Dr. Frasier Crane Kelsey Grammer

Frank Black Lance Henriksen

Martin Crane John Mahoney

Peter Watts Terry O’Quinn

Dr. Niles Crane David Hyde Pierce

Roz Doyle Peri Gilpen

Niles! Just pull up to the unloading area outside of the baggage claim section. I told Frederick I'd meet him there.

Frasier, that area is for loading and unloading only. I don't want to get towed!

Niles, we are loading Frederick! I wanted to meet him at the gate, but you were too cheap to pay for parking!

Do you realize what happens to your car in the general parking area here? Last time when Maris and I went to Europe, we left the Benz parked here for a week. When we got back, there was gum stuck to the trunk! Maris was so upset that she rented a limo to take her home and was insisting that we buy a new car!

That's odd… I think I've seen that symbol before…

Niles! Has Frederick come out here yet?

No--I haven't seen him.

That's odd. I already checked the gate--everyone's deplaned. I have his bag here from baggage claim, but no sign of him. I had him paged and even checked the men's room!

…Police are still baffled as to who the Psychiatrist-Relative Serial Killer is. Thus far, members of the immediate families of three prominent Seattle Psychiatrists had been abducted and murdered in the past six weeks. These include the daughter of Dr. Karl Weinstein, the brother of Dr. Paul Chan and the grandson of Dr. Lauren Norris.

Oh dear God…

<<Commercial Break>>

(Goes to the bar, orders a half-decaf-no-foam latte, and has a seat at the table with Frasier.) Frasier, has there been any word on Frederick’s whereabouts?

Unfortunately not. He got off the plane as scheduled, but somewhere in-between his deplaning and reaching the baggage carousel, he disappeared. I knew I should have left the station earlier!

It’s my fault-I know better than parking in the white zone. I should have dropped you off at the terminal and then parked and waited for you at the baggage claim area.

No use placing blame now… With Frederick missing and that serial killer who’s been murdering the relatives of psychiatrists on the loose, I can’t help but fear the worst.

There may have some hope for us yet… Dad mentioned an old contact of his from his days on the police force. The man once worked for the FBI and is now investigating strange incidents like what happened to Frederick.

I know—Dad’s bringing him here to meet with me. His name is Frank Black. I did some digging on him—he lives here in the Seattle area, has a daughter who’s not much younger than Frederick, has profiled and solved more serial-killer cases than you’ve drank lattes, and is reportedly psychic.

If a psychic would help, why not just bring Daphne in on this. She was close to Frederick after all…

We tried. She took hold of one his sweater-vests and said she was getting signals of evil that gave her headaches and nightmares that rivaled what she gets when Lilith comes to town. We didn’t find anything helpful.

Speaking of Lilith, how is she taking the news?

She doesn’t know. We’ve blacked out the information from the press and other sources. Dad felt that if the killer has Frederick, he’s less likely to harm him if there’s no acknowledgement of what’s happened. Each of the other cases, the victim’s murdered body was found just after their disappearance was announced on television.

I know. In fact, Maris was so frightened after the third victim that she fled to Zurich and took three of the maids with her.

(Wryly) Too bad Maris wasn’t the one abducted…

Frasier, if anyone can bring back my grandson alive, it’s this man here. Meet Frank Black.

Gets up and shakes his hand. Mr. Black, thank you very much for coming out. Any help to get my son back alive is greatly appreciated.

Nods and takes a seat. Dr. Crane, (nods to Niles) Dr. Crane. I have a daughter not much younger than Frederick, and I empathize with your situation. Martin was right to not let the media broadcast your son’s disappearance. It would mean his death.

This situation is completely different than anything I ever came across when I was a detective. The most convoluted case I ever had was the Weeping Lotus Murder, which I didn’t solve until a few years after I retired.

(Hastily) It wasn’t the monkey, was it? (Martin shakes his head) Darn it! (Changes the subject) Dr. Crane, it would be best if we go to Sea-Tac where Frederick was before he was abducted. That way, I can get an impression of what’s going on and maybe find your son.

Of course. Goes to the bar, pays out and the four men exit Café Nervosa.

From what you told me Martin, the police very discretely searched the gate, the terminal and the baggage claim area and found nothing except for Frederick’s school jacket, is that right?

