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Ray Vecchio glanced at his watch at the sight of the great red spot in the hotel lobby. His new friend had made his appearance at 8:30 sharp, just as advertised. Pushing himself away from his lean against the car, Ray started around to the driver's side as Benton Fraser exited the hotel, briefly spinning his Stetson in his hand before placing it on his head.
"Good morning, Ray," Fraser greeted him pleasantly.
"Hey, Fraser," Ray replied. "Ready for your first day of regretting you ever set foot in this city?"
Fraser frowned, apparently taken aback by the cynicism of Ray's question. "Well, I don't regret it at all, frankly. If anything, I find it somewhat gratifying that several thousand square miles of Canadian wilderness are no longer at risk from heavy industry."
Ray smirked. "You believe that for a fact, I got a bridge in Brooklyn I wanna show you."
"Really? I had no idea you had a side enterprise in real estate."
Ray rolled his eyes in unison with an upward jerk of his head. Either Fraser was yanking his chain, or he was even more clueless than Ray suspected. "Yeah, I won it in a game of Monopoly and I've been lookin' to unload it for years," he said in a tone heavy with sarcasm as he got into the car.
Fraser slid into the passenger seat, but finding that his Stetson didn't quite clear the ceiling, he removed it and tossed it onto the dashboard. "Hmm. If I'm not mistaken, it would be quite a long drive, roughly sixteen hours and forty-three minutes not accounting for traffic conditions." He looked around the interior of the car and emitted a curious hum from his throat. "Your Mercedes is under repair, I take it?"
"Nah, that was my cousin's car. I just borrowed it for the undercover thing. Had to pretend like I was some Polish guy from the west side who was all about style pig. I mean, c'mon, do I even look Polish to you?"
Fraser's eyes narrowed, but then he lifted the brows and his expression turned non-committal. "Well, it's not unheard of for an individual of one ethnicity to have a family name of a completely different one," he said. "As a matter of fact, I knew an Inuit boy in the sixth grade who went by the given name of William Lyon MacKenzie. Poor lad, I thought he'd never hear the end of it."
"Yeah, I know the feeling. Ready?"
"I believe I am."
"Good. Now before we turn a wheel, you need to understand and appreciate one thing at all times. You've been afforded the privilege of riding in a nineteen seventy-one Buick Riviera. I first saw one of these when I was eleven years old and on my way to drag my old man kicking and screaming home from the saloon, and I spent the next fifteen years of my life trying to find one. I've had it for eight years as of yesterday and I have not seen another one like this anywhere from here to Buffalo. I do not want the upholstery ripped, I do not want the paint scratched, I do not want the windows chipped, and above all, I do not want the lighter touched. This car and I go back a long way. We share a very special kinship, and there will be hell to pay if it comes to harm. Are we clear on this?"
"Perfectly clear, Ray," Fraser nodded assent. Ray nodded in return and started the car, watching for Fraser's reaction as the immense engine caught with a throaty roar. Fraser, however, remained calm and collected, showing nothing but the same impassivity he'd been showing for the last minute or three. Something in all those years of layers of tiers of Mountie training must have desensitised him to the appreciation of a decent vintage automobile. Looking away, Ray shifted gears and aimed the Riviera's broad hood toward the middle of the street.
"Ooh, Ray!" Fraser said suddenly, holding up his hand.
"What?" At once Ray jammed on the brakes, shooting an annoyed stare at the Mountie. The annoyance only intensified as Fraser got out of the car, trotted out in front of it and took the arm of a little old lady lugging a loaded shopping basket across the street.
Ray sat back and rolled his eyes. So this was how it was going to be, huh? If Fraser made him stop so he could help every little old lady in Chicago across the street from now until the second coming of Christ, he'd better start putting away every penny he could save for brake jobs.
The little old lady patted Fraser's arm in appreciation, receiving a warm smile and a nod in response. Unconsciously, Ray drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as Fraser made haste back to the Riviera and climbed back in.
"You through?" Ray asked.
"Yes, quite."
Again Ray angled the car toward the flow of traffic, but was abruptly stayed by Fraser's hand on the dashboard. "Ooh, Ray!"
Again Ray slammed on the brakes, spreading out one hand. "What now?" he demanded irritably.
"I'm sorry, I've forgotten something. I'll be back forthwith." For the second time Fraser got out of the car, leaving Ray to drop his head against the steering wheel in despair, only to set off the horn as his forehead made contact with the upper right spoke.
Quickly he glanced over his shoulder to see if Fraser had noticed, but Fraser had paid the horn no mind as he hurried back toward the hotel. Ray could hear him shouting something about decent bakers and home being where the stomach was, and he'd only had the abrupt blare of the Riviera's horn just now to assure him that this wasn't some wacky, rapid-eyed dream induced by too much pizza and beer. Then he heard a sharp bark and glanced in the rearview mirror to see a large blur of white jumping off a low concrete wall at the side of the hotel.
Oh, for crying out loud - the wolf.
