Tuesday Morning ...
Fraser ran hard and fast after the purse snatcher. The young man had elbowed an elderly woman in the face and taken her purse on the bank steps. He gave the Mountie a good work out, as well as Dief. At first the half wolf enjoyed the chase, he was born for the chase. Four blocks through crowded streets later and he was over the thrill. Dief poured on the speed and caught up to the older teenager. He ran up onto a display table then pounced onto his back. The teen went down like a ton of bricks. Fraser caught up a minute later. People began gathering around the three. An older man, somewhere in his sixties, came out with a cordless phone and a broom.
"What's going on here?" The broom man's voice rose above the murmuring crowd.
"This dog like, attacked me." The teen began squirming beneath the Mountie, whose knee was lodged in the middle of his back.
"If you wouldn't mind calling the Twenty-seventh Precinct, tell the dispatcher that it's for Constable Fraser."
"That still doesn't tell me what's going on here, young man. I've been running a jewelry store on this street for twenty-five years, I've seen everything there is to see." The older man demanded.
"This young man stole Ms. Palmer's purse." Fraser jerked a tan, cloth bag from beneath the young suspect.
"Hey, I know that purse, that's Thelma's." Mr. Broom stepped forward. He handed Fraser the cordless phone as he glared down at the young thief. The Mountie dialed, mechanically telling the dispatcher the situation. Dief sat patiently near the prone thief, giving the young man reason not to escape.
An Hour Later ….
Ray swung by the scene out of curiosity. Two uniformed officers had found Ms. Thelma Palmer and escorted her to the jewelry store for identification of her purse and the thief. She was an irate, Jewish woman who had to be restrained when she began cursing in Yiddish and beating the young man with her purse. Fraser and Ray both received a few whacks by mistake when they intervened.
"I'll uh, I'll take her to the precinct for paperwork." Ray offered once Ms. Palmer had calmed down.
"Thank you, Ray, I'll be along directly." Fraser dusted off his Stetson before putting it on.
"See ya, buddy." Ray held the GTO door for the still fuming woman.
"Say, Mister, I'd like to thank you for catching that kid, Thelma can't afford to go a month without her husband's Social Security check." The broom wielding store owner had stepped forward.
"It's simply part of the job, Sir." Fraser shook his proffered hand, shrinking out of the spotlight.
"Ah, I know better, you don't see these beat cops hoofin' it to catch anything but a doughnut." The store owner waved Fraser's modesty away.
"Come on in, have a seat and chew the fat a minute." He invited Fraser inside. "I'm Cal Jones, by the way."
"Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I first came here on the trail of the killers of my father ..." Mr. Jones' eyes glazed over.
"Anyway, I'm currently assigned to the Canadian Consulate here in Chicago." Fraser finished. He followed Mr. Jones into a small store measuring about twenty by twenty feet or so. One door led to a space in the back, presumably a storage room and manager's office. The majority of Jones' stock was within view of the large, front windows.
"Like what you see, Constable, this store has kept body and soul together for over twenty years." The lanky, balding man smiled broadly, spreading his hands to encompass the small space.
"It's quite nice, it rather reminds me of my grandparents' library in Inuvik." A flash of nostalgia shone in the Mountie's light eyes. Benton began surveying the rectangular display cases radiating out from a round case. Gemstones of every hue glittered beneath harsh, white light, a sparkling rainbow set against black velvet. Fraser's keen eyes focused on a ruby ringed by diamonds in a silver setting. It was simple, elegant and utterly Meg Thatcher.
"I see you've found something interesting." Mr. Jones moved toward the case and unlocked the back.
"Yes, the ruby, it reminds me of someone." Ben's pulse sped up. He wondered what Margaret's reaction would be if he gave her the ring. Would she like it or would she be angry? She was carrying his child for Pete's sake.
"This case is on special right now, affordable on a cop's salary." Mr. Jones tried the soft sell.
"What sizes do you have?" Fraser asked as the store owner handed him the ring.
"Oh, I can have it re-sized, or re-set if you'd like." The older man answered nonchalantly. Fraser took the ring in his right hand, trying to remember how Meg's fingers felt the last time he'd laced his with hers.
"This one should do nicely, thank you kindly." Benton stared into the depths of the firey stone, that fire swept through him, warming him.
"I'll wrap it up for you then." The old man took the ring back to the cash register. While he rang up the sale, Benton browsed a carousel of bookmarks stamped with initials, some with butterflies, others with roses. Impulsively, the Mountie picked up the letter 'M' with a butterfly.
"Those are real pretty, I've sold a dozen in the last week or so." Mr. Jones added the three dollar bookmark to the bill happily. Fraser put down every penny he had on his person and set up a payment agreement for later.