Right Frank. (Pulls a small blue blazer with a ‘Marbury Acadamy’ logo on it out of a shoulder bag) Here it is.

(Looks quizzically at what Frank’s doing, then looks at Niles, who shrugs and then Martin.) Dad, what exactly is Mr. Black doing?

Shhh… Frank’s scoping the area for impressions left by Freddie or the sicko who abducted him. I don’t normally buy into psycho mumbo-jumbo, but I’ve seen Frank in action. That guy can find leads where a bloodhound can’t.

Frederick’s abductor discretely used chloroform to make him pass out. The abductor carried him off, and the possible witnesses thought the abductor was one of his parents.

Can you tell where he went with Freddie?

I’m on it… (Frank begins walking down the terminal, with Frasier, Niles and Martin following him.)

(Whispering to Niles) I don’t put much stock in the paranormal, but Dad told me that Mr. Black is one of the best criminal investigators the FBI ever employed.

(Whispering back) Perhaps after we’ve found Frederick, he can help me find my lost Yale cufflinks!

(Whacks Niles on the back of the head.) Don’t you ever think of anyone besides yourself?

(Waits as Frasier, Niles and Martin catch up) Drs. Crane; do either of you remember seeing a white van parked in the white zone when you came to Sea-Tac to get Frederick?

Yes. I do. There was a man all dressed in black carrying an Armani leather shoulder bag and… oh my God! He was carrying a sleeping boy wearing black wingtips and a brown sweater vest. I didn’t see the boy’s face… Oh my God! He was carrying Frederick! (Turns to Niles, angrily) This is YOUR fault! You kept on carrying on about how you didn’t want to get your Mercedes towed for parking in the white zone while I went in to get him! I would have gotten a closer look if you hadn't been so persnickety!

Excuse me! But the last time my Benz was towed, it took me a week before I found the storage lot it was at, and by then the stereo was gone, all my Tchaikovsky CDs were gone and a homeless man had used the trunk as a toilet!

(Yelling angrily) Knock it off the both of ya! None of that crap is going to help us get Freddie back! (Calms down, looks at Niles) Now Niles, you were directly behind the white van. Did you get a look at the plates? Was there anything you noticed on the back door, like a logo or something?

(Whacks his forehead as if to jog his memory.) Now that I think about it, there was a bizarre symbol on the back of the van that resembled a post-Cluniac fringe-sect symbol I saw in a museum in Angers, France…

Will you just whip out a piece of paper and draw the symbol. We don’t want to hear about how you stayed in France after Medical School!

(Pulls out a notepad from his Franklin planner and a Watermark™ pen. Begins drawing an emblem that looks like three ovals formed from a single strand that twists and overlaps on eachother.) There! That’s the best I can do!

(Takes the picture.) This is a triune 6—it was once on the cover of a Led Zeppelin album. It’s a symbol for a fringe group that sought to bring about the return of Christ via creating the AntiChrist and the great tribulation.

Whoa there Frank! This is already bizarre enough as it is. Don’t go all prophetical on us here…

Frank, do you think that this kind of a group might be behind the abduction of my son and the other victims?

I’m certain that kind of group is. I don’t know which one is currently using this symbol, but I have a contact that does.

Then let’s get on our way and meet your contact.

(Gives Frank a knowing look.) Frank, you go on ahead. Meet us back at the coffee shop when you’ve go your information.

(Almost desperate) No, we want to meet with the contact as well!

(Meekly) Like Dad said, go meet your contact and then catch up with us at Café Nervosa.

Frank, why did you contact me? You know that we only contact you when we need something.

In this case, you should have contacted me a few weeks ago. Something seems to have slipped below the Millennium group’s notice.

(Raises an eyebrow) Okay, I’ll bite. What’s happened?

An old contact of mine on the Seattle PD, Martin Crane called me up. His grandson, Frederick was kidnapped from Sea-Tac. It’s the work of the same group that kidnapped and murdered relatives of four other prominent Seattle-area psychiatrists.

What does this have to do with the Millennium group? Sounds like the work of a vengeful mental patient whose HMO wouldn’t pay for a good therapist.

The boy’s uncle saw the vehicle in which the boy was taken. It was white with an emblem of a triune 6 painted on the back.

(Looks more concerned.) Is the uncle sure of this?

