***
Once upon a time, many months ago, a new topic came up for discussion
on
the RideForever list. How would the RCMP view Fraser's job performance
during his tenure as Deputy Liaison Officer at the Chicago Consulate?
His real job, mind you, not the volunteer police work he does for the
Chicago P.D.
Several listmembers responded to the discussion by writing documents
that might have been found in Fraser's personnel file: memos, letters,
commendations and reprimands. Soon there were "handwritten" notes,
e-mails and transcripts of telephone calls. Many were deadly serious,
but others were whimsical and several were downright funny.
Performance Evaluation: Fraser, Benton T.
a Cooperative Creation from the members of RideForever: Alex, Cazz, the Cloudwalker, Courser, Janice
R. Sager, Julia Walter, M-A, Melanie M., The Moo, Possum, Sasscat
Bu-to-y, and Vicki West
CHAPTER ONE
"Turnbull, I want to make very sure that you understand me. These are the keys to my--to the desk, to the filing cabinets, to the safe. There are classified and confidential files in this office. You are to hold these keys in trust for my replacement. As soon as the new Chief Liaison Officer is assigned, you will turn the keys over to him or her.
Unused. Untested. Untouched. Do you understand me?"
"Sir," Turnbull gulped. (Was this a test?) "Sir, I'm touching them now."
Margaret Thatcher stared up at her tall subordinate's puzzled expression, then looked down to see how he was holding his hand flat, the forbidden keys resting in the center of his palm. The polished walnut wall clock ticked slowly past most of a minute as Turnbull waited nervously for her answer.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
"Just--just lock them in your desk, Constable."
Turnbull exhaled explosively, almost limp with relief. "Yes, Sir. I will, Sir."
"Very good." Thatcher glanced one last time around her office, remembering with a brief twinge of sadness the strange but challenging phase of her career that was coming to a close. The offer from CSIS had come at the perfect time.
She and Fraser had come to terms at the camp near King's Creek only two weeks earlier, acknowledging their mutual passion even while admitting the incompatibility of their goals and dreams. Now he was at home in the arctic, where he belonged, and she was ready to begin a new career track. Perhaps she would someday find a place where she belonged, as well.
She turned back to her one remaining subordinate. "Turnbull, it may be several weeks, even a month or two, before Ottawa can assign a new Chief Liaison Officer. In the mean time, you--" She suddenly burst into a fit of coughing, unable to speak further. After a few awkward moments, Turnbull gently slapped her on the back to help her control the spasm. "In--in the mean time, you are--in charge. Constable."
Turnbull saluted smartly, dropping the precious keys on the floor at his feet.
*************************
Three weeks later, Turnbull stood inside the empty Chief Liaison Officer's office, his fingers slick with perspiration as he fumbled with the keys. He could still hear Inspector Thatcher's voice as if she were standing there beside him.
"Unused. Untested. Untouched."
And yet. . . with the crowd of RCMP officials, bureaucrats and military types that had crowded into the Consulate only an hour earlier, did he dare to disobey? When a superintendent says, "Bring me the file," one brings the file, doesn't one? (Oh, if only Constable Fraser was here right now!)
Turnbull's hand trembled as he inserted the key into the storage-closet door. He opened the door slowly, half expecting to trigger an alarm that would bring the wrath of the RCMP down upon him. But there was no sound, save the small squeak of a ill-fitting hinge. (A little WD-40 will take care of that.)
He found it on a high shelf, near the back of the closet. It was a standard-size RCMP document storage box, constructed of cardboard with a hinged lid and cut-out handles. There was a large white label on the side: FRASER, BENTON 555764921.
Turnbull pulled the handle experimentally, and found the box to be quite heavy. He braced himself, and pulled again--the box strained but only moved an inch, which made Turnbull pull all the harder. On the third try he managed to drag the box off the shelf and drop it to the floor with a resounding thud.
"Shhhhhh!" Turnbull cautioned the box to be quiet, then grabbed both handles and lifted it carefully. The Performance Evaluation Committee was waiting, he had to hurry. He headed for the conference room, never noticing the protruding nail on the shelf, or the jagged tear across the bottom of the box.
*******************************
Superintendent Michael Mitchell lifted his considerable bulk from the chair at the head of the conference table. He took a sip of water from his glass, and cleared his throat. "Gentlemen. . . and ladies, of course. Let's settle down and focus on the matter at hand. We have assembled here at our Consulate in Chicago for the purpose of conducting the triennial Performance Evaluation of one Constable Benton Fraser. Are there any questions?"
Inspector Carstairs politely raised her hand, and waited for the Superintendent to recognize her. Mitchell raised an eyebrow and nodded that she should proceed. "Why isn't this review being performed by the constable's own direct supervisor, as part of his normal supervisory duties?"
The superintendent sighed. "He--I mean, she--the constable's supervisor is not available to perform the Evaluation due to extenuating circumstances. I'm sure I don't need to go into further details."
Dr. Eastman snorted impatiently. "Don't patronize us, Mitchell. I am sure all of us have far more important and interesting duties waiting for us back in Regina. Please specify WHY the constable's supervisor cannot perform this review?"
The superintendent's mustache quivered as he clenched his teeth. He knew that the doctor was merely putting on a show; as the RCMP's chief psychologist, Eastman had personally signed off on Thatcher's temporary assignment to CSIS and knew better than anyone just where she was. Still, it was just like the doctor to put him on the spot.
"Inspector Thatcher is on an assignment that requires that she. . . travel extensively. She is not available at this time and that is the extent of my comments in this matter." Mitchell pressed his lips together and made a slight bow to Dr. Eastman. "Satisfactory?"
Eastman grinned happily, enjoying her friend's temporary discomfort. "Satisfactory."
"Thank you, sir." Carstairs accepted the answer and its hidden implications.
The superintendent sighed. "In addition to the actual review, there is also the matter of Constable Fraser's next assignment. Prior to being assigned to--ah, prior to being reassigned herself, his superior officer had made a request on his behalf that he be reassigned away from this office. In fact, she had made two such requests. . . Corporal Katz? Do you have the inspector's memo?
The superintendent's efficient young aide pushed her laptop computer aside, reached into her briefcase and pulled out a slim file folder. "Of course I do, sir."
"Please read it to the committee."
In the hallway outside the conference room, Renfield Turnbull could hear every word. Protocol demanded that he should wait for a properly quiet moment to enter, so as not to interrupt the proceedings. He stood patiently, trying but not trying to listen, still holding the cardboard box whose bottom sagged under the considerable weight of Benton Fraser's personnel file.
*****************************
To: RCMP Personnel Office
From: Inspector M. Thatcher
Re: Constable Benton Fraser
To Whom it May Concern:
Earlier this week I requested a transfer to Toronto for both myself and Constable Benton Fraser. I am now writing to rescind this request. Please assign Constable Fraser a post in Inuvik at the earliest possible opportunity. If there is no such opportunity there- make one. Over his years in Chicago Constable Fraser has earned whatever effort can be made on his behalf, as is evidenced by the manner in which he carried out his most recent case, the pursuit and capture of the arms smuggler, Holloway Muldoon.
As always, Constable Fraser performed an excellent job under trying circumstances. Indeed, I can think of nothing that could have made this case more difficult for the Constable, and his success is to be highly commended. Given the Ray Vecchio/Ray Kowalski situation, and the news regarding his mother's death, I am quite frankly amazed he was able to function at all, let alone in such a clearheaded and professional manner.
With only the slimmest of clues and with one partner hospitalised by a bullet wound, Constable Fraser put himself in grave personal danger to track Muldoon to Franklin Bay. Once in the area, he secured back-up and was able to prevent the potentially disastrous sale of a Russian nuclear submarine to one Cyrus Bolt, cousin to the Randall Bolt who hijacked the train carrying the RCMP Musical Ride just two years previously. Constable Fraser then proceeded to act even further above and beyond the call of duty, pursuing Muldoon on horseback and apprehending him in a disused mineshaft. It should be noted that Constable Fraser was unarmed at the time, while Muldoon was most definitely not.
While Constable Fraser remains vague as to the exact details of Holloway Muldoon's arrest, I can confirm that shots were fired. It is obvious that he risked his life yet again to bring this man to justice.
I would like to add that it has been an honour and a privilege to serve with such an exemplary officer as Constable Fraser. Although at times he frustrates, he is the finest example I have ever encountered of all that the RCMP stands for. He should be applauded for both his official and off-duty maintenance of the law. I shall regret not having him by my side, and wish him luck in all future endeavours.
(signed) Margaret Thatcher
PS: And if this request for transfer is not approved you can be damn sure I shall personally take it up with the highest levels of RCMP administration.
cc: Constable Benton Fraser
******************************
Turnbull couldn't quite stifle a sob as he overheard the corporal reading the inspector's letter. He bit his lip and fought to maintain a properly professional expression, then balanced the heavy box on his shoulder and pushed open the conference room door. The twelve strangers looked up in unison at the interruption.
"Sir. Um--Sirs, Ma'ams, I have. . . I brought. . . you asked for Constable. . . ." His control was slipping. "Constable Fraser's personnel file!" He shifted the box from his shoulder, intending to set it on the end of the conference table; at that very moment the torn cardboard bottom split wide open and dumped Fraser's records in a paper tidal wave that swept the length of the table and spilled file folders and loose pages over the edge, onto the floor, and into the laps of the astonished committee members.
"Oh-- I-- Oh dear!" Turnbull dropped the empty, ruined box and fled.
For several long seconds, the committee members sat in stunned silence as the last of the pages gently settled from their disastrous flight. Some of the larger folders lay essentially intact on the table, but hundreds of loose documents were now scattered randomly throughout the room.
Superintendent Mitchell pounded a meaty fist on the table and barked, "What are you waiting for! Do you think this mess is going to clean itself up?"
The awkward hush dissolved into an industrious hum as the committee members began to gather the scattered papers into numerous disorganized piles. Several of the younger members got down on their hands and knees to collect the pages that had fallen to the floor. Human curiosity being what it is, several of the members soon found themselves more interested in reading the documents than putting them away.
Sergeant Alexander was the first to speak. "Huh! You know, his previous supervisor didn't have such a high opinion of Constable Fraser. Listen to this!"
**************************
March 11, 1995
Canadian Consulate
ATTN: Constable Benton Fraser
Chicago, Illinois
Re: Letter of Reprimand
Dear Constable Fraser,
You are hereby reprimanded for gross misconduct and willful failure to follow my direct orders. This letter of reprimand is being placed in your official personnel file for future evaluation purposes and could lead to suspension or permanent removal from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
On March 6, 1995 I assigned you the simple task of delivering a highly sensitive Canadian document to Mr. Nigel Ellis of Ellis Sanitation with instructions to stop being such a 'nice guy'. I further ordered you to pick up balloons after delivering the document, then return to the Consulate to resume your doorman duties. Listed below are the various infractions you committed while blatantly disobeying my orders:
a. Infraction 1: Following your departure from my office, I moved to the window and observed your exit from the Consulate. You immediately began aiding pedestrians across the street. These pedestrians, an elderly woman, three nuns, and a young female were obviously Americans.
Americans have a propensity for crossing roads just to find what's on the other side! It is not our place or our responsibility to aid and abet them in this mindless pursuit! As I've told you in the past, we are not their lap dogs!
b. Infraction 2: Approximately one hour after you left, I received a call from the Courthouse regarding a Mountie posing as a deaf mute. While I applaud your effort to confuse the enemy by allowing them to underestimate us, you simply cannot lead them to believe we are both deaf and dumb!
c. Infraction 3: Later that afternoon I received a call from a bridal shop advising me that you had left their establishment underneath a wedding gown. Naturally, I defended your actions by insisting you were simply undercover on a highly sensitive Canadian matter involving trains and covert reconnaissance. I commend your efforts to enhance our image, Constable Fraser; but the fact remains, you were not delivering the document!
d. Infraction 4: During the early evening hours when guests were arriving, you performed doorman duties in a deplorable manner! You behaved as if you were that Chicago policeman with whom you associate. Your behavior was intolerable. I strongly recommend you take some R&R to recover from the American's infectious behavior!
e. Infraction 5: The day following your assignment I received a bill from a disreputable hotel for damages. I telephoned the owner and he provided a detailed account of the foul (or should I say fore) play that occurred in the honeymoon suite.