"If you can't trust a Mountie, who can you trust?" Mr. Jones shrugged as he tucked away the original copy of the recipt he and Fraser had signed.
"Thank you kindly, Mr. Jones." The Mountie nodded, a bright, effusive smile lighting his face.
"No, thank you, for me and Thelma Palmer." Mr Jones shook Fraser's hand warmly.
The Consulate ... Three Days Later ...
Fraser had been keeping the ring in his pocket since buying it. He'd had a dozen conversations with Dief, trying to figure out how to give the ring to Meg. Should he ask her or surprise her? Should he do it simply or make an occasion of it? Usually so decisive, Benton had frozen. Margaret had shut him down before.
"This is quite the predicament, old friend." Ben scratched the wolf's head as he sat on his cot late after cleaning up after his shift. Dief gave him a sympathetic groan.
The Next Day ...
Ray hummed as he returned from lunch at the corner deli. The new cashier, a perky red head with freckles, had slipped him her phone numbers as they checked out. Fraser ordering for Dief had put her off the usually fetching Mountie.
"Hey, Fraser, how was lunch?" Frannie strolled by, a flirty smile beneath dark, coy eyes.
"Ray was given a young lady's telephone number." Benton blurted out as the comely Civilian Aide peered at him hungrily. Ray hung his head, groaning. He had hoped to keep the happening to himself a while longer.
"Yeah, right, it's probably a practical joke, she gave him the number to the post office or somethin'." Frannie snorted her derision, teasing him. The detective made a sarcastic face.
"Here I was, about to get married and you went and ruined it, Fraser." Ray teased.
"I was unaware of that you and the young lady were previously acquainted." Fraser's eyes went wide.
"Sheesh, Fraser, I wasn't serious." Ray shook his head. Frannie giggled and rolled his eyes. Even Dief looked at him like he'd just fallen off the turnip truck. Fraser felt foolish but it did bring up a topic he'd hoped to speak to ray about. He'd hoped to catch Ray alone, or at least somewhere without Francesca.
"Ray, may I speak to you?" Fraser asked nervously, running his left thumb nail over his eyebrow.
"Sure, buddy, shoot." Ray shrugged, flipping through case files.
"In private, Ray?" That got the detective's attention.
"Yeah, let's see if there's an interview room open." The blond detective lead the way through the precinct. Benton and Dief followed. Unbeknownst to any of them, nosy Frannie tip toed into the observationn half of the interview room. She knew the Mountie well enough to know something serious was on his mind.
"Ray, could we speak in confidence?" Ben set his Stetson on the table in the middle of the room.
"Fire away." The detective sipped his coffee as he sat on the table, his holster bunched up around his shoulders.
"How would you propose marriage, if you were to propose to someone?" Anyone else would have squirmed. Fraser studied his friend.
"I don't know, Fraser, I asked Stella to uh, to marry me on the dance floor. It wasn't all that special really." Ray shrugged, then frowned.
"Who are you talkin' about, Fraser, you got a girlfriend tucked away somewhere you ain't told me about?" Ray grinned, giving Fraser an 'at-a-boy' slap on the back.
"No, nothing like that, Ray, I simply want your opinion on the best way to ask a lady for her hand in marriage." Fraser tried to maintain his calm. The thought of asking Meg to marry him made him naucious. He didn't know why, if it was the idea of rejection, or if it was the change in their relationship that made his gut seize up.
"Fraser, come clean, why else would you ask me a question like that?" Ray persisted, studying the nervous Canadian. With a hesitant sigh, Fraser pulled the ruby and diamond ring from his pocket and opened it for Ray's inspection.
"Geez, Fraser, I thought it was a what'll ya call it, hypothermous, question for someone else?" Ray took the dainty gem from it's velvet box and held it up to the light.
"I've been trying to think of a way to ask Inspector Thatcher to marry me for," Benton paused, puffing out his cheeks, "it feels like an eternity."
"You and the Ice Queen, get out." Ray chuckled. It was a preposterous idea.
"Thatcher, you're marrying Thatcher!" Frannie's wail carried all over the precinct. It raised the hair on the back of Dief's neck as he tried to figure out the source of the commotion. Ray and Fraser looked at each other before heading for the door.
"Frannie, is that you?" Ray asked as he yanked open the door to the observation room. The Civilian Aide was still staring at the two way mirror; eyes wide, mouth open, complexion pale, a look of utter horror on her face.
"How could you?" Frannie slapped Fraser's face before storming out of the room, great, sorrowful wails echoing off the cement block walls.
"Geez, she blew a transistor er somethin'." Ray shook his head at the scene in her wake.
"I hadn't anticipated that kind of vehement reaction." Fraser took the ring back and slid it, box and all, back in his pocket.
"Wonder how Turnbull's gonna take it?" Ray shook his head. He could hardly believe it himself.
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