The boy’s uncle is an expert on art, literature and opera. He clearly recognized the origin of the Triune 6 as coming from a post-Cluniac fringe cult. What I want to know, is which group operating in this area would be using the Triune 6. Any ideas?

(Thinks for a moment.) One member of our group had heard of the Triune 6 being spotted on the side of an apparently abandoned building outside of Issaquah. It’s several miles out from the town, heading towards Snoqualmie Pass. It’s a long shot (scribbles down an address on a scrap of paper pulled from his pocket) but I hope it’ll help.

(Takes the paper.) If you hear anything else, let me know.

(Sighs.) That’s not how it works Frank. I can try, but that’s all I can say. (Turns around and begins walking out of the alley.)

(Gruffly.) If it were one of your daughters, I don’t think you’d be rallying around the group’s policies so much.

This whole thing of Frederick’s abduction is getting more bizarre all the time. At first it seemed a random abduction, then the work of a serial killer going after the family members of psychiatrists and now the work of an Anti-Christ doomsday cult! All I want is Frederick returned reasonable safe and sound!

It’s what we all want. In some ways, seeing this kind of nuttiness makes me glad that I’m off the force. I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but it seems that crimes are getting more violent, more perverse and just plain sicker than they were even 10 years ago…

It makes a psychiatrist’s job more difficult too—I’ve been caught between doctor-patient confidentiality and moral responsibility more times than I care to think about in recent years. Lucky for you, those types don’t usually call your show, Frasier!

Au contrere, mon Frer! They do call—but we don’t put them on the air. We just refer them to you!

(Picks his finger up, his eyes open real wide…) You mean that you have knowingly been referring violently mentally disturbed people to my practice?!?

Any news, Frank?

We have a good lead—outside of Issaquah towards Snoqualmie. The emblem Niles drew for us was seen freshly painted on a barn in the area off of SR 219. We need to head out there at once in order to look into the matter. Martin: do you have any contacts in the Issaquah police department or in the King County Sheriff’s department?

Yeah. I know a few guys I can call. They’ll be real discreet about it, too.

(Gives Martin his cell phone) Start dialing, Dad.

(On the phone.) Is Deputy Barnes there?… Hey Rudy! It’s your old pal Martin from Sea-town! Been fishing lately? (Changes voice to a whisper) Listen… my grandson was recently kidnapped and we think he might be held hostage at a farm off of SR 219 outside of Issaquah. The farm has a funny symbol painted on the side of the barn. Looks like a weirdly twisted noodle. … You know it? I’m on my way up along with a buddy of mine from the FBI and my sons… can you case the joint out DISCREETLY and meet us in the area? … Yeah… whatever you do, don’t let the TV or radio stations get wind of it. Freddie’s life depends upon it. Thanks…

HQ. This is unit 36. I’m outside of the barn with the weird logo off of SR 219. There appears to be a light on and the door is closed. I’m going to take a look around, over.

Roger 3-6. Maintain radio silence unless you require backup, over.

Affirmative HQ. Over and out.

I really would have preferred that you gentlemen not come along. Who knows what we may find, and I don’t think that you’d be in any condition to handle something horrible.

I can understand why you’d think that of those two back there, but not me. I was a cop on the Seattle PD for over 20 years and I’ve seen plenty of grisly murders in my day.

That may well be true, but you’re walking with a cane now and this is your grandson we’re talking about here. It’s not the same when it’s family. I know.

With all due respect Frank, because it is family is why we are going along. Hell, I know I’d be devastated if anything happened to my son. But I’d rather see it myself than have it relayed to be secondhand. I’d rather know right away than go through the agony of waiting.

Yeah, what he said.

Yeah, what he said too.

(Swings the wheel as he exits to SR 219 and makes a left turn) Okay, we’re on SR 219. We’ll reach Issaquah in about ten minutes and then the road heads east where we should see that barn. Your deputy friend is waiting there with news, Martin.

(Off Camera. Deep, labored breathing.) Someone is getting a little too close. Doesn’t he have a clarinet lesson to go to?

Frank! That looked like a van! Shouldn’t we follow it?

Are you sure? (Frank looks in the mirror, as the van speeds off and manages to notice the peeling decal, but not that it is a triune 6) It doesn’t seem to have the triune 6. Also, it’s too dark to make out the color. Let’s head to that barn first.

I hope you’re right, Frank.

