CHAPTER 4

A few hours later, Milford Buxley had returned to the house and Maria had got out of bed again. She looked a little better for some rest, observed Fraser. Gloria had rustled up a meal for them all and they were sitting around the table, although nobody was very hungry.

"This is greatness, thanks," smiled Ray, trying to be polite. Fraser nodded in agreement, with a mouthful of food.

"I'm so sorry that we're spoiling your vacation," said Milford.

"It's not your fault at all, think nothing of it," replied Fraser.

"Yeah, we were only goin' fishin' today," said Ray, "and Fraser tells me fishin' is borin' so it's OK." The others laughed. Somehow they couldn't imagine Ray sitting by a riverbank for hours on end. Secretly Ray couldn't help but be relieved that he hadn't had to have that conversation with Fraser today, the one about Stella, although of course Ray would have preferred a different excuse than the terrible events that had occurred.

"Gloria and I were talking just now," continued Milford, "and we would like it very much if you two would stay in the house tonight. We would hate to think of you in your tent when there's a murderer on the loose and, to be perfectly honest, we'd all feel safer too."

"I'm afraid there are no beds in our spare room though, we mainly use it for storage." Gloria added.

"That's not a problem," replied Fraser, "we'll go and get our bedrolls. Thank you kindly."

Shortly Fraser and Ray wandered back down to their campsite and packed up a few things. They made sure that Milford locked the door after they'd left. Most of the area behind the house had been cordoned off as a crime scene. They still had no idea of the identity of the attackers, nor of their motive and there was no guarantee that the murderer or murderers wouldn't return. They got back to the house just in time to see Sheriff O'Callaghan pulling up outside. "Good afternoon Sheriff" called Fraser. Ray scowled, Fraser dug him in the ribs with his elbow.

"Constable," acknowledged the Sheriff, "are the Buxley's at home? I have some information about the dead guy." Ray shook his head, the man's body was barely cold, even he wouldn't sound so disrespectful, he thought, would he? They all went into the house and sat around the table. The Sheriff opened a file of paperwork and Ray tried his best to read it upside down. "We were trying to track down his next of kin," the Sheriff began, "but every search we tried came up with nothing. There's no trace of a Jack Stockard matching his age anywhere."

"That's odd," said Milford Buxley, a little puzzled, "that's the name on all of his references?"

"Can we see those?" asked Fraser. The Sheriff glared at him, but nodded in agreement. Gloria went to find the paperwork.

"So," continued the Sheriff, as Gloria came back with the references, "we ran his fingerprints and guess what? His name is James Glenn Travis and he's been in and out of juvenile detention for most of his life."

Gloria looked shocked, "but he seemed so nice?" she said, passing a piece of paper across the table. "Look, this is his reference from the college in Chicago. He said he dropped out because he couldn't afford to support himself any longer?"

Ray glanced at the letter. "This college changed it's name ten years ago," he said, showing it to Fraser, who nodded. "It's a fake." Milford hung his head.

"Anyone can make a mistake," said Fraser, supportively. "What were his crimes?" Fraser asked the Sheriff.

"Narcotics mainly," she replied, adding, "automobile theft, robbery and vandalism."

"Nothing particularly violent, then," observed Fraser, "have you run a list of his known associates?"

"Of course," replied Sheriff O'Callaghan, rather indignantly. "Most of them are in jail. Reports at the time said he had a habit of getting in with the wrong crowd."

"D'ya think maybe someone from, er, from the old days found him here Fraser?" asked Ray, "doesn't really explain the motive though?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea," admitted Fraser. Sheriff O'Callaghan stood up to leave. "Have you managed to trace the blue van yet?" Fraser enquired.

"No," she replied, flatly, "there's lots of vans around here. Now if you'll excuse me I have a killer to catch."

"Glad we can work together on this one!" Ray called out to her after she's closed the front door.

"Ray," Fraser said in a stern voice, "technically we are still suspects in this case, I do not believe it would be appropriate for the Sheriff to accept our professional help in this investigation." Ray sighed, of course Fraser was right. Just then the telephone rang and Milford got up to answer it. He returned looking rather down.

"What is it?" asked Gloria, urgently, "it's not Jorge is it?"

"No no dear," replied Milford, "that was Daniel, he can't get a flight out until 10.30 tonight, so he won't be back until the early hours."

Maria's face sank. "I just want him home," she whispered. Gloria put her arm around her.

