CHAPTER 3
The next morning, Fraser was awake much later than normal, but he felt very refreshed. He couldn't remember a night when he'd slept so well and he set about chopping some more firewood. He'd already lit a fire and there was a kettle of water fast approaching boiling point. He decided not to deliberately wake Ray, but he assumed that the sound of the axe would eventually rouse him. He quickly made a small pile of chopped wood, almost enough for today, he thought, when suddenly he heard a voice. "Morning son." Fraser jumped and quickly turned around, clutching one hand to his chest.
"Dad!" He exclaimed, "I have an axe in my hand! I could have..." but as Fraser's train of thought was completely lost at the sight of his father's ghost. "What on earth are you wearing?"
Usually Bob Fraser appeared in his Mountie dress uniform, but today he was wearing khaki shorts and a shirt with walking boots and knee high chunky knit socks. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ah, fresh air, the sound of the birds, the smell of...". He stopped and looked down at himself before addressing his son again. "We're in the countryside, Benton, I thought the red serge might look at bit out of place."
"It looks out of place in Chicago, Dad and anyway, I'm the only one who can see you, in case you'd forgotten." Benton shook his head. "Is there something I can do for you?" he said and started to chop another log. He was beginning to get annoyed with the presence of his father already.
"No son, no, I'm going for a walk in the woods," continued Bob, "I just thought I'd stop by and see if, um, that is I wanted to make sure that you were alright."
Benton threw down his axe and turned to face his father again. "Please tell me you weren't here last night." He was really struggling to keep from yelling at the ghost. "I am entitled to privacy, you know."
"Credit me with some decency," said Bob, looking a little hurt. "I only dropped by for a minute, but the Yank seemed to have things under control."
Benton stood motionless and faced his father. "I don't want to talk about it any more Dad, not with you anyway. I don't need to talk about it any more."
Bob shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortably at the floor. "Good, I mean that's good for you son," he said. "I'll be off then," he turned and started walking towards the trees, but stopped and turned back to watch his son who had, once again, returned to chopping wood. "If it means anything to you Benton, I think you did the right thing. What I mean is...what I'm trying to say is...is that I'm proud of you Son."
Fraser pretended he hadn't heard because he was in danger of becoming emotional again and he didn't want to do that in front of his father. When he finally did look up, the ghost had gone. Fraser allowed himself a small smile. He turned around to see Ray's head poking out of the tent. "Good morning Ray!"
"What time is it?" croaked Ray, rubbing one eye.
Fraser looked at his watch. "It's almost seven thirty Ray!" he exclaimed, as if they were terribly late for something.
Ray made a groaning noise and hung his head. "Gimme five minutes," he said and crawled back into the tent to get dressed.
"Are we going to go and collect some eggs for breakfast?" Fraser called after him. He heard a muffled 'Mmmm' from Ray. The water was boiling away now and Fraser got their mugs. "Tea Ray?" he called out again, hesitating before adding, "or coffee."
Ray's head darted out of the tent, "You brought coffee?" he asked, not sure if maybe Fraser was cruelly teasing him. Fraser nodded. "Thanks buddy!" grinned Ray. He emerged from the tent a few moments later and Fraser handed him a steaming cup of coffee. Ray fished around in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful his usual unorthodox choice of sweeteners, throwing them into the cup with a splash. He looked at Fraser who was blowing on his mug of tea. "You OK?" he asked, gingerly.
"Ray," began Fraser, sitting down on a log, "can we agree on one thing?" Ray shrugged and sat himself down. "Please stop asking me if I'm alright." Ray nodded. "Really Ray, I'm fine." Ray nodded again. "Look, Ray," Fraser hesitated a moment, "I apologise if what happened last night in any way, disturbed or shocked you." Ray started to speak, but Fraser put his hand up to stop his friend. "To be honest, I shocked myself," he went on, looking uncomfortably at the floor, "but I realise now that I needed to do that. I've needed to do that for such a long time and I can't thank you enough, but I really, really want to move on from Victoria now." He lifted his head and looked at Ray. "Are we agreed?"