That’s Rudy’s car. He’s gotta be around here somewhere.

Martin: you, Frasier and Niles wait here. I’m going to check out that barn. If I don’t call back in ten minutes, get the dispatcher on the radio and call for help.

Right!

Hey Fras’, take a look at this…

What is it, dad?

See these tire tracks? They’re fresh. You can also tell by the position on the road that they were heading out towards SR 219. They’re about the size required on a Chrysler or Dodge Van.

If that’s the case, then that van which passed us may have had Frederick inside of it!

But wait, Frank said he didn’t see the triune 6 on it nor could he make out the color of the van. Plus it was too dark to make out any color on any vehicle.

I hope we didn’t miss a lead. Damn that scoundrel!!!

(Runs over to the body, checks the pulse, begins to shake Dep. Barnes.) Deputy Barnes! Are you okay?

(Groggily) Ugh! Somebody get the number of the truck that hit me? Ugh! That son of a bitch cold-cocked me!

Deputy Barnes, do you have any rubber gloves or evidence bags on you?

Yeah, back in the Prowler. What is that stuff?

It’s dead skin. From the looks of it, it fell out of a pair of rubber gloves after they were removed. I don’t want to get too close to it, but it looks like there’s some signs of bacterial infection on the edges of these pieces.

Looks like that sick bastard really is a sick bastard! I’ll go back to the Prowler and radio for a haz-mat unit to sweep the barn.

(Mumbling) Dr. Crane knows the killer. This is not what I expected.

…and alert all cars to be on the lookout for a white van with a logo on it, perhaps with a half-peeled sticker on it’s back door. Have them pull over any van that looks suspicious and give it a look. Tell them to be careful, as the driver may be carrying an infectious disease. Whatever you do, keep the best lid on this you can. Don’t talk, I repeat, don’t talk to any media regarding this. Over and out.

Did you guys find anything? Any sign of Freddie at all?

That van was probably carrying Frederick and the killer appears to have some sort of infectious disease.

Good Lord! We have got to find that van! Otherwise my son is dead in more ways than one!

Your son will probably be kept alive at this point. The killer is changing his tactics. The other murders were just a smokescreen. This isn’t about revenge on psychiatrists; it’s about revenge on a psychiatrist—you, Dr. Crane!

Me? Who on earth would want to get revenge on me?

Let’s see; there’s all those women you treated horribly in your dating life. Then there’s the guy whom we got kicked out of school for pulling the fire alarm. Then there’s Roz’s mom, not to mention…

SHUT UP NILES!!!

(To himself) Then there’s me you can add to that long list…

Haz-mat team’s on it’s way. The other patrol cars are out looking for that van. (Hands rubber gloves to Frank) Let’s see what we can find in the barn that might give us some clues.

Frasier, hold the flashlights for us while we root around in here.

Right.

Mr. Black, do you recognize this?

(Holds up a nylon satchel) Looks like a government issued satchel typically used by the Post Office.

That’s right. Plus, that type of white mini-van is the current vehicle of choice for the Post Office as well.

That red and blue logo that I keep seeing is the United States Postal Service logo. The killer is a postman, with a superiority complex and some strange bacterial infection of his skin—possibly necrotizing fasciitis. Dr. Crane, this may be a stretch; do you know anyone that might fit at least some of this profile?

Necrotizing fascittis? Flesh eating bacteria? Unfortunately I do. That description exactly describes someone I used to know from a bar back when I lived in Boston: Cliff Clavin.

(To Peter on phone) …any luck pulling Clavin’s file?

(V.O.) Yeah… I’ve had luck… this guy has a file the size of the Encyclopedia Britannica. It’s a wonder Clavin worked for the Postal Service as long has he did! Psychological problems… conflicts with coworkers… involved in the theft of a postal vehicle by a female coworker…

There’s a stereotype if we’ve ever seen one…

The only reason why Clavin left the post office is because he contracted a flesh-eating bacteria infection from a sample that was sent through the mail. The CDC and the FBI placed a gag order on the Postal Service in order to prevent a public panic in Boston. Clavin was paid a huge cash settlement, along with a full pension and access to experimental treatments that even the FDA doesn’t know about.

