Haven't had as many readers lately and no comments. Not sure if people are scared off by how long it's getting or what. I mean, I'm a little scared at how long it's getting—I'm working on chapter 45 or so right now. Crazy. ~Ray K.

Chapter Twenty-seven: Unexpected Calls

The next day, I woke up slow. I winced when I went to roll over. My wrist was sore. So was my hand. I winced again, remembering why. And then there was that nice moment with Franny that had ended with the big throw-down over the cigarettes... which had led to a new level of friendship with Ray. Well, at least that was a pretty good end to the night before. I got up slowly and rolled my neck around, hearing it crack a couple of times. I decided to bother with real coffee again today. I wasn't in a hurry.

I was coming out of the bathroom when my landline rang. I hurried to answer it. "Hello?"

"Hello. This is MacKenzie King. Is this Detective Kowalski speaking? Or should I say Detective Vecchio?"

A little tingle went down my spine. This was the press chick Ray had such strong opinions on. "This is Detective Kowalski," I said, wondering if she could take even that out of context.

"Detective, I understand that you're investigating the Jeffrey Hall murder."

"That's correct," I said, still suspicious.

"I've heard that you were also recently involved in an attempted kidnapping."

"Who says so?" I asked.

"I'm afraid I can't reveal my source. Journalist's privilege. I'd like to interview you if you can spare the time."

I didn't like this. I was supposed to leave talking to the press to Welsh, or at least to my team leader. Whenever someone spoke out of turn, it tended to end badly. "I'd rather not do this over the phone," I stalled. "Uh... It's my day off, so I slept in a little. Can you give me your number and some time to wake up a little more, and I'll call ya back?" I probably sounded really lame.

"I'd rather not wait, especially when two-thirds of the people who say they'll call me back never do."

"Well, it's better than the alternative... I hang up on you right now."

"Don't do that." She gave me her number.

"Okay, Miz King, I'll be back with you soon."

As soon as I hung up, I dialed Ray's house. "Come on," I muttered as the phone rang several times. Finally, Tony picked up.

"Hey, Tony," I said. "It's Ray. Kowalski. Is the other Ray there?"

"They're gone to church," he answered. "Only reason I'm here is 'cause I picked up a work shift today. I was getting ready to go."

"Damn," I whispered. "Okay, uh... thanks anyway, Tony."

Of course they were at church. I knew the Vecchios attended just about every Sunday morning, and they would usually all go. When I became Ray Vecchio, they had all changed to a different church for a while, giving their home church some excuse for why they were trying a different one. It was easier for all of them to make-believe a little bit than to come up with some story for why they were calling someone new "Ray" when half the church members had known him his whole life. I'd gone to the new church with them several times, just to keep up appearances.

I thought about calling Ray's cell phone, but I thought he might kill me if I interrupted the church service. "Uh... come on, come on," I muttered to myself. Fraser. He knows her.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and ran over to Fraser's door. "Hey, Fraser," I called, knocking. I tried the knob and found that the door was actually unlocked. I went inside and found Fraser in his work jeans and flannel shirt, sitting at the now right-side-up table with a brush in his hand. There was a foodie smell in the air kinda like the cookies I'd smelled in Ms. Tate's place, but the oven wasn't on. There was a pot on the stove. Oatmeal, I guessed.

"Tell me that wasn't unlocked all night," I said, petting Dief, who had run up and licked my hand.

He blinked at me. "It... wasn't?" he said, but it sounded like a question.

"You're lying."

"You told me to tell you."

I shook my head. "Never mind. MacKenzie King wants to interview me. What do I do?"

"Well, uh... you should probably go over your case notes and decide which information is harmless to the general public, and you might want to wear something a little more formal," he said, looking significantly at my undershirt.

"No, I mean... I don't really want to talk to her at all," I said. "But she tracked me down, called me at home—on my day off, I might add. I think she wants to make sure I'll be alone. You know, without anyone around to tell me what I can and can't tell her. I don't think I should do it."

"Then don't do it."

"It's not that simple!"

"Why not?"

"Because if I refuse to see her, she'll just print something like 'When asked for a statement regarding the Hall murder, Detective Kowalski declined to comment.' Something like that. It'll make it sound like I got something to hide."

"Do you?"

"No."

"Then what's the problem?"

I brought my hands up to waist level, curled them into shaking fists and jerked them in the air. "Fraser..."

"Yes?" He looked kinda wide-eyed now, like he could see something bad coming and didn't know how to stop it.

I tried to relax. "Look, I don't wanna do it. How do I get rid of her?"

He also seemed to relax. "Well, you could tell her something diplomatic like... 'I am not at liberty to discuss ongoing investigations. Please direct any questions to my superior."

"Okay. That's good. That might work. You know her... you think it'll work?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly," I repeated. "What if it doesn't?"