Again, I commend you! This is a direct departure from your 'nice guy' image. I applaud you! I must, however, reprimand you for drinking during duty hours. Furthermore, the cost of damages will be deducted from your next paycheck.
f. Infraction 6: You did not return with the balloons, Constable; therefore, my gala event was conducted without them. I pride myself on offering all the amenities! What sort of image do you think we project without colorful orbs of hot air in assorted sizes!
g. Infraction 7: I have visited with Mr. Nigel Ellis at the police station. He informed me that you did deliver the document, albeit too late for him to attend. He provided me with the facts surrounding his arrest. His account, coupled with your own admission in your written report that you pursued his fiancée throughout the day, leaves me no choice but to believe you willfully disobeyed my orders.
Your actions, Constable, may have caused irreparable harm to our country. As I told you when I assigned you this mission, the future of our two countries rested on the arrival of that document in sufficient time to ensure the recipient's attendance.
I also mentioned I had a plan but was not at liberty to reveal it. So that you may understand the ramifications of your actions, I am now prepared to reveal it. Mr. Ellis is a key sanitation and hazardous waste disposal contractor in these United States. My plan was to cozy up to him, offering him unbeatable prices on waste stream analysis and disposal fees so that he would enter into an agreement with me to export all American sewage and hazardous waste to Canada! Think of the volume! Americans are full of it! And once we owned it, we could have recycled it, packaged it as a variety of products for human consumption, and exported it internationally! Canadian World Domination built on a pile of garbage! You, however, foiled that plan.
In summary, Constable Fraser, your conduct during this assignment was unpardonable. I believe some of your behavior is a direct result of your being raised in a civilized environment in Canada. Therefore I plan to recommend your transfer to South Africa where I understand they hold you in high regard. Maybe in the jungles of South Africa you can acquire the skills needed to function in a large metropolitan city in the United States.
Sincerely,
(signed) Inspector Moffat
cc: Official Personnel File
*********************************
Superintendent Montmorency steepled her fingers and mused thoughtfully. "Moffat. Moffat. Do I know this name?"
Dr. Eastman laughed. "He was the one who suggested that the RCMP attempt an unfriendly takeover of the Disney Corporation. Last I heard, he had retired to his home in Newfoundland."
"Ah," the québécoise superintendent replied. "Moffat. Yes, I remember."
"Superintendent?" Corporal Sager emerged from underneath the table, several strands of brown hair escaping from her usually neat french braid. She had been scrambling around Dr. Eastman's feet, and she had found a loose piece of paper of some interest. "This is from Inspector Moffat as well."
********************************
NOTICE OF FORMAL DISCIPLINARY ACTION
Submitted: 03/31/95
To: Constable Benton Fraser
cc: Permanent file
In accordance with regulations as set forth in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Act, whereas it has been established to the satisfaction of the Chief Liaison Officer of the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, IL., USA, that Constable B. Fraser has contravened the Code of Conduct and whereas having regard to the gravity of the contravention of the Code of Conduct and to the surrounding circumstances, the Chief Liaison Officer is of the opinion that informal disciplinary action would not be sufficient, the Chief Liaison Officer hereby notifies Constable B. Fraser of his request to the Commissioner of the RCMP to initiate a formal hearing into Constable B. Fraser's actions and conduct in the events surrounding the Chicago Police Murder Investigation of Roger Hughes a.k.a. 'Jolly' and said member's involvement with one Miss Victoria Metcalf, with the recommendation that Constable B. Fraser be discharged from service.
Inspector Moffat, RCMP, Chief Liaison Officer: Canadian Consulate,
Chicago, Il., USA
********************************
A heavy silence settled over the room; even the rustle of scattered documents ceased.
Dr. Eastman tossed her pen onto the table. "Well, now. That certainly puts a new face on things, doesn't it?" CHAPTER TWO
Sergeant Alexander closed the office door behind him and called out, "Constable?"
Turnbull was beside him in an instant. "Yes sir. How may I help you, Sir?"
"We're going to be at this for quite some time. We're going to have lunch here, so we can work while we eat. Could you--"
"Prepare a luncheon for the committee? Certainly." Turnbull brightened at the prospect of spending some quality time in the kitchen. A special culinary endeavor was exactly what was needed after his disastrous performance with Constable Fraser's personnel file. "Some pasta, a vegetable platter, perhaps a cheese soufflé?"
The sergeant stared transfixed as the earnest constable described the menu. Turnbull was debating the relative merits of chilled mixed fruit for dessert as an alternative to tea cookies when the sergeant finally blinked, shook his head, and interrupted. "Constable!"
". . . or multi-colored sprinkles."
"Constable!"
"Yes, Sir?"
"They have Chinese restaurants in Chicago?"
"Oh, yes Sir! Would the committee prefer ethnic food? I have some shrimp and bok choy which I could stir-fry. Or perhaps you'd prefer a curry. . . . "
"Constable!"
"Sir?"
"Are you, or are you not an officer of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?"
"Oh I am, Sir! Most definitely!"
"Then why are you talking about cooking?"
"It's no trouble at all, Sir. We have a fully equipped kitchen, and--"
"Constable!"
Turnbull fell silent and gazed at the sergeant, his face a mask of puzzled concern. Alexander glared back at him with exasperation, then rolled his eyes and took a long, calming breath. "Moo shu, Constable. General Tso's chicken and orange beef. Egg rolls, rice, fortune cookies. Any questions?"
"Steamed or fried?"
"What?"
"The rice, sir. Steamed or fried?"
Alexander silently counted to twenty, while the vein at his left temple danced a Tarantella. "Use your best judgement, Constable. Oh, and Constable--"
"Sir?"
"Do you, by any chance, know how to make a genuine Chicago deep-dish pizza?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I don't."
"Good. We'll have pizza for supper." The sergeant nodded curtly to the disappointed constable, then slipped quietly back into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He took his place at the table just as Superintendant Montmorency rapped her knuckles on the table and addressed the committee in her native French.
**************************
"Voici une lettre de Michelle Duchamps du gouvernement français, cc. Inspecteur Margaret Thatcher, cc le commissaire général, bla, bla. 'C'est en réponse à une lettre que j'ai interceptée du gouvernement français que je vous écris. Le gendarme Benton Fraser est un agent exemplaire qui a tout fait pour assurer que'-- pardon? Vous ne comprenez pas? You actually want me to translate it? My god, has the bilingualism rate in the force decreased lately, or is it just me?
"Anyway, this is a letter from Ms. Duchamps of the French government; she says that Constable Fraser did a... a... oh, a damn good job! in making certain that the mask returned to the French government was authentic. She says that he's a police officer, not an art expert, so it's not his fault he didn't know the mask was a forgery. He showed a great--is 'tenacity' an English word? Thank you.-- Constable Fraser showed a great tenacity in trying to recover the masks, risking severe bodily harm, and so on, and so forth.
"Listen to how this account contrasts with what the French government has to say!" (shuffling of papers) "There! From the museum curator on the behalf of the French government--very formal style, just a second, this doesn't make much sense even to me, there, I have it: 'Constable Benton Fraser, by his carelessness and, and... manquement au devoir--what's the English phrase?--right! dereliction of duty--put in peril French/Canadian relations. Being the member of the security task force most familiar with all things Tshimshian he should have noticed that something was out place and brought forth any suspicion of...tricherie--trickery! (that phrase can actually be translated literally, I'll be darned!) to the French government.'
"I'm sorry? Well, my opinion on the matter really doesn't matter in the long run. I believe both sides present valid arguments.
"Now, on to a more pressing matter. As I said, the bilingualism rate in this force is sub average. What are we going to do about it?"
************************************
The room erupted in a cacophony of English-speaking voices, all shouting at once to move on, change the subject, stick to the matter at hand. Only a fool would be willing to debate bilingualism with the formidable Janine Montmorency.
Across the table from the distinguished superintendent, hard-nosed Sergeant Kaczonowski grabbed the closest sheet of paper and ended the debate, lifting his voice to be heard above the noise.
*****************************
Confidential
From: Special Agent Helms
To: AD Skinner
cc: Inspector M Thatcher, RCMP
Canadian Consulate, Chicago
CONSTABLE BENTON FRASER, RCMP
Following the normal practice, I am reporting on the performance of Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, who was seconded to the Joint Task Force Security Unit during the recent trade talks. Separate reports have been prepared on Agent Cortez (Mexican Security Service) and Detective Raymond Vecchio (Chicago PD).
Sadly, my assessment of Constable Fraser is that he is an officer past his prime. Coupled with a tendency to ignore orders and an unwillingness to remain within his given remit, his insubordination in this instance led to his being removed prematurely from the Task Force.
The simple task of collecting security telephone codes proved to be beyond this officer. He failed to notice that the regular clerk had been replaced, did not find it odd that the blind on the counter was pulled down and subsequently, having discovered an envelope addressed to himself, contaminated this evidence by handling both the envelope and its contents, destroying valuable fingerprint evidence. When questioning Constable Fraser following this incident, he appeared tired, confused and uncertain about the events of the day. The only information he was able to provide about the suspect was that "He worked outdoors; he worked with his hands."
As part of the security detail at the airport, Constable Fraser caused mayhem when he imagined he saw a gun being produced by one of the photographers. This sighting was not substantiated by anyone else present and no gunman was located.
Subsequently, Constable Fraser appeared to follow his own agenda. He refused to accept firm evidence from our sources as to the identity of the suspect (the letter addressed to Constable Fraser having been profiled by Agent Mulder of your section) and wasted valuable time wandering around in the woods before the evening reception. He claimed to be tracking the suspect and insisted that we cancel the event, in spite of the watertight security we had in place.
Having been removed from the unit, Constable Fraser committed the most serious infraction when he infiltrated the venue posing as a waiter. I instructed him to leave immediately but he did not. He then became involved in an incident, which my security detail would have handled without any threat to the guests, had the Constable not then put himself in a hostage situation.
Overall, therefore, I believe that Constable Fraser is a danger both to himself and to other officers in the field. He is not a team player and has an alarming tendency to insubordination.
[signed] Special Agent P Helms
*****************************
Kaczonowski looked questioningly at his fellow committee members. "Well?"
"Pompous ass," was Dr. Eastman's evaluation.
"Typical American. Just typical," added Sergeant Alexander.
Corporal Katz dutifully recorded all the comments in her shorthand book.
Kaczonowski began to put the FBI memo away, but only then noticed the addendum stapled behind it. "Wait, there's more! A handwritten note. . . ."
*****************************
Tosh and piffle! If it hadn't been for Fraser, the Minister would have been killed - not to mention the assassin and possibly a number of the guests. I've recommended Fraser for a commendation - this report can go in support of it to show Ottawa what morons he was dealing with.
[signed M Thatcher, Inspector]
*****************************
Turnbull slipped into the conference room at that moment, carrying a china platter piled high with fresh cranberry scones. The dusting of cake flour across the young constable's forehead didn't escape Sergeant Alexander's keen eye; he leaned over and whispered to Inspector Carstairs, "Speaking of what morons he was dealing with. . . ."
Superintendant Mitchell flashed Alexander a warning, but never had the chance to voice a rebuke; at that exact moment, Corporal Sager reappeared from underneath the table. Several more strands of her hair had escaped from her braid, and one of the buttons on her tunic had come undone. With a crow of triumph, she announced, "I found the Metcalf file!"
************************
LETTER OF RESIGNATION
Submitted: 04/04/95
To: Inspector Moffat
In consideration of recent events surrounding the Victoria Metcalf Incident and the Roger Hughes a.k.a. 'Jolly' Murder Investigation in which the I did contravene the Code of Conduct of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I hereby request an immediate release and resignation from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, effective immediately.
Benton T. Fraser
************************
The blood drained from Turnbull's face as he physically recoiled at the news; cranberry scones went flying and the platter shattered on the floor. In the midst of the chaos that followed, Corporal Sager brushed scone crumbs from her uniform, raised her voice and continued:
***********************
ACCEPTANCE OF RESIGNATION
Submitted: 04/05/95
To: Commissioner Rawlins, RCMP
cc: Benton T. Fraser
[See Attachment of Letter of Resignation received by me 04/04/95.]
Dear Sir:
In accordance with regulations as set forth in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Act, I forward the attached Letter of Resignation from B. Fraser and urge the Adjudication Board currently investigating his actions to accept and confirm this Letter of Resignation.
Sincerely,
Inspector Moffat, RCMP, Chief Liaison Officer: Canadian Consulate, Chicago, Il., USA
CHAPTER THREE
Dr. Walnut raised an eyebrow and remarked, "Well. It seems we've been wasting our time, eh? Apparantly, Constable Fraser resigned from the RCMP two years ago!"
Superintendant Mitchell broke his pencil in half. "Don't keep us waiting, Sager! What else is in the file?"
Corporal Sager lifted Inspector Moffat's recommendation out of the folder and shook her head sadly. "I'm very sorry, Sir, but there's nothing else in the file."