Were you able to find a more recent psychological profile on Clavin? From what Dr. Crane has told me, he was a bit of a know-it-all that annoyed a lot of people. At one point he was banned from the bar they both patronized because too many other customers were complaining. There were also references to a journal that Clavin kept that sounded much like a manifesto written by Ted Kaczinsky.

That’s all in here. Apparently Clifford Clavin became delusional after his mother died. Or at least more than he had already been beforehand. He stopped taking his lithium and began to have a strange reaction to experimental medicines he’d been given to fight the flesh-eating bacteria. He started growing massive amounts of new skin, very rapidly that would peel off raw in a couple of days only to grow back again.

That explains all the dead skin we found in the barn. What about his psych profile?

About six months ago, during his last session, he told his therapist that he wanted to move to Washington State in order to put the past behind him. He also mentioned that he had a score to settle with another shrink and that it would be best if he didn’t say anything further. But wait until you get a load of who the government had assigned to be his therapist…

Dr. Lilith Sternin?

Bingo! Hit the nail right on the head, Frank. We’ve made some calls around so the Seattle, Tacoma and Olympia P.D. are aware of the problem, along with the highway and the border patrols. This thing is getting weirder and weirder all the time.

Thanks Peter, you’ve been a great help. (Hangs up the phone.) Frasier, when was the last time you saw Cliff Clavin?

Just before I left Boston. He was his usual yammering self—wouldn’t shut his fat yap!

(Sarcastically, rolls his eyes) Yeah, don’t you hate it when you have to deal with someone like that?

Anyway, Sam Malone, the owner of the bar where we hung out, told me a few years ago about how Cliff had contracted flesh-eating bacteria. I didn’t hear anything about him since then.

Apparently his sickness was the result of his job, and the government was paying for experimental medical treatment and psychological counseling. Were you aware that your ex-wife was his therapist?

(Opens his eyes wide) This is all starting to make sense now! No, I didn’t know, nor would I know, because of Doctor-patient confidentiality rules. But that’s not the point… if Lilith was his therapist, this would surely seal his motive for all of his crazy actions.

You do know of the classic psychological profile of the vengeful patient?

Yes. Much like the child who resents being toilet-trained, the vengeful patient resents the doctor’s work to cure him for some engrained reason. It doesn’t show up with normal illness, but is quite common when dealing with mental illness. Cliff is probably trying to get revenge on Lilith because she was his therapist and on me because I berated him at the bar! Oh God! Frederick is so susceptible to allergies and infections… he may catch that nut-job’s disease!

That’s why we’ve alerted some biohazard teams as well. The only postal vehicles on the road at this time of night are 18-wheelers that are shipping mail to local airports and distribution centers. That van will be stopped.

I damn well hope so. I don’t want any squirrel-bake bureaucrat doing anything to my grandson!

Okay… vile contagions and crazed civil servants are where I draw the line! If you would just drop me off at the café when we get back to Seattle, and just call me when you’re done…

Shut up Niles! You should be thinking of Freddie, not yourself. If you were a few years younger, I’d turn you over my knee and give you a beating with my cane!

I’ve just about had enough of this, Dad! Why I ought to…

(Muttering to Frasier) Makes me wonder who the real nut-jobs in this case are…

(Nods back to Frank) Now you see why I left Seattle to begin with.

(Seen from the back, wearing a black hood, voice is gravelly) Dammit! Where’d my number of the beast go?

I tell ya’ what, kid; you’ve got two of the worst parents in the world. Your mom thought that I was delusional and your Pop thought I was an idiot. I’ve had your know-it-all Pop, your smart-ass former detective Grandpa and that former FBI guy running around in circles. Even when they get close, I’m always ahead of them!

(Removes the gag.) What was that, kid?

(Dry voice, as if thirsty) Okay, so you’ve outwitted my Dad, my Grandpa and Grandpa’s friend. You killed three other relatives of well-known psychiatrists in the Seattle area. How does this help you?

I’ll tell you how: back in Boston, your Mom and Pop hung out at Cheers with me, Sammy, Normy and the gang. Your Pop would sometimes act like one of the guys, but your Mom was always a snob! In either case, they would join in with the gang anytime they were calling me an idiot or a nut-job. My devotion to Government Service precluded me from becoming all I wanted to be. I nearly won a fortune on Jeopardy, but your Dad and the gang bailed on me when I was asked a loaded final question.

Yadda, yadda, yadda… you still didn’t answer my question.