Ray nodded again. "Agreed," he said. He could tell just by looking at his partner that something had changed. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but it was definitely a good thing, he concluded. Fraser somehow seemed less troubled. He knew that his friend still had to cope with everything that had happened, that was never going to go away, but Ray really hoped that having had the opportunity to put his feelings into words, it would be easier for him from now on.
"Thank you," said Fraser, smiling at his friend, before adding, "your turn next."
Ray stared at him. "I'll need a few more of these first," he said, nodding towards his now empty coffee mug.
"Understood." Fraser got to his feet as he spoke and extinguished the fire. "Let's go and get those eggs. I'm hungry." They wandered up the path through the orchard to the farmhouse with Diefenbaker bounding off ahead. Every now and again, Dief would take a detour, chasing a squirrel or some other animal and Fraser ran after him on a couple of occasions, shouting encouragement. He was pleased to see that his wolf hadn't gone completely soft over the last few years. It took them less than ten minutes to get from their campsite back to the farmhouse. As they approached the house, Fraser saw a blue vehicle driving off down the dusty driveway. They walked round the other side of the house towards the chicken sheds, but they couldn't see anyone about.
"I thought Buxley said his farm hands would be here early?" said Ray, "What were their names again?"
"Their Farm Manager is Jorge and the new man is Jack, I believe," replied Fraser. "We'll go back to the house and see if anyone is about." Ray nodded and they started back towards the house, but just then, a young woman with long dark straight hair opened the door and stepped out carrying a basket of laundry. She stopped suddenly as she saw Ray and Fraser. "I'm sorry ma'am," began Fraser, holding out his hand, "you must be Maria. I'm terribly sorry to have startled you. My name is Benton Fraser, we're camping here this weekend and Mr Buxley mentioned something about fresh eggs for breakfast?"
"Yes," the woman put down her laundry basket as she spoke, "you're the Mounties." She had quite a heavy South American accent.
"He's the Mountie, I'm just a regular cop," clarified Ray with a grin, "Ray Kowalski."
"Sorry," replied Maria, "Jorge and Jack should be down there somewhere, I saw them both arrive this morning. Wendy woke me up early."
"I believe that babies are good at that," acknowledged Fraser with a smile, turning to look over his shoulder at Diefenbaker, who was barking and running towards them, before turning and heading back in the opposite direction. "Dief!" he shouted at the wolf, "just go and do it will you, nobody is watching you." Dief came bounding right up to Fraser. "Dief, please..." but suddenly Fraser's face changed. He dropped to one knee and looked directly at Dief. "What is it?" he asked, suddenly serious. Dief barked and growled. Fraser got to his feet and Ray, sensing something was wrong stepped closer to his partner. "Show me," Fraser instructed and Dief went running off towards some trees that were directly behind the largest of the chicken sheds, quickly followed by Fraser and Ray.
"What's wrong?" called Maria, starting to walk in the same direction.
"Dunno yet," Ray yelled back over his shoulder. Fraser and Dief had already disappeared behind the biggest shed and as Ray caught up with them he stopped in his tracks. Fraser was kneeling down next to the body of a young man lying in a pool of blood. Ray could see a single stab wound to the man's chest. His eyes were still open, but Ray could clearly see that the man was dead. Fraser glanced at Ray, shook his head and gently closed the man's eyelids. Just then Maria caught up with them. Ray turned, trying to stop her seeing the body, but it was too late. She screamed and Ray gently took her by the shoulders and steered her back towards the house a little.
"Jack!" cried Maria, "That was Jack, is he dead? Oh no...Jorge, where's Jorge?" She screamed again.
"I'm sorry," said Ray. This wasn't meant to be happening on their trip, he sighed.
Milford and Gloria had heard the screaming and came running out of the house. Gloria was still in her dressing gown and was carrying baby Wendy. "What's happened?" asked Milford.