"There has to be more!" Superintendant Montmorency jumped to her feet. "That resignation is dated more than two years ago, but Fraser's still drawing a salary! There obviously has to be more to that story!"
"What do you want from me?" the young corporal protested. "Whatever else was in the file, it's somewhere else now! It's probably. . . . It's. . . oh, hell." She tossed the incomplete file on the table, dropped to her knees, and continued the search for relevant documents on the floor.
At the same moment, Turnbull emerged from underneath the opposite side of the conference table with a wastepaper basket full of broken plate shards and cranberry scones. He glumly turned his eyes to Superintendant Mitchell, and cleared his throat. "Sir? Is there anything else, Sir?"
Mitchell glanced up with irritation. "No, Constable. You've done quite enough here."
Turnbull carefully switched the wastepaper basket to his left hand before saluting, then slipped out the door.
Sergeant Alexander shook his head. Catching Dr. Eastman's eye, he said, "You're a psychologist. What's your professional opinion?"
Eastman popped a piece of scone into her mouth and grinned. "I'd say he's a few rocks short of an inukshuk--but he sure can bake! Never mind him, anyway. Listen to this!"
************************
To whom it may concern,
I am writing today to send my thanks and appreciation for one of your officer's actions in helping to save my daughter's life. I realise that as a member of the RCMP he did not need to be involved but nevertheless got involved to the satisfactory conclusion of events.
I understand that at one point he himself was in line for charge for the kidnapping of my daughter but was quickly cleared and that his open mindedness and clear thought led to her being found and released.
I thought you might also like to know that the vagrant, Mr. Garret, who also helped in this case, has been given full employment and that he is now janitor at one of our larger office blocks. Mr. Fraser can be thanked for that too as it was him that cleared this man's innocent name.
My daughter also wished me to express her thanks to Mr. Fraser for the help in this case and inform you that although she is still in shock over the events of the terrible ordeal she is, with therapy, able to lead a normal life.
I hope that you pass on my thanks to Constable Fraser and that in some small way he is recognised for his duties above and beyond the call of duty.
Yours,
Mr. Madison.
*******************
Superintendant Mitchell had listened to Eastman's recitation with a growing sense of irritation. "Ah yes, Doctor. Thank you for sharing that with us. I can certainly understand why Inspector Moffat chose to include that letter in Constable Fraser's personnel file. It speaks volumes about his skills as a law-enforcement officer."
"Well, it certainly runs contrary to all that talk about resignation, doesn't it?" As usual, Dr. Eastman was happy to take a contrarian view.
"However," Mitchell forged on, "as much as it pains me to play devil's advocate, I feel I must remind the committee that we are here to evaluate Constable Fraser's performance of his official duties as Deputy Liaison Officer, not to praise him for his myriad extra-curricular activities. Neither Ms. Madison nor her father is Canadian, the kidnapping did not occur in Canada, nor did the rescue. The kidnapper was not Canadian, nor was the vagrant who was originally a suspect in the crime."
"But Sir--" Carstairs tried to slip a word in edgewise, but the supertinendant wouldn't stop.
"Additionally, there is the small matter of the letter from the Office of the Regional Assistant Deputy Sub-Commander for Criminal Investigations, Federal Bureau of Investigation. I believe I have the letter here. . . . Ah yes. Here it is. It's rather long-winded, so I'll summarize."
*******************
Consulate of Canada
Office of the Liaison Officer
Chicago, IL
Dear Insp. Moffat:
Recent event surrounding the FBI investigation of the kidnapping. . . Federal Crime. . . clearly in the jurisdiction of the Federal Bureau. . . interference in the investigation by Constable Fraser and the local police. . . .
If you do not keep Big Red on a shorter leash, we will have no choice but to pursue a demand for his recall through the State Department.
Sincerely yours,
Special Agent G. Ford
*******************
At the opposite end of the building, in his tiny, windowless office, Turnbull was on the phone. "Hello. You have reached the Canadian Cons--"
"It's me, big guy! I just needed to find out what time you gonna pick me up tonight?"
Turnbull glanced up at his appointment calendar. There it was, "Shania Twain" in big block letters, decorated with brightly colored stars, red hearts and glitter. "Oh, Francesca. . . ."
"Oh, Francesca? Oh, Francesca what?"
"Francesca, I'm so sorry. . . but I'm afraid. . . ."
"Oh, no. No way, Renfield Turnbull, no way you are standin' me up tonight."
"But Francesca--"
"This was your idea. You've been buggin' me for weeks to go to this concert with you! It's all you ever talk about: 'Shania Twain, Shania Twain, Shania Twain, Shania Twain!' Day in, day out--"
"Not now, Francesca, please! I'm working."
"I turned down a date from Danny Portello in evidence control!"
"Francesca--"
"I bought a new dress!"
"Fran--"
"At Marshall Field!"
"Fr--"
"It wasn't even on sale!"
"Please understand, Francesca. I-- I have a consulate full of RCMP officials, doing some kind of high-level internal review."
"What the hell are they reviewing?"
"Constable Fraser's personnel file. Oh, Francesca--they've been working on it all morning, they're not even stopping for lunch. There's even been talk about his resignation!"
"What's in the file?"
"In what file?"
"Rennie, do you ever listen to yourself? Frase's personnel file. What's in it that's so godawful important that it's got 'em working through lunch?"
"How would I know?"
"Jesus, Rennie! Don't play innocent with me. I know you, and I know your sense of curiosity. You know what's in those files!"
"No, I don't! That would be a gross violation of RCMP regulations, section 39 (2)a and section 48 (1); not to mention the Oath of Secrecy--"
"Rennie! What's--in--the--file?"
"They're reading reports! Reports, memos, letters. . . ."
"And?"
"Disciplinary Actions. Probationary Documents."
"And?"
"Correspondence from American law enforcement agencies."
"Chicago P.D.?"
Turnbull's hesitation was confirmation enough for her, but he added, "And from the FBI, Secret Service, ATF, INS. . . ."
"All those?"
". . . FAA, FDA, NSA, HUD, MIB. . . "
"Dear God."
". . . Animal Control. . . "
"Fraser doesn't have a prayer."
*****************************
Back in the conference room, Dr. Walnut was shaking his head sadly, as he stared at the two pages he had placed side-by-side on the table in front of him. He waved a hand for attention, and Sergeant Alexander helped him out by bellowing, "Committee! Dr. Walnut has something to say!"
"Thank you, Peter."
"Any time, Bruce."
Superintendant Mitchell nodded at the young physician. "What do you have there, Dr. Walnut?"
"It appears to be a pair of 10989B reports. The date is just a few months after Constable Fraser's resignation, and one of the reports was written by a Detective Raymond Vecchio."
"Does it mention the Jolly murder?"
"Not that I can see. Hmmm. . . . I'm not sure, but maybe there's something useful here."
*****************************
Written report--Benton Fraser, Constable
Detective Vecchio and I were travelling from Chicago to Tuktoyaktuk, in order to effect repairs on my late father's cabin, which had recently burned. That's a long story, takes exactly two hours to tell, and is not really germane to this report. The upshot of it was that we were at that airport to catch a flight for the last leg of our journey, and boarded the plane completely unaware that anything was amiss.
I immediately noticed, however, that our pilot was flying south instead of north toward the Territories, and that several times he descended quite close to the treetops in what I can only assume was an attempt to avoid radar detection.
I also ascertained that the man flying our plane could not have been our intended pilot by the absence of dandruff on his scalp, as well as the prominent bullet hole in his leather jacket and ligature marks on his wrists consistent with someone who had recently been in handcuffs. He had obviously done violence to the actual pilot and hijacked our flight. I determined to arrest him at the earliest opportunity, with the assistance of Detective Vecchio and the illegal handgun he had smuggled aboard the aircraft. However, before I could put my plan into effect, the man took the only parachute aboard and jumped from the plane.
I swiftly took over the piloting duties and landed the craft in the forest. On the way down, I spotted a river and Detective Vecchio and I started toward it. I was certain that the hijacker would be making his way to the river as well, and figured to catch him there.
Unfortunately, Detective Vecchio lost our only compass and we ended up circling back to the plane. The hijacker was there before us, raiding the plane for supplies. Although shots were fired, I must admit that I failed in my duty to catch him at that time. The hour was late, and so Detective Vecchio and I camped near the plane that night after foraging for our dinner.
I prepared breakfast for us the next morning, and as soon as my partner was ready we set out again for the river, driving hard in order to catch the hijacker. On a rest break, I made an Inuit style bola and taught Detective Vecchio how to throw it, in order to conserve ammunition.
We got to the river ahead of our quarry, and set about to make a raft. Just as we completed this project, the hijacker arrived. I provided a distraction while Ray threw the bola at a loose boulder in order to cause a rockslide in which to trap the hijacker. Unfortunately, the criminal was killed in the process. I made note of the location, and then Detective Vecchio and I made our way down river until we reached this detachment.
*****************************
"That seems pretty straightforward," Carstairs remarked. "It seems that Fraser acted properly and well within the standards of conduct."
Walnut shook his head. "Yes, but that's only one side of the story."
*****************************
Detective Vecchio's report
Constable Fraser and I were going up north to work on his dad's cabin. You don't need to know why. Anyway, we were on this plane, no bathroom, no in-flight movie, not even any food except what we brought with us, which wasn't much. We were planning on living off the land. We'd been flying about two hours when we figured out that the pilot was not taking us to the Northwest Territories. Also, Benny saw that he had handcuff marks on his wrists and a bullet hole in his jacket, so we figured him for an escaped criminal, but before we could subdue him, he jumped. Took the only parachute and left us hanging.
Fraser tried to fly the plane, but we ended up crashing in the middle of nowhere. I got some bumps and bruises, and Diefenbaker---that's Fraser's wolf--- was completely uninjured, but Benny must have his head pretty hard, because he lost his vision. He insisted on trying to find the river he'd seen as we were going in, but due to his incapacity and my lack of experience with a compass, we ended up walking in a big circle, right back to the site of the crash. We got there just in time to scare off the guy who ditched us. He was raiding the wreck for supplies. Gunfire was exchanged, and he ran away.
By this time, it was getting pretty dark, so Constable Fraser and I settled down by the wreck for the night. The head injury must have gotten worse, because by morning, Fraser had lost the use of his legs. I gathered up what supplies I could find, making packs for Dief and me to carry, then picked up Constable Fraser and started walking toward the river, hoping that it would lead us to civilization.
While we were taking a break, Fraser made a Inuit weapon called a bola, out of some rocks and rope. He explained to me how to throw it, and I practiced a bit, then we moved on.
We finally found the river, and drank our fill of the most wonderful water I have ever tasted, and then I tried out the life raft we had found in the plane. Unfortunately, it was unusable. It was about that time, I guess, that Fraser started to get some feeling back in his legs. After I cracked his back for him, he was able to walk again, although he was still blind. We still had to get somewhere there were people, so we started building a raft. About the time we got it finished, the bad guy showed up, and started shooting at us again. I threw the bola at him, and knocked down a pile of rocks, burying him. Fraser can tell you where he is.
Anyway, we finished the raft and floated down here to this Mountie post, and just as soon as the doctor releases Fraser, we'll be on our way. We've still got a cabin to rebuild.
*****************************
Memo
From: Tiverton, Gerald, Insp.
To: Abernethy, Albert, Sgt.
Bert, go and check out Constable Fraser's story, will you? Take a couple of Constables with you. I guess you'll need picks and shovels to find this fellow, if indeed he is there. Frankly, the reports made by Fraser and his detective friend are so far apart as to seem to describe different events entirely. If I hadn't already seen the report on that OPP officer that was killed at the airport they started from, I wouldn't even bother sending you out.
Let me know what you find.
Gerry
*****************************
"So?" Corporal Katz looked up from her laptop. "What did they find?"
Dr. Walnut sighed. "I don't know. That's all I have here."
"Not very informative. The two of them can't seem to agree on anything!"
"You're telling me! I don't those two ever got along. Like this, for example." The superintendant's aide picked up a sheaf of papers from beside her laptop and began to read.
*****************************
Addendum to Constable Fraser's personnel file
From: Inspector M. Thatcher
Re: Dedication of the Inukshuk gifted to America
Notification of disciplinary action:
Constable Fraser is to serve a week's sentry duty outside the Consulate, commencing immediately. It is my hope that this assignment will allow the Constable to reflect on his behaviour and come to comprehend the enormity of his actions. Of course, knowing Constable Fraser, that will undoubtedly be a futile hope.