I was building up to that—you got no sense of exposition, kid! When your folks split up and your Pop went back to Seattle, things calmed down. Then those techno-freaks shipped those flesh-eating bacteria through the mail and I got sick. Sure, the Government paid for treatment, but look at me now! I’m a freak! I can’t show my face to anyone now without them getting sick.

(Mumbles to himself) I seem to remember being a baby and throwing up because I saw you before you got sick…

What was that, kid? You smarting off on me like you were your old man?

Nothing! I’m just having an hallucination… go on…

To add insult to injury, the government thought I had become psychologically unstable. They did that to me once before, and put me on bad brain chemicals… They assigned your Mom to be my shrink! She was amicable at first, but then she kept on having me strapped down and shot up with different medicines. I didn’t know if I was coming or going. Plus, she was wanting to have me perpetually locked in a rubber room and constantly sedated because she thought I’d be a danger to society.

(Sarcastically) I can’t see why she’d want to do that…

Exactly! But, I got the better of them. I figured a way to lower my heartbeat to the point I’d look dead. They unstrapped me and were getting ready to haul me to the crematorium when I grabbed one of the orderlies’ syringes and shot him full of Demerol! The others didn’t have rubber gloves and were afraid to touch me because of the growing, flaking skin.

Thank you for at least wearing gloves when you’ve touched me…

Bottom line: my condition is the fault of your Mom, your Pop and the government. The only way I’m going to die with dignity is if I put them through the Hell I’ve been through, and prove once and for all that Cliff Clavin is a genius, not to be taken lightly!

Hello? (Pause) Where was it spotted? I see. We’re on I-90 crossing the lake right now. We’ll be at the touchdown in ten minutes. (Hangs up.)

Have they found Clavin or Freddie yet?

They may have. Apparently someone with a flaking rash on his face, wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt was seen at a restaurant in Seattle’s Chinatown picking up a take-out order about five minutes ago. The postal van was found parked on the elevated portion of SR 99 that leads to the King Dome. I think he has Frederick holed up somewhere in Chinatown.

I know a couple of guys from the 88^th precinct that work the Chinatown beat: Lou Chang and Mark Nguyen. Let me get them on the horn. They have ways of finding stuff out in that neighborhood that nobody else can.

Hey dispatch! This is Marty Crane. How’re things out there tonight? Listen, are Lou and Mark on the beat tonight? Good. Could you hook me up to them via the radio? (Pauses) Hey Lou! It’s your old pal Marty Crane.

Yeah, that’s what dispatch told me! What’s up?

Me, Frank Black, Frasier and Niles are coming into Chinatown via the I-90 touchdown. You heard about that Postal Van they found abandoned on SR-99 near the dome?

Yeah. They had a haz-mat team and a bunch of forensics guys going over that thing with a fine-toothed comb. They found a receipt for Great Wall Chinese takeout in the van. They got an APB out on a crazed postman with a rash. What’s it all about anyway?

That nut’s kidnapped my grandson and is holding him hostage. There any old abandoned buildings close to Great Wall?

Yeah. A couple of warehouses. Mark and I were thinking about checking them out.

(Takes the phone from Martin.) Officer Chang: this is Frank Black. Give us the address and set a place for us to meet close to those buildings. That postman has a version of necrotizing fasciitis; flesh eating bacteria. If you have face-covers and rubber gloves, I suggest either getting them out or calling Haz-mat to come case the area with us.

Flesh-eating bacteria? Yuck! I just ate!

Hello, Mr. Black. The chief said you were in on this one. We’ll break out the facemasks and the rubber gloves. Meet us at Great Wall, just off of South 145^th street. It’s on your right, two blocks off of the I-90 touchdown.

We’ll be there in a minute. (Hangs up the phone.)

Hey you guys. Sorry to drag you into this, but I figured you guys know this beat better than anyone else.

I spoke to the guy on the counter. He said that some guy with most of his face covered in a cowl and a hooded sweatshirt with peeling skin on his forehead ordered two take-out specials, adamant about no MSG in the food.

They said he headed south down the end of I-90’s touchdown, toward the King Dome. There’s about three abandoned warehouses just down the block. One of them has an entrance on a blind alley.