Ray shook his head, dropping it into his palm. No, this was how it was going to be: him, a strait-laced Mountie and a loose-cannon wolf running around Chicago like it was some kind of urban wilderness, a concrete canyon thick with its own kind of feral (albeit human) life. He looked up just as Fraser opened the door, folding the back of the passenger seat forward to let Diefenbaker leap into the back, growling and yapping and jumping on the back of the seat right behind Ray.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Ray shouted, flinching at the sudden and unwelcome slather of Diefenbaker's tongue on the side of his neck. "Okay, one more new rule for riding in my car - no shedding, slobbering, clawing or getting intimate with the driver! Capisce?!"
"Diefenbaker!" Fraser commanded. "Settle down!" He pointed meaningfully at the back seat on the passenger side, a hint that the big wolf took seriously - if only after he'd turned to catch Fraser's glare. Grumbling, he twisted round and settled himself in the seat, his gaze fixed rather unnervingly on Ray.
"Terribly sorry," Fraser repeated as he resumed the passenger seat.
"Now are you good to go?" Ray demanded.
"I believe so, yes. Thank you for indulging me, I almost forgot that I'd let him out for a walk after breakfast."
"Yeah, well, you know you need a licence to let him go rompin' around with everybody's kind but his own, don't ya?" Ray advised.
"Actually, no. But, I appreciate the tip."
Ray spent the next five blocks with his right leg tensed, ready to ram on the brake again if Fraser should spurt out another "ooh, Ray!" at less than a second's notice. After ten blocks, he began to relax: twelve blocks and he'd settled back in the seat, letting the Riviera nearly drive itself southward along State Street.
"You said it was eight years yesterday since you bought this car?" Fraser said by way of casual conversation.
"Yeah, birthday present to myself for bein' such a good cop," Ray smiled.
"I see." Fraser's observation was casual, but then he looked over at Ray, cocking an eyebrow. "Oh, so your birthday was yesterday, then?"
"That it was."
"Ah! Well, many happy returns, Ray. I'm sorry I wasn't aware of it sooner. You know, my Uncle Tiberius always relished a birthday in the family - he had a seemingly endless supply of cabbage on hand to serve as a garnish on the birthday cake."
"Is there any insanity in your family?" Ray enquired, making a face.
"I'm not quite sure, to be honest with you. But I do regret not observing your birthday in its due time."
"Aaah, don't worry about it, Benny." Ray paused, staring at Fraser curiously. "You mind if I call you Benny?"
"Oh, no, not at all."
"Good, 'cause no self-respecting Chicago cop is gonna buy 'Benton Fraser' without a hyphen, I'll tell you that right now."
"Well, you know, it is an interesting story how I came across a book in my grandmother's library once called 'Benton of the Royal Mounted', by Ralph S. Kendall. I summarily checked it out, but unfortunately it was due back by the time I had a chance to ask my father about it."
"You ever get around to it?" Ray placed the question in a guarded tone, trying not to sound too casual. It hadn't been long since Fraser's father was gunned down in the Canadian wilderness, and he didn't want to make his friend too uncomfortable with the conversation.
Fraser took a deep breath and held it for a beat. "No," he replied simply, without looking at Ray.
Nodding silently, Ray drove another block and then glanced at Fraser again. "Where we headed, anyway?"
"Two twenty-one East Racine."
"Oh, you've gotta be kiddin' me! You sure that's the address?"
"I'm positive, Ray. The building superintendent, one Dennis Argyle, was very meticulous in giving me the address over the phone."
"I didn't know rodents were so precise," Ray muttered under his breath.
"I beg your pardon?" Fraser said with a frown.
"Didn't anybody tell you never to go to the south side when you first got here?"
"I can't say as they did," Fraser shrugged. "Although it's worth a reminder that it wasn't far from here that we tracked down the redoubtable Mr. Drake. I would be interested to find out if informants are in broad supply in this area."
Ray scoffed, trying not to bang on his right ear with the heel of his hand and make sure he'd heard correctly. "Fraser, you do not want to live in this neighbourhood. Cops do not live in areas like this. Most people we bust won't even live here!"
"Why?" Fraser seemed genuinely confused. "It's central, convenient. I can walk to work in seven minutes."
"Not without backup," Ray said morosely. He switched on the Riviera's headlights, recognising a stretch of East Racine that was thick with jaywalkers. The last thing he needed now was for one of them to step in front of him and bring a horde of ambulance chasers down on him and the department.
"Two-two-one," Fraser announced, pointing up the street. "It's just up on the right."
"Look, do me a favour and let's turn around and I'll take you back to your hotel," Ray urged.
"We can't," Fraser rebutted. "I checked out. The windows wouldn't open."
Ray rolled his eyes as he pulled the Riviera over in front of the three-storey apartment building. "Fraser, this is Chicago. The only reason to open a window is to get a better aim." He waited until Fraser had gotten out and then slid across the seat to unscrew the head from the passenger door lock. Sure, any of the local denizens could have a Slim-Jim on hand, but at least he could flush one lock-picking option down the drain. Then he repeated the process on the driver's side, shoved himself out of the Riviera and found Fraser still smiling broadly as he took in his surroundings.
Well, if this was how it was going to be, it wouldn't last long. Give him a few days in this neighbourhood and that smile would be a thing of the distant past. Welcome to Chicago, Benny, he thought as he plodded across the sidewalk and into the run-down apartment building. Richard M. Daley, Mayor; Raymond I. Vecchio, the only friend you'll ever make here.
FIN