The Misadventures of Renfield Turnbull, Canadian Private Eye
DVD Commentary Track
Featuring my comments in red and Lynn's beta comments in blue.

This story started in #discourse, which should be no surprise.  I was talking to Lynnmonster and we were squeeing over Turnbull or something.  Anyway, somehow we came up with the idea of Ren as a detective in a Dashiell Hammett or Chandleresque sort of novel.  For some reason my mind went straight to Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.  I figured Ren would have to be a holistic detective because he could never figure out cases on his own.  From that came the title The Mis-Adventures of Renfield Turnbull, Holistic Canadian Private Eye and a plot bunny was born.

Eventually, due to the story becoming more serious than I had originally intended (more on that later), the 'Holistic' was dropped and it eventually gained the title it has now.  The ground work that was laid out in Lynn's and my chat basically consisted of the hard boiled detective character types and which characters from due South would fit those roles. And one slight piece of dialogue which I'll point out later.  I have a copy of the notes I wrote down.

Ray K- untrustworthy blond bombshell
Frannie- smartassed secretary secretly in love with the boss
Vecchio- cop that hates him but owes him a favor
Fraser- "dead" partner
Thatcher- the bad guy... "Ice Queen" because of her thing for diamonds (The Ice Queen idea came straight from Lynn and eventually became important to the plot.)
Dief- really solves all the cases  (This too was something we arrived at together.  At first Dief was to have a much larger role, but again due to the plot he became more the clue finding sidekick in the story, much like he is on the show! Notice how much he despises that role...)

I would later go on to add other characters into the mix once I had started writing. I added them to the above list. (Even more showed up whenever I needed another character and you can pick them out as well, but by that point I stopped adding to the character list.)

Marcus Ellery- hood that falls for Stella & works for Thatcher
Stella- In love with Ellery, Ray's motivation
Huey- singer at Thatcher's club knows important info
Dewey- bartender maybe
Frobisher- Mountie sent to track down Thatcher

So I had all the elements it was time to write the story.  The only thing in my way was the whole idea of actually making this sucker a mystery.  



The Mis-Adventures of Renfield Turnbull, Canadian Private Eye


Chicago 1953:



I had originally set this earlier, more in the 40's mobster era, but in trying to work out how Fraser and Ren came to be detectives in Chicago I came up with the idea of them being buddies from the war.  So, I started doing research on Canadian forces in WWII.  While the Canadians got into the war earlier than the US did, I had to set the story after the war once I decided that Ray was also a vet.



Renfield pulled the collar up on his trench and stepped back out into the rain.  Chicago was miserable this time of year.  Spring hadn’t yet sprung, but winter was slowly running out of steam.  He pulled the wet fedora down over his eyes and hunched his shoulders into the wind.  The office was only a block or two more and he figured that he couldn’t get wetter than he already was.  The gritty doorway sat between a Chinese laundry and a Romanian restaurant.  It wasn’t the best part of town, but Renfield hardly noticed.  Grime and dirt from the street had opaqued the window hiding the words that were so familiar to him now, “Fraser and Turnbull, Private Investigations.”  He didn’t bother to wipe the window clean anymore, not since the funeral.  After all, it would only be dirty again tomorrow.  Ren slowly climbed the stairs with a weary gait.



This first paragraph sets up that whole hard-boiled detective novel mood, and I think this is where the story got away from me.  From this point on the story starts becoming an actual detective story and not the simple parody I had originally intended.

Also those first few lines of Ren in the rain harkens back to the opening of Blade Runner which in itself is using that hard boiled framework set in a sci-fi world.



He stepped into the office and shook out his coat and hat, hanging them on the pegs by the door to dry.  His eyes refused to stray over to the black hat that hung on the peg beside his, the hat that would never be worn again.

“Good afternoon, Frannie,” he said looking over to the slight woman filing her nails before dropping the mail onto her desk.  Frannie wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen but she wasn't lacking in the looks department, either.  The tight clothing she wore helped.  It wasn't that Frannie was easy; it was just that she wasn't too hard.  She was the kind of girl that kept her mother up at nights--and Ren should know, he'd sat up with Ma Vecchio a few times.



I tried to stay true to the Chandler style of description.  This isn't a pleasant one of Frannie, but there's a lot of honesty in the way Chandler wrote. I didn't want to go too overboard with it because we are in Ren's perspective, and he just doesn't think like that.  So instead I just sprinkled things here and there and tried to use a lot of hard-boiled dialogue without getting too nonsensical.



“Hey Ren, you look like a drowned mouse.”

“Rat, drowned rat.”

“Mouse, rat, squirrel, whatever!” she said in her usual exasperated voice.  “We got a customer.  He’s waiting in your office.”

Ren looked up surprised.  The business hadn’t been doing well, not since his partner… but he wasn’t going to think about that today.

“What do you think?” he asked her softly.

“I don’t trust him.  There’s something hickey about him.”

Ren looked at her funny for a moment before he figured out what she meant.  Frannie wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box, but you didn't want to make her mad because even a dull pencil could stab you if you weren't careful.

“You mean hinky?  How so?”



(Hinky- suspicious.)   I totally didn't realize that this word came from hard boiled fiction.  I use it all the time.  I found a glossary of great detective novel words/phrases and tried to intersperse them into the story.  Some of the more obscure ones I'll define, although you can probably get their meaning from the context.

This little bit of dialogue between the two of them not only gives us classic due South Frannie, it also it a play on the hard boiled language, 'drowned rat,' 'hinky,' and so on.  Frannie to me is just a modern version of the sassy detective's secretary, so it was easy to see her in this role.  Throughout she is still essentially herself only with a 50's makeover.



“I don’t know.  Just be careful, and see if he can pay up front.  We need the cash.”

Renfield nodded and peeked under Frannie’s desk.  Diefenbaker peered up at him.  The wolf had belonged to his partner, well, as much as the wolf belonged to anyone.  Dief did pretty much whatever he wanted.  He had been a great help to Ren.  So much so that Frannie had remarked that they should change the name to Diefenbaker and Turnbull Private Investigations.  The wolf seemed to agree with this.  Of course, then Frannie had realized what she said and had spent two hours in the bathroom refusing to come out.  Renfield understood.  Most of the time he wanted to lock himself in the bathroom and cry too.

“Well, are you coming?” he asked.

Dief got to his feet and licked Ren’s cheek.  Ren rubbed his face on his sleeve and opened the door to his office.  For some reason, the office still smelled like well-oiled leather and a hint of pine.  It always made him think of home.  The abutting desks faced each other in the center of the room.  Ren’s desk was neat and tidy, as was the other.  The only difference between them was the slight layer of dust that covered surface of the second desk.  Normally, Ren was a compulsive cleaner.  The very thought of dust made him shiver, but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to disturb the gray layer that covered Fraser’s desk.  It seemed disrespectful.  Of course, the rest of the office was spotless.



And of course, Turnbull is Turnbull.  It's all about the cleanliness.  I think it's telling about Ren's grief that he leaves Fraser's desk undusted.  It's a small detail that comes up later, but I rather like it. All of this is leading to...



Ren’s eyes slowly came back around to the man half sitting, half leaning on his desk smoking a cigarette.  Turnbull sighed and thought, “This would be a lot easier if Fraser was still around.  I’m sure he’d know what to do with the experimental blond lounging on my desk.”



This was the first paragraph that I thought of along with the character sheet above.  I really wanted Ray to be reminiscent of the dangerous blonde type so prevalent in noir movies/hard boiled fiction.  Ray is part Veronica Lake from The Glass Key and part Lauren Bacall from The Big Sleep.  He's the irresistible client that ends up tangling the detective in to trouble, murder, and more trouble.

Lynn: This is also the paragaph that totally sold me on the idea!  It's so evocative of that Chandleresque type of story, but still perfect roles for Renfield and Ray.



While he pondered, Diefenbaker waltzed up and started sniffing the man’s crotch.  He quickly stood up and backed against the desk.

“Hey, hey, hey!  What’s your dog’s deal?” the man said with a quick Chicago accent.

“He’s a wolf, actually.”

“A wolf!”

“Don’t worry, Diefenbaker won’t harm you.  He’s just curious.”

“Well, tell him to back off!”

“I’m afraid he’s facing the wrong way for that.  You see, he’s deaf.  You’ll have to tell him.”

By this time, Dief had stood on his haunches and put his front paws up on the man’s shoulders to get better access to his face.  Dief was licking him happily and wagging his tail.  The man grabbed his muzzle and looked him in the eye.

“Get off me, exclamation mark!”

Dief hopped down and went to his usual spot on the small rug by Fraser’s desk.  The gentleman rubbed his face with the back of his hand.  After shooting the wolf a dirty look he glanced back over at Ren.

“He reads lips?”

“Yes, in two languages, well, three, if you count Inuit.  Please, have a seat.”

“You speak Inuit?” the man asked sitting in the client chair that was near his desk.

Ren sat down and looked at the man.  “No, my partner did.  I’m Renfield Turnbull, how may I be of assistance?”

“Ray, Ray Kowalski.  I’m trying to track someone down.  I’ve run into some dead ends and I heard you guys are good.”

Ren took a moment to look at the man while he listened.  The first thing Ren noticed was the unique hair.  It was blond with a disarray of spikes pointing in every direction.  Kowalski’s hands were long-fingered and elegant.  He wasn't as handsome as Fraser had been, but there was something magnetic about him that drew Ren's eye.  He sat with a slouch that belied his tall frame.  Although, compared to Renfield, most men were short.  Ray’s appearance was somewhat rumpled but his eyes were sharp and spoke of a quick intelligence.  He was like those old portraits one always finds at one's grandmother's.  No matter where you went, the eyes always followed you.  

Ren could tell that Kowalski was trying to act casual, but there was something nervous underneath.  Frannie was right, there was something hinky about the guy.  Renfield wondered who had told him that the agency was good and how long ago that had been.



Kowalski in a hard-boiled nutshell.  I like that Ren is observant from the start.  That makes him more believable when it comes time to solve the crime.  While Ren is a bit of an air head on the show, he is observant.  He's always taking in what's around him, even if he completely puts it in the wrong context.  You can see this in Hunting Season when he tries to keep Thatcher from busting in on Fraser and Maggie, and later when he totally has Meg's number about her calling to check on Maggie.  I think in some ways Ren, like Fraser, plays up the goofball bit, only in Ren's case its not all an act like it is with Fraser.



“I’d be happy to help, of course.  Who is it you are looking for?  And if I may ask, why are you after him or her?”

“His name’s Marcus Ellery.  Why I want to find him is none of your business.”

Ren frowned and looked over at Dief who had lifted his head.  How the deaf wolf had known Ray’s tone was beyond the detective.  Maybe wolves have mysterious ways.  Ren never bothered to try and figure it out.  He just went with the flow.  Dief had instincts no man could ever top, although Fraser had usually given it his best shot.

“Well, if you want me to find him for you, then I’m afraid it is, sir.”

The sharp tough guy façade that had been sitting in the chair in front of him collapsed.  It was like watching the Hindenburg go down. Ray sighed heavily and slouched further.

“It’s about my wife.  Well, she’s my ex-wife now.  Anyway, she got tangled up with this guy Ellery.  He’s no good.  I should know.  I ran into him in the past.  He’s a bank robber.  I’ve got to get Stella out of whatever she’s into.”

Dief gave them a look that read “Plus you want to get back at this guy,” but neither man was paying him any attention.



Here begins Dief's running commentary.  He is always one step ahead of Turnbull, as it should be.  As I said earlier, I did intend for Dief to have a larger role, but this is Turnbull's story so Dief's part got cut back.  Of course the uppity wolf was not satisfied with this and thus has to have his snarky say throughout.  It's also a bit of a running gag that no one understands his comments.  Fraser is the only one who seems to on the show, so without Fraser around, Dief's grumbling gets him no where.



“I’d be glad to help you, Mr. Kowalski.  I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask for part of the fee upfront.”

Ray looked at him for a moment before nodding.  Ren let out his breath.  He hated asking for money before the job, but they were in a fix.  He was already late paying Frannie's wages.  Fraser always left that side of the business up to him.  If he'd let Fraser do it, they would have been working for free all the time.



You'd think it was the other way around, but no, Fraser is a bleeding heart while Turnbull is a stickler for order.  So it's completely understandable that Ren would be in charge of the money aspect of the business.  Although, I'm sure that Fraser double checks his numbers.



“Yeah, okay, whatever it takes.”

Ren took Ray’s money and wrote out a receipt.  They shook hands and Ren stepped out into the reception area to hand Frannie the money.  She gave a small whoop.  Ren blushed as she pulled up the form fitting skirt to slip the cash into the top of her stocking.  She winked at him when he looked back up at her face and he blushed harder.  Ren stepped back into the office.  Ray smirked at his pink face, but he said nothing.

“So tell me what you know about this Mr. Ellery.  You said you’d run into some dead ends.  Have you been looking for him long?”

“Sorta.  I know he’s in town.  I know Stella is with him.  I just need to know where.  Everybody that might know has clammed up. I guess Stella must have warned them off.  That’s why I need a third party.”