Fraser came around the corner of the shed and held out his hand to stop Milford going any further. Maria was crying hysterically and Gloria was trying to comfort her with her free hand. "I'm so terribly sorry," began Fraser, "but I'm afraid Jack is dead." Milford staggered slightly and drew a breath sharply. Tears welled in Gloria's eyes. "May I suggest that you telephone the Sheriff," Fraser continued, "It would appear that he's been murdered." Ray had a feeling he was going to say that.
"Oh no!" exclaimed Gloria and Milford put his arm around her. Diefenbaker had run off into the trees, but was now running back, barking. Gloria led Maria back towards the house to call the Sheriff.
"Dief be quiet," Fraser hissed, "show some respect," but Dief ran right up to Fraser and jumped at him, growling. This time it was Ray who spoke to the wolf. "Where, Dief?" Diefenbaker headed back into the trees and Fraser, Ray and Milford Buxley all followed him. Ray and Fraser had a bad feeling they were not going to like what Dief was trying to show them. They were right. Lying on a grassy patch between two trees was another body. More blood, thought Ray, steeling himself.
"You might wanna stay back there," Ray said to Buxley.
"Jorge," said Buxley, his voice barely a whisper. "Oh no," he hung his head.
Fraser knelt beside the body, but as he got close enough he heard a noise. "Dief quiet!" he instructed. He bent forward and put his ear closer to the man's chest then placed two fingers on the man's neck to feel for a pulse. "Ray, he's still alive!"
Ray could hardly believe it. There was a stab wound in the man's abdomen that was pouring blood out onto the grass. His head had been beaten so badly that the side of his face and neck had swollen to such an horrific extent so as he was barely recognisable. A really vicious attack, thought Ray, they must have used a heavy weapon. Jorge was clearly struggling to breathe and was making a whistling, rasping sound with each tiny breath that he took. "Buxley," Ray yelled, tossing the older man his car keys, "First aid kit, in the trunk of my car and get an ambulance!" Buxley caught the keys and went puffing back towards the GTO, shouting through the open window at his wife to call for an ambulance. Ray dropped to his knees next to Fraser. "Is he gonna make it?" he asked, trying not to look at all the blood. Ray wasn't very good in these sort of situations.
Fraser was busy assessing Jorge's injuries. "I don't know Ray" he said, folding his handkerchief into four and pressing it down onto the wound in the man's abdomen. He put his ear to the man's chest again, the rasping noise had stopped. "He's barely breathing," he said. Ray's heart sank. "Here, take over," Fraser indicated the now blood soaked handkerchief to Ray. Ray hesitated slightly, he really did not want to take over at all, he started to feel a little faint. "Ray!" Fraser's voice jolted Ray into action. "Firm, even pressure," continued Fraser. Ray nodded, took a deep breath and pressed down onto the wound.
Buxley returned with the first aid kit and handed it to Fraser who began hurriedly rummaging through it. He took out a small jar containing a green coloured paste. That's one of those Inuit concoctions, thought Ray, although he had no idea what it was for. Ray reached across with his free hand and took a thick cotton dressing pad from the first aid kit, tore off the wrapper with his teeth and quickly pressed the pad down over the wound. Fraser lowered his ear to Jorge's chest once again. "He's stopped breathing, do you have a pen?" asked Fraser, urgently, glancing at his watch. A pen, thought Ray, is he going to write him a note? Buxley reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. "Perfect" said Fraser, grabbing the pen and taking it apart. He took out his knife from the pocket of his jeans and began wiping the blade and the barrel of the pen quickly, but thoroughly, with the green paste.
"Fraser, what is that stuff? What are you doin'?" asked Ray, suddenly more concerned, although he didn't really want to know the answer to that last part.
Fraser looked up at his friend. "It has sterilizing properties," he began, rubbing a vertical line of the green paste on the man's throat just below his Adam's Apple. He knew Ray wasn't going to like this, but he had to do something, quickly. "The severity of the swelling is preventing him from breathing," he explained. Fraser knew that an attempt at mouth to mouth resuscitation would be futile in this instance. He glanced at his watch again. "The human brain can only survive without oxygen for around four minutes," he said, hurriedly taking another cotton dressing pad from it's wrapper, "I need to open his airway."