It had been a very difficult day for everyone and after chatting together for a while, they all decided to go to bed early. Fraser and Ray went around all the doors and windows ensuring the house was as secure as possible and then they arranged their bedrolls on the floor of the spare room and settled for the night. "Not exactly the kinda campin' trip we had in mind Fraser," said Ray with a small smile.

"It's been interesting so far," agreed Fraser. He turned out the light and tried to go to sleep, but there were so many different things going around in his mind that he was having some difficulty. Diefenbaker came over and lay down next to him. Fraser patted his side and rubbed his ears. He kept thinking about the tragedy that had occurred that morning. This family seemed like such nice people, it wasn't fair at all that they had to deal with all of this. He thought about Jorge and hoped that he would be alright. He was very concerned about Maria. She seemed to be missing her husband so desperately and she clearly wasn't sleeping well and that was before a man was murdered another one beaten half to death. She seemed determined not to accept too much help from Gloria and Milford although she clearly needed a break to get her mind focussed. There was something else too, he thought, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, something that ran much deeper than missing her husband or coping with a baby. As he was finishing that thought, he heard baby Wendy start to cry. Fraser sighed.

After a few minutes Ray poked his head out from his sleeping bag. "This is why we never had kids," he said and pulled the covers back over his head. Evidently, Ray had not been able to sleep either.

"No it isn't," replied Fraser glancing across at his friend, hoping he hadn't spoken out of turn.

Ray pulled the sleeping bag down again and sighed. "Stella was right, she woulda been terrible at it."

"What about you?" enquired Fraser, "Do you regret not having children?"

"Me?" replied Ray with an ironic laugh, "It didn't matter what I wanted and no, I don't regret not havin' kids with Stella coz, um, coz now look what they'd be goin' through. Y'know, parents divorced I mean." Fraser nodded. "Anyway, I still got plenty of time. Thing is Fraser," Ray continued, "I look back and I dunno why we ever got married in the first place, I mean we didn't agree on anything? The only thing, er, the only thing we ever did together was the dancin' and dancin' is not enough, y'know, to make a marriage is it?"

"Well I wouldn't know," began Fraser, wistfully, "but I'm inclined to agree."

"So why do I still think about her?" Ray said a little despondently. "I mean why do I keep wishin' we were still together if we were so bad together?"

"Ray, there must have been good times?" offered Fraser.

Ray smiled. "Yeah," he said quietly, "there were." He pulled the covers over his head again and tried to block out the sound of the baby crying. "Is that baby OK d'ya think?" he asked Fraser.

"I believe she's teething Ray, it makes a baby very fractious, particularly at night," Fraser explained, "You know I once carried a teething baby around in the snow for five hours before he went to sleep." Ray sat up as Fraser continued. "The father was off on a hunting trip and the mother had called me to help with their broken television aerial."

"Ya have TV in the Northern, er, Yukon, er, whatever it's called?" Ray said in disbelief.

"Well of course we do," replied Fraser, "how else would we watch the curling?" Ray groaned at the mention of curling. "Anyway," continued Fraser, "baby Intusq would only settle if he was upright and moving around so I wrapped him up, strapped him to my back and took him for a walk."

"For five hours," repeated Ray, incredulously. Wendy appeared to getting more distressed by the minute.

"Yes Ray. Of course babies are attuned to their mother's emotions," Fraser said, bringing the subject back around, "so if Maria is upset then Wendy is picking up on that." He was resisting the urge to go and see if he could help, hoping that Maria would be able to calm her child on her own. Just then he and Ray heard Maria's raised voice, she was clearly beginning to get desperate.

Ray sat upright. "What's she sayin'?"

"It's Portuguese," replied Fraser, shaking his head, "I'm a little rusty." They listened for a bit longer. "It's no good," he said finally, leaping up and pulling on his jeans, "I'm going to see what I can do." He went out of the bedroom and stopped in the bathroom, filling a small beaker with tepid water and picking up a clean face cloth.

Fraser knocked on Maria's door, but she didn't answer. "Maria," he called out, still no reply. Maybe she can't hear me over the noise, he thought. He heard Maria yelling at the baby again. That word he did recognise, she was repeating the Portuguese word for 'Stop'. Fraser slowly opened the door and stepped into the room. The light was turned down low, but he could see that Wendy was lying in her cot, crying and kicking her legs about. Maria was sitting on the edge of her bed weeping and she had her hands over her ears. She was wearing nothing but a thin gown and Fraser suddenly blushed and averted his eyes, feeling awkward for having walked into her room like that. He put the beaker of water down on the side table and picked the baby up out of her cot. "Maria," he said again. This time she looked up at him.