Okay, it was about at this point that I hit a wall.  I'd set everything up but now what?  I needed a crime because this is a detective story.  So I sat down and came up with the plot.  I wrote out the climax and then figured out all the clues that led up that climax.  Basically, I wrote the story backwards.  I think this is how most mystery writers do it.  You make the story fit the crime and sprinkle in the clues and red herrings after you've already solved the case.  It makes things much easier, and I highly recommend this way of going about writing mysteries.  So I had my beginning, which set up the characterization, and I had my ending, which solved all the plot requirements.  It was then a matter of filling in the middle.

I suppose I should talk about Ellery, since I've introduced the character through Ray.  I chose him initially because I really wanted to replay the bank robbery from Eclipse with Ray as an adult and have the same results (minus the pants wetting, of course).  I just loved the idea of this Ray, who isn't a cop because the robbery didn't happen when he was a kid, still experience that all encompassing fear for both himself and Stella and then do nothing.  It's a character defining moment.  I think it sets up who Ray is in this universe.  He's got something to prove which leads him to the detective agency and sets the whole story in motion.  Personally, I think that Ray only partly wants to find Stella because subconsciously it's all about Ellery.



Ren nodded.  “Would they be likely to talk to me?”

“Doubt it.”

“Ellery has a record?  The police might know his whereabouts.”

Ray snorted, “Yeah, like they’d tell me.”

“Well, they might tell me,” Ren said standing.

Ray got up and followed him and Dief out the door.  Ren peeked out the window.  Thankfully, the rain had stopped.  Maybe it was a sign, or maybe the rain was just waiting for him to step outside again, Ren didn't want to think on it much.  He grabbed his coat and hat.

“Frannie, Mr. Kowalski and I are going to see your brother.  I’m not sure when we’ll be back.”

Frannie gave a humorless laugh and said, “Good luck, buster.”

Ren headed downstairs to the garage.  He hadn’t moved his heap in weeks.  He could barely afford to feed himself and Dief, much less pay for gas, but this was a client, this was different.  It was strange having someone ride in the passenger side again.  Fraser had been more at home on a horse or behind a dogsled than he ever was behind the wheel, so Ren had always done the driving.  Ray caught Ren staring while they waited at an intersection.

“What are you looking at?” Ray asked.

He answered, looking away, “Sorry, I’m just thinking.”

“About your partner?”

Ren jerked his head back to stare at the man beside him.  The guy didn't miss a beat.  “How did you...?”

“Hunch.  What was he like?”



Ray may not be a cop in this story, but he's still Ray.  He's got a sharp eye and detective's instincts.  I think essentially that's the only real flaw with the story.  I don’t think Ray would need any help tracking down Ellery.  Then again, he had to wait until the guy's mom's funeral to catch him in the show...



“Fraser was… well, perfect.  He used to be a policeman, a mounted policeman back in Canada.”

“You’re Canadian?  I knew something was weird about you.  So how’d you guys end up together?”

“We were in the 2nd Infantry together during the war.  We both got wounded in the Raid on Dieppe.  We became friends in hospital, and when they sent us home, we just stuck together.  He didn’t have any family to speak of.  His father had died a few years earlier.  Because he'd quit the RCMP to join the army and because of his wounded status, they wouldn’t take him back.  We drifted south and ended up here.”

“Dieppe huh?  That was rough.  You were out of it before I even started service.  I was a machinist on the USS Idaho in the South Pacific.  Beats me why I ever joined the Navy.  I can’t swim, but they needed mechanics and that’s what I knew.  That and my dad.”



Here is where that WWII research came in.  The Raid on Dieppe in a nutshell:
By early afternoon, Operation Jubilee was over. Conflicting assessments of the value of the raid continue to be presented. Some claim that it was a useless slaughter; others maintain that it was necessary to the successful invasion of the continent two years later on D-Day. The Dieppe Raid was closely studied by those responsible for planning future operations against the enemy-held coast of France. Out of it came improvements in technique, fire support and tactics which reduced D-Day casualties to an unexpected minimum. The men who perished at Dieppe were instrumental in saving countless lives on the 6th of June, 1944. While there can be no doubt that valuable lessons were learned, a frightful price was paid in those morning hours of August 19, 1942. Of the 4,963 Canadians who embarked for the operation only 2,210 returned to England, and many of these were wounded. There were 3,367 casualties, including 1,946 prisoners of war; 907 Canadians lost their lives.
You can find out the whole story here: http://users.pandora.be/dave.depickere/Text/dieppe.html

As for the USS Idaho, I just looked up Naval vessels that fit my time frame.  Oh, and Ray is a machinist not just because he likes working on cars, but also that's what my grandfather did on battleships during the war.  :D



“Your father?” Ren asked.

“Yeah, he was a mechanic and a Navy man.  He’d have flipped if I’d joined the Army.”

Ren smiled at Ray and received a grin back.  They pulled up at the police station and Ren got out.  Dief leaped over the seat and got out beside Ray.  Ren shot the wolf a wounded look.  The fickle beast could worry about getting his own supper if he was going to be like that.

“I think he likes me,” Ray said as they stepped into the building.

“Apparently.”



Well of course he likes Ray.  Ray's the blond!  :D



The twenty-seventh precinct never really changed.  There was always a hustle and bustle of coppers, stoolies, and ladies of negotiable affection.  Ren took the stairs and headed towards the detective division with Ray in tow.  They didn’t get very far into the room when a voice cried out.



'Ladies of negotiable affection' is all Terry Pratchett.  I was reading some of the City Watch books while writing this.  The first of those books is also a take off of the hard-boiled vein only in a comedic fantasy setting.  It worked so well I swiped it.  It does sound like something Hammett or Chandler would come up with.  I love Terry.



“Oh for Pete’s sake!  What the hell do you want, Canuck?”

Ren turned to see Ray Vecchio walking towards him holding a folder.  Several of the other detectives snickered and received a dirty look from the Italian.  Vecchio was slim and slick.  An uncharitable person would make allusions to ferrets, but Ren wasn't that kind of guy.  He was always impressed with how Vecchio carried himself.  He might have looked like a regular Chicago bruno but Ray was all flatfoot through and through.  He took care of his mother and his sisters and he couldn't be bought.  Fraser had known Vecchio was a good man the moment they met.  You didn't get much truer friends than that.

“Ah, Ray.  Are you busy?  May I speak with you for a moment?” Ren asked politely.

“I’m always busy, Turnbull.  Why don’t you breeze off?” Vecchio said sliding past them towards his desk.

Ren was unphased by this harsh treatment, but he could see Kowalski bristling out of the corner of his eye.  Renfield merely followed the detective and stood by his desk.  Vecchio patiently ignored him for all of five seconds.

“Okay!  What? What?”



Again there's not much change in Vecchio's character.  He's very much in the detective vein on the show.  I've just changed his normal patter a bit to fit in with the detective/noir lingo.

(Bruno- enforcer, tough guy)
(Breeze off- get lost)



“Detective Ray Vecchio, this is Ray Kowalski, my client.”

He watched as the pair gave each other what Frannie called the ‘sink eye.’  After a moment, Vecchio looked back at him.

“So?”

“Mr. Kowalski is looking for his ex-wife.  He fears she has become involved with a known felon.”

“If they’re divorced, why the hell does he care who his chippy's shacked up with?”

“Watch your mouth, cop!  This guy’s bad news I don’t want her getting hurt, ya pipe that?” Ray snarled and stepped forward aggressively.

Dief gave a soft whine and Ren glanced around.  Most of the other police officers were now watching the scene intently.  While Renfield didn’t approve of such methods, he knew that the police were quick to take care of any threats against their own.



I mentioned this because of the setting.  This is well after the mob run era of prohibition of the 20's, but mob activity was still rather heavy in the 40's and early 50's.  Plus, this was before such things as the Miranda Act and Civil Rights.  The police were not nice people during this era, but then again, neither were the criminals.

(Chippy- woman)  Technically, this is originally British slang, but I kind of liked it so I stuck it in.



“Please, settle down, Mr. Kowalski,” he said quickly.  “It was a valid question.  Detective, we were hoping that the police might know the whereabouts of this man.”

Vecchio snorted, “Why the hell should I tell you, Turnbull?  So this guy can go out and ice the creep?  More work for me, no thanks.”

“Ray,” Ren said softly, “you know I wouldn’t allow that.  I assure you that Mr. Kowalski is only worried about his wife’s welfare.  Can you please help?”

Vecchio stared at his desk before sighing heavily.  When he spoke, he did so softly.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.  But this is only because I owed Benny, and because you’re a right guy to let Frannie keep that job and help out Ma.  You can’t keep coming here, Turnbull.  It don’t look good for me helping out a gum-shoe, and a bad one at that.  What’s this guy’s name?”



As in the show, Vecchio's tough guy persona is just that, a persona.  Underneath he is a softhearted family guy.  I think that's probably the only reason he took Fraser under his wing to begin with.  Their relationship, while not really revealed in the story, must be pretty similar.



“Marcus Ellery.  Thank you, Ray.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’ll call Frannie if I get anything.”

“I appreciate this, Ray,” Ren said turning to leave.

They made it back out to the car without incident.  Ren was glad.  Sometimes Chicago policemen tended to hold a grudge.  With all the crime syndicates and trouble boys in town, it was no wonder.  The city’s motto was practically ‘watch out for your own.’  Ren headed for a nearby diner that he knew would accept Diefenbaker without question.



(Trouble boys- mobsters)



“Where are we going?” Ray asked.

“To get lunch.  You look as though you haven’t eaten.”

“What are you, my mother now?”

“I’m sure she’s a very sensible woman,” Ren replied.

Ray crossed his arms and stared.

“What did he mean by a bad one?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Vecchio.  He said it wouldn’t look good for him to help out a gum-shoe 'especially a bad one.'”

“Ah,” Ren said, “we’re here.  I hope you’ll like this place.  Alice makes a mean meatloaf sandwich.  Well, I could do better, but…”

“Turnbull, answer me,” Ray said not backing down an inch.

Ren took his hand off the door handle and sighed.  He looked over at Ray, but couldn’t meet his eyes.

“He’s right.  I’m a terrible PI.  Fraser was the detective.  I think he just kept me around because he felt sorry for me.  Ever since he died, business has been bad.  The only reason I haven’t closed up shop is because I can’t get the nerve up to fire Frannie.  She needs to work to help out Mrs. Vecchio.  I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t think to mention this before I paid you?”

“We need the money, Ray, and I can help you, I can!  Please let me try.  If it doesn’t work out, I’ll give you back the money, I promise.”



Man, this story is so different from the one I had originally intended!  Ren is so earnest here. I love it.  I think there is inherent comedy in the fact that it's Turnbull who is stuck in this type of story, but it became more an honest piece instead of that parody Lynn and I originally thought up.



Ren felt Ray’s intense stare, but still couldn’t look up.  After a few moments of silence, Dief whined.

“All right, but you’d better be straight with me from here on out.  After all, I’m paying for the privilege.”


-----------


After lunch, Ren dropped Ray at home and headed back to the office.  He'd barely taken off his hat when Frannie looked up and said, “Oh, hey, Ren.  I just left a message on your desk from Ray.  He said a couple of dicks from the twelfth precinct reported seeing Ellery near that old bottling plant on Westminster.”

“That was fast,” Ren said, and turned around heading back to the car.

Westminster had seen better days.  The street wasn't really on the bad side of town, not that Chicago had much of a good side anymore.  It was just more run down than most.  Gardino Bottling had been closed for nearly six years.  It had once been a major employer for the city, but now it was just an empty hull.  Ren found the gates closed, but with no chain.  He left his car near the entrance and made his way to the plant on foot.  



Gardino Bottling was just a way of working in another show character without having to actually come up with a corresponding character in the hard boiled vein.  I suppose that Louis could have been put into the Peter Lorre sort of stool pigeon role, but that would have been doing him a disservice.  The fact that Gardino Bottling is just "an empty hull" is sort of a nod to Louis' death on the show, and I like that much better than trying to make him fit into an unsavory character.



The door he found wasn't locked and he stepped out of the sun into the dark expanse of the plant.  The large building was quiet except for the occasional cooing of pigeons roosting in the rafters.  It took him a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim illumination cast by a handful of skylights in the ceiling.  The shadows slowly resolved into machinery that was rusted and covered in dust.  Crates were stacked haphazardly in towers twice Ren's height.  Dief nosed his way across the main floor towards the back of the building, and Ren followed quietly.  He was half way across the vast space when a woman's scream halted him in his tracks.  Suddenly, shots blared in the silence. Ren jerked in surprise and dove towards the nearest cover.

"Ellery!  Let the woman go and come out where I can see you!" Ren yelled into the dark, but received no response.

"Dief!  Dief!" he called, but the wolf was taking cover underneath an assembly line conveyer and wasn't paying attention.

Ren admonished himself silently for forgetting to bring a weapon.  It was foolish of him to think that Ellery, a convicted bank robber, would not be armed.  It was too easy to fall back into his old patterns.  Fraser had never carried a weapon.  His partner had always put his faith in people.  True, they usually ended up in situations much like this one, with only their wits to protect them, but it never seemed to bother the former Mountie.  Ren was worried.  It was always Fraser that had come up with some wild plan to apprehend the gunmen.  He found himself wondering what to do.  Unfortunately, this provided enough distraction that he never noticed someone edging up behind him until the blow sent him to the floor unconscious.