Following are details of Constable Fraser's infractions:
As I have tried to make Constable Fraser aware on a number of occasions, his do-gooding instinct is simply not appropriate for a member of the RCMP. On the day in question, he abandoned his post by the Inukshuk to give chase to an American delinquent, thereby allowing the Inukshuk to be used as cover in the commission of a murder. Despite the fact that he was out of his jurisdiction and that there were several members of the Chicago Police Department present who could have apprehended the purse snatcher themselves, Constable Fraser seems to remain not only unrepentant but oblivious to his error.
Furthermore, his wolf took the opportunity to substitute the Inukshuk for a fire hydrant, causing yet another animal-related complaint to be directed against the Consulate.
As if this weren't enough, during the subsequent murder investigation Constable Fraser employed a highly questionable technique which - well, I believe the attached letter from the Chicago PD speaks for itself.
It is my contention that Constable Fraser behaved improperly throughout the entire incident, and if, after this sentry duty, I do not deem him to be sufficiently punished, I will consider further action.
(signed) Inspector Margaret Thatcher
cc: Constable Benton Fraser
Detective Ray Vecchio (c/o 27th District, Detective Division)
(the following letter was attached to Inspector Thatcher's note)
Dear Inspector Thatcher,
Do you know what Fraser did today? Well, of course you do, you were there. I have to tell you, I thought for sure he'd finally lost it. I mean, hypnotism? But hey, with Fraser I guess weird is all part of the job.
Anyway. So it worked, we caught the bad guy (told you the woman didn't do it). And then I find out what he did while we were all in that hypnosis psychosis trance. I guess you think it's pretty funny, huh, him messing with my head so he can make me do whatever the hell he wants on command? Yeah, well, guess what: he did it to you too.
Ha, I bet that got your bun steaming. You didn't think it was weird you suddenly gave him the afternoon off? Ask him about eggplant sometime. But first, do me a little favour. Put him on sentry duty. A week of it, at least. Yell at him til he sees stars, and *then* tell him if he does it again my fist will be in his teeth so fast he'll be feeling a little post-hypnotic suggested himself.
Yours sincerely,
Ray Vecchio, Chicago PD
*****************************
Corporal Sager emerged again from beneath the table. "Sir? Permission to come up for air?"
"Granted." Mitchell glanced over at the young corporal, whose face was flushed and whose hair was becoming increasingly disheveled. "Have you found the rest of that file?"
"No, Sir. Well, actually yes Sir, I found one additional document. I'm sure I'll find the rest of it shortly."
Sergeant Kaczonowski slapped the table. "Dammit, Corporal! Don't keep us in suspense!"
Sager frowned, then pulled the folded document from her tunic.
*****************************
REQUEST FOR CODE OF CONDUCT REVIEW
Submitted: 04/06/95
To: Committee Chairman
cc: Constable Benton T. Fraser, RCMP, Deputy Liaison Officer: Canadian
Consulate, Chicago Il., USA
cc: Inspector Moffat, RCMP, Chief Liaison Officer: Canadian Consulate,
Chicago Il., USA
cc: Permanent file
Dear Sir:
In the Absence of The Commissioner of the RCMP, the senior Deputy Commissioner, acting with the authority of The Commissioner as set forth in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Act, does hereby direct that a Fitness Review Board be formed forthwith to investigate all conduct and circumstances surrounding Constable Benton R. Fraser, RCMP, Deputy Liaison Officer of the Canadian Consulate, Chicago, Il., USA; the Chicago Police Murder Investigation of Roger Hughes a.k.a.. 'Jolly'; and one Miss Victoria Metcalf.
Constable B. Fraser is hereby placed on Suspension pending the decision of the Fitness Review Board. His Letter of Resignation will be reconsidered at that time.
Ordered this day,
Deputy Commissioner C. Underhill, Interim Commissioner, RCMP
*****************************
"Not terribly helpful." Inspector Carstairs said quietly.
"It's not getting any better, is it?" added Dr. Walnut.
Superintendant Mitchell grimaced. "No, indeed."
CHAPTER FOUR
Turnbull whistled Shania's "You're Still the One" as he put the finishing touches on the committee's luncheon. Five minutes earlier, the delivery van from Hoo's on First had dropped off a load of paper cartons and polystyrene boxes--certainly not an acceptable presentation for his distinguished guests. In the consulate's well-equipped kitchen, Turnbull was in the process of transferring the feast into proper serving dishes in the Canadian Foreign Service's official red and white maple-leaf china pattern.
Three covered platters on the sideboard held the main courses. Two large serving bowls were filled with rice (both steamed and fried) and a plate was piled high with crispy brown eggrolls. Using his best judgment, as the sergeant had told him to do, he had augmented the menu; a covered casserole held tofu and vegetables, Szechuan style (in case any members of the committee were vegetarians), and two large teapots were filled with hot Chinese tea.
The earnest young constable had already emptied two dozen plastic packets of soy sauce into a cut-glass cruet, and he was now squeezing duck sauce onto a dessert plate.
Now if he could only manager to serve lunch without dropping anything!
*****************************
Back in the conference room, Inspector Carstairs raised her hand and politely waited to be recognized. Superintendent Mitchell nodded in her direction, and she addressed the committee.
"Sir, you mentioned at the beginning of this meeting that one of our duties was to discuss Constable Fraser's next assignment. Based on our discoveries so far, I wonder if we'll be able to come to any firm conclusion at all about his performance here in Chicago--but perhaps we could keep his future assignment in mind as we discuss his past performance."
"C'est la chose la plus raisonable qu'on a dit jusqu'a présent!" muttered Superintandent Montmorency.
The impatient, decidedly monolinguistic chairman glared at his counterpart. "Would you care to repeat that in English?"
Montmorency smiled. "Non."
Dr. Eastman rapped her knuckles on the table; the other committee members were glad to turn their attention away from the two superintendents. The psychologist smoothed out the heavily creased sheet of letterhead on the table in front of her, and announced, "Here's one avenue of advancement that seems pretty well closed to Constable Fraser."
*****************************
Dear Committee,
As coordinator of the RCMP Musical ride I was asked to comment on the incident involving my men and horses whilst travelling through the United States by train.
I understand that Constable Benton Fraser received vast public praise for his work on bringing the train to a safe halt. However I would like to point out that several things were over looked.
Firstly he seemed to be the only Constable in a conscious state on the train. As such it was his responsibility to see that the team of horses were kept fed and watered the entire time. Whilst it is true that there was some pressing issues to attend to he seems to very conveniently overlooked this responsibility. Indeed two of the horses were found without hay and one with only an inch of water left in his trough -- less than satisfactory I must say.
Half way through this disastrous journey I believe that the said Constable left the train, leaving my horses and men stranded with terrorists and a nuclear device -- hardly responsible behaviour.
I feel that this makes a mockery of his 'hero' status, after all if the man can not look after a few horses to an acceptable standard, what kind of Mountie is he?
Yours,
Cptn. G. G. Saddlesore.
*****************************
"I remember that!" cried Corporal Katz. "The train almost crashed into a load of nuclear waste! I can't believe that's all Saddlesore had to say about it. What good would a little bit of hay and water done if the train had wrecked?"
"Is that all that his file has to say?" asked Carstairs.
"Hang on," muttered Eastman. "There's another one here somewhere. . . ah, here it is."
*****************************
A train you said... ahh yes I remember now that was the day after I was introduced to moose hock, rolled in wild boar tongue covered with gorgonzola cheese. An experience and a disaster in itself I don't mind telling you. - A real eye opener.
Benton Fraser you said. A good man. Not as sound as his father, but a good officer all the same. There was some confusion I must admit to the exact nature of the men's stupor but once that was cleared up we worked together as a well oiled team.
After the Inspector and Constable had had a tactics discussion on the roof of the said train, things began to move along more smoothly thanks to some excellent advice given by myself of course. Then there was the Great Yukon Double Douglas Fir Telescoping Bank Shot but that's another story
Anyway he's a good boy...
'Nuff said
Sgt. D. Frobisher
*****************************
"Okay, so I guess we can rule out a posting to the RCMP Stables in Ottawa." Sergeant Alexander got straight to the point.
Kaczonowski laughed. "Frobisher likes him, though. We could send him north to work with the recruits. . . ."
"It's amazing he's still welcome here in Chicago," declared Superintendent Montmorency. She had found a file folder that was still relatively intact. "There's a detective here that has a very low opinion of him, indeed."
"Really?" Corporal Sager peeked out from under the table. "I thought the local police worship the ground he walks on."
"Not all of them, apparently."
*****************************
From: Detective Jack Huey, district 27, Chicago PD
To: RCMP Commissioner Maria Crothers, RCMP review board, Ottawa
Object: Notice of misconduct of an officer, Constable Benton Fraser
Dear Commissioner Crothers,
In the last week, Constable Fraser has repeatedly interfered in a police investigation resulting from the murder of a fellow officer, my partner Detective Louis Gardino.
While the members of the 27th district conducted a thorough investigation into the death of Detective Gardino, Constable Fraser conducted an unofficial investigation of his own, leading to the release from incarceration of the prime suspect, and culminating in the death of a woman when he burst in on a hostage situation.
Were it not for Constable Fraser's interference, the matter of Louis Gardino's death would have been resolved much more quickly, without the loss of additional lives. During the course of his `investigation', he constantly interfered with officials assigned to the case, raising unnecessary questions which set the investigation back.
Therefore, I hope you will investigate this matter, and find Constable Benton Fraser utterly unsuited for duty.
Detective Jack Huey
*****************************
From: Louise St. Laurent, State's Attorney for Illinois
To: RCMP Commissioner Maria Crothers, RCMP review board, Ottawa
Object: response to Detective Jack Huey's complaint
Dear Commissioner Crothers,
It is with surprise that I write this letter to you. Having read Detective Huey's complaint towards Constable Fraser, I must ask that you disregard it. Constable Fraser and myself have had our differences in the past, but his conduct in this matter was exemplary.
The members of the twenty-seventh district conducted a sloppy investigation into the death of Detective Louis Gardino, notably by neglecting to canvass the main suspect's neighborhood for witnesses confirming his alibi and by not taking into account important evidence presented by Constable Fraser indicating that the main suspect was not guilty. Constable Fraser, on the other hand, did not allow emotion to cloud his judgement. It is he who brought the situation to a satisfactory close by bringing the true killer to light.
In short, I believe that this case was an example of Constable Fraser's solo and unorthodox methods actually working, and that he should be commended for his actions.
Louise St. Laurent
*****************************
"Why was he investigating the murder of an American policeman?" asked the chairman. "Surely that doesn't fall within the scope of his job here."
Corporal Katz looked up from her laptop. "As Deputy Liaison Officer, he works closely with the local police and the various arms of the American criminal justice system and the intelligence. . . ."
Dr. Eastman interrupted. "He works closely with the local police! Quite simple."
Katz pressed on. ". . . and the intelligence community, on matters of mutual interest. That last bit being the key phrase. Was there a matter of mutual interest in the death of Detective Gardino?"
"Other than our mutual interest in truth and justice?" asked Inspector Carstairs.
"That's Superman," Sergeant Kaczonowski laughed. "Truth, justice, and the American Way."
"Well, this particular assignment definitely fell within his primary duties--but it doesn't make very much sense." Superintendent Mitchell scratched his head. "Listen!"
*****************************
October 15, 1995
To: Supt. Moffat, Consulate of Canada, Chicago Illinois, USA
From: Constable Benton Fraser
CC: Hamilton Nichols, Canadian Ministry of Trade
Re: Cristina Nichols
I am writing this report regarding last night's incident, in which Cristina Nichols and I were detained by detectives of the 27th District, Chicago P.D., as a result of a raid on an establishment where Ms. Nichols and I were present.
You provided me with my orders regarding Ms. Nichols 56 hours ago; you instructed me to prepare a selection of appropriate activities to keep the young lady occupied during her visit to Chicago, while her father was to be engaged in secret high-level trade negotiations with representatives of Bulgaria, Latvia, and Sri Lanka, as well as officials from the U.S. Dept. of Commerce.
I accept full responsibility for the shameful outcome of the evening. Had I devoted more time to a detailed investigation of the destinations on our itinerary, I would have know that the club "My Lady's Boot" was not an age-appropriate venue for Ms. Nichols. Certainly nothing in my upbringing or training prepared me for an experience like that of "My Lady's Boot"; we did not have such an establishment in Inuvik during my formative years. Furthermore, I was under the mistaken impression that "S&M" was an abbreviation for "Sodas & Movies"--although on reflection I must admit that I have never before heard the residents of Chicago refer to carbonated beverages as "sodas" since the preferred term seems to be "pop."
