Tuesday …
Ray called Inspector Thatcher's apartment at nine o'clock the morning after Ben's release from the hospital. Ben managed to answer the phone just before the call went to the answering machine.
"Hello, Inspector Margaret Thatcher's residence, Constable Benton Fraser speaking." he stated mechanically.
"Hey, Benny! How you feeling?" The phone line brought Ray's brash voice through loud and clear.
"Good morning, Ray. I'm feeling fine, and you?" Ben asked politely, running his thumbnail over his left brow.
"I was wondering if Thatcher's around, thought I'd visit, guy-to-guy."
"What could Ray have to say that he wouldn't want Meg to hear?" Ben wondered to himself.
"No, she's at the consulate today. Do you need something?" Ben asked, puzzled.
"Nah, I don't need anything, I just thought we could talk, thought I might bring by a few files to, to, uh, get your opinion on." Ray's voice came across quieter and reluctantly.
"That would be fine, Ray, I'll be expecting you. Drive carefully." He heard a dry chuckle on the other end.
"Yeah, sure, Fraser."

Twenty minutes later, Ray knocked on the door using the 'shave and a hair cut, two bits' signal everyone knew.
"Come in, Ray." Ben called from the recliner where he'd decided to nest for the day. Dief greeted him eagerly, hoping for a sweet treat, or a walk, he didn't care which.
"Hey, Dief, give me a minute." Ray stroked the old wolf between the ears before continuing inside. Under his arm he carried a handful of manila file folders.
"Hey, it must stink, being a forced couch potato." Ray perched on the coffee table across from Ben.
"It is quite boring, Ray. I'd much rather be at work." Ben missed being able to go about his business easily.
"Listen, you haven't said anything, but I thought you might like to take a look at the files on the hit-and-run. I asked about Thatcher 'cause I know she's being a mother hen about you working. She threatened to go to Welsh if I so much as brought the case up when I talked to her this morning." Ray rested one elbow on his knee as he talked, the files beside him on the coffee table. His well tailored, Armani suit and tie looked casual but Ben sensed a tension in his friend.
"Inspector Thatcher has insisted I rest as much as possible." Ben agreed, wondering why she discouraged Ray from bringing up the hit-and-run.
Ray snickered, "You call her that when you kiss her too?"
"Ray!" Ben growled, frowning at his crass partner.
"Ah, come on, I saw her and you at the apartment building and the hospital all that time. It's gone from 'Inspector Margaret Thatcher' to just 'Meg' by now." Ray tried, unsuccessfully, to stop laughing.
"Ray, the Inspector and I are friends," Ray rolled his eyes but remained silent, "I care for her, yes, but I also have the utmost respect for her."
"I'm glad for ya, Fraser, and I can see she cares for you and utmost respects you too." Ray relented. Ben saw sincerity in his green eyes. He needed Ray and Meg to get along.
"Come on, let's get back to real reason I came over." Ray tapped the file folders beside him.
"Good, I'll make a pot of coffee, we can spread them out at the kitchen table." Ben nodded, glad to be off the subject of his fledgling love life.
Hobbling around on crutches, Ben made a pot of coffee and found a pack of chocolate chip cookies in Meg's cabinet. Ray had grabbed a couch cushion and laid it on a kitchen chair for Fraser's leg. Within a few minutes they'd submerged themselves into the case.
Chicago PD files indicated that the red, Ford had been stolen three weeks before the accident in Williamsport, Wisconsin. The real owners, a Methodist pastor and his wife, were glad to hear the car had been found. Fraser had drawn a sketch of the hit-and-run driver but so far no one had identified the young man.
"This is a wild goose chase, Fraser." Ray complained, sipping his third cup of coffee.
"Ray, it's only been a few hours." Ben encouraged cheerfully. Ray gave him a reproachful, sideways glance.
"It's been weeks since the hit-and-run and I still haven't been able to crack it." the detective groused, running his hand over his scantily clad pate.
Ben didn't understand Ray's problem with the case. No one had been seriously hurt in either the hit-and-run or his fall. Why did Ray feel so strongly?
"You must have several, more pressing cases, Ray," Ben began, staring at the second generation Italian-American.
"Yeah, I do, it's just that this one's got me on the ropes. Tracking down the stolen car was easy, almost like the guy wanted it found." Ray shook his head. With a grumble, Ray stood up from the table.
"I'll check in with my informants tonight. Wish you could be there, buddy." He pasted on a cheerful face as he sipped his coffee.

By four o'clock, Ray and Ben had put the files away and retreated to the living room. Ben sat comfortably in Meg's recliner, bark tea in hand.
At five o'clock, Meg unlocked the front door. First, she slipped out of her high heels. Seeing Ray, she balked.
"Oh, Detective Vecchio." Meg's expression changed from surprise to cool calculation.
"Inspector," Ray nodded cordially – for him.
"How was your day, Inspector?" Ben asked, trying to sound innocent.
"Hectic, the personnel director in Ottawa wants to send a temporary replacement for you." Meg helped herself to a mug of bark tea and the last chocolate chip cookie.
"Yes, that's wise. The doctor said I'd be in this cast for at least six weeks." Ben pouted for a split second.
"Well, I guess that's my cue to leave." Ray stood up from the couch, jangling the Riviera keys in his pocket.
"Ray, would you mind walking Diefenbaker?" Ben asked before the detective could get away.
"Yeah, sure, I need the exercise too, I guess." Ray shrugged. He retrieved Dief's leash from the key hook by the door and motioned for the wolf-dog to follow.
"Come on, let's let the lovebirds have a little privacy."
"Ray!" Ben growled.
"Why you …." Meg began. Ray closed the door behind them before she finished.
****