I kind of like the view of Fraser you get through hero-worshipping Turnbull's eyes.  Fraser's perfect.  Fraser always knows what to do.  Fraser always solves the case.  While all of these are true to an extent, Turnbull's Fraser is a heightened one that's still shiny out of the box.

Plus, I had to include Ren getting knocked out.  For some reason, in these types of stories the detective always either gets knocked out by some thug or is slipped a mickey by someone and is rendered unconscious that way.



----------------


Ren's eyes opened to a much darker room.  He rolled onto his back and hissed in pain as the large bump on the back of his head met concrete.  Above him he could see twilight through one of the skylights.  Ren realized that he had stayed out for several hours if it was already so late.  A whine to his left made him glance over at Diefenbaker who was lying next to him.

"I don't suppose you saw my attacker?" he asked.

Dief got up and walked towards the back of the building stopping once to glance at Ren.  The detective sighed and rolled to his feet, slowly following the wolf.  It was slow going as he was still a bit woozy.  Dief stopped next to a large, still form on the floor.

"Oh dear," Ren gasped and leaned down to place his fingers on the man's throat even though he was sure that there would be no pulse.

A crash near the front of the building made him spin too quickly and he doubled over trying to push back the nausea that suddenly overwhelmed him.

"Turnbull?" a voice echoed from the darkness.  It was Detective Vecchio if he wasn't mistaken.

"Back here, Ray!"

Ray appeared out of the gloom with his gun drawn and turned a sour look to the body.

"Ugh.  Did you plug him?"

"No, my gun is still back at the office."

"Only you would go after a bank robber with no heater.  Is that Ellery?"

"I don't know. I just woke up.  Someone hit me from behind.  I didn't have time to check his wallet before you arrived," Ren said rubbing his head gently.

"You're lucky.  You could be dead."

"Did someone call in the shooting?"

"No, Frannie called me in a tizzy because she hadn't heard from you.  Why it's suddenly my job to go bail you out of trouble, I don't know," Ray answered and pulled a wallet from the man's coat pocket.

A quick glance inside was all it took to identify Marcus Ellery.  Ren was sure that he'd be seeing the man's pasty, bearded face in his nightmares for a while.  Vecchio picked around the body for a few moments but couldn't find a gun on the man. Ren frowned as they went back outside to call in the murder.  Soon more policemen arrived along with the coroner, Mort.  He went in to confirm the death and to look the body over before it was taken to the morgue.  After a few moments he stepped back out side and checked Ren's head.

"Quite the bump you have there, son."

"I believe it was a pistol, though I can't be certain."

"You probably have a concussion.  Is there someone that can keep an eye on you tonight?"

"Yes," Ren replied.  It wasn't quite lying. After all, Dief counted as someone.

Satisfied, Mort moved back to supervise the moving of the body.  Although Ren had only met the doctor on a few occasions, he sincerely liked the man.   People tended to shy away from a guy that actually enjoyed such a grizzly occupation, but there was more to Mort.  He, Ren, and Fraser had had several lovely conversations about opera over various stiffs.  



Mort was a surprise.  I hadn't intended for him to appear originally, but a dead body just cried out for me to include him.  I liked his presence so much that I gave him another scene later on.  Of course, a coroner in the 50s had a much smaller role in detective work that the coroners of today.  It was probably an elected position that had to do more with paperwork than evidence gathering.  But our Mort is a progressive man so he gets to cut people up too.  If nothing else, he has to get the bullets out of them to do weapon comparisons.  (Something I found out that they did as early as 1923.)



Ray didn't think Ren should drive himself just yet, so he ended up riding with the detective back to the precinct.  When they arrived, two policemen already had his client in custody.  Ren could tell that the blond was mad enough to spit horseshoes just by looking at him.  The nippers around his wrists didn't help the picture.



(Nippers- handcuffs)



"Turnbull!  Tell these Johns that I didn't kill anyone," Kowalski yelled from his chair.

"Ray," Ren said turning to Vecchio, "what is the meaning of this?"

"If you didn't drill Ellery, Turnbull, I've got to find the guy who did, and he's sitting right there."

"But I left Ray at his home before I even knew about Mr. Ellery's whereabouts."

"Yeah, but see, it turns out that Kowalski here called Frannie right after you left.  He knew where you were going and why."

"This is nuts!" the blond bellowed. He started to lean forward was shoved back into the chair.

Vecchio continued, ignoring the interruption, "His place is closer to the plant than your office.  He could have easily beaten you there.  I warned you about this guy, Ren.  You led him right to Ellery and now Ellery's spending quality time with Mort getting fitted for a wooden kimono."



(Wooden kimono- coffin)

This is a classic murder mystery set up.  Mysterious blond shows up and someone dies.  Mysterious blond is accused of murder.  Detective who was hired by mysterious blond for other reasons has to clear (or not depending on the plot twists) mysterious blond's name.



Ren glanced at his client uncertainly, but received a pleading look in reply.  He'd only known Ray for a matter of hours.  Was he someone that could commit murder?  Did Ren help him kill a man?  Ren bit his lip.

"Turnbull!  Don't listen to him!  I never left my apartment.  Frannie said you were just going to check the place out and see if Stella was there.  I won't lie and say that I wouldn't mind seeing Ellery dead, but I didn't kill him!"

"Where's your gun, Kowalski?" Vecchio asked.

The two Rays stared each other down before Kowalski finally looked away.  Vecchio smiled in glee and waited for a response.  Ren didn't like this side of the cop.  It once had been tempered by a former Mountie's cool head, but no more.

"I don't have it anymore."

"Why?  Did you throw it in the lake on the way back to your place after you killed Ellery?" Vecchio yelled, putting the screws on.

"No!"

"A gun, Ray?" Ren asked quietly.

"This is Chicago!  Of course I have a gun!  I bought it after Stella and I got married."

Vecchio grinned.

"Where is it?"

"I got rid of it a while back."

"Can you prove that?"

"No."

"Lock him up," Vecchio said in triumph.  "He'll talk sooner or later."

Ren walked with his client back to the holding cells.  Neither man seemed to have enough courage to look the other in the eye.

"Ray," Ren asked finally, "where is your gun?  If I could find it, we could prove that it hadn't been fired."

"You believe me?"

The voice was steel but the blond's eyes were vulnerable and scared.  That look was enough to convince Ren.

"Yes."

"I don't have the gun anymore.  After the divorce..." Ray's voice cracked for a moment before he got it under control, "it was starting to look pretty tempting, so I got rid of it."

"I understand."



The more Ray hurts in this, the more I love him.  I put the poor boy through the ringer in this story, but hey, he's so pretty when he's hurting.  [*Lynn nods enthusiastically*]  The only thing I feel bad about is that he doesn't have Fraser to lean on as he normally does.  He's just left with Ren.  Not a situation that calls for much optimism, I'm sure!



Ren was stopped by one of the officers leading Ray back to the jug.  He watched the man disappear down the hallway and the heavy clank of bars ended their conversation.  Renfield was determined as he went back into the squad room.

"He didn't do it, Ray."

"Did your fine detective skills tell you that?" Vecchio asked to a chorus of chuckles.  "How did you ever get a ticket anyway?"



(Ticket- PI license)



"I will prove it."

"You do that, Turnbull."

Ren left the precinct and realized he'd have to walk back to the office.  Halfway there, the rain from that morning returned.  He was soaked and sore by the time he stepped back into the agency door.  Dief didn't look much better.  The pair of them looked like they'd been slapped by the Pacific, twice.

"Oh my gosh!  Ren, you look awful!  Lay down here on the couch for a second."

"Thanks, Frannie."

Ren lay down on the short couch and his feet hung over the edge of the armrest.  It was uncomfortable most days, but today it felt like a feather bed to Ren.  He didn't mean to fall asleep, but realized he had when he felt a hand on his arm shaking him.

"Frannie?"

"I'm here, Ren."

"It's late, you should go home.  Mrs. Vecchio will be worried."

Frannie gave him a soft smile and stroked his cheek.  He would have blushed at the affection if he wasn't still exhausted.  Francesca had always had a soft spot for Fraser.  He'd confided in Ren that the woman had made eyes at him the first night Ray had brought him home for dinner.  Ren could understand because Fraser had been perfect, after all.  There wasn't a woman around that hadn't been affected by the former Mountie.  Ren had envied his beauty and charm.  Most people never gave Renfield a second look, well, other than to look at him strangely.

"Don't worry.  I called Ma and told her you were hurt.  Why didn't you say you had a concussion?  I had to hear it from my brother!"

"I'm all right. Diefenbaker will keep an eye on me."

"Dief is asleep too."

"Oh, well, I suppose it has been a rather long day."

They were quiet for a bit, and Ren had almost drifted off when he heard her speak softly.

"I miss him."

"So do I," he whispered and slipped back to sleep.



Aw!  Frannie was another surprise in this story.  She originally didn't appear after this scene, but I felt that I had to include her again before the climax since she wouldn't be in that.  So she got an extra scene.  Actually, she got two because I couldn't have the epilogue without her.  I rather like Frannie in this story.  You know she's hung up on Fraser, but there seems to be something growing between her and Ren in their joint grief.  Although, Ren is completely oblivious to it, of course.



The next morning, Ren woke with a fierce headache.  His brain was trying to make a break for it and it felt like it was using dynamite.  His clothes were still a bit damp and looked very much the worse for wear.  As he stepped into his office he passed Frannie curled up asleep in the wingback by the couch.  He returned to the couch and pulled the afghan that had been covering him over her.  Quietly, he moved to the small bathroom and started cleaning himself up.  A quick wash, shave, and clean shirt from the closet made a lot of difference.  He had work to do.

Frannie stepped in as he was pulling on his shoulder holster.  She bit her lip and frowned as he unlocked the bottom desk drawer and pulled out his forty-five.

"Ren?"

"There's a murderer about, and I've already been shot at once.  I think some protection is prudent, don't you?" he replied but couldn't manage to turn and face her as he spoke.

The holster usually hung on a coat peg in the office.  He hadn't worn it more than twice since the agency had opened.  The automatic was a different story.  It was cleaned on a weekly basis despite the fact that he'd never had call to use it.  Ren remembered that Fraser hadn't been wearing his gun when....

"I have to go.  We have a client that needs to be cleared of murder charges."

"Ren, are you sure he didn't do it?  Ray seems pretty convinced."

"Mr. Kowalski may have a temper, and I don't doubt that he had no love for Ellery, but I don't think he shot that man.  If he was going to kill someone, I'm pretty sure he'd do it with his bare hands."

Frannie gasped and Ren realized what he had said.

"I'm sorry, Frannie.  I don't mean to be so lurid."

"It's okay, Ren.  I just want you to be careful.  I couldn't bear it if you went and got yourself... if you got hurt, too."

"Understood," he said pulling on his suit jacket and heading out.  Dief was waiting for him by the door with a patient look.  "Let's go back and check out the scene of the crime, Dief.  We have to get my car anyway."

Detective Vecchio was so positive of Ray's guilt that he hadn't even bothered to place a patrol unit at the bottling plant.  Renfield sighed and followed Dief around the perimeter of the building.  Toward the back they found a set of tire tracks in the mud.  As Ren studied them, Dief snuffled around the bushes next to the building.  A yip from the wolf led him in that direction.

"Did you find something?"

Diefenbaker gave him a look that read, "No, I'm yipping for my health," but Ren was focused on what the wolf had found.  A packet of matches lay discarded near where the car had been parked.  Ren picked it up carefully.  It was wet from yesterday's rain, but still appeared to be in good shape -- far too new to have been left there more than a day or two.

"Well looks like we have a clue, Dief.  Good job.  Let's see if we can find anything interesting at this Queen's Horse club."



And Dief finds a clue and gets snarky.  Like you didn't see that coming.  :D  The matches were a clue that I added after I had already written the ending.  This was a case of that going back and making the story fit the ending.  Plus, matches are always a clue in detective stories.  Good thing a lot of people smoked then or most cases would have remained unsolved.  *snerk*

The name for the club comes from All the Queen's Horses, as you may have gathered.  I wanted something that said Thatcher to me, and that ep is probably her best.



The Queen's Horse was a lunch and supper club on the upper west side.  It was in a nice area and appeared to have quite the bevy of upscale clientele.  Ren felt as out of place as a trout in a grizzly bear convention.  Quickly, he made his way towards the bar.  The bartender had an easy smile when he picked out a stool.

"What can I get you?"

Ren tried to think what Fraser would have done in this situation, then immediately discarded it.  Fraser had had the tendency of being a little too direct in some cases.  Ren was sure that wouldn't work here.  Before he could think of a tact to take, the bartender interrupted his thoughts.

"That your dog?"

Ren glanced down at Dief who was looking a bit offended.

"Um, actually, he's a wolf."

"We don't allow dogs and we definitely don't allow wolves."

"Of course," Ren said and looked down at his companion, "wait outside by the car.  I won't be long."

The wolf gave a derisive snort and trotted out the door.  Ren looked back up at the smiling man.

"He listens good," the bartender said.

"He's deaf."

"Oh.  What do you drink?"

"Milk, please."

"Milk?"

"Yes, milk would be fine."

The bartender snorted, "And they say I’m a comedian."