Speaking of which, I understand that Trade Representative Nichols was quite inconvenienced by the summons he received to come and "bail out" his daughter; please be assured that the phrase "bail out" was used in a playful sense by Det. Gardino as no charges were ever made against Ms. Nichols. Even so, I take full responsibility for the interruption to the trade talks and the trauma which Ms. Nichols may have experienced by being placed in handcuffs--which was done by the police of course, not by the patrons of "My Lady's Boot."
I will submit to whatever disciplinary action you see fit to administer.
Sincerely,
Benton Fraser
*****************************
"As you can see, my fellow committee members, Constable Fraser seemed quite concerned about this incident." The superintendent scratched his head. "However, I can find no record of any disciplinary action in this matter; in fact, there is the following letter from Trade Representative Nichols:"
*****************************
Dear Sir:
I would like to express my appreciation for the assistance provided to my daughter by Constable Fraser during my visit to your city. Cristina tells me that she very much enjoyed her stay in Chicago. I am very grateful; knowing that she was in such capable hands enabled me to devote 100% of my energy and attention to my duties in promoting Canada's role in international trade.
(signed) Hamilton Nichols
*****************************
"Sir?" Corporal Katz looked up from her laptop. "I had looked at those documents earlier, and I was struck by the contradiction. I hope you don't mind--I took the liberty of putting in a call to Ms. Nichols herself, and I e-mailed several other consulates visited by Trade Minister Nichols that year. I've heard back from three of the consulates already--may I?"
"Go ahead!"
The corporal called up the messages on the screen, and began to read:
*****************************
Dear Sir:
I would like to express my appreciation for the assistance provided to my daughter by Constable Llewellyn during my visit to your city. Cristina tells me that she very much enjoyed her stay in Amsterdam. I am very grateful; knowing that she was in such capable hands enabled me to devote 100% of my energy and attention to my duties in promoting Canada's role in international trade.
(signed) Hamilton Nichols
*****
Dear Sir:
I would like to express my appreciation for the assistance provided to my daughter by Constable LeBlanc during my visit to your city. Cristina tells me that she very much enjoyed her stay in Capetown. I am very grateful; knowing that she was in such capable hands enabled me to devote 100% of my energy and attention to my duties in promoting Canada's role in international trade.
(signed) Hamilton Nichols
*****
Dear Sir:
I would like to express my appreciation for the assistance provided to my daughter by Constable Chang during my visit to your city. Cristina tells me that she very much enjoyed her stay in Rio de Janeiro. I am very grateful; knowing that she was in such capable hands enabled me to devote 100% of my energy and attention to my duties in promoting Canada's role in international trade.
(signed) Hamilton Nichols
*****************************
"I believe the committee gets the idea." Corporal Katz looked quite pleased with herself.
Dr. Walnut grinned. "I wonder if those other officers entertained the young lady in leather clubs?"
That strange thought was interrupted by the insistent warbling of the conference room telephone. Katz answered it, then transferred the call to the speaker phone in the center of the conference table. Dr. Walnut reached across the table to sweep several loose documents away from the speaker. Katz spoke quietly, "Cristina Nichols on the phone, Sir, calling from her dormitory at the University of British Columbia."
*****************************
"Miss Nichols?"
"What?"
"Miss Nichols, this is Superintendent Mitchell, RCMP. I would appreciate a moment of your. . . ."
"You're going to have to speak up, I can't hear you!"
"Perhaps if you could turn the music down?"
"I can't hear you, the music's kinda loud!"
"Miss Nichols, I need to ask you a few questions about Constable Fraser."
"Who?"
The superintendent leaned closer to the speaker phone and raised his voice. "Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP. You were arrested with him once in Chicago."
"I did what with him where?"
"You were arrested with him in a bar. . . ."
"You're going to have to be more specific than that, if you expect me to remember."
"It was while your father was involved in some trade talks. . . ."
She laughed. "Yeah, like that helps!"
". . . in Chicago."
"Chicago? Oh! Chicago!" She cackled with glee. "Man-oh-man, I haven't thought about old Chicago in ages. How is he?"
"Who?"
"Chicago! The Mountie, Grazer or Blazer or whatever his name was."
"Fraser."
"That's it! Fraser! How is he?"
"He's undergoing a rather rigorous job evaluation at the moment."
"Really? Well give that big hunk o' Mountie a big ol' raise and a transfer to Vancouver, willya? Gotta go, 'bye!"
*****************************
The line fell silent. Katz disconnected the speaker phone, and looked expectantly at Superintendent Mitchell.
Turnbull chose that exact moment to burst through the conference room door, backing into the room while pulling a wheeled cart. The young constable was quite capable of learning from his mistakes; after the catastrophes of the morning, he wasn't going to risk carrying anything important into the committee meeting.
In addition to the serving dishes filled with Chinese cuisine, the cart was piled high with gold-rimmed maple-leaf pattern plates, bowls and teacups for each committee member, as well as silverware, linen napkins and crystal water glasses. The crowning achievement was the centerpiece: a bare branch set in a pebble-filled cranberry-glass bowl, meant to look like a miniature tree. From its tiny branchlets, fortune cookies had been suspended on slender red velvet ribbons.
"Lunch is served!"
He left the cart in the doorway, and reached over Superintendent Montmorency's shoulder to sweep up two stacks of file folders that she had placed at her elbow. He was reaching for a second pile of documents on Sergeant Kaczonowsi's left when the chairman's fist clenched so hard that his pencil snapped in two.
"Constable Turnbull!"
The sudden outburst from Superintendent Mitchell caused the flustered constable to drop the files into Kaczonowski's lap. There was a protracted silence, during which the only sound was the flutter of loose papers, the steady tick of the wall clock, and the loud pounding of Turnbull's heart.
Dr. Walnut broke the silence. "Constable, perhaps you might have some duties. . . or some personal business to take care of for the next hour or so?"
Inspector Carstairs added, quietly, "Outside the consulate, preferably?"
Turnbull's face reflected a mixture of confusion and shame. He gestured over his shoulder to the serving cart. "Don't you want me to serve--?"
"No." Carstairs' voice was firm.
"No," echoed Eastman, Alexander and Kaczonowski.
"Oh." Crestfallen, his shoulders bent in shame, Turnbull edged past the Chinese feast in the doorway and out of the conference room.
Corporal Katz glared at her supervisor, who was still staring red-faced at the door through which the young Mountie had just left. She snapped the lid of her laptop closed, slipped out of her seat and followed the dispirited constable into the hallway. She caught up with him halfway down the stairs. "Constable?"
"Sir?"
She laughed. "I'm not a 'Sir,' Constable. I'm just a corporal."
"Yes, Ma'am." Old habits were hard to break.
"Don't take it personally, Turnbull. The committee had a hard job to do even before that box fell apart--"
"Which was my fault--"
"Which was not anybody's fault. Even so, we thought going in that this would be a simple, straightforward review of Constable Fraser's work in Chicago; who knew that his personnel file would be a great big box full of. . . full of contradictory information?"
Turnbull frowned. "Constable Fraser is a good man!"
"I believe you're right, Turnbull. I believe you're right." She grinned encouragingly. "But I suspect there may be some members of the committee who still need convincing."
CHAPTER FIVE
Francesca's dark expression brightened momentarily as she approached the cardboard cutout of a Mountie who stood frozen at attention beside the consulate door. She touched her fingertips to her lips and blew a jaunty kiss.
She remembered the days after Inspector Thatcher had left on her secret assignment, when Turnbull had worked himself to a frazzle trying to keep up with the consulate paperwork and custodial work while still covering both shifts of guard duty every day. She had watched with grave consternation as he hurtled toward total exhaustion, his usual bouyant humor and eager smile fading away in lines of stress and weariness. The RCMP had shown no sign of haste in filling the vacancies in Chicago; after a week Francesca took matters into her own hands, putting in a call to the Canadian Tourism Commission. That worthy organization was quite happy to send her one of their most popular promotional items, a life-size Mountie in red serge mounted on heavy-duty cardboard. Turnbull was appalled at first, but quickly accepted the need for compromise-and Constable Flat had stood silent guard duty in all but the windiest weather ever since
She breezed into the consulate and passed the central staircase to Turnbull's office at the rear of the building. He wasn't there, nor was he in the kitchen. She checked Fraser's office, and Thatcher's as well, but there was no sign of him. Puzzled, she ran up to the second floor. At the top of the stairs she paused to catch her breath, smoothed her hair, and gave a gentle tug to the hem of her red leather mini-skirt.
She could clearly hear the sound of several voices in animated conversation coming from the conference room at the front of the building. All else was silent. She set her jaw, marched down the hallway, and burst through the oak double doors.
Eleven forks dropped noisily into eleven plates, and eleven pairs of eyes looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion. Francesca's gaze swept across the members of the committee: nine RCMP officers in Navy blue uniforms, and two civilians in dark colored suits. They were nearing the end of a working lunch; half-empty platters and serving bowls were scattered among the files on the polished oval conference table.
She took a deep breath, and addressed the committee. "Which one of you bozos is the head kangaroo?"
The young corporal with the French braid broke the silence that followed. "I beg your pardon?"
"The big kahuna! Lord High Executioner!" She pounded her fist on the serving cart for emphasis, making the empty dishes rattle. "Which one of you is in charge of the lunch mob?"
The heavyset man with the few strands of iron gray hair arranged in a pathetic comb-over stood up at the head of the table. "I'm Superintendent Mitchell, the chairman of this committee. Who the blazes are you?
She stood straight and tall, her pennant of defiance in the wind. "Francesca Vecchio, of the Chicago Police Department!" She pointed proudly at the city flag patch that was sewn to the sleeve of her fire-engine red sweater.
"Is it 'Officer Vecchio' then?" asked the young corporal with the laptop computer.
"Um--not exactly. Cadet Vecchio."
"Cadet Vecchio?"
"Yeah! Well. . . that is. . . it will be. In a couple of weeks. As soon as my application goes through."
A sergeant at the far end of the table shuffled his papers. "I don't suppose you know a Detective Raymond Vecchio, do you?"
"Who wants to know?"
"Sergeant Alexander, ma'am. I ask, because there's a fairly large demand for compensation here from Detective Vecchio, requesting immediate reimbursement for personal property lost and/or destroyed during the extradition of Ian MacDonald. I haven't been able to locate any supporting documentation about the circumstances of the loss. I was hoping to get some information about that."
"I don't know nothin' about that."
Alexander sighed, "Figures."
"Hey, I'm sorry!" Francesca replied. "It's not like I have Ray in my back pocket, right?"
The chairman grimaced. "What are you doing here, Ms Vecchio?"
"I'm trying to stop a phenomenal miscarriage of justice. You people don't know Fraser the way I know Fraser. You don't know how much he's meant to the police of this city. You don't know what kind of hero he's been to the people of this city. You don't know--"
"You don't know how little patience I have left!" The chairman crushed his fortune cookie to crumbs. "If you have information you want this committee to consider, then submit a written document for the file. We don't have the time or the inclination to listen to your stories. Understood?"
It was that last word that sparked something in Francesca's heart. She squared her shoulders, met his gaze, and replied firmly, "Understood." She made a smart about-face and marched right out of the room, down the stairs, around the corner, and into Turnbull's office. Once there, she made herself at home--adjusted the height on his chair, slipped a sheet of paper into his old IBM Selectric, and began to type.
"They want a written report? Fine! If there's one thing I've learned to do in the last two years, it's how to prepare written reports!"
*****************************
As the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed one, lunch was finished. The committee members made short work of clearing the table, eager to return to the task of sorting and reviewing the piles of documents that remained. As she added her plate to the stack on the serving cart, Inspector Wallace noticed a small, folded sheet of personal notepaper lying on the floor beneath the cart. She bent down to retrieve it, and brought it back to the table.
"I wonder if Fraser always inspires such devoted attention from the women he meets? Here's an interesting viewpoint, indeed."
*****************************
Prisoner No. 3978476 Packard
Joliet Correctional Facility
Joliet
Inspector M. Thatcher
Canadian Consulate
Chicago
Dear Inspector Thatcher,
You may not remember me by my real name of Denise Packard, but as Denny Scarpa. When I heard that Constable Fraser was in trouble with his commanding officer for allowing me to stay at the Consulate one night, I decided to try to do what I could on his behalf.
I remember seeing you when you returned briefly to the Consulate that night and was pleased to see that Ben had such a relaxed, warm and affectionate senior officer who took her diplomatic liaison duties with the Spanish so seriously. So I was surprised that you were annoyed with Ben for giving me somewhere to stay.
During my arrest by the Chicago PD, Ben hurt his back jumping from a second-floor window. That night at the Consulate, he was in considerable pain as he was working - something to do with an adoption request. I am extremely experienced in massage and I was able to give Constable Fraser some relief from his strained muscles, which I believe may have been partly the result of a weakness caused by an old bullet wound.