Ray nodded and refocussed his attention on the wound. "Firm, even pressure," he muttered under his breath. "Firm, even pressure," he said again and kept repeating it over and over. Anything to take is mind off whatever the hell it was that Fraser was doing to the man's throat with his pocketknife and that pen. "Firm, even pressure..."
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Fraser and Ray watched as Jorge was loaded into the back of the ambulance. He had been attached to various pieces of apparatus, but he was still alive. One of the medics darted over to them. "Nice work," he said. "I guess you've had to improvise one of those before, Doctor?" he asked.
"No, actually," said Fraser, "and it's Constable," he corrected, "Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP." The medic looked confused.
Ray addressed the medic, "I'm guessin' he read about it in a library book," he said, looking at Fraser for confirmation. His partner nodded. The medic's colleague shouted that they were ready to go and he jumped into the back of the ambulance in stunned silence.
Milford Buxley walked up to them. He looked very pale. "I'm going to follow the ambulance," he said, "I'll call if there's any news. Thank you," he said grabbing Fraser's hand and shaking it vigorously, "he's one of the family." Fraser nodded. "Please look after my girls," said Buxley, turning and heading over to his truck.
"We will," Ray called after him and they began walking back towards the house where Gloria and Maria were standing. Maria was still very upset and Gloria was hugging her tightly. Baby Wendy, oblivious to the terrible events that had unfolded that morning, was sleeping quietly in the house. Ray glanced at Fraser who, despite outward appearances was a little shaken, Ray could tell. "You OK?" he asked.
"Ray," began Fraser, "I thought we agreed that you weren't going to ask me that any more."
"Y'know what I mean," said Ray, seriously. That was one of the most incredible things he'd ever seen his partner do and Fraser did some pretty incredible things at times. This one took some guts, thought Ray.
Fraser took a deep breath. "I just hope he's going to be alright," he said, quietly.
They joined Gloria and Maria, just as the black bag containing the body of Jack, their young farm hand, was being carried around to the waiting van. "Perhaps we should go inside," said Fraser, putting his hand on Gloria's back and quickly steering her and Maria in the opposite direction. He didn't want them to see that, they'd already had enough to deal with. Gloria led them all into their large living room. It was furnished with a mixture of antique and home made furniture, observed Fraser. Milford Buxley was quite the craftsman, he thought.
"Please sit down, I'll go and make some..." began Gloria Buxley, but she was interrupted by the Sheriff who had followed them into the house.
"Right, I'm just about done here, but some of my men will be here for a while collecting evidence," she said. Sheriff Aisling O'Callaghan was a few years older than Fraser and Ray and was a no nonsense woman. There was something about her that Ray didn't like. She had the wrong attitude to police work, he thought, and that's something coming from me, he acknowledged to himself. "I've got all your statements," she continued, "don't leave town." She addressed Fraser and Ray directly with that last statement.
"Shoulda let me pack all those socks," muttered Ray to his partner. Clearly the Sheriff wasn't one to trust outsiders easily.
"If there's anything we can do Sheriff, please let us know," said Fraser, smiling.
"Thank you Constable," she replied, "but I think we can handle this by ourselves. We do know what we're doing, you know."
Ray sneered as she walked out the door. Gloria went into the kitchen and Maria sat silently on the sofa. "Um, are you OK?" Ray asked her, "I mean, all that was pretty unpleasant for ya."
Maria looked up at him. "Yes thank you," she said, rather unconvincingly. Ray glanced at Fraser.
"I imagine you're worried about Jorge," began Fraser, "are you two good friends? Mr Buxley has expressed how he is part of the family."
Maria nodded. "He was kind to me when I came here," she explained, "it was good to have someone from my home country who speaks my language. My English was not very good."
