Meg slept fitfully that night, and it showed the next morning in the dark circles underneath her eyes. She was drinking a cup of coffee when Ray arrived as promised with the Caller ID box. He hooked it up and showed her how it worked.

"I . . . I really appreciate this, Detective. Would you like some coffee?"

"Nah, I'm too used to the forty-weight at the station to drink civilized coffee," he replied, more than a little surprised at this softer side. He was beginning to see what Fraser saw in her, whether or not Fraser would admit it to himself. This thing really had her shook. "Besides, I've already had two cups this morning. Can I give ya a lift to the Consulate? I gotta go by there anyway, to get that phone tap set up."

"Thank you, Detective, that would be very nice."

When they arrived at the Consulate, Ray immediately got on the phone to arrange for the wiretapping. Meg went into her office and sat down at her desk, not really wanting to do anything at all. As she sat there with her head in her hands, Fraser tapped gently on the doorframe.

"Inspector? Is there anything I can get you? Some tea, perhaps?"

"No, thank you, Fraser, not right now."

"An English muffin or some toast, perhaps?"

"Maybe later, Fraser. I'm not in the mood right now." Meg sounded drained.

"Don't worry, Insp - Meg. We'll catch him."

"I know, Fraser. This thing just has me a little spooked, that's all."

"Okay Inspector - lines are set to go." Ray bounced into Meg's office, almost as wired as the phones were. "When he calls again just try to keep him on the line so we can get a good trace."

Meg looked up, bleary-eyed. "Detective, do you mainline coffee or something? You have enough energy for six people."

Ray grinned, saying, "Nah, must just be the chocolate and sugar. But for now, we wait."

And wait they did. Apparently, Meg's challenge the night he called her at home spooked him, because it was a full week before he called again. But in the end, temptation got the better of him, and. . .

"Canadian Consulate, Inspector Thatcher speaking. May I help you?"

Pause . . . snicker. . . "It's me again, Margaret."

"I was wondering if you were going to call again," Meg said, waving frantically at Turnbull to get Fraser to start tracing the call.

"What'cha doin', Margaret?"

Tracing this call so I can get your slimy perverted ass thrown in jail, she thought. But she said "I'm trying to work - maybe you should try that sometime."

"Betcha can't guess what I'm doing."

Oh I'll just bet I can. "That's OK, you don't have to tell me." Please don't tell me.

On and on he went; Meg just tuned it out. Then suddenly she heard scuffling in the background, then Ray's voice on the other end of the line. "Inspector, this is Vecchio. We got him." Meg let out a groan of surprise and relief; Ray just held the receiver away and looked at it, surprised and a little pleased at the response. Tentatively he put it back to his ear. "..very much, Detective," Meg was saying. "Where was he?"

"In a phone booth on LaSalle. He got your number because he's the pizza delivery guy."

Meg sighed. I KNEW he sounded familiar. "What next?"

"We'll haul his ass to the station, he'll lawyer up and be back out on the streets before I get the paperwork done. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again, though."

"Thank you, Detective - Ray - for all you've done for me. I really do appreciate it."

"My pleasure - Meg."

About two hours later, Meg was preparing to leave for the day. As she was about to lock her desk, the phone rang. "Canadian Consulate, Inspector Thatcher speaking. May I help you?"

Pause . . . snicker . . . "It's me again, Margaret."

Meg was absolutely floored. What did he do, use his one phone call for this??? But this time the litany was different . . .

"They got me, Margaret. I'm going away. I'll miss you, Margaret, will you miss me?"

Not on your life!

"But when I get out," he continued, "I'll come see you. And I'm gonna bring a live chicken, a weed eater, and some peach preserves! We'll have us a high old time!" With that, Ray finally caught up with him and had him hauled off to holding, leaving the phone dangling from its cord. Looking at it, he wondered if it would work again... placing the receiver to his ear, he said into the mouthpiece, "Vecchio." Meg just groaned louder. Smiling, he hung up the phone. I still got it!