment, Ray set about preparing our lunch while I took Dief out for a much-needed walk. We stopped at a local linen shop which was having a sale. I chose some curtains more for their quality of fabric than for the appeal of the pattern; I wasn't at all sure that it would compliment the furniture well. But they would do for the time-being. On our return, Ray was more than ready to start eating, as was Dief, though I quickly put a stop to his begging.

For some reason, we started out discussing what else I might need for my apartment and ended up talking about people borrowing sugar and handsaws from each other. My friends are a constant source of inspiration to me, but sometimes they simply do not make sense.

After lunch, we enjoyed a pleasant visit with Ms. Tate, but I unfortunately had to refuse an offer of baked goods. Ray categorically objected to this refusal, which led to another near-argument. Ever since our worst argument, the one that had come to blows (well, one blow, to be precise), I had tried to gauge Ray's level of irritation so I could relent if we seemed in danger of reaching that point again. (And here I must add that it was twice he warned that he would punch me in the face, not five times.) Much as I value logic and principle, they are things which can sometimes wait for a more opportune time of discussion. Our friendship, however, is a more delicate thing that must be put first at all times if it is to be maintained. This is one of life's difficult lessons which I have had to learn the hard way.

On this occasion, I did not feel the threat of a crumbling friendship. I drove my points home, leading to Ray's agreeing, at last, that I was right.

"You're always right," he grumbled.

I thought that although the bulk of the discussion was over, things might smooth over more quickly if I made a peace offering. "Ray, would you like me to buy you some cookies?" I asked.

"No. That's okay. Forget it."

He was refusing to be mollified. In cases like this, I had not yet discovered a way to coax him out of his pouting, and my best strategy was to try to act as if all were back to normal and hope that he followed suit. I did give Dief a quiet scolding for his attempts at wheedling.

Thank you for your continued support. Please leave a comment if you can spare the time. ~B. Fraser