"Please make her stop." She spoke in English this time, her eyes pleading for help.

Fraser laid Wendy down on the bed next to Maria. "She's a little feverish," he said, "we need to lower her temperature." He got down onto his knees and began undoing the fastenings on the baby's sleepsuit. Maria just sat and watched. Fraser dipped the cloth into the water and began to gently wipe it over Wendy's face and body, helping her to feel cooler. He looked over at Maria hoping she would offer to take over, but she didn't. The baby seemed a little calmer, but was still crying intermittently.

"I'm a bad mother," announced Maria suddenly.

"No, that's not true," replied Fraser, a little more sternly that he had meant to.

"Gloria thinks so," continued Maria.

"Not at all," Fraser spoke a little more gently now. "Is that why you refuse her help so often? Because you think she will consider you a bad mother?" Maria lowered her head and nodded. "There's nothing shameful in asking for help," said Fraser. He put the wet cloth down. "There," he said, "let's just keep her clothing undone for a minute." Wendy was still crying a little and kicking her legs about.

"Thank you," Maria spoke quietly.

"May I try something else?" enquired Fraser. Maria looked up at him. "It may help ease her discomfort," Fraser went on, "an Inuit technique very similar to the ancient Chinese practice of acupressure. Let me show you." He took each of Wendy's tiny hands in his own and began gentle circling motions with his thumbs in the centre of her palms, applying a gentle pressure. "The Inuit believe that each area of the body directly corresponds to a different pain receptor in the brain," he whispered, as Wendy visibly calmed. "Applying pressure to the palms of the hands helps to ease pain affecting the head or facial area." He paused, waving a hand around his own face for emphasis. "Would you like to try?" he asked. Maria nodded and took her baby's hands from Fraser and he showed her exactly the right amount of pressure to use. She smiled as Wendy began to make gurgling noises. "This is another good one," said Fraser and he placed one thumb on Wendy's forehead, just between her tiny eyebrows and again repeated a slow circling motion. Almost immediately, Wendy's eyes began to close until in a matter of minutes she was asleep.

Maria was amazed. "Thank you," she said again.

Just then Ray poked his head around the bedroom door. "Anythin' I can do?" he asked.

"Ssshh!" hissed Fraser, getting to his feet.

"Sorry," whispered Ray and turned to go.

"Actually Ray," said Fraser in a low voice, "perhaps Maria would like some tea? I have some in my pack." He looked at Maria, who nodded. "It will help you to relax," Fraser said to her.

"OK" said Ray and went to find Fraser's tea before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

Maria lifted Wendy carefully back into her cot and refastened her sleepsuit. "I'll leave her blanket off," she said and Fraser nodded. They went downstairs to find Ray carrying a tray with three cups of tea through from the kitchen. Fraser had to suppress a chuckle. There's a sight I never thought I'd see, he thought. Ray put the tray down, took one cup and handed it to Maria before picking up another cup and taking a seat in one of the chairs. Fraser took the third cup and sat down himself. As Maria sat down, her dressing gown fell open slightly revealing her left thigh. Fraser and Ray both couldn't help staring, as along the length her her thigh was a jagged scar. She noticed them looking and quickly covered herself. "I fell," she said, hurriedly.

"Onto a knife with a serrated blade?" enquired Fraser. Ray looked at his partner, Fraser obviously had something in mind and Ray had a feeling it may be something to do with the events of earlier on. Maria said nothing. They continued sipping at their tea for a few minutes, but suddenly Maria put her cup, still half full of tea, down on the table with a shaky hand. She went to get up, but Fraser spoke to her gently. "What happened?"

She sat back down again and started to cry. Ray put his cup down too and reached out his hand, placing it gently on the woman's shoulder. "Who did that to ya?" he asked.

"My brother," replied Maria, through her tears. Fraser and Ray were both a little shocked. "I was trying to escape," she continued, unable to suppress another sob.

"It's OK," Ray was feeling a bit uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure what she was saying.

Maria took a deep breath. "They used to make me do things...with men...for money, I mean."

"Who did?" encouraged Fraser, gently.