He put his brush in the can of stain and put the lid on it. "If it doesn't, you may hand the phone to me," he said, pushing his chair back.

I felt my anxiety going away like bathwater down the drain. "Good. Come on."

We went across to my apartment with Dief trotting after us. I called King back and hit the speaker button on the console.

"Thank you for returning my call so quickly," she said. I have to admit, I found her voice sexy.

...But I refused to be moved. "Miz King, I'm sorry but I can't give you an interview concerning an ongoing investigation."

Before I could say anything about my superior, she said, "In that case, we can talk about your recent undercover work."

"Uh... I can't really do that either," I said, glancing at Fraser, who also looked a little unprepared for that. "Uh, my superior, Lieutenant Welsh, will be at the precinct tomorrow morning. You can ask him about... whatever."

"Yes, I'm sure he will, but has your lieutenant ever been undercover? I'm looking for the inside scoop. The man living on the edge of a knife, as told to MacKenzie King in this exclusive..."

Fraser cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Miz King."

She didn't answer for a second. "Constable Fraser, is that you?" she asked.

"Indeed it is," Fraser said. "My partner informed me that he would be speaking with you, and I'm afraid I've been privy to your entire conversation."

She laughed. "I'll just bet you have. So, are you two living together now? You got there awfully fast."

I shook my head at Fraser, waving my hands desperately. I definitely didn't want her making a story about what she was insinuating.

"No, just nearby," he answered. "If you're so intent on getting a story from someone who's been undercover, why aren't you asking Detective Vecchio for a scoop?"

She sighed. "Oh, I tried. While you were away, your pal Vecchio gave me the impression that he didn't like me very much. He talked to me over the phone once, but he wouldn't give a straight answer to anything. After that, he refused to take my calls. I tried going to see him at the hospital and then at the precinct, but he just pretended I wasn't there. Literally. Like a grade-schooler. So, you know what? I don't really like him, either."

As Fraser started to apologize for Ray's attitude toward her, I said, "Well, that settles it. If Vecchio thinks it's a bad idea to talk to you, I'm not going to, either. Like I said, you can talk to my lieutenant if you want an official statement."

"Don't make an enemy of me, Kowalski."

"Are you threatening me?"

"If I may," Fraser interrupted. "Miz King, Ray is refusing to be interviewed purely for the sake of his duty. And Ray, I'm sure she doesn't mean to seem threatening."

I rolled my eyes.

"Perhaps later on, he might be able to grant an interview, but he is obligated to remain discreet at this juncture."

After a pause, she said, "You're lucky you're so cute, Fraser."

"My grandmother told me the same."

She laughed. "Okay, boys. I'll sniff out some news someplace else for now. But the minute you've got something to say, you come to me, got it?"

"You'll be the first to know," I said, more confident now that she was on the retreat. When she had hung up, I told Fraser, "Thanks for backing me up."

"My pleasure. Care to stain some wood?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Want some coffee?"

"I would have some. Thank you kindly."

I was pouring milk into my coffee when the phone rang again and I almost dropped the jug. I quickly wiped up my little spill with one hand while I grabbed the phone with the other. "Hello?"

"Stanley."

My eyes must have gotten big. "Dad..."

"Son, where the devil have you been?"

"Um... I was gonna call. And then I got this case. And then a friend of mine was almost kidnapped..."

"You've been back for weeks! And you didn't pick up the phone to tell us?! I had to hear this from some reporter woman who's trying to get background on you for a story about your undercover work?"

I cringed. "Uh... I, uh..." This was bad. Really, really bad. I mean, us not communicating wasn't too unusual, except that I'd been in touch with them a lot before Fraser and I went north. Mom was coming over almost daily. I felt kind of stifled by it, really. I did mean to let them know I was back, but so much was going on.

Fraser held out his hand.

"Um, Dad, Fraser's here."

"Don't you try to distract me, young man," my dad growled.

Fraser must have heard, because he pulled his hand back and rubbed his neck instead.

"I'm sorry," I tried again. "It... it's just that some really big things have been going on—"

"Don't you think we'd have liked to know that? For all we knew, you were up in Greenland or someplace..."

"I know, I know," I said, almost pleading with him. "I wanna tell you everything that's been going on. It's just been a lot. Look, why don't you head over here right now and I'll tell you all about it. Everything. Okay?" I'm sure my face was a grimace while I waited on tender hooks for him to answer.

[Fraser says it's "tenterhooks." I don't know what the hell those are, but I'll take his word for it.]

Finally, he said, "Here's your mother."

Then I heard my mom's voice. "Stanley, sweetie..."

"Mom..." I had to stop myself from reminding her to call me Ray. "I'm sorry," I said. "I know you must have been really worried and I should have let you know as soon as we got back. It's just been one thing after another. I told Dad you could come over now if you want. I don't have to go to the station today."