If you don't know it's Dewey by this point...  Anyway, if you want an unsavory character Dewey is your man.  I liked the exchange between them.  It has kind of a Laurel and Hardy feel too it, which is appropriate for these two.  I liked mixing up the characters.  Thatcher and Dewey, who are good guys on the show have characteristics that can easily be used in making them bad guys.  I really should have picked out a bad guy and made him good, but I really didn't have any room for it.



"Do you know most of the people that come in here?"

The smile disappeared and he asked suspiciously, "Yeah, why?"

"I'm looking for a friend of mine, Marcus Ellery.  Have you seen him here lately?"

The bartender glanced over Ren's shoulder and suddenly started wiping down the bar.  Ren smelled the sharp scent of perfume, but refused to look until he had an answer.

"Doesn't ring a bell," the bartender finally replied after a brief silence.

"Is there a problem, Dewey?" a strong alto asked over Ren's shoulder.  He turned his stool slightly and faced a stunning brunette.

"No, Ms. Thatcher," Dewey answered in a cowed voice.

Thatcher never once took her eyes off of Ren as she slid into the stool beside him.  There was an air of authority about her that made him straighten to attention in his seat.  Her dark eyes flashed at this motion.  She was swathed in a smart looking blue dress that accentuated her slim but sturdy frame.  Her hair hung loose in an evening style even though the sun hadn't yet set.  Ren had seen lookers before in his life, but was taken with this one immediately.  His mouth was drier than an Englishman's wit.

"Hello," she said politely.

"Ma'am," Ren managed to croak out.

"Welcome to the Queen's Horse.  I don't think I've seen you here before."

"Renfield Turnbull, ma'am. I've never been here before."

"Well, I'm Meg Thatcher.  This is my place.  Perhaps I could show you around."

Ren blushed under her sharp gaze and it seemed to please her.  She laid a hand on his arm and leaned in close.  He could feel its warmth through his jacket.  His mother would have called her display unseemly, but Ren didn't care.  In a small corner of his mind, he wondered if this was what it had been like for Fraser on a daily basis.



Ren is in awe of Thatcher, just as he is on the show.  I don't think that would change.  Ren is a follower and Thatcher oozes authority.  It doesn't surprise me that he'd be gaga over her even after he knows what kind of woman she is.  Also, as Lynn pointed out to me later, there are a lot of feminist themes running through the story.  It was something I think I added unconsciously.  Looking back at the story as a whole, I can really see it.   You have Stella's arc, Thatcher's arc, and to some small extent, Frannie's arc.  They are three strong women who are not willing to be at home barefoot and pregnant.  I think it's a good theme considering the time period is set in the repressive 50's before the civil rights movements of the 60's.  It also works well in the hard-boiled vein because in those stories women are always dangerous.

It's funny, because Shade says she wasn't aware of writing it in, but I guess due to the very setting of the story, those issues of gender roles cropped up automatically.  I had some suggestions to make about tweaking Stella's motivations, later, but I thought there was a pervasive awareness of just what limited roles these women had to choose from.  For example, when Shade was assigning character roles in the first place -- there was the "secretary secretly in love with the boss," etc., but there was no "Head of the Canadian Consulate" or "high-powered ADA" available...


"Is there something wrong, Renfield?  I can call you Renfield, can't I?"

His mouth worked for a few seconds before any actual words came out.

"Yes, ma'am.  If you are familiar with your clientele, perhaps you could help me."

"Well, Renfield, I'm here to serve."

Ren's body temperature raised several degrees.

"I'm looking for a Marcus Ellery. Do you know him?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Meg pulled her hand away.  Her eyes turned cold, and Ren felt bereft.  There was no more warmth.  Meg was a cool imitation of the woman she had been seconds before.

"What are you, a cop?  I don't have time for this.  Levon!"

Ren was shocked by her hard tone.  At her bellow, a well built young man in waiter's attire stepped up to the bar.  His eyes trailed over Ren's taller frame, but didn't look impressed.

"Yes'm?"

"Escort this gentleman out," Meg said standing.  She swept back into the main room of the club without a glance back.

Ren started to call after her but a dark arm locked around his throat.  Levon pulled him off balance and started dragging him back to the door.

"Guess you won't be having that milk!" Dewey called at him with a laugh.

It only took a strong heave from the waiter to send Ren sprawling onto the sidewalk outside.  Ren looked up at the young man only to receive a meaningful scowl.

"Don't come back," he grunted and disappeared back into the club.



I needed someone to throw Turnbull out.  I guess that when I devised this scene it was Dewey, but as I wrote it, I came up with the idea of using Levon.  On reflection, I'm not sure it works because although he was a boxer, he wasn't very big.  Ren is very tall, it would take someone equally large to move him about like this.  Oh well, maybe Levon just got the jump on him.



Dief stared at him from beside the entrance.  He could see the wolf's disapproval in the gentle eyes.

"I thought I asked you to wait by the car?"

"Wolves are independent animals. They rarely do what they're told, young man."

Ren looked around until he saw the older gentleman leaning against a car.  With a sigh, he got to his feet and approached the white haired stranger cautiously.

"Diefenbaker's always had his own way of doing things."

"Hm.  You know, you're going about this all wrong."

"I beg your pardon?"

The man looked at Renfield closely.  He felt embarrassed over what the man had obviously just witnessed.  His face flushed but the stranger swept the fears away with flick of his hand.

"You shouldn't get mixed up with Thatcher, my boy."

"How did you know....?"

"You were getting thrown out of her establishment.  Doesn't take a genius.  My advice to you is to go home."

"I can't," Ren said earnestly.  "Someone's depending on me."

"Noble, but you don't know what you're up against.  Thatcher's out of your league."

Ren frowned and asked, "What are you talking about?  Who are you?"

"Call me Buck.  I'm not important, lad.  Thatcher is vicious.  You'd best steer clear."



Buck was one of those characters that I thought of from the beginning.  He's just perfect for the mysterious informant role.  I like to think of him as Deep Fart instead of Deep Throat.  :D  It was also an excellent way to work in Fraser's reappearance.  I see Buck as the more serious character from Manhunt than the more goofy version from All the Queen's Horses and COTW.  He does have his silly moments in this, but that's only because it matches so well next to Ren.



"What do you mean?" he asked thinking about Ms. Thatcher's advances toward him.

"Margaret Thatcher is also known as the Ice Queen because of her thing for diamonds, and she isn't too particular how she gets them.  She's not someone you want to be friends with."

"I don't think I'll have a problem with that," Ren replied and rubbed his rear end.

"Let it go, son."

With that final cryptic word, the man climbed into his car and drove away.  Ren looked back at Dief speculatively.  The wolf tilted his head to the side in a sort of shrug.  Suddenly, there was a loud bang that sent both of them diving behind the nearest cover.  When Ren peeked out again, he realized it had only been Buck's car backfiring.  The pair peeked around sheepishly before standing as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.



This idea of the car backfiring is completely from Lynn.  She wanted something that related to Buck's constant farting on the show.  It's dead on and a brilliantly funny idea.

Because fart jokes?  Always funny.


The pair walked back to Ren's car without any more communication.  A movement to his left caught his eye and he paused next to the driver's side door.  Ren watched a side entrance to the club open.  A dark colored sedan sat idling nearby.  Thatcher exited the building and climbed inside the waiting car.  A blonde woman in white followed her.  The car door closed and the women sped away.

"Come on, Dief.  I think we need to speak to Ray."


-----------------


The holding area at the 27th precinct was new to Ren.  He had been to the station many times both by himself and with Fraser, but he'd never visited a prisoner before.  Ray looked pale and there were dark circles under his eyes.  His hair was in more disarray than usual.  He looked tired.

"Did you get any sleep, Ray?" Ren asked as he sat down on the small cot.

"Not much.  I didn't expect to see you again."

"Ray, you're my client.  I won't abandon you."

"That's sweet, Turnbull, but I doubt Vecchio is going to appreciate you butting in."

"Regardless, I am here for you.  I've even gotten a lead, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you some questions."

Ray sighed and his mouth tightened.

"I didn't kill Ellery."

"I know, Ray.  I want to ask about Stella."

"Stella didn't kill him either!" he bellowed



Notice how quick Ray is to defend Stella in this.  It's a knee jerk reaction, but part of me wonders if Ray suspects Stella.  Being the author, you'd think I'd know, but alas...  Here I'm setting up more pain for Ray.  He really is my punching bag which sucks because I love him so.



"I never said she did, but I need to know about her relationship with Ellery.  I'd also like to hear about the robbery you mentioned."

"You gotta understand.  It's not because I'm jealous.  Well, all right, I am, but Ellery's not a good guy... wasn't a good guy.  See, Stella's dad runs a bank and the cops always thought it was Ellery that did the job.  He already had a record. They just couldn't prove it.  Now, Stel and I were quits by then, but I couldn't let her go, you know?  She was my Gold Coast girl.  Even when it was bad, there was always this spark.  She likes to dance.  The way we would move together... we were perfect."

Ren wanted to flinch away from the pain and misery in Ray's voice.  Ray was leaning on the cell bars with his back to Ren.  The defeat in his shoulders told the whole story more eloquently than his words.

"Tell me about the robbery."

"I went to the bank to see her.  She usually went in on Fridays to help her dad.  I was going to try to take her to lunch.  She was mad.  I could see the look on her face as soon as she spotted me.  I'd never seen her so angry.  In front of everybody she yelled at me and told me to go.  I didn't take two steps to the door before they busted in.  There were four of them in masks.  The main guy, I'm sure now that it was Ellery, he put a gun right in my face.  I was scared, but I was more scared for Stella.  They told us to get on the floor.  Ellery grabbed her and dragged her into the vault.  I wanted to move, but I just couldn't.  I just stayed frozen there on the floor.  I was too scared to protect her.  They knew what to take and even what deposit boxes to jimmy."

Ren frowned and asked softly, "Stella helped them?"

Ray spun around and, for a moment, Ren was sure that he was going to be hit.  The fury burned in the other man's eyes like a torch.  Ren sat still and waited for the blow.  It never came.  Just as Ray had in his office, he deflated again revealing the broken man inside.

"Maybe he forced her," Ray continued as if the anger had never touched him.   "Maybe she didn't know."



Who is Ray trying to convince here, himself or Ren?  Anyway, here's the robbery scene that I mentioned before.  You can see Ray beating himself up for not doing anything.  Fear is a perfectly understandable reaction in that situation, but Ray rules it out because he didn't protect Stella.  Stella is his world and he does nothing.  I think that is what makes the robbery significant.  If she hadn't been there, I don't think it would have been such a turning point in his life.



"Did the police investigate?"

"Yeah, but Stella's dad protected her."

Ren frowned again.

"He believed she had something to do with the robbery?"

"Don't know.  He never thought much of me to begin with.  We didn't exactly discuss it."

"She's still with Ellery, or she was."

Ray sat down on the cot next to him.  They both stared at the concrete floor.  The silence stretched on for several minutes.  Ren wasn't sure if Ray was thinking it over or if he was just avoiding thinking about it at all.

"I'm tired, Turnbull," the blond finally said.

Ren knew an evasion when he heard one, despite popular belief.  Ren realized that Ray had been through a lot and he decided to let the subject drop for the time being.  He slowly pulled himself off of the cot.  Carefully, he rested his hand on Ray's slumped shoulder.

"Get some sleep, Ray."

He called for the guard and as the cell door was opened, he turned back to his client.

"Ray, do you have any pictures of Stella?"

"There's one in my wallet, but the cops took it.  Why?"

Ren gave him a small smile even though the man didn't look up to see it.

"She sounds like a remarkable woman.  I was just curious what she looked like.  Try to rest.  I'll come back by tomorrow if I can."

He received no reply, but it wasn't surprising.  The guard led him back into the bustling squad room.  Ren paused by the Desk Sergeant and asked to take a look at Ray's effects.  The gruff man refused until Ren said that Ray was his client.  The Sergeant seemed to assume that Ren was a lawyer and pulled out the bag.  Part of him wanted to correct the man, but since he didn't technically lie, he let it pass.  After all, how often had Fraser used half-truths and omissions to his advantage?  Ren could bow to this wisdom for the moment.  It was important.  He flipped open the wallet and was surprised to find it packed full of scraps of paper and ticket stubs. Inside he also found a small black and white picture of an attractive blonde woman.  Ren tried to organize the wallet as best he could before returning it to the Desk Sergeant.



Ren's being competent here.  That makes me kind of antsy.  When he gets competent, he starts to seem a bit out of character.  So every time you see him act like a real detective it's usually punctuated by something very Turnbull-like.  In this instance, it's cleaning.  In others, it's him being stupid or clumsy again.  Oh, and I love the idea of him organizing Ray's wallet.  You know that Ray is a slob and a bit of a packrat (think of the keys in MOTB) so his wallet would reflect that.  I bet Ren's wallet is alphabetical order or some such craziness.



Ren thought over all the pieces of the puzzle as he headed back to his car.  Things were starting to add up, but to what?  Math was usually one of his strong points, but he couldn't make all the numbers fit.



Probably because he's dyslexic.



"Anytime you'd like to find the clue that will solve everything," he said to Dief as they headed back to the office, "you just let me know."