"My step father and my brother, well he's my half brother," she clarified. She fished in the pocket of her dressing gown for a handkerchief and wiped her face before continuing. "It started after my mother died. They are part of a gang in Brazil. They made me do terrible things. One day I tried to escape, I had a plan, but my brother came back early and he had his knife and..." her voice trailed off as she gently rubbed her left leg.

"How did ya manage to escape in the end?" asked Ray.

"Several months afterwards, there was a police raid on the house," she explained, "I was rescued with the other girls and my step father and brother and the other men were charged with various things, although in the end their lawyers were able to bribe people and they only went to jail for a few months." She hung her head again. "I was brought to the United States to help me start a new life."

"Have you had any contact with either of them since you came here?" asked Fraser. Maria shook her head. Fraser had one more question for her. "Who else knows about this?" he asked carefully. Ray knew what his partner was asking.

"Dan knows all about it, of course, but not Gloria or Milford," she hesitated before adding, "and Jorge. He knows what it can be like in parts of our country." Fraser and Ray exchanged a glance. They were both thinking the same. It could be nothing, but there could be a connection.

"You should consider speaking to Sheriff O'Callaghan about this," Fraser suggested, "even if it is just to rule out any possibility of a connection."

"You think I was the one they were after?" She suddenly looked terrified. "You think they came back for me? Why would they do that?"

"I don't know Maria," replied Fraser, "nothing is making much sense at the moment. I'm sorry."

"I can't tell anyone else about this." Maria was crying again, "I don't want them to know."

"The Sheriff can't tell anyone y'know, about stuff you tell her in confidence," Ray assured her, but Maria shook her head. "Maybe we should all get back to bed?" Ray suggested. Maria needed to sleep and he was exhausted and he could tell Fraser was too. Just then, they heard a noise at the front door.

Maria stood up and pulled back the curtain at the window very slightly. "It's Dan!" she exclaimed with delight. Fraser went to the front door and took off the security chain and Maria's husband stepped into the house, putting his bags down on the floor. Maria flung her arms around him and it was then he noticed the two strangers in his house and pulled back. Maria explained, "This is Benton and Ray, they are staying with us, Benton saved Jorge's life."

"Oh the Mounties," Dan said, "Dad told me all about you." He stepped forward to shake both of their hands.

"Er, I'm not a Mountie," explained Ray shaking his head, that was the second time he'd had to clarify that this weekend, "I'm with the Chicago PD."

Dan hugged his wife again. "We'll see you in the morning," said Fraser, indicating to Ray that the couple should be left in private. Ray nodded in agreement and they headed back up the stairs.

"Er Fraser," Ray said quietly.

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to face Ray.

"Do I, um, do I look Canadian?" asked Ray, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Look Canadian?" repeated Fraser, slowly. "That's ridiculous Ray. Do I look Canadian?"

"Fraser, you are Canadian."

"I know." Fraser was very confused.

"OK then," Ray continued, "do I look like a Mountie?"

"Ray, I really don't know what you're trying to say." Fraser frowned. "You looked like a Mountie when you were dressed in Constable Turnbull's uniform that time, is that what you mean?"

"No Fraser!" Ray couldn't quite explain himself.

"Ray, does being mistaken for a Mountie offend you in some way?" asked Fraser, opening the door of their room and trying to keep a straight face.

"No Fraser," Ray sighed, shook his head and followed his friend into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Ray," began Fraser, "if it makes you feel any better, " he paused, stifling a laugh, "the hat didn't really suit you."

Ray smiled. "Greatness," he said.

Fraser was standing at the window, watching as the first hint of sunlight was beginning to break over the horizon. "What're you thinkin' buddy?" Ray asked as soon as he was back in his sleeping bag. His partner shook his head.

"I don't know Ray," he turned to his friend, "what are you thinking?"

"Me?" Ray thought for a minute, "I'm thinkin' why would a young guy go to the trouble of fakin' references just to get a job as farm hand?" Fraser agreed with a 'Hmmm'. Ray went on "and why would, er, South American gang members risk goin' back to jail for killin' two people when they got off so lightly, y'know, for what they did to Maria?"

"There could be a connection between Jorge and the gang?" suggested Fraser, "although Maria seemed to think he moved to this country as a young child. There is a possibility that it is a racially motivated crime? It appears that some of the locals were wary of Jorge and Maria and there have already been scurrilous rumours spread about the two of them?"

Ray shook his head. "I gotta sleep," he said, burying himself down into his sleeping bag.

"An excellent idea," agreed Fraser.