"Er, I don't mean to be, y'know, ignorant or nothin'" said Ray, "but where are ya from, originally I mean?"
"Brazil," replied Maria. "Jorge told me he moved here as a boy with his family. I came here a few years ago and found work as a waitress," she explained. "I was working at a college where Dan was giving one of his lectures and that's how we met."
"Is there any way you can contact your husband?" asked Fraser, "he may wish to consider returning home early, under the circumstances."
"Yes," replied Maria with a smile, "of course. I have the number of his hotel." She jumped up and went out of the room to make the telephone call.
Just then, Gloria returned with a tray of cups. "Poor dear," she said quietly. "She is going to take this really hard. I just hope Jorge is going to be alright. Can I get you boys something to eat, you haven't had breakfast, have you?"
"That's quite alright Mrs Buxley," replied Fraser, "I'm really not hungry any more. Ray?"
Ray agreed, "Me neither," he said. Diefenbaker made a quiet barking noise and ran over to Gloria. "Nothin' puts the wolf off his breakfast," said Ray, with a tiny smile. Gloria went back to the kitchen and found some corn chips which she began feeding to Dief. Fraser rolled his eyes, but under the circumstances decided to remain silent.
Maria returned a few moments later. "Dan is trying to get a flight back this afternoon," she said.
"Oh wonderful," Gloria's face lit up at the mention of her son, "we're so proud of him. Daniel didn't even meet Jack," she added, sadly, "he's been away on his lecture tour for nearly two months now. We do miss him, don't we Maria."
Maria nodded, then her face crumbled and she burst into tears. She turned and ran out of the room. Gloria excused herself and went after her. Fraser turned to Ray. "Well Ray, " he said, "what do you think?"
"C'mon Fraser," replied Ray, "we have no jurisdiction here. I mean, you have even less jurisdiction than normal and normally ya have,y'know, no jurisdiction."
"That makes no sense Ray." Fraser said.
Ray looked at him. "OK then, spill," he said, "who did it?"
"Ray, you can't possibly expect me to have solved this crime already?" Fraser frowned at his partner. "I have, however, made one or two observations. I assume you noticed the tyre tracks?"
"Oh yeah Fraser, the tyre tracks," replied Ray, sarcastically shaking his head. "Can we just pretend for a minute that I was not looking at the tyre tracks and, um, maybe you could tell me about them?"
Fraser sighed. "Well, apart from the tracks for the ambulance, the vehicles belonging to the Sheriff's department, Mr Buxley's truck and your GTO, there was a distinctive set of tyre tracks, presumably belonging to the blue van we saw leaving this morning as we walked up to the house." Ray nodded, trying to keep up. "The rear wheels of the vehicle are clearly unbalanced, suggesting that the vehicle has been taken off road and the balancing has either been knocked by the poor road conditions, or there is a build up of mud or similar material on the rim."
"A lotta people round here go off road Fraser, y'know, comes with the territory," said Ray.
"Agreed," nodded Fraser, "however most people who frequently drive in such conditions would have a four wheel drive vehicle. The van was two wheel drive." Ray took this information in with a shrug.
"So you're suggestin' the perp is from out of town?" asked Ray.
"Quite possibly Ray," nodded Fraser, "I also believe that we are looking for two criminals."
"Why d'ya say that, Fraser?" enquired Ray.
"Well, the two victims were both stabbed, however the wounds were clearly made by different weapons," continued Fraser. "Poor Jack had a single stab wound made by a military style knife with a seven inch blade which would have easily pierced his heart, killing him instantly. The wound was inflicted precisely and efficiently." Ray listened with interest. It had been as much as he could do to look at the man's body, without paying such attention to the actual wound, the one with all the blood. Ray shuddered. "However," Fraser was still talking, "The most serious of Jorge's injuries were to his head and neck, caused by a vicious attack with a heavy, blunt object such as a hammer. The stab wound that he had in his abdomen was inflicted by a much shorter knife with a blade that hadn't been sharpened in some time. Also, although the wound was bleeding heavily, it was not even close to any major organs, suggesting that it was inflicted randomly with little thought or precision. This would suggest two attackers, each with a different preferred, or possibly even tried and tested method for killing."