I am sure you have read the case file. The FBI wanted to use me to get to Farah. I wanted to use Constable Fraser as a distraction so that I could kill the man who stabbed my brother. I had intended to kill Farah and gave no thought to the risk I was putting Ben in. All I cared about was getting revenge for my brother's death. I admitted all this at my trial.
As you know, my plan to kill Farah went wrong - because of Ben. When Detective Vecchio and the other officers raided the game, I ran, climbed out of a window onto a ledge trying to escape. I slipped from the ledge when my heel broke. Ben saved my life. If he hadn't been there, I would have fallen to my death. He was holding me by one hand, causing him a lot of pain in his back.
The pain clearly became too much for him, because Ben let go of me. For a second, I thought I was going to fall and screamed, but he caught me with his other hand and pulled me up to safety.
By letting me stay at the Consulate, he was simply trying to protect me, as he protected me on that ledge. I will always be grateful to Ben for saving my life, and for teaching me a valuable lesson in bluffing.
[signed] Denise Packard
*****************************
"Excuse me," said Dr. Eastman, "but did this convicted criminal actually refer to Constable Fraser as 'Ben'?"
Wallace made a quick count. "Eight times, Dr. Eastman. Eight times."
Inspector Paulson laughed. "She gave him a massage while she was his guest in the consulate, Wallace. Perhaps we should consider ourselves lucky she didn't call him 'Sweetlips.'"
Inspector Carstairs spoke up. "Packard wasn't the only criminal to be housed here in the consulate. Here's a memo from Inspector Thatcher--"
"Let's hear it!"
*****************************
Addendum to Personnel File
In regard to: Constable Benton Fraser
Submitted by Inspector M. Thatcher
To Whom It May Concern:
It has been brought to my attention that in my absence, Constable Fraser assisted in the recapture of Girard, the former R.C.M.P. officer incarcerated for the East Bay project conspiracy and the contract murder of Sergeant Robert Fraser.
While at first blush, it would appear that Constable Fraser operated without authority and in insubordination of direct orders, the following facts must be taken into consideration.
1. In my absence, Constable Fraser, operating in the capacity of Liaison Officer was the ranking officer in attendance at the Canadian Consulate at the time of the incident.
2. Constable Fraser made an honest attempt to liaise with agents of both the FBI and ATF in a manner appropriate to his position.
3. Constable Fraser took the fugitive into custody only when he felt that said fugitive's life was in danger from the aforementioned agents.
4. While Constable Fraser suffered serious bodily harm in ensuring Girard's safety, he was responsible (along with Det. Ray Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department) for ensuring that Girard was present at the legal proceedings for which he was extradited.
5. While Constable Fraser's methodology may seem unorthodox, it was effective and well within R.C.M.P. guidelines.
6. The testimony of the FBI and ATF agents is spurious and unfounded. The fact that they have been indicted should be proof enough of their dishonesty.
7. Similarly, Girard's claim of abuse at Constable Fraser's hands is discounted. While Girard did incur a minor bullet wound, he was sound in wind and limb at the time of the hearing. Constable Fraser, on the other hand, suffered a serious bullet wound to his right leg.
Taking the above facts into consideration, as well as the fact that Sergeant Robert Fraser was Constable Fraser's father, it is my opinion that Fraser's conduct was appropriate and just. No disciplinary action will be taken in this case.
On a personal note, however, I feel Constable Fraser's communication skills are woefully inadequate. Ottawa, of course, should have been advised, and another officer assigned to avoid the obvious appearance of conflict of interest. The Canadian Consulate is not a secure facility and therefore totally inappropriate for the housing of fugitives. I believe that communication with the Chicago Police Department, one of the agencies with which Constable Fraser should be liaising with, would have been able to make appropriate arrangement at one of their institutions. Leaving Constable Turnbull in sole charge of such a
fugitive as Girard displayed a lack of judgement and planning on Fraser's part.
While he is used to making such unorthodox arrangements and decisions unilaterally, he must realize that in this environment and circumstance, a spirit of cooperation and teamwork must be engendered. While he has leadership qualities in abundance, he must be encouraged to use his subordinates more responsibly.
Respectfully Submitted,
Inspector Margaret Thatcher
cc: Constable Benton Fraser
*****************************
"Gerrard." Superintendent Montmorency muttered the man's name under her
breath "Le tabarnac. La GRC aurait dû lui couper les couilles."
"What did you say?" asked Carstairs.
"Nothing important."
"Well, well, well." Sergeant Kaczonowski tapped his pen against his notepad as he thought out loud. Our Constable Fraser gets results, but he is certainly a man of unorthodox methods, eh?"
Dr. Eastman dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. "It makes sense, in a way. He likes to keep his enemies close. He is self-reliant, he delegates work to his fellow Canadian, but he does not trust the Americans. All in all, I'd say that's a very healthy attitude."
"Found one!" Corporal Sager popped up from beneath the table between Corporal Katz and Sergeant Alexander. "Another document referencing Constable Fraser's resignation in 1995." She circled around to her own seat, spread the letter out on the table, and began to read.
*****************************
CHICAGO POLICE DEPARTMENT
27th District
Chicago, Il. 60607
Inspector Moffat
Chief Liaison Officer, RCMP
Canadian Consulate
Chicago, Il. 60607
Dear Sir:
It has come to my attention that Constable Benton Fraser has submitted his Letter of Resignation and that he is being investigated concerning his actions during the week of 3/14/95-3/21/95.
This letter is a request that you ignore Constable Fraser's Letter of Resignation. He is still in the hospital and suffering both physical and mental duress as a result of a vicious and premeditated attack by Miss Victoria Metcalf, whose only purpose in coming to Chicago was to seek revenge against the officer who had arrested her ten years before, framing him for murder, conspiracy and fraud.
[SEE ATTACHED POLICE REPORT]
Despite great emotional and mental duress, Constable Fraser was able to discover Miss Metcalf's plans and inform us of her whereabouts. If not for Constable Fraser's actions, Miss Metcalf would have succeeded in her revenge, sending Constable Fraser to jail for a crime he did not commit, and framing me for conspiracy, fraud and money laundering, while escaping with more than a hundred thousand dollars and an estimated eighty thousand dollars in stolen diamonds. The recovery of the stolen money and diamonds would not have been possible without Constable Fraser's involvement. In the end, Constable Fraser made every effort, ignoring clear danger to himself, in a final attempt to apprehend the
fleeing felon and was subsequently shot. Her escape can in no way be a reflection upon Constable Fraser who acted above and beyond the call of duty in attempting to apprehend this dangerous felon.
I realize that many of the events surrounding this incident can be seen in a negative light, but I do not honestly see how Constable Fraser, or myself, could have foreseen or avoided the trap which this woman so meticulously laid. We have both been formally cleared of all allegations in this incident but the scars will remain forever. I wish to formally state that I have never met nor worked with a finer police officer than Constable Fraser. You would be losing one of your most dedicated officers should you choose to accept his resignation.
I will be happy to answer any questions you may still have regarding Constable Fraser's actions in this incident. Thank you for your attention.
Sincerely yours,
Detective, Ray Vecchio, Violent Crimes, 27th District, CPD
*****************************
Dr. Walnut broke the silence. "And the 'attached police report' is. . .
?"
Sager shook her head regretfully. "Not attached, Sir." She didn't wait to be told--she immediately headed back under the table to continue the search.
CHAPTER SIX
"Yeah. MacDonald with an M-A-C, first name Ian. January '95? Yeah, that's what I needed to know. Now can you get back to me with the rest of it in about half an hour?" Francesca strained to hold the phone in place with her shoulder while typing rapidly. "Yeah--at the Canadian Consulate, that'd be great. Don't laugh! This is serious! Well, do what you can, okay?"
"Francesca! What are you doing here?"
Francesca was so startled by Turnbull's sudden arrival that she dropped the phone as she jumped to her feet. "Rennie! You're here! What a surpr--" She caught herself, and laughed nervously. "Well of course it's not a surprise since it's--"
"--my office."
"--your office." She glanced around the tiny room, shifty eyes betraying her embarrassment at being caught in the act of hijacking the consulate's typewriter.
Turnbull set down the heavy shopping bags he'd been carrying and knelt down to retrieve the dropped telephone handset. "What are you doing here?"
Honesty being the best policy on those occasions when a well-prepared lie wasn't ready, Francesca told the truth. "I'm writing a report for the vultures upstairs."
"For the vultures upst-- Oh please, Francesca! Please tell me you didn't go up there!"
"Well of course I went upstairs! And they're really interested in what I have to say--but they'd prefer that I submit a written report. So that's what I'm doing." Frannie reached greedily for the nearer of Turnbull's shopping bags. "Whaddaya got?"
Turnbull's train of thought was completely derailed by her clever tactic of changing the subject. His face brightened like a child on Christmas morning as he pulled his first treasure out of the bag. He handed it over to Francesca, a slim but sturdy book, spiral bound to lie flat when opened.
"'The Joy of Pizza'?" she asked incredulously.
"As it turns out, the secret to making a proper Chicago style deep-dish pizza is in the quality of the cheese." He pulled out a smooth ball of creamy mozzarella and handed it to Francesca with a flourish, then began rooting around in the bags, taking inventory of his purchases. "One must use the highest quality ingredients. Stone-ground flour, plum tomatoes, roasted garlic, fresh herbs, imported pepperoni, black olives, anchovies. . . ."
"You want to make pizza at a time like this? They're upstairs tryin' to figure out how to crucify Fraser, and you're itchin' to do somthin' in the kitchen?"
"Don't be so cynical, Francesca. The committee have to eat, after all, and they might be more disposed to a positive outcome if the evening meal is. . . .ah! Here they are!"
"Here what are?"
Turnbull pulled his prizes from the bottom of the second bag, an expression of pure elation on his face. No child on Christmas morning had ever been so enthusiastic about a new toy. "Four, count 'em, four genuine Chicago-style Deep Dishes!"
She just managed not to laugh. "Jeez, Rennie--if you want pizza, there's a million places around here that'll sell you some."
"That may be so, Francesca, but nothing says 'resourcefulness and competence' like something from the oven! Besides which, I've been assigned to Chicago for more than two years now. Don't you think it's high time I learned how to prepare the local haute cuisine?" He carefully tucked the deep dishes back into the bag and headed toward the consulate's kitchen.
*****************************
Upstairs in the committee room, Superintendent Mitchell sat at the head of the table, glowering quietly. He was an organized man, a tidy man--some who worked closely with him in the past might well say that he was an anal-retentive martinet. He wouldn't necessarily disagree with them either, though he'd be quick to demand the dignity due his office.
This was supposed to have been a simple job: review the records that Inspector Moffat and Inspector Thatcher had compiled during Fraser's three years in Chicago, determine the constable's fitness for promotion and/or transfer, and make a recommendation as to his next assignment. Simple, indeed! Never before in all his professional life had he seen such a haphazard approach to a situation that called for methodical, systematic analysis. Piles of paper reports and half-empty files littered the table, dozens of as-yet unreviewed documents were still underfoot--as was Corporal Sager, who was still on her hands and knees, searching for the remainder of the Metcalf file. And eleven RCMP officers were randomly reading documents out loud, for pity's sake!
Inspector Paulson held up a sheaf of mismatched papers that had been stapled together at one corner. "Sir, I have a letter here from a General Bowman, which seems to address the constable's performance of his duties regarding the investigation of a murder which took place in Ontario."
Superintendent Montmorency immediately replied, "Bowman? Walter Bowman? Good God, man. Don't keep us waiting!"
Mitchell closed his eyes and ground his teeth as Paulson began to read.
*****************************
Recently in the course of unofficial action following the death of a family member I had reason to come into contact with the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. Inspector Margaret Thatcher and Constable Benton Fraser liaised with me during that period, and the latter in particular was instrumental in the apprehension of two dangerous and despicable criminals. Constable Fraser's courage and cool-headedness under fire prevented injury to all parties concerned. The staff at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago have my respect and gratitude.
Should Constable Fraser be considered for official recognition in this matter I would happily add my voice to the testimonials.
Yours truly,
General Bowman, K.C.M.G., OC.
Handwritten beneath: I have served in the Canadian army for 35 years with many fine officers and men. I would have considered it a privilege and an honor to have Constable Fraser at my side in any situation I have endured.
He is also sound on history, unlike some I met south of the border.