"Well, I think we can do that," she said. "It's good to hear your voice, son."

I kinda teared up then, more out of guilt than because I'd missed them much. "Yeah... I'm really sorry."

Fraser held out his hand again.

"Mom, Fraser's here..."

"Well, if you're having company, we shouldn't impose..."

"No. It's fine. I'll explain everything when you get here, okay?"

Fraser put his hand down.

"Okay. We'll see you soon, sweetheart. Love you."

I hated myself for hesitating. "Love you too," I said, kind of rushing to make up for it. I hung up. "Damn it, damn it, damn it..."

Fraser reached over and patted my shoulder. "I didn't realize they didn't know. I should have asked if you'd been in touch with them yet..."

"No, it's not your fault. I'm their son. I should have called them. Who goes out of the country for over a month and doesn't call his folks when he gets back? Me, that's who."

"You did call them from Canada."

"Yeah... forever ago. Last time I did, we were on King William Island with really bad reception."

"But they're coming over now?"

"Yeah."

"Perhaps I should leave."

I shook my head. "No. Please, don't leave."

"Ray, there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Easy for you to say—your parents are dead!" I froze. "Uh... sorry, that... that wasn't..."

"It's all right."

"Look, uh... let's work on your table until they get here, okay? I need something to keep me busy."

Twenty minutes or so later, we heard knocking on my door and I went to open Fraser's. "Over here," I said.

My parents turned around, looking confused.

"Did you change apartments?" Mom asked.

Dad looked inside. "No, I'd say this one is Fraser's, am I right?"

"Yeah, come on in," I said. "Fraser just moved in... that's one of the big things that's been going on. He's been looking for a place for a while, and I told him this one was vacant, so..."

Fraser met us away from the newspaper-covered zone and shook hands with my parents. "It's good to see you again, Mister and Missus Kowalski," he said in his charming way. "I'm terribly sorry that Ray and I failed to alert you when we returned to the states. It's utterly inexcusable."

"I don't blame you," Dad said pointedly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I repeated, trying to sound more sorry each time. "It took me a while to get stuff in order... my utility bills and my rent and everything... and then I was helping Ray Vecchio wrap up the case he was working on, and then Francesca almost got kidnapped..."

"What?" Mom exclaimed. "Francesca? Is she all right?"

"She's fine."

"Your son was instrumental in seeing that she was unharmed," Fraser put in, smiling. "You should be proud of him."

"Well, we're already proud of him," Mom said. "But... what happened? Was it very dangerous?"

"Um, kinda," I said, not wanting to give her the details. "But we've been trying to nail the guys who set it up, and that's been taking most of my time. Plus, we've got another case now; a murder that looks like one that happened like ten years ago or something."

"I believe it was eight years," Fraser corrected.

"Is that the man with the cut throat?" Dad asked, and Mom made this real squeamish expression. She's not so good with stuff like that. "I read about it in the paper. Vecchio's handling that case, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but he's my supervisor now, so we're working on it together."

Mom smiled at that. "The two Ray Vecchios, working together. And you still have your Mountie friend."

"Yeah. Still unofficial, but still one of the best guys we have working with us."

"Thank you, Ray," said Fraser.

I shrugged. "You know it's true."

Fraser invited them to sit down and got talking to my dad about the table. Before long, we were taking turns with the stain brushes and things got less tense. We told them about our adventures in Canada. There was really too much to tell all at once. Even though Dad didn't seem totally ready to forgive me, he did seem to understand just how much I'd been dealing with since coming home.

When it got to be lunchtime, Mom offered to make us something.

"No, Barbara," Dad said quickly. "We don't want to impose on Constable Fraser."

"It's no imposition," Fraser said, "but I'm afraid I don't have many ingredients available with which to cook. I'd planned to have a sandwich for lunch."

"I can always cook in Stanley's apartment," she suggested.

"Uh, Mom... it's kind of messy in there," I said, knowing how she'd scold me when she saw the place.

"We'll come again some other time," said Dad. "Just don't wait so long to call us, next time," he said to me.

"Yeah, I... I won't," I said, feeling guilty again.

Mom hugged me tight and kissed my cheek. "We're so glad you're home safe. And Benton, too."

"I know. I'll call you soon."

I shook my dad's hand... I thought at first he wasn't going to offer it to me.

"You two take care," he said, not quite looking me in the eye.

"Okay, Dad."

I closed the door after them, leaned on it and shut my eyes. "Why do I screw everything up, Fraser?"

"I can't give you a reason for something that doesn't exist, Ray."

"Huh?"

"You don't screw everything up."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Sandwich?"

"Sure."

Enjoying the ride? Let me know. ~Ray K.