Dief responded with a look that said, "I'm working on it," but Ren was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice.  It was starting to feel like Fraser's death all over again.  There had been questions from the get-go, but Ren could never make a case for foul play.  The police weren't interested in his hunches and ruled the case an accident.  But what had Fraser been doing in someone else's car?  Much less one that had caught on fire and been driven into Lake Michigan.  They'd only found a wallet and some burnt clothing to confirm Fraser's death.  Vecchio had asked that the lake be dragged for a body, but he had been denied by his higher-ups.  They didn't even seem interested that Fraser had plenty of enemies in Chicago that would love to get even with him.  With so little evidence, neither he nor Detective Vecchio had been able to avenge the death of their friend.  Both men were in a holding pattern of grief with little or no closure in sight.



I wanted to include a flashback to the night Fraser 'died' from Ren's perspective, but I could never really make it work without disturbing the flow of the story.  Instead, I have him pondering on the case in general with just enough information that you get what happened without being stuck too much in the past.

I also enjoy taking two very different characters like Vecchio and Turnbull and giving them some sort of commonality like their grief.



Ren tried to shake off these thoughts when he pulled into the parking garage.  It was best to go into the office with a clear heart because Frannie could always tell when he was thinking about Fraser.  He hated seeing her face crumble when she looked at him.  He needn't have worried, though, because Frannie was not in the office when he entered.  After their late night, he really wasn't surprised.  The poor girl had probably gone home to get some rest in a real bed.  It was time to get down to business.

Ren hung up his jacket and hat and rolled up his sleeves.  Underneath the cabinet in his bathroom was a wide assortment of cleaning products.  Ren pulled them all out and started to work.  He always thought best when he was cleaning.  Often his mind was cluttered with thoughts and ideas.  Having order on the outside led to him having order on the inside.  Dief and Frannie knew enough to stay out of his way when he got like this.  He started in the outer office and worked his way inward toward his desk.

Had Ray told him everything?  He swept from the hallway to the bathroom.  What was Stella's part in the bank heist?  He dusted from ceiling to floor using the feather duster that Frannie had bought him for his birthday.  Who was the mysterious Buck, and what quarrel did he have with Thatcher?  Ren took out a rag and some floor wax and started in on the old wood floorboards.  Why was Thatcher so upset when he mentioned Ellery?  Ren worked the wax into the wood for a while.  Was it Ellery who had shot at him, or his murderer?  Ren paused in his waxing.  Who was it that dropped the Queen's Horse matches anyway?  Ren looked up at the dusty desk facing his own.

Maybe there was nothing he could do about what happened to Fraser, but he could certainly help Ray.  Ren got up slowly and stepped over Dief who was lying on his rug.  He looked down at the wolf and they shared a small moment.

"I think it's time, Dief," Ren said picking up another rag.  Dief whined softly and watched him carefully clean the adjoining desk.  When he was done, the entire office was spotless.



Ah, the cleaning sequence.  This is where I make up for Ren being competent earlier.  This bit is very much in character.  I love the idea that the reason Turnbull is so obsessed with cleaning is because it helps him think.  That whole "Having order on the outside led to him having order on the inside" rings very true for me.  This is the kind of Turnbull characterization that I love to read in other stories, where they explain the reasons behind his rather odd behavior and it makes perfect sense.  [Like alien tentaclefic! *Lynn chimes in, annoyingly*]  It's also a good way for me to reintroduce all the important plot points again hopefully without being too obvious about it.  All of Ren's questions get answered by the end of the story and that's what mystery is all about, getting those questions answered.

Then there's also the significant point of him cleaning Fraser's desk.  It's irony in action almost.  Ren has been grieving the loss of his partner, and now he's finally starting to move on thanks to the case.  Of course, this means that Fraser has to show up now and throw everyone for another loop.



Ren stepped into the bathroom and replaced the supplies.  He even managed to look himself in the mirror as he washed his hands.  When that was finished, he rolled his sleeves back down and headed for his coat and hat.

"Come on, Dief.  We've done all we can today.  Let's go home and get some rest.  I think tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

Ren went home to eat and get some sleep.  His head must have still been bothering him because he didn't wake up until well into the morning.  Dief woke him from a dead sleep by licking his face.  After a quick bath, he made up some lunch to take to Ray at the jail.  The blond didn't look much better than he had the day before, but he did seem happy to have something to eat.

"You should see what they call food in this place, Turnbull."

"I was hoping a good meal would lift your spirits."

"It was a nice thought, but I don't think my spirits can be lifted."

Ren frowned and replied, "Don't think that way, Ray.  I've been making some headway in your case."

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one.  The cops found out about the bank job and now they think I was in on that too.  They think I tipped Ellery off because of Stella dumping me.  They questioned me most of the night trying to get me to admit that I shot Ellery because he stole my girl and was going to cut me out of the loot."

"But that's ridiculous!"

"Tell them that."



Having Ray be in trouble for not only the murder but the robbery as well, was a later addition to the plot.  It's really just me piling more on Ray's head and making his situation even more dire.  It's a way of adding more momentum and pushing Ren forward to solve the case.



Ren left Ray still frowning over his lunch and went to find Detective Vecchio.  One of the other detectives told him that Ray was out on another case.  Ren made his way down to the morgue instead.  Mort was alone as usual with the radio playing opera in the background.  Ren could barely pick out the strains of Boieldieu's La Dame Blanche.  Mort hummed along with Georges and Ren cleared his throat to get the man's attention.



I don't know anything about opera, but I know something about foreshadowing.  La Dame Blanche is a French opera.  The title is "the white lady" which is a nod toward Stella being the killer.  Remember that Stella was wearing white when Ren saw her get into the car at Thatcher's club.   The opera itself is also telling because the white lady is instrumental (no pun intended) in revealing that Georges, the part that Mort is humming, is the heir to the treasure and estates that are the central point in the opera's plot.  This is a nod at Fraser's forthcoming return being "heir" to the detective agency.  Oh, and he wouldn't have been revealed if Ren hadn't been looking for the white lady to begin with.  It all fits.  How did I get this to work when I know nothing about opera?  Simple.  Google is my friend.



"Oh, sorry, how's the head?"

"Much better, thank you."

"You have to be careful with concussions."

"Yes, yes.  I was wondering if you could tell me anything about Ellery."

"Well, I don't know, Renfield.  It's a police matter."

Ren frowned and said, "Well, he did try to kill me."

"True.  All right, he was shot with small caliber bullets, widely spaced.  Other than that, I don't have much to tell you."

"Could he have been killed before I got there?"

"It's very hard to pin down a time of death."

"I know, but is it possible?"

"Yes, it's possible."



Again I was pleased with Mort before so he got another scene.  This is all about extra clues because I realized that I couldn't base the whole climax on the matches/lighter.  Ren would need more proof, or no one would believe him.  So here I threw in a little forensic evidence with the bullets.  I'm going against convention in detective novels by using the truth about time of death.  In most mystery novels the coroner or whatever always manages narrow the time of death down to a couple of hours.  If they're going by core/liver temperature, you can get a rough estimate, but there are so many different factors that can effect those results, that it isn't really all that accurate.  Temperature is just a starting point for policemen and forensics to start using eye witnesses and other evidence to narrow the window in which the murder/death occurred.  This is what I get for watching too much CSI and Cold Case Files.



Ren looked at the floor for a moment before thanking Mort.  He quickly ascended back to the detective division to retrieve Dief.  The wolf had stayed behind to shamelessly beg for treats.  Fortunately, the officers were used to his behavior.

"Dief, I think we need to go back to the Queen's Horse, and this time I'm not taking no for an answer!"

Ren missed the wolfy eye roll he received in response.


-------------------


It was still early for the clubgoers, but even so, the Queen's Horse lacked the hustle and bustle of the day before.  Thatcher's car was nowhere in sight.  Ren parked around the back hoping to avoid getting noticed by either the bartender or Levon, just in case.  He did notice another colored gentleman smoking a cigarette near the back door.  Perhaps there was another way of gathering information.  He asked Dief to stay in the car and stepped out to join the other man.

Ren stepped up patting his pockets as if he was looking for his own smokes.  The only thing on him aside from his wallet were the matches he'd found at the plant.



I think Ren's a little too crafty in this scene, but then again he doesn't actually get the information he's wanting so I tend to over look it.



"Um, darn I'm out," he said hoping he didn't sound as foolish as he thought.

"Well, I'd offer you one, but this is my last."

"Slow today?" Ren asked looking around the parking lot.  Still no sign of Thatcher's car, and it was past the time that Ren had met her the day before.

"Nah, everyone's getting ready for the big party at the boss lady's tonight.  Me and the band have to cut out of here early to set up."

"Oh, are you a musician?"

The man gently stubbed out his cigarette and slipped it behind his ear before holding out his hand.

"Jack Huey, of Jack Huey and the Musical Ride.  We play here at the Queen's Horse."

"Oh, um St. Laurent, Louis St. Laurent," Ren said quickly and shook the man's hand.

"Yeah, I don't mind singing at the club but these special events are a bore.  Plus, they don't exactly pass around the finger food in our direction, if you catch my drift."

"Yes, and I suppose a smaller venue wouldn't sound as good as the club acoustics."

"You got that right.  Not that the boss has a small house by any means.  I wouldn't mind living in Oak Park."



Okay, so much going on behind the scenes here.  First of all, Huey!  I'm such a closet Huey fan.  He's the contrast character on the show.  Not only is he the only African American, but he's also the normal cop compared to Fraser and the Rays.  

Secondly, the Musical Ride came from the wonderfully quick mind of heuradys.  I needed the name of a house band for the Queen's Horse so I asked #discourse.  H, as always, was on the ball.  

Thirdly, Louis St. Laurent.  This is where Louise got her name on the show.  St. Laurent was the 12th Prime Minister of Canada from 1948 to 1957.  He'd be the PM when this story takes place so it's understandable that for patriot Ren, St. Laurent would be the first name that pops in his head.  

Fourth, Huey's comment about not getting any hor d'oeuvres at the parties.  The treatment of black performers before the age of civil rights was about the same as treatment of average blacks.  I was probably subconsciously thinking of a documentary I saw about Sammy Davis Jr.  When he and the rest of the Rat Pack were at the height of their careers, the casinos in Vegas still wouldn't let Sammy stay in them.  He had to use the 'colored' housing reserved for the casino housekeepers and such.  One of the most famous men in show business and he couldn't even stay in the hotel where he was headlining.

And finally, speaking of civil rights, Huey's comment about wanting to live in Oak Park.  Oak Park was originally a town on its own that got swallowed by growing Chicago.  It was (and probably still is) a prominent area of Chicago that features quite a few mansions and several houses designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.  Huey's comment is in a way historical foreshadowing.  During the tumultuous 60's, Oak Park was one of the first truly integrated areas of the city because it encouraged blacks to move into all parts of town not just certain segregated blocks that were found in other parts of Chicago.




"Yeah, nice area," Ren replied trying to figure out how to get more information.

Before he could think of anything, someone yelled to Huey from the open kitchen door.  The singer nodded at him and disappeared back into the club.

Turnbull returned home to his tiny apartment and dressed for dinner.  His tuxedo was in excellent condition, partly because he took good care of it, but mostly because he didn't have occasion to wear it much.  He was trying to tie his bowtie when he heard a knock at the door.  When he opened it, Ren gasped.  Frannie was standing impatiently on the other side in her own evening wear.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"About what?  I gotta date.  I just wanted to check up on you since you didn't come into the office today.  I thought your head must be bothering you."

She reached up to touch his bump and Ren flinched away.  Instead, he fingered the off-the-shoulder sleeve of her dress.  The shiny blue satin gleamed in the soft light of his apartment.



Ren in a tux. :D  I love watching old movies because people always dress for dinner.  So nice.  Anyway, when I think of Ren in a tux, I flash to heuradys' icon of Dean in a tux with the words from cesperanza's story "Ray's Amazing Adventure at the Indigo Club."

Also, Frannie is wearing blue here.  Color became important to the story and the plot as I worked out the whole whodunit aspect.  I didn't intend for Frannie to be wearing the same color as Thatcher, but once I did it was a great way to have Ren compare and contrast the two in his head, which you'll see later.  



"You look nice."

Frannie gave him a perfect smile and replied, "You're not breakin' any mirrors yourself there, Ren."

Turnbull blushed at the compliment and thanked her.  He went back to trying to tie his bowtie straight, but she slapped his hands away after only a second.  Frannie tied a tie with the same passion that most people reserve for a garrote.  Ren was starting to get worried before she stepped away and proclaimed it perfect.

"I know you don't have a date.  So what's up?" she asked after watching Ren fiddle with her handiwork.

"I'm crashing a dinner party this evening.  I'm hoping to find some information that will clear Ray."

Frannie bit her lip and said, "You're not doing something stupid are you?"

"Don't worry.  I'm taking the pistol, but hopefully no one will even realize I'm there."

"Ren, you stick out like a watermelon in a pea pod!  Are you nuts?"



I don't know why, but I'm quite fond of this simile.  I made it up on the fly and it kind of amuses me.  It's a bit country for a city girl like Frannie, but I figure that she's the kind of woman that knows her produce.  :D



"Frannie, I have to do this.  I have to help Ray."

"You don't even know this guy!"

"He's our client, and... he believed in me, if only for a little while.  He gave us a chance.  The least I can do is return the favor."

"One guy is already dead.  You've been hit and shot at!  You're going to end up like—"

"No!  I promise you, Frannie.  Everything will be okay."