*****************************
In Inspector Thatchers' writing:
Constable Fraser displayed considerable diplomatic skills in averting what could have proved to be an embarrassing international incident. He handled the situation with sensitivity and tact, allowing General Bowman to return to his homeland with his considerable reputation unharmed. Fraser proved himself willing to go beyond the usual domain of his duties in serving his superior officer and country, and the personal risks he endured at this time will not be forgotten.
Oh, and he caught two criminals in a shootout.
M. Thatcher, Insp.
*****************************
"Doesn't it seem odd," Inspector Wallace said, "that General Bowman chose to write his letter on pale lavender stationery?"
Paulson glanced down at the pages in his hand. "What? Oh! No, no. The general's letter is on plain white paper." He flipped over to the last two pages, heavy purple paper flecked in gold, with a deckel edge. "This was stapled to the general's letter--I'm not sure what the connection is."
*****************************
From the desk of Jeffrey Mawk-Cunnington
To: the Mountie Consulate, Chicago
You will, of course, be wondering how I could possibly take time out from my exhausting, insane schedule at this portentous moment in time to write this letter. But I felt I simply must pen a notelet about that scarlet darling, my Scarlett, if you will, who aided in his small but nonetheless really quite useful way in the birthing of my baby. As with the birth of any truly magical creature, it was an experience both heartbreakingly beautiful and horrifically painful.
The birth pangs of passage were nothing compared to the wrenching of that umbilical cord and the sending of my precious labour of love and sweat out into the cruel nothingness of the modern world.
It is now a matter of legend how my child 'Coming From Behind: A Greek Tragedy of the North' has become so wildly seminal in the consciousness of my film-making band of brothers, despite the fact that I had to change the title four times. My earlier choices - 'Taxi Driver', 'Death Becomes Her' and 'North by Northwest' were all rejected by those soulless money people for reasons simply too petty to believe, but that is ever the way of the auteur, is it not - to find his genius hemmed at every turn by creatures who would not know a creative coup de cinema if it strode up and slapped them firmly on their asinine faces before sweeping out the door in a cloud of Giorgio - but I digress.
Constable Fraser - my red clad Ganymede - saw at once the blinding poetry of 'Coming' and promptly showed it to various official bodies. Since that day destined to be, my baby has been shown to universal acclamation in police headquarters, courtrooms, film schools and as an in-flight safety movie (a regrettable mistake. Sometimes the little people with which one must be surrounded simply do NOT pay attention to detail. I mean, they are loves, but when one is burning in the hellish furnace of tortured brilliance that is birthing a film of magnitude, one would like to think that one's menials would take the time to check addresses properly, wouldn't one? The lot of a renegade auteur on the cutting edge of filmic deliverance is ever a savage one - but I
digress).
Constable Fraser's championing of 'Coming' has seen it sweep the boards at the Golden Order of North American Dramatic Shorts (GONADS), and though its sheer power and truth would have seen it triumph eventually, I am sure his early recognition of its uniqueness aided its comet-like progress into the weltanschaung of the world's public.
So to my Scarlett I would like to say "Though you be but the lowest cog of the machinery that is my irresistible rise to the stellar realms modesty forbids me to name as mine own, yet you have served the forces of artistic integrity to the best of your ability in your own sweet little way. Bless you."
With fondest regards
Jeffrey Mawk-Cunnington.
Artiste. Poet. Film-maker.
Handwritten in the margin: Damn gun control. If this moron comes anywhere near the consulate again, set Turnbull on him.
*****************************
There was a stunned silence around the table. Committee members glanced questioningly at their colleagues, unsure how to react to this latest testimonial. The corner of Mitchell's mouth quivered. Dr. Eastman took a sip of her tea, placed the cup carefully back on the saucer, and broke the silence. "Well. Isn't that special?"
Corporal Katz added to the official record: "The committee then took a five minute recess to laugh itself silly."
Superintendent Montmorency was still wiping tears of laughter from her eyes when she raised her voice over the din and called the committee's attention back to the matter at hand. "This appears to be a copy of an e-mail from a local businessman--one who wasn't quite so charmed by Fraser's efforts."
*****************************
TO: Commissioner Maria Crothers, RCMP mcrothers@r...
CC: Inspector Margaret Thatcher, RCMP mthatcher@r...
CC: Detective Raymond Vecchio, Chicago PD rvecchio@p...
CC: Lieutenant Harding Welsh, Chicago PD hwelsh@p...
FROM: Samuel Johanssen, manager for the Illinois Federal Bank, 161 State
St, Chicago sjohansen@i...
Dear Commissioner Crothers,
I feel it is my duty to inform you that there is a maniac on your force. Constable Benton Fraser, this superman with a hero complex, nearly killed not only myself, but also several of my employees when, instead of allowing my employees and myself to deal properly with a holdup situation, forced us all into an unnecessary hostage situation.
The crazy man dragged Detective Vecchio, who should receive a commendation for attempting to act responsibly in the situation, into the bank vault, sealing it shut. When the vault was finally blown open, Constable Fraser flooded my bank!
The man is obviously much more preoccupied with money than with the sacredness of human life. Speaking strictly as a civilian, I would not want such a man in a police force assigned to protect myself and those I love. Constable Fraser has proven himself to me to be a man unworthy of trust and utterly unfit to serve and protect.
In addition, I have just applied for a restraining order. Constable Fraser is not to come within one block of my bank on pain of incarceration.
Sincerely, Samuel Johanssen
PS. Please tell Detective Vecchio that we have his money waiting for him. SJ
*****************************
Inspector Wallace shook her head. "Are all these people talking about the same man? He's a saint, he's a maniac, he's a hero, he's a disgrace."
"And we need to figure out which is the real Benton Fraser," Sergeant Kaczonowski mused.
Dr. Walnut steepled his fingers. "Perhaps they are all real. Our Constable Fraser seems to be a man of radical methods, does he not? When he succeeds, he is the very model of the ideal Mountie. But let him fall short, and suddenly he's a disgrace to the uniform."
"Well said!" Inspector Paulson struck the table with his hand for emphasis. "We should be giving consideration to the sources of the documents. Some of them were from fellow law-enforcement officers, some from victims, some from criminals, others from civilians who barely know him. What weight should the various documents be given?"
Inspector Carstairs spoke quietly. "The ideal source would be a superior officer who had worked closely with him, who had the opportunity to observe his working habits--"
Corporal Katz interrupted, "--which would be Inspector Thatcher--"
"--who is not available to us," Paulson finished. "Perhaps we should contact Moffat?"
Superintendant Montmorency snapped, "The idiot!"
"Perhaps not. Just as well, as he did not work with Fraser very long."
"Sir?" Inspector Wallace asked to be recognized. "There's a letter here from a supervisor who has worked quite closely with Constable Fraser during his entire tenure in Chicago."
"No kidding!"
"Impossible!"
"Who?"
Wallace smiled like a sphinx and began to read.
*****************************
TO: Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Ottawa
cc: Canadian Consulate, Chicago
FROM: Lieutenant Harding Welsh,
Chicago Police Department
Twenty-seventh District
Chicago, IL 60607
SUBJECT: Constable Benton Fraser's enormous help to the city of Chicago and its police, particularly on the day of the eclipse, April 27, 1997.
NOTE: It is with some trepidation that I cc this memo to the Consulate in Chicago on two fronts. If Constable Benton Fraser is made aware of this memo I will deny it. He is an excellent officer, but I have a reputation to maintain among my detectives that will not allow for the effusive praise to come, no matter how well deserved.
Additionally, I can well imagine his commanding officer in Chicago destroying such words of praise for Constable Fraser, with two copies of this memo she will find that more difficult.
On Thursday of last week, Constable Benton Fraser got Chicago police detective Raymond Vecchio to do the right thing as Fraser seems particularly well -suited to do. My department and my detectives were under suspicion from the State's Attorney's office. Fraser found the way to resolve that suspicion with the aid of his partner. It was a difficult situation for us all, but particularly for Fraser, as it undoubtedly required him to be somewhat less than forthcoming. He
handled it all with his customary aplomb.
My department and detectives were under suspicion as a result of a superior who was on a personal vendetta against me. He didn't care who else he also brought down. As a result of Fraser's able assistance we were able to clear the suspicion. To an outsider, Fraser's help in this matter may seem paltry, however, it was anything but. He was responsible for bringing in the witness who made the whole house of cards the State's Attorney had built fall. Fraser's statement and testimony to the Grand Jury was instrumental in having the officious lawyer removed from office. Fraser is not one of my detectives, but I stand by his actions.
As far as I can determine all his work with the Chicago Police Department is being done in Constable Fraser's off hours as a liaison officer with the consulate. He is not paid for these services though he is available with just a phone call to the Consulate. During his time off he is regularly to be found solving crimes with his "partner" Detective Vecchio. The City of Chicago would pay dearly for such an officer, to get him as a volunteer is even more exemplary.
Constable Benton Fraser is one of the finest officers with whom I have ever served. This is in my 30 years with the Chicago Police Force, one tour of duty in Vietnam and working in conjunction with various police forces, state police, federal officers and international police.
He unfailingly does what needs to be done to get the job done, with skill, speed and courtesy. His methods are different from those taught at the Chicago Police Academy, but I have never found reason to fault those techniques. While not an American, he knows our laws as well or better than any of my knowledgeable police detectives.
Sincerely Yours,
Harding Welsh, Lieutenant, CPD
*****************************
Corporal Sager emerged from behind the heavy drapes with a flurry of paper. She dashed over to the table, muttering, "Welsh. Welsh. Welsh. Where did I see that name?" She shuffled through page after page of the reconstructed Metcalf file.
"What have you found?" the chairman demanded.
"This!" She held her prize aloft. "It's another letter about Constable Fraser from Lieutenant Welsh."
Mitchell barked, "Let's hear it, Sager!"
*****************************
CHICAGO POLICE DEPARTMENT
27th District
Chicago, Il. 60607
Inspector Moffat
Chief Liaison Officer, RCMP
Canadian Consulate
Chicago, Il. 60607
To Whom it May Concern:
On 03/18/95 Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, Deputy Liaison Officer with the Canadian Consulate, Chicago Il. USA, was charged with 1st Degree Murder. On 03/21/95 all charges against Constable Fraser were dismissed. He has been fully cleared of any wrongdoing in regard to the Hughes (a.k.a. 'Jolly') murder and the ongoing investigation of Miss Victoria Metcalf. Evidence now indicates that Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, was the target of criminal actions by Miss Victoria Metcalf.
On a personal note, I would add that Constable Benton Fraser, both in his official capacity as Deputy Liaison Officer for the Canadian Consulate in Chicago and his unofficial partnership with Detective Ray Vecchio of the CPD, has consistently demonstrated remarkable skill, knowledge and integrity. It is an honor to have such a man working alongside one of my own. I have never met a finer police officer.
Respectfully yours,
Lieutenant Harding Welsh
Chief of Detectives
Division 7, 27th District
Chicago Il. USA
*****************************
There was a momentary hush in the conference room, the seconds patiently measured by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway as the committee pondered the lieutenant's words. Sergeant Kaczonowski was the first to break the silence. "Even so. . . the lieutenant was not in a position to observe Fraser's work here at the consulate. . . ."
Dr. Walnut calmly repeated, "I have never met a finer police officer."
Superintendent Mitchell looked at each member of the committee in turn, then leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Let's move on."
CHAPTER SEVEN
It always seemed to happen this way.
Just when the dough was almost ready, just when his hands (and just about every surface in the kitchen) were covered with flour, the phone would ring. Turnbull slapped his hands together over the kitchen sink, then quickly wiped them on the red and white tea towel he had hung on his Sam Browne belt.
He picked up the phone and punched line two.
*****************************
"Canadian Consulate, Constable Turnbull speaking."
"Hey, Turnbull, lemme speak to one of the committee people rating Fraser."
"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm not at liberty to divulge the identity of the members."
"Turnbull, it's me, Vecchio. Just lemme talk to somebody."
"In order to do that, Sir, I would have to confirm there was somebody here. If it's of any help, Sir, I can confirm that I'm here."
"Turnbull, you moron! If you don't lemme talk to somebody on that committee, I'm gonna tell Francesca to--"
"Uh, uh...if you'll hold the line for a moment, Sir."
*****************************
Turnbull punched the hold button and groaned. First Francesca, now Detective Vecchio! Why couldn't these well-meaning Americans just leave the committee in peace?
He deftly turned the pizza dough into a deep bowl and covered it with a tea towel. He hadn't been able to knead it quite as long as the recipe called for, but he had done so vigorously and that would have to be enough. He was halfway out the kitchen door when he remembered to remove his apron and tall white chef's hat.