"But why Fraser?" asked Ray, "where's the motive? Looks like nothin' was stolen so it wasn't a robbery?"
"I have no idea at this juncture," replied Fraser with a sigh.
"So are ya gonna share all that with Sheriff Rottweiler?" asked Ray.
"I did mention the tyre tracks to her earlier, although she didn't seem that interested. The details regarding the weapons will become apparent during the autopsy." Fraser stated. It was fairly obvious to both of them that the Sheriff wasn't interested in their help. Nor should she be, thought Fraser, a competent Sheriff's Department can quite easily run a homicide investigation.
Just then, Gloria returned with the baby. "I told Maria to go back to bed for a while," she explained, "Wendy has been keeping her up in the night, I think she's teething. Maria thinks we don't hear, but we do. I wish she'd ask for more help, we'd be happy to have Wendy in our room for a night to let Maria get some sleep. She's not coping very well with Daniel being away all the time. She's so happy that he's on his way home today."
"She does look, um, tired," agreed Ray. "I guess she's real worried about Jorge too and she saw Jack, I tried to stop her, y'know, stop her seein' the body, but I was too late. Sorry. No one should have to deal with a thing like that." I wish I didn't have to, Ray added silently.
"It's a terrible business," agreed Gloria, "we hardly knew Jack, he'd only been with us a few weeks, but he seemed nice. Quiet though. Sheriff O'Callaghan said she was going to try to track down his family. I'm afraid we don't have any details."
"How long has Jorge been working for you?" asked Fraser.
"Almost ten years," replied Gloria, smiling. "he used to live here originally, but a little place in town came up a few years ago and I suppose he wanted his privacy. He's always here though, I don't know what we'd do without him." Gloria's voice cracked as she spoke.
"Hey," Ray placed his hand gently on her shoulder, "I think he's a tough guy, ya gotta, y'know, stay positive." Ray tried to sound as reassuring as he could. The truth was he couldn't believe Jorge was still alive when they'd found him this morning He'd seen people take far less of a beating and die on the streets of Chicago.
Gloria smiled and nodded. "I know Maria gets upset about what people say about them," she said.
Fraser looks puzzled. "About Maria and Jorge? What do people say about them?"
Gloria looked up at him. "They think she's, well, you know, going behind my son's back with Jorge. It's complete nonsense. I've seen them together. She loves Daniel, she would never cheat on him. Some people in town assume because they're, you know, from another country that they're bad people."
Ray shook his head. That sort of bigotry made him mad. They'd seen so many senseless crimes in Chicago committed for purely racial reasons. How can human beings be so cruel to each other? He thought.
"Maria said that Jorge helped her when she arrived here," said Fraser.
"Yes," agreed Gloria, "she was very nervous at first. It must have been difficult for her, struggling with the language and that sort of thing, but Jorge has been a great comfort to her. I think she had a difficult childhood in Brazil, I know her mother is dead, but she never speaks about her family."
They chatted for a while, eventually accepting Gloria's offer of some homemade cake. The telephone rang and Gloria went to answer it. As soon as she left the room, baby Wendy started to cry. Fraser picked her up and started walking around the room with her, making silly noises and pulling faces and she soon stopped crying and was giggling at him. Ray watched them. Lucky kid, he thought to himself, she hasn't got a clue what's happened here today. Gloria came back into the room. "That was Milford," she said, "Jorge's out of surgery and the doctors are very hopeful."
"Oh that is good news," Fraser smiled.
"He's still very ill though," continued Gloria, "he can't breath on his own yet and they're worried about swelling on his brain, his skull is badly damaged, so they're going to keep him unconscious for at least another twenty four hours." Guess he won't be able to tell anyone what happened for a while then, thought Ray. "They told Milford to come home, I suppose he's getting in their way." Gloria added with a small smile.