He watched her bite her lip some more.  She looked around the room at everything but him.  He felt bad that this lovely, caring creature was standing in the middle of his shabby apartment.

"Call me tonight when you get back.  You'd better call!"

"I will.  Now, go on your date.  Have a nice time.  Don't worry."

Frannie turned for the door and Ren jumped to open if for her.  She smiled at him and replied, "I don't think I can help that, Ren.  I'm a cop's sister.  It comes with the family."



So, Frannie and Ren... is there anything going on there?  I don't know.  I got the vibe between them as I was writing, but I didn't intend to put in anything overt.  Frannie was enamored of Fraser, but now it's just her and Ren.  Maybe something will happen between them in the future, but as far as this story is concerned Ren is oblivious.



Thatcher's home was impressive like many of the homes in Oak Park.  Ren pulled his car in down the street and waited until most of the guests had started arriving.  He was hoping to walk up the drive and slip in with a crowd unnoticed.  When several cars had backed up in the drive he saw his chance.  Ren stepped out of the car only to be confronted by Diefenbaker on the sidewalk.

"What? How? I left you at home!"

Dief woofed at him.

"Well don't you think it'll be a bit suspicious of me to show up with a wolf?"

Dief shot him a "Like you can get along without me" look.

"No use begging.  You'll just have to wait here."



Here instead of Ren missing Dief's comments I have him completely misinterpreting them instead.  You may not think it's funny, but I just love a running gag.  :D



The wolf gave him another eye roll equivalent and he even growled a bit when Ren had the nerve to tell him to stay.  As soon as Ren was most of the way down the street, Dief disappeared around the corner at a run.

Getting in was surprisingly easy.  Ren didn't have to give his name or show an invitation.  The man at the door just took his overcoat.  Perhaps Thatcher had never had a party crasher, or perhaps no on had been foolish enough to try it until that point.  Ren put these thoughts aside and tried to blend with the crowd.

The party was a good mix of businessmen and civic leaders.  It was the kind of party that would make the society pages.  Of course, the editors would be polite enough to leave out that the hostess owned a nightclub.

He drifted towards the sound of the music and saw Mr. Huey at the microphone.  The man noticed him at the edge of the crowd and nodded.  Ren returned the gesture and skirted the wall.  On the far side of the room was the bar, and where Dewey was handing out drinks.  Ren moved into the next room to be on the safe side.  He snatched a champagne glass from a passing waiter just for looks.  The bubbles usually went straight to his head so he didn't bother to take a sip.  He needed to be clear.



I don't know why we all assume that Turnbull can't hold his liquor.  I mean if you think about it, he's a large guy and his body mass should make it more difficult for him to get drunk not the opposite.  But then again, that wouldn't be in character, would it?



While Ren was pondering how he would get information about Ellery, a large man stepped up to him.

"Hello, I'm Harding Welsh, plastics."

"Plastics?"

"Wave of the future, son."

"Ah."

"And you are?"

Ren paused for a moment before replying, "Louis St. Laurent."

"The Canadian Prime Minister?" the man asked with a touch of sarcasm.

Ren panicked but said evenly, "No.  It's a common name in Canada."



Welsh was the only character that I hadn't worked into the story.  For some reason, I had completely left him out.  Originally, this was just a random party guest, but then I figured, why not Welsh?  It led to a cute little scene that I like quite a bit.  It's partly a nod to The Graduate and partly a nod to Humphrey Bogart in the original Sabrina.  It was all about plastic.

I also love that Welsh calls him on the fake name.  I wanted someone to catch it at some point, and Harding was the perfect character to do that.



"Oh, you're one of Thatcher's fellow countrymen, then.  What brings you to Chicago?"

"Ms. Thatcher is Canadian?" Ren blurted.

"Well, yes.  I would have thought you knew that."

"Um, no.  I live in Chicago."

"Ah.  So what's your business then?"

The man had a very penetrating gaze.  Ren felt like a bug under the heat of a magnifying glass.  Before he could think of something, a smooth voice interrupted.

"Hello, Harding. I see you've found your friend."

Ren and Welsh turned to face Thatcher.  Ren stopped the sigh before it could escape.  She was a vision in blue once more.  The dress fell off her shoulders in a most attractive way.  It shimmered in the light and Ren thought back to Frannie in his apartment.  His poor secretary would never be able to afford the beaded extravaganza that Thatcher wore so easily.  Tonight he had seen two women in blue.  One was as warm as sunshine the other as cold as ice.  Thatcher ignored him and instead she and Welsh stared daggers at each other.

Welsh finally replied, "I don't know him.  I thought he was a friend of yours."

"You don't know him?  And here I thought you were old friends," she said dryly.

"I hate to disappoint you, Meg."

"Oh, you'd never do that, Harding.  So tell me, how are the... plastics?"

"Stronger than you think."

There was a charge in the air between them.  Ren had the feeling that there was a whole other conversation going on that he was totally unaware of, but he had that feeling more often than not.  He started to clear his throat in the ensuing silence, but Thatcher turned away from Welsh as if dismissing him.  She took Ren's arm.

"Mr. Turnbull, I wonder if you'd accompany me?"



Throughout this Ren just keeps getting swept up in events.  I think that's why you can really buy him in this story.  It's not like he's actively out solving the crime.  He just keeps ending up in the right place at the right time.  Ren is completely missing the bigger picture of what's going on.  He only cares about his case, and he doesn't really get his due until the end.

Here too is the comparison between Thatcher and Frannie.  It's a very cliché one, but it's easy to see how Ren's mind would work like that.



The grip on his elbow left no room for argument.  Thatcher led him through the crowd nodding to and acknowledging her guests.  Ren looked back at the frowning Welsh before the strange man got swallowed by the throng.  They went through the bustling kitchen and out the rear door.  The lights from the house only cast a small glow, leaving tendrils of shadow and darkness everywhere.  Ren could make out the dark shape of a garage with a second story above.  There were several men lounging and smoking around the open garage door.  They did not look like nice men.



Them being not nice men... that has to be, like, the ultimate insult from Ren.



A door opened on the garage's upper landing and a figure walked around to the side stairway.  It was too dark to see the person, but Ren got the impression that it was a man.  He stopped half way down the stairs where the light ended.  Ren could only see well shined shoes and dark pants.  The rest of the stranger was in shadow.  Thatcher motioned to the men by the garage door and made her way up the hidden man.  The others surrounded Ren casually, but he was sure they'd stop him if he reached for his gun.



I always wonder if Fraser's intro is a little too obvious here.  I was going for hidden nefarious bad guy, but I'm not sure I pulled it off...



"It's that cop I told you about earlier.  Welsh I can deal with.  He has nothing, but I can't have anyone else snooping around right now."

One of the men near Ren stepped up and looked him in the eye.  He yelled back over his shoulder enthusiastically, "You want us to take him for a little drive?"

Ren was sure he didn’t want to go anywhere with any of these men.  Thatcher turned around to face him once more.  She appeared to be considering it, but a hand rested on her shoulder.  Ren watched her lean back into the mysterious figure as he whispered in her ear.

Thatcher nodded and said, "You're right.  We don't need that kind of attention right now.  Randall, take him around front and make sure he leaves.  I don't suggest trying to return either here or to the club, Mr. Turnbull."

Randall smiled viciously.

"Looks like it's your lucky day, snooper!" he said and patted Ren on the cheek much too hard.



(Snooper- police detective)

Using Bolt was just a last minute idea, but I think he works well in the story.  I like the idea of him working for Thatcher considering she is kind of his nemesis on the show.



Randall and one of the other thugs walked Ren around the house and back out the front gate.  He felt their eyes on him most of the way down the sidewalk.  He looked back when he reached his car.  No one was behind him and Ren breathed a sigh of relief.  When he turned around the sigh became a yelp.  Dief was sitting patiently by the car.  He had appeared out of nowhere.

"Dief what do you think you're... hey what's that?"

The wolf was holding some papers in his mouth.  Ren thought he looked rather smug.  It wasn't an attractive expression on him.  Ren took the papers and climbed into his car to read them.  Dief hopped in through the passenger side window.



And of course, Dief's found a clue, again.  Lynn and I had both agreed in the beginning that Dief would have to be the one to solve all the cases because Ren is just not that capable.  Basically, he's doing the same job he does on the show.  Heh.

 

"This is a loading receipt for a warehouse by the Lake they call Michigan.  Did you get this from Thatcher's house?"

Dief woofed an affirmative.

"I suppose I don't want to know how you got in," Ren admonished, but it didn't faze his four legged partner.  "This warehouse is nowhere near Thatcher's club, and these shipments are coming from Canada.  Do you think we should check it out?"

Dief looked at Ren as if he had suddenly turned into a cat.

"Right, right, of course," Ren replied quickly and started the car.


----------------


Ren pulled up in an alley across from the warehouse.  There was activity on the docks even late at night.  Several men were unloading trucks.  Ren sat in the car with the windows down and watched.  Nothing seemed suspicious.  Several hours ticked by slowly.  Dief was snoring softly in the passenger seat.

"Thanks for the help," Ren muttered.  "This was your idea after all."

"Talking to yourself is the sign of a weak mind."

Ren yelped and looked out the window to see a figure leaning against the alley wall.  Buck stepped out to where Ren could see him.  The older man leaned down to look at him.

"What are you doing here?" Ren asked.

"I'd ask you the same question.  This is no place for you. You'd better get on home, son."

"No, sir.  I'm working."

"On what?"

"Well, that would be confidential."

"I see.  Very good, very good."  He paused.  "You still shouldn't be here."

"Listen, Mister, um, Buck.  I hate to be contrary, but I'm afraid I must.  I have to surveil this building.  A man's life is at stake.  So either you tell me your business here or move along."

"You don't realize what you're dealing with."

"Then tell me!  All this cloak and dagger nonsense isn't helping."

Buck looked disappointed, but he only nodded.

"Very well, if your mind is made up.  Watch your back, son.  Things could get tricky."

With that, Buck stood and looked both ways down the alley.  "Now where did I park my car?" he muttered before going to the right.  After a few steps, he stopped and turned around to go back to the left.  Ren watched him disappear into the gloom.  Dief had woken during the conversation and was watching Ren.



Do I have to point out that he called Ren for talking to himself and then he does it?  I do little things like that mostly to amuse myself.



"Why can't people just say what they mean?  Why does everyone but me know what's going on?" he asked the wolf.  Fortunately, he couldn’t understand Dief's reply.

The pair didn't wait much longer for the workmen to clear out.  When everything was quiet they made their way to the warehouse.  The entrance was locked, but Diefenbaker cleverly found an open window near some stacked crates.  The wolf made it through easily, but Ren had some trouble clambering inside.  He fell through the window with a small scream and landed flat on his face.  He looked up into Dief's disapproving eyes.

"Sorry," he whispered before remembering who the detective was.



Again, Ren looking somewhat competent so throw in something funny.



The warehouse was full.  Most of the containers were marked as originating from different parts of Canada.  Ren let Dief sniff around while he headed for the office.  He gasped when he stepped inside.  It was possibly the tidiest office in the city, outside of his own.  Everything was perfectly filed and put in the proper place.  Ren leafed through the cabinet, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  A whine behind him made him turn.  Dief was reared up with his front paws scratching at something in the big desk chair.  Ren rolled the chair back and found a small blue clutch purse in the seat.



The tidiness of the office was me just throwing in a little foreshadowing to Fraser's reappearance.



"Hm.  Normally I wouldn't intrude on a lady's privacy, but these are special circumstances."

Ren looked through the purse.  Inside there was a compact, a lipstick, some money, and a gold cigarette lighter.  Ren examined the lighter closely.  Etched on the front were the letters M.E.  The sound of the warehouse door sliding open startled him out of his thoughts.  Ren quickly refilled the purse, slipping the lighter into his pocket.  He flipped off the desk lamp and motioned Dief to hide.

Two cars pulled inside.  One Ren recognized as Thatcher's.  It was confirmed when she got out followed by the blonde he had seen at the club.  Ren looked down at Dief and mouthed "Stella."  The thugs from earlier that night piled out of the sedan behind Thatcher's.  There was a lot of yelling and commotion.  The Ice Queen's voice rose above it all yelling out orders.  Stella was off by herself.  Her red dress glittered in the unflattering light of the warehouse.  Ren slowly made his way through the maze of containers all the while keeping the red in his line of sight.  Occasionally he'd have to move quickly to avoid Thatcher's goons.  Ren got all the way around to where Stella was standing.  He was unsure if he should try and catch her attention or not.  The decision was taken away from him when a voice whispered into his ear from behind.



Notice that Stella has gone from wearing white to wearing red.  It's a bit of color metaphor to again foreshadow her as the murderer.  Technically, she should have been wearing white before she killed Ellery, but since she didn't appear until after the murder I had to put the white dress then.  It's also interesting that she's wearing the color of the RCMP uniform which doesn't appear in this story.



"Hello, sweetie pie."

The sharp jab of a muzzle in his back kept him from trying anything.  Randall, because Ren was sure of the man's identity without looking, patted him down and pulled the .45 out of his tuxedo pocket.

"Well, well.  Did you have this before?  Shame you didn't try to use it.  Now move!"

Randall shoved Ren out into the open.  Thatcher was standing with another man that Ren hadn't noticed in his hurry to get to Stella.  They were facing away when Randall shouted to them.