He paused at the open door of his office, where Francesca was still typing rapidly. Her face was a mask of concentration, the tip of her tongue just visible at the corner of her mouth. He wondered if he recognized her hand at work in bringing about this ill-timed phone call from her brother, but he knew better than to interrupt her when she was in one of her rare industrious moods. Instead, he grabbed his Stetson from the hook on the door, tucked it under his arm in the approved fashion, and headed upstairs.
He took the steps two at a time, and approached the conference room door with some trepidation. Surely he shouldn't interrupt their deliberations just because the detective was in a bad mood! But for once he couldn't hear any voices coming from the room; perhaps they were in recess.
He knocked sharply, three quick raps.
"Come!" The superintendent's voice sounded almost friendly.
Turnbull wondered what had happened to brighten the chairman's mood. He opened the door and announced, "Detective Vecchio is on the phone, Sirs. Line two. He seemed quite insist--"
"Very good, Constable." Mitchell actually smiled. "Sergeant Alexander, I believe you wanted to speak to the detective?
Corporal Katz reached forward to activate the speaker phone, then pointed at the sergeant to tell him that the line was open.
*****************************
"This is Sergeant Alexander. How may I help you?"
"Uh yeah, I'm Detective Ray Vecchio. I heard you wanted a report on Fraser's performance in the MacDonald extradition. I was there. What do you want to know?"
"Well, I appreciate your call, Detective Vecchio, but it would help if you could put your report in writing for review by the members of the--"
"Hey look. I'm on the run from the Iguana Family. I don't have time to put this in writing. You either take it over the phone or you don't get it. What's it gonna be?"
"Very well, Detective, I'll take your report over the phone."
"Great. Constable Fraser did an excellent job."
"Err...Detective Vecchio, I'm glad to hear that, but perhaps you could be a little more specific?"
"We got the guy to Canada. What more do you need to know?"
"Well, a report as to Fraser's actions would be helpful. For example, did he ensure the prisoner's safety; did he deliver the prisoner in a reasonable length of time along with the required forms in the correct number of copies; did he. . . ?"
"All right, all right. We picked the guy up at the station and drove him to Winnipeg or Windsor or whatever the hell it was called. Took us a little longer than usual, because MacDonald had to stop and eat pancakes and take a. . . err. . . use the can. And there were three goombahs on our tail who slowed us up a little. But we got him there, okay? Delivered him safe and sound to the RCMP."
"If you don't mind Detective, could you please describe Constable Fraser's actions during all of this? It really would help if we could have a clear understanding of exactly what he did."
"What he did? Well. . . uhh. . . he read the map and he uhh. . . explained the 5/8ths rule, and. . . he. . . he. . . made me stop and feed the prisoner. . . and umm. . . he found my shoe. . . . You know, it's a little hard to remember after all this time."
"I understand Detective. Perhaps I could jog your memory. From Constable Fraser's report, I see that MacDonald managed to escape while in Constable Fraser's custody."
"Yeah, well, that was my fault. I sorta got stuck in the mud and MacDonald was steering the car while me and Fraser pushed. I ended up having to unlock the handcuffs, and MacDonald took off. But Constable Fraser figured out where to find him and we got him back."
"And can you explain how Constable Fraser knew where to find him?"
"They're both Canadians. Takes one to know one if you know what I mean."
"Err. . . I see, Detective. So Constable Fraser tracked him to an abandoned café, as I recall."
"Yeah, right. Uhh. . . can we speed this up? I gotta set some pins before the next league shows up."
"I just have a couple of more questions, Detective. Could you explain Constable Fraser's culpability in the property damage claim you filed against our government? "
"Hmmm. You want to know about that, huh?."
"Yes, if you don't mind."
"Well, I uhh. . . let's just say Fraser figured out how to take out the bad guys."
"Oh, so you're saying Constable Fraser devised the plan by which you were able to overcome your assailants?"
"Uhh, yeah. It was his idea all right."
"And that plan resulted in the claim?"
"Yeah."
"Can you elucidate, Detective?"
"I don't wanna talk about it."
"But Detective Vecchio, I--"
"Look, I was down to my last bullet--we had to do something. So we sent MacDonald out as a diversion and then we caught the bad guys."
"Detective Vecchio. . . ."
"Whut."
"How did the capture of three goombahs, as you put it, result in the loss of your property, specifically the--"
"What difference does it make? We got 'em, MacDonald lived to testify, everyone lived happily ever after. End of story."
"Well I'm afraid that's just not--"
"All right, all right. We blew up my car, okay? I blew it up—but Fraser made me do it. There! I said it! Are you satisfied now? I was trying to say something nice about the guy, and you just wouldn't let it go! You must be Canadian! Always gotta cross your I's and dot your T's, in triplicate, color coded, please and thank you kindly! Well, as far as I'm concerned, we wouldn't have made it if it hadn't been for Fraser. I sure as hell didn't care if MacDonald got there in one piece. I was suppose to be in Florida! But noooo!!! I gotta drive two Canadians across the border, fight off three more Canadians and ride in a station wagon with what? You guessed it--two more Canadians! As far as I'm concerned you oughta give Fraser a medal for keeping me from lowering Canada's population rate! But you won't do that will you?! You'll probably write him up because I filed a stupid claim for my car! I don't believe this!"
"Err...Detective Vecchio, I was talking about the shoe. . . ."
CLICK!!!!!!
*****************************
"A shoe?" asked Inspector Carstairs.
"A shoe!" Sergeant Alexander confirmed. One loafer, fine Italian leather, sacrificed in the line of duty."
"We've heard enough," Superintendent Mitchell snapped. "Now it's time to draw some conclusions."
"Sir?"
"What now, Sager?"
"I'm sorry to disagree, Sir, but you haven't heard this and I think you should." Corporal Sager sat down in her chair and slapped a two-page memo on the table, then made a valiant attempt to push her rebellious locks of hair back into the vicinity of her braid. "It's the final word on Constable Fraser's resignation after the Metcalf matter."
Superintendent Montmorency asked, "Who is it from?"
"Deputy Commissioner Underhill, Sir."
"She's right, George. This we need to hear."
Sager delicately cleared her throat and began to read.
*****************************
DECISION OF CODE OF CONDUCT REVIEW
DATE: 04/10/95
To: Constable Benton T. Fraser; RCMP; Deputy Liaison Officer;
Canadian Consulate, Chicago, Il., USA
cc: Inspector Moffat; RCMP; Chief Liaison Officer:
Canadian Consulate, Chicago, Il., USA
cc: Permanent File
After a careful review of all evidence and the recommendations of the Fitness Review Board, convened at my order, to investigate all conduct and circumstances in regard to Constable Benton T. Fraser, his involvement in / with the Chicago Police Murder Investigation of Roger Hughes a.k.a.. 'Jolly', and the Victoria Metcalf Incident, I have come to the conclusion that Constable B. Fraser was the victim of a criminal mind intent upon not only revenge, but his complete and utter destruction.
While Constable B. Fraser's actions in this situation may indeed be seen as compromising the letter of the Code of Conduct of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, his sense of duty exemplifies the spirit in which they were written and embodies the finest traditions of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
Therefore, all charges against Constable Benton T. Fraser regarding contravention of the Code of Conduct of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police as set forth in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Act, Article 4, subsection 37, paragraphs a-h, regarding the Chicago Police Department Murder Investigation of Roger Hughes, a.k.a. 'Jolly' and the Victoria Metcalf Incident, are hereby dropped.
Further, finding no contravention of the Code of Conduct as stipulated to in the Letter of Resignation forwarded to this office on 04/05/95, and as it is felt that the loss of this member's services would be of great detriment to the Force and Crown, as well as awarding Miss Metcalf a partial victory in her attack against this member, said Letter of Resignation submitted by Constable Benton T. Fraser is hereby officially refused.
Further, Constable Benton T. Fraser is hereby removed from Suspension and reinstated at the rank of Constable with full authority and privileges thereof, and is awarded full back pay and benefits for the period of Suspension.
Further, Constable Benton T. Fraser is hereby placed on Indefinite Medical Leave of Absence, with full pay and benefits, until such time as his Attending Doctor and a RCMP Medical Review Board feel that he is capable of resuming normal duties.
Ordered this day,
Deputy Commissioner C. Underhill, Interim Commissioner, RCMP
*****************************
"So." Dr. Eastman smiled. "It would seem that the constable gets to stay in the RCMP after all, eh?"
"Well, of course he does!" Inspector Wallace was beginning to lose her patience.
Corporal Katz added, "Although it is nice to have learned why he got to keep his job two years ago."
"There still remains a crucial question," Superintendent Mitchell announced. "What is the RCMP going to do with him now?"
Here, sadly, is where the tale runs out of gas. All of the donated documents were in chapters 1 - 7. I had in mind to conclude with a debate (taken from actual list discussions) about where Fraser's talents would best be used in the next phase of his career. Although I had brought Frannie into the story to set up the phone conversation about TMWKTL that Alex had written, I decided to let her contribute her summary of Fraser's job performance in this chapter. But how should the story end?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sergeant Kaczonowski had no doubts. "He deserves a promotion and a return home."
Corporal Katz quietly raised her hand and waited until Mitchell recoginzed her and nodded his permission for her to speak. "As I quoted earlier, Sir, Inspector Thatcher specifically requested--one might almost say insisted--that he be transferred to Inuvik. Sir."
"Are there any positions currently open in Inuvik, Corporal?"
The superintendent's voice was mild, but there was an edge below the surface that the long-suffering Corporal Katz was quite sensitive to. He knew very well the staffing situation in Inuvik and throughout "G" Division; Katz had provided him with the data before they had left Ottawa. "No, Sir. No openings in Inuvik at this time."
Dr. Walnut shook her head sadly. "There's not a police department in all of Canada that wouldn't welcome an experienced officer, especially one of Constable Fraser's calibre. Why not place him there anyway? Surely after spending three years in one of America's biggest cities, he's earned that much of a concession."
"This is the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, not the Royal Canadian Bloody Social Club!" snarled Mitchell.
Superintendent Montmorency added mildly, "How would you have the Inuvik Division budget the salary for a superfluous officer?"
Corporal Katz recited, "There are openings for a Constable in Nipawin, Ft. Vermillion, Kashechewan. . . ."
"Surely Fraser's considerable talents and experience merit a Corporal's stripes, at least!" Sergeant Alexander joined his voice to the fray. "He'd be wasted driving a patrol car, writing speeding tickets!"
". . . openings for Corporals in Val d'Or, Smithers, Sioux Lookout. . . ."
"I agree," said Corporal Sager. "Most of what he's learned in Chicago would be wasted in a small village. Should we be sending him out into the boondocks?"
Katz never missed a beat. ". . . Calgary, Winnipeg, Halifax, Ottawa. . . ."
Dr. Eastman coughed. "He has a well-documented history of poor adjustment to urban environments. Why would we consider sending him to another city?"
"What do you think this is?" cried Mitchell. "Chicago is the third largest city in America!"
Inspector Carstairs jumped in. "Didn't he twice refuse the opportunity to transfer away from this assignment? Maybe he'd rather return to this post."
"The question is," Dr. Eastman raised her voice and repeated, "the question is whether we are trying to match the Constable to a job that suits him, an environment that pleases him, or a community that needs him."
Mitchell opened his mouth, then closed it again. The committee members sat silently, considering the psychologist's words.
*****************************
Francesca yanked the finished report out of the typewriter with a flourish, and signed her name boldly in the bottom marign. It was a neat, organized, detailed masterpiece of statistics, if she did say so herself.
She paused in the doorway, momentarily distracted by the heady aroma of simmering tomato sauce laced with pungent garlic and spices. Turnbull as in his element, best to leave him alone. This was between her and the stone-faced committee members. She paused at the mirror in the hallway to check her hair and makeup, then dashed up the stairs to the conference room. The door was partially open but there were no voices; she tucked a stray lock of hair behind here ear and pushed the door open.
"Twenty-four murders," she announced. "Solved."
"Beg pardon?" asked Dr. Walnut.
"Twenty-four murders, twenty attempted murders, nine armed robberies. Twelve assaults, four kidnappings, seven burglaries and/or thefts." She paused to catch her breath. "Three each of fraud, arson and trafficking in illegal weapons."
"What is she talking about?" demanded Sergeant Alexander.
"Fraser's arrest record, of course," Corporal Sager replied in a stage whisper. "Shhh!"
"Three re-captured prisoners, two reckless endangerments, two extortions, and one each of blackmail, witness tampering, slaughter of federally protected wildlife, theft of household pets, hijacking, terrorism and espionage." She handed over the finished report to Superintendent Mitchell with careful ceremony. "My written report, Sir."
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Sorry, that's all there is. :-(
Melanie
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