Sergeant Chang, you and I will check that warehouse. Frasier, Officer Nguyen and Martin check the one next to it. We’ll reconvene in ten minutes outside the third one. Niles, you stay with the Jeep and call me us on your cell phone if you see anything suspicious.

Right.

Nothing in here but rust and rats Mr. Black.

I wonder how Mark, Martin and Frasier are faring.

(Off camera) Hey! Could you guys keep it down in here! I’m trying to sleep!

(Points flashlight in direction of voice, pulls out his revolver) Come out with your hands where I can see ‘em! (Loudly) MOVE IT!

(Grumbling, comes staggering out.) Awright awready! Yeesh! Can’t a guy just crash in an abandoned warehouse without being run out? (Looks at Martin.) Hey! I remember you! The guy with the English chick looking for the Muckabee store! I’ll still tell you where that place is, if you give me a kiss…

I don’t remember Daphne telling me about this, Dad!

(Rolls his eyes.) You haven’t seen a guy with flaking skin falling off his face around here, have you? I’ll give you a bottle of hooch, but no kiss, if you can tell us.

(Snaps his fingers.) Oh yeah—the guy that can’t shut up and was driving a white van. He’s crashing next door.

(Pulls out a flask from his jacket pocket, hands it to the man) Thanks, bud. Let’s go hook up with Frank and Lou.

(Comes shuffling up.) Okay… I told Niles to call for backup. I figure that we can just bum-rush the joint and at least subdue Clavin.

Good work Martin. Frasier: you and Martin will wait outside for a minute for an all clear signal from me. Officer Nguyen, Sgt. Chang and I are going in.

(Shouting.) Freeze! Hands up! Lemme see ‘em!

What’s happening, man? I was just looking for a place to sleep and then you guys bust in on me.

This kid’s been missing for three days, kidnapped by someone believed to be a serial killer with a contagious bacterial skin infection. Until we can sort this out, you’re under arrest.

(Begins cuffing him) You have the right to remain silent…

(Finishes untying Frederick and removes his blindfold.) Frederick: are you all right?

Yeah (Rubs his eyes) just a little sensitive to the lights now. Is my dad or grandpa here?

They’re waiting outside. We’ve got an ambulance coming. They need to check you out since you were exposed to necrotizing fascittis. Hopefully, you’ll be out in a few days.

That’s a relief.

Frasier, Martin and Niles enter at this point.

Frederick! Oh thank God, you’re okay!

Don’t touch me unless you’ve got rubber gloves on, Dad. That postal nut with diarrhea of the mouth may have gotten me sick.

(Steps back) Thanks for the warning, Frederick.

(Whacks Niles on the back of the head.) We’ve got some paramedics on the way. Where’s that nut Clavin, anyway?

(Walks up from off camera.) I just finished searching the place. No sign of him. Lou’s in the car with the indigent we just cuffed. We’re going to run his prints and see what we find.

Spazeebo, comrade! Laughs—then pulls off the beard to reveal the face of Alex Krycheck. The police car is shown driving onto I-90 and disappears into the distance.

Dr. Crane: I have good news for you! Frederick is going to come out of quarantine today. We've found no sign of necrotizing fasciitis anywhere in his system.

Apparently, all the allergy pills and antibiotics he's been on enabled him to be resistant to any of the effects of being exposed to the disease.

Well, that is good news! Any word on what happened to Cliff Clavin?

Lee McKenzie with the RCMP up in Victoria called the precinct this morning. Apparently his body washed up over at Swartz Bay over on Vancouver Island. It looked like his head had been clubbed from behind. His body was really badly decomposed. They identified him with dental records.

Eeeew! You didn't have to tell us that!

Well, I have to go make my rounds. If you'll excuse me…

What about the bearded man who whacked Sgt. Chang? Any word on him at all?

Chang's prowler was found abandoned at the Canadian border, by Blaine, Washington. Prints were lifted from the steering wheel, but all attempts to run them were stonewalled by the FBI and the CIA. Whoever that bearded man is, some people in high places don't want us to know.

Frank, I want to thank you for all your help in finding Frederick. I'm just relieved that no harm came to him. If there's anything I can do…

Actually, there is Dr. Crane. My daughter has been having difficulty sleeping, saying that she's having weird visions. Do you have any psychological take on that?

We'll schedule an appointment as soon as it's convenient for you.

Yeah, after listening to Frasier talk, she'll have no trouble sleeping at all!