"Hey, boss lady!  Lookie what I found."

The pair turned and Ren froze.  It wasn't possible, even if it did confirm all his suspicions.  Benton Fraser stood next to Thatcher and he looked very cross.

"Fra—" Ren began but was interrupted by Fraser's fist.  Ren's glass jaw sent him slumping to the floor.


----------------


Ren came to and found his movements restricted.  Someone had taken off his jacket and tied him to a chair.  Dief was nowhere in sight.  "Oh dear," he mumbled and moved his sore jaw around.  Randall was nearby going through his things.

"Hey, he's not a cop.  He's just some shamus."

Thatcher examined the PI license.  She looked back at Fraser who was frowning at Ren.  He knew that look. It was the "I dare you to say something" look.  Fraser had learned it from Detective Vecchio, and he was a very good student.  Ren couldn't meet his eyes for more than a couple of seconds.

"Who are you working for?" the Ice Queen demanded.

Ren glanced at Stella, but didn't reply.  Thatcher looked as if she was going to slap him.  He caught a reflection out of the corner of his eye.  Randall had found the lighter.  Ren watched the two women closely.  Both had faces of stone, which he found very telling.  A stone face on the Ice Queen was to be expected.  She was probably an excellent poker player.  Stella, though, was something all together different.  Ren thought about this new twist as Thatcher walked back over to Fraser.



It's somewhat scary to watch Ren actually start to put the pieces together.



"The buyers will be here within the hour.  We need to get rid of him.  I don't want them to get spooked."

"I can take care of it, boss lady.  It'll be my pleasure."

"I'm sure it would be, Bolt," she said with a measure of disgust.

Fraser interrupted, "Don't you think it would be wise to see what he knows and who he's told?  You said he was talking to Welsh tonight at the party."

"Right now, Billy Bob, I don't much care what he knows.  It doesn't matter anyway.  Once this deal is over, we're leaving."

"What about me?" Stella asked.

Ren didn't catch Thatcher's reply because he was too busy saying 'Billy Bob' to himself over and over in confusion.  When they were done talking, he looked up at Stella.



Billy Bob... I couldn't help myself.  I considered having Fraser pretend to be Muldoon, but it just didn't feel right.  So I had to use Fraser's one undercover name for his undercover assignment.  It sounds like something Buck would come up with anyway.  I like Ren's reaction to the name.  That comes from my reaction to Pizza and Promises I just kept repeating Billy Bob to myself in confusion also.



"Mrs. Kowalski..."

"How did you know my name?"

"I know your former husband.  He hired me to find you, and it appears that I have."

"Ray?" she asked.  "I'm not married to him anymore.  My whereabouts are none of his business."

"Oh, I'm sure he doesn't care where you go.  It's just the company you keep that worries him."

Thatcher started to give a sharp reply, but Stella said, "I don't have to listen to this."  She turned her back on Ren and started walking toward the office.

"Perhaps you should," he called, "since he's probably going to go to the gas chamber for murder."

Stella stopped short and looked back at Ren with surprise.

"Ray?  Murder?"

"Yes, the police think he killed a man named Marcus Ellery."

Ren watched each of them in turn.  In the silence of his revelation, there was a screech of tires.  Several cars sped up to the warehouse and blocked the entrance.  Armed men came from every direction.  Ren saw Vecchio, Welsh from the party, and the mysterious Buck among them.  Welsh had his gun drawn and yelled.

"Chicago PD!  Drop 'em!"

Randall and his men opened fire and from then on out it was pure chaos.  Bullets flew and the crack of gunfire reverberated against the metal walls of the building.  Ren struggled with his bonds but couldn't free himself.  He was the only one left in the open.  Everyone else had taken cover.  Over the yelling and confusion, Ren heard a voice calling his name.  He looked over and gaped.  Ray Kowalski was crouched nearby.

"Ray?"



I shocked Lynn with Ray's reintro here.  The truth was I needed some way for Ray to be in on the climax.  It is a nice surprise though.  The explanation below is a little unconventional.

I was completely suprised!  And I really liked the way Ray finally takes action, here.  It leads in nicely to his change of career at the end.


Whatever else he might have said was lost when fire streaked across his thigh.  A stray bullet had grazed him but good.  Ren gritted his teeth and tried not to pass out again.  He looked up to see Ray dart from his cover and run straight at him.  "No!" he yelled, but it did no good.  Ray kept running and barreled into Ren like an anemic linebacker.  Their collision knocked him sideways in the chair and they crashed to the floor.  Ray covered him with his body and tried to undo the ropes.

"Pull the outer rope up!" Ren gritted.  He had landed on his wounded side.

"What?" Ray yelled.

"Box knot.  Top rope up!"



This rope business is just a connection between Fraser and Turnbull.  You don't ever get to see them be partners in the story, so I threw in this little bit.  They have been partners for a while so of course Ren knows what kind of knot Fraser would use.



Ray pulled a bit and Ren's hands came free.  They quickly rose to dodge and weave their way through the firefight.  Finally, they dove into the relative safety of some shipping crates.  Dief was waiting there as if he had been expecting it the whole time.



As I was reading through the first draft, I realize that I had completely forgotten Dief by this point!  Here's how I reintroduce him to the climax.  I also add him to the conversation later on so you'd still feel his presence even though he's not actually doing anything.



"Where the heck have you been?" Ren hissed, but Dief ignored him.

Ray rolled his eyes at them and asked, "How'd you know what kind of knot that was?  It was behind your back."

"Just a guess," Ren replied with a smile.

"What?"

"I told you I could find Stella."

Ray looked startled.

"What?  She's here?"

"Yes.  I think she was headed in this direction.  What are you doing here anyway?" he asked as they moved towards the office.

"That weird guy Buck convinced Lieutenant Welsh and Vecchio to bring me along.  They think Thatcher was the brains behind the knockover of the bank.  Buck says she probably killed Ellery.  They wanted me to see if I could identify any of her guys from the bank.  I was supposed to wait in the car."



Here's the explanation that I mentioned before.  Normally, they'd do this sort of identification back at the police station, but I figured this was plausible enough.  By having Buck be the one to pressure them into bringing Ray along, it looks as though he's trying to help out Turnbull.  It's also good Ray characterization because you know he wouldn't stay in the car.



"Lieutenant Welsh, you say?  Hmm.  Well, that explains a lot.  You really should have listened to them, Ray, and stayed in the car."

"If I had you'd have a serious case of lead poisoning right now."

"Good point."

"Ray!"

They turned at the cry and Stella darted out of a corner into Ray's arms.  Kowalski held her tight and whispered to her softly.  Ren looked away.  The gunfire had died down so they retreated back to the loading area.  The police were gathering everyone up into custody.  Fraser had a tight grip on Thatcher's arm.  She looked ready to claw his eyes out.  Buck stepped forward.

"Benton.  Good work, son!"

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"Fraser!" Vecchio yelled.

"Hi, Ray."

"Hi?  Hi?  You've been dead for months and all you can say is 'Hi?'"

"I'm sorry about that, Ray, Ren," he said nodding to Ren.  An indignant yelp made him look down.  "Sorry, Diefenbaker.  I hated to deceive you all like that but Sergeant Frobisher insisted that I had to fake my death to make the operation a success."

"What operation?" Ren asked exasperatedly.

Buck answered, "Diamonds, my boy.  I thought I had given you a good enough hint."   After looking at Ren's expression he added, "Maybe not."

"Sir, if I may?" Fraser asked and continued after Buck's nod.  "For a while the RCMP has suspected that someone was crossing the Canadian border to smuggle diamonds into the United States.  Chicago was the exchange point.  Sergeant Frobisher was my father's old partner.  He knew I was working in the city and would be a good candidate for infiltrating the ring from the Chicago side.  While I'm unaccustomed to undercover work, the RCMP was confident that I was the man for the job.  They, along with Lieutenant Welsh, helped me fake my death and create a cover.  I'm sorry if I've caused you any undue pain, but the ring was responsible for the deaths of several RCMP officers.  I couldn't turn down the opportunity to bring them to justice."



This is very Fraser.  Lynn's rephrasing of my last line was dead on.  She's such a good beta!  :D

*Lynn blushes*


"That's why all my inquiries into the accident got denied," Vecchio said glaring at Welsh.  "They knew you were alive and didn't want me proving it."

Fraser seemed surprised by this news.

"You were digging?"

"Ren and I both were."

Fraser smiled.

"Well, I do appreciate it, Ray, and Ren."  Another yelp made him sigh.  "And Dief."

Vecchio shook his head and said, "You aren't going to appreciate it in a minute, buddy.  I'm afraid your prisoner belongs to me."

"What?"  Buck barked.

"Thatcher, she's under arrest for the murder of Marcus Ellery.  Right here in good old Chicago."

"Told you I didn't do it," Ren heard Ray mutter beside him.

"But, Detective, Ms. Thatcher didn't kill Ellery.  Stella did," Ren said quietly.



And now the meat and potatoes of any crime story, the explanation.  Did you figure it out?  I never do until the detective explains everything.  Ren is being competent again, but you don't mind because this is what you've been waiting for all along.



Ray whipped around to glare at him.  Stella clung to his side and he pulled her close protectively.

"What? She's innocent.  They've held her hostage all along."

"I saw her getting into a car with Thatcher at the club.  She wasn't under duress, Ray.  The whole time they were holding me here she was never restrained or threatened."

"How do you know she did it, Ren?" Fraser asked.

"Well the lighter, obviously."

"What lighter? What's he talking about, Benny?" Vecchio asked while holding on to Thatcher.

Ren stepped over to the handcuffed Randall Bolt and pulled the lighter out of his pocket.  He showed it to Fraser.

"See the initials are M.E., for Marcus Ellery.  It all started when I found matches from Thatcher's club at the bottling plant.  I thought that the killer dropped them, but I think Ellery did.  You see, he didn't have his lighter.  I found it tonight in the blue purse in the office."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Vecchio asked.

"Stella's wearing red.  The night I saw her get into the car with Thatcher, she was wearing white. Ms. Thatcher was the one wearing blue.  Therefore, the purse must be Thatcher's."



It's all about color.  This was something I came up with early on.  I knew that who was wearing what would be important once I decided that Ren would find this purse with the evidence in it.  Thatcher is in blue both times you see her because you have to remember it so you would get that the purse was hers.



Ray let go of Stella and stepped up to yell in Ren's face.

"That means Thatcher killed him!  She had his lighter!"

"Why would she take his lighter after she killed him?  She can certainly afford a gold lighter, and she's too smart to keep it for a trophy. No, I'm afraid it means that Stella killed him because Ellery threw her over for Thatcher."

The room grew silent.  Ray looked closely at his ex-wife but she only stared at Ren defiantly.

"I assume that Stella helped Marcus steal more than money in that bank job.  He also must have ended up with diamonds from the deposit boxes.  I'm not sure if Thatcher planned the robbery, as Sergeant Frobisher believes, but I am sure neither of them would know how to get rid of the stones on their own.  They would have to go to the Ice Queen, one way or another.  Suddenly, Ellery didn't need Stella's help anymore, and he'd found himself another woman who could get him what he wanted.  He must have given Thatcher the lighter at some point, and ended up having to take some matches from the club.

"I'm guessing that before I arrived at the bottling plant, Stella and Ellery argued and she shot him.  When I showed up, she panicked -- that would explain the scream -- and sshe fired at me.  I thought it was Ellery shooting, but surely a bank robber who was familiar with guns would have hit me.  I was in the open after all.  Plus, the coroner said that the bullets in Ellery were widely spaced, indicating that his killer wasn't a great shot.  It was Stella who knocked me out with the gun.  I was between her and the door and she needed to escape.  Not knowing where else to go and still wanting the money for the diamonds, she went to her rival.  Perhaps she wanted to get rid of Thatcher, or perhaps she just wanted in on the deal, I don't know.  In any case, there is an easy way to prove it.  She should still have the gun that she used to kill Ellery."



This whole soliloquy of Ren's was written out almost from the beginning.  Very little changed.  The bullet information got added after I stuck Mort in for that second time.



All eyes were on the woman in red.  Ray walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders.  There was nothing but love and trust on his face.  Ren wanted to say something, but Kowalski spoke first.

"Tell 'em, Stel.  Tell 'em it's not true."

Stella reached up and touched Ray's face.  It was a tender caress, but Ren noticed that the tenderness didn't reach her eyes.  Out of the corner of his eye he could already see Fraser moving towards them, but it was too late.  Stella reached into her purse, pulled out a .32, and pointed it at Ray's head.



Technically, a .32 isn't a really small caliber.  Women, especially in detective fiction, tend to use .22s because they're small and can fit into a handbag easily, but I wanted something a little more substantial since Ren gets knocked out with it.



"I'm sorry, baby.  Billy Bob, or Fraser, or whatever your name is, stop right there.  Everybody get back."

Ren watched Ray's face crumble.  He didn't seem to care that Stella was threatening his life.  Maybe he didn't care about his life anymore after finding out his ex-wife was a murderer.  Ren felt for him.  Kowalski had been through so much in such a short amount of time.  He was probably regretting that he'd ever set foot in the detective agency.



I agree with Ren.  Ray's been through the wringer in this story.  Again it's nothing like the tale I originally intended.



"Mrs. Kowalski, you don't have to do this," Ren said softly.

"I don't have any choice now that you opened your big yap!" she yelled.

Ren could see all the policemen in the room spread out.  Someone surely would be able to flank her, but could they do it before she killed Ray?  Ren looked at his client.  He was still staring into Stella's eyes.

"Baby, why?  You know I'd do anything for you.  Why?"

"I was stupid to get involved with you, Ray.  You were fun, but fun doesn't pay.  I thought I was going to do all right by myself.  It was time for my dad to retire.  I was sure that after all my hard work, he'd see to it that I'd take over in his place.  But you know what?  The bank sent some snot nosed kid straight out of school.  He couldn’t find his ass with both hands!  After everything I'd done for that bank!  Just because I'm a woman I don't deserve it?  Well, to hell with that!  I knew it should have been mine, so I took it!"



I reworked Stella's motivations after Lynn's beta.  I did have Stella's father owning the bank and not leaving it to her but to her brother instead.  I guess in my mind I was thinking of It's a Wonderful Life small town bank, but she was right.  This is Chicago and the bank probably wouldn't have been independently owned like that.  So a little tweaking had to be done.  I think this also brings out the feminist slant a little more.

I really like the way this was tweaked to explain Stella's motivations more, and really -- she's ambitious in the show, it makes sense that she'd be ambitious here.  I think it's entirely plausible that she and Thatcher are too smart, ambitious, and ruthless to be satisfied being homemakers or nurses or secretaries or what-have-you.  I could definitely see that kind of drive being warped towards the Dark Side in a situation like this, without making them completely unsympathetic.  So, yay!


"Money?  This was all just about money?  Why didn't you... I coulda..."

"No, Ray.  I knew you'd never cross that line, but Ellery would.  I never planned to share the money with him.  He didn't think I'd have the nerve.  Well, lover, you know me, I got plenty of nerve."

Ren could see Vecchio stepping behind Fraser to hide the fact that he was pulling his gun.  Everything was going wrong so fast!  Ren was frozen.  It was all his fault.  If he had failed as usual, and had never found Stella, Ray would have been safe.

"Is this our last dance, Stel?  Is this how you want it to end?" Ray asked trying to hold back tears.  He was still oblivious to the gun mere millimeters from his forehead.  For some reason, this question brought her up short and she stopped to look him in the eyes.  It was her undoing.

Fraser dove forward tackling Kowalski at the same instant Vecchio raised his weapon.  A strange part of Ren's mind recognized that the pair had always worked well together.  The single shot made him flinch.  He heard Dief whine.  Stella crumpled to the floor.  Fraser struggled with Ray.  Kowalski was screaming and trying to reach out to her, but Benton held him fast.  Vecchio and the other policemen converged with guns drawn and Welsh kicked the .32 away.  Ren gave Vecchio a questioning look, and the cop shook his head in response.  It was all over.  Case closed.

----------------



This point up to the epilogue was all Lynn's doing.  She wanted more closure than I had bothered to write.  The main story ended with the case closed, but Lynn pushed me to add more because I really wanted to expand the story.  I think all the notes she hit in her comments were completely right.  I like what happens in the hospital, and it does fill out a lot of questions.  So, if you like this ending, thank her.  :D

Well, I really didn't want Stella to die (she did in the original version), because I didn't see Ray bouncing back from that on top of being doubly betrayed by her and being forced to acknowledge that she's a thief and a murderer.  And I really loved the epilogue, with Ray joining the detective agency, so I thought having Stella survive would curb Ray's grief enough to allow him to move on from it.  Plus, the hospital would be a logical setting for the next scene.

I wanted to see a few specific things before the epilogue.  Some acknowledgment of Ray's competent actions at the end, setting up the plausibility of him becoming a detective.  A moment between Vecchio and Turnbull commiserating about how difficult Fraser is, and how they'd probably gotten all the apology they were going to get from him about the deception.  And some connection or sparkage between Fraser and Ray, since by the epilogue, Ren's pretty much resigned to the fact that those two are going to be teaming up together from now on.  And -- most important to me, oddly enough -- I wanted Ren to hear (either directly or accidentally) how much he's valued, either from Fraser or Vecchio.   He's had a tough time of it, and I felt like he really deserved to get some props for a difficult job well done!



Most people didn't appreciate hospitals as much as Ren did.  After all, hospitals were always clean.  His usual appreciation for the order of the antiseptic setting was dimmed somewhat by sitting next to Ray.  The blond was slouched down in his chair hugging himself.  There was a cloud of misery hanging over the room.  Ren had tried talking to him but after a series of grunts and one word answers, he gave up.  Instead he pondered why hospitals always had the most uncomfortable chairs.  He moved in his seat.  It figured that some place that had people waiting long hours would have comfortable furniture, but that was hardly ever the case.  Especially if one had a superficial bullet wound in one's leg wrapped in cotton.  Ren readjusted himself in the chair once again and looked up to see Lieutenant Welsh approaching them.  Ray eagerly jumped to his feet.

"How is she?"

"She pulled through the surgery.  Doc says she'll be fine at least until she stands trial.  The DA is already baying for blood."

Ray softened at the news.  Lieutenant Welsh looked like he wanted to continue, but Ren shook his head.  Ray was happy enough to know that Stella was alive.  He didn't need to start worrying about what the future held just yet.  Welsh nodded and gave Ren a pat on the back.  This acceptance pleased him to no end.

"Can I see her?"  Ray asked.

Welsh looked at him askance.  "She tried to kill you."

"I just have to make sure she's all right."

"Doc's over there.  Let's go ask him."

As the two left, Ray Vecchio wandered over with two cups.  Surprisingly, he handed one to Ren.

"They say this is tea, but that's up for debate."

"Thank you, Ray.  That's very thoughtful."

"Yeah, well you had your hands full with the Polock.  Oh, and I called the house to tell Frannie what was going on.  I didn't mention Fraser yet or she'd be over here in her nightgown."

"Thank you, again.  In all the excitement, I almost forgot that I'd promised to call her."

"Yeah, apparently she's left about twenty messages for me at the precinct, so I took care of it."  Vecchio paused for a moment before continuing.  "I like to think that I'm the type of guy that tells is like it is so... You did a good job tonight, Turnbull."

Ren blushed.

"But just don't expect me to start liking you or something," Vecchio added quickly, but there wasn't any venom in his words.

"No, no, of course not."

The pair sat in silence for a while watching the mix of policemen and doctors in the waiting room.  Stella and Ren hadn't been the only ones wounded.  There had been some small injuries during the fire fight.  Fraser stood off to one side talking with Buck and some other members of the RCMP plus a couple of FBI agents.  Vecchio watched his best friend and shook his head.

"Look at him.  He doesn't even care what he put us through.  He doesn't even realize how we've hurt.  He just pops back from the grave and gives us some spiel about duty."

Ren agreed, "Yes, but he didn't do it on purpose, Ray.  Fraser... Fraser just doesn't understand.  He's lived a very solitary life, and he doesn't see how things are different now."

Ray gave an exasperated sigh.  "Saints preserve me from Canadians!"

Fraser looked up at the exclamation.  They watched him excuse himself from the group around him.  Ren and Vecchio exchanged a knowing dance while they waited for the resurrected man to join them.

"Ren, Ray."

"Benny."

"Fraser."

Vecchio snorted, "Well, now that we're all reacquainted, I'm going to talk to Welsh and check on some of the guys."

Fraser and Vecchio smiled at each other, and the detective impulsively gave him a quick hug that Fraser returned awkwardly.

"It's good to have you back, Benny," Vecchio said softly and moved away.

"I agree," Ren said.

"It's good to be back.  I don't think I'm suited to the life of a criminal."

"I suppose the RCMP is pleased."  Ren paused to frown.  "I bet they'd be happy to have you back."

"They've offered."

"Oh."

Fraser took Vecchio's empty seat and put his hand on Ren's shoulder.  "I turned them down.  They wouldn't want me in the field, and I wasn't meant to sit behind a desk doing paperwork."

Ren's mood lightened considerably.  Fraser continued.

"Not that you need me around.  You seem to be doing fine all by yourself."

"Spoken like someone who hasn't examined our books, yet."

The pair grinned at each other until the far doors opened.  Ray Kowalski came out looking tired.

"How is she?" Ren asked.

"She's still out, but they say she'll pull through."

Fraser stood and said, "Mr. Kowalski, I'm terribly sorry for what happened to Mrs. Kowalski."

"Why?  Wasn't your fault."

"Still, I feel I should have done something to prevent—"

"Listen, Stel made her choices.  No one could ever tell her what to do.  So don't worry about it."

Fraser nodded.  Ren watched as the two men stared at each other.  Ray seemed to be sizing Fraser up, and Fraser was looking back admiringly.

"There is something I owe you," Fraser said.

"Hey, I'm the one that owes you guys.  I still haven't paid the full bill yet."

"No, I owe you a debt of gratitude.  Your quick thinking saved Renfield's life this evening.  I saw you pull him out of the line of fire.  That was very brave."

Ray looked surprised by the compliment.

"Anybody would have done it.  Hell, Welsh chewed me out for leaving the car."

"I'm glad you did.  I'd have never forgiven myself if Turnbull had gotten hurt."

Ren looked down and blushed at Fraser's warm tone.  For the first time since he'd started the agency with Fraser, he felt like an equal.  The other two were still talking when he looked back up.

"You're very light on your feet."

"I like to dance."

"Interesting.  So what are you going to do now?" Fraser asked.

"I don't know.  Everything's so different now.  It'll be hard to go back to the garage and pretend everything is normal."

"Hm."

"Hm?  What does 'Hm' mean?" Ray asked.

Ren smiled.  It was always a good sign when Fraser said 'Hm.'

-------------

Epilogue


Ren sat on the couch in the outer office shining his shoes.  He half listened to Frannie and Ray Vecchio argue as only siblings can.  They quieted though when the door opened to let in Fraser and Ray Kowalski.

"Well?" Frannie squealed.  "Let's see it!"

Kowalski rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet.  He handed Frannie a small piece of paper.  She squealed even louder and grabbed Ray in a bear hug.  The blond looked embarrassed, which was probably what Frannie had in mind all along.

"I can't believe the city gave you a PI license, Kowalski."  Vecchio grumbled.  They had mostly gotten over their differences once Fraser asked Kowalski to join the agency, but there would probably always be an edge of antagonism.  After all, Vecchio had thrown Kowalski in jail.

"Why not?" Ray replied. "They gave Turnbull one, didn't they?"

Ren looked up with a frown to find the four of them smiling at him.

"Very funny."

"Where's Dief?" Frannie asked looking around.

Fraser sighed and explained, "He refused to come inside.  He's still sulking that I didn't tell him I was going to fake my death and that Renfield got all the credit for solving the case."

"Well, he did help a lot.  I couldn't have done it without him.  I even said so to that newspaper reporter.  It's not my fault that he didn't believe me."

Vecchio rolled his eyes.

"So now what?  You change the name to Fraser, Kowalski, Turnbull, and Diefenbaker Investigations?"

"I think that's rather a mouthful, Ray.  We'll keep it just the three names."

"What about Fraser, Kowalski, Turnbull and Vecchio?" Frannie asked.

"You trying to find me a new job, sis?"

"I was talking about me you big lug!  I do a lot around here, you know."

"Yes, Francesca, you are invaluable," Fraser said diplomatically, "but unless you have a private investigator's license you can't be on the door."

"Well, maybe I should get one.  I'd be the first female investigator in Chicago!"

Her brother snorted, "Yeah right, like that's going to happen!"

"Shut up!  It could!" Frannie replied smacking him on the shoulder.  "You think I'd be a good PI, don't you, Ren?"

Ren smiled at his friends, "I certainly wouldn't want to be on the other side of the interrogation table from you, Frannie."

"See!" Frannie yelled, which started the argument between her and her brother back up.

Ren watched them all for a little while, but after a few moments he pulled on his shoes and quietly slipped out.  As he was pulling the door closed behind him, Ren smiled when he heard Frannie ask, "So what do you have to do to get a PI license, anyway?"



I really like the way Frannie, at least, is taking herself seriously here.  I think it's a nice contrast to the female criminals, and even if her own brother doesn't believe she could do it, if *Frannie* believes it, who knows what could happen?  I didn't want the guys to dismiss her entirely, here, so I'm glad Shade didn't make them pooh-pooh her idea too much.



Outside on the steps, Dief was looking forlorn.  Ren sat down beside him.  "You shouldn't feel bad, Diefenbaker.  Now that Ray has his license, I suppose he and Fraser will be working together.  With all the business the case has generated, I'll probably be working on my own, and you know I'm useless without you."

Dief grunted an agreement.

"What do you say about us getting one of Alice's meatloaf sandwiches?"

The wolf quickly got to his feet and Ren laughed.

"I thought that would be right up your alley.  Come on, we can't be expected to clean up this town and help the downtrodden on empty stomachs."

The pair walked down the sidewalk for a ways before Ren remarked, "You know what Diefenbaker?  This looks like the beginning of a beautiful partnership...."


I love this closing image!  Casablanca!  *g*

Nothing like ripping off Casablanca if you want authenticity.  :D  So that's "The Misadventures of Renfield Turnbull, Canadian Private Eye."  I hope you enjoyed it!  I enjoyed writing it!