BEING NEIGHBOURLY
Created by the camel committee (Koala, Kim Wedow ,
Karen Courtney, Laurie Jacobs, Kim Hamilton, Thorfinn Tait, & Brian Casey)
BEING NEIGHBOURLY: Part A
The night was pitch black and filled with the usual sounds of
anonymous cars driving by. Dogs barked and there were countless noises
which filled the silences which threatened to erupt at any moment.
Ben lay back in bed - or what served as his bed. He lay on his
bedroll on the ground, Dief was stretched out on the bed and was fast
asleep, although he was ready to leap to attention at the slightest signal.
Ben stared at the ceiling, heard people shouting in the street,
doors slamming, querulous voices and he smiled to himself as he remembered
how Ray had done his damnedest to discourage him from moving into the
neighbourhood.
He was fast friends with all of his neighbours now, they no longer
slammed doors in his faces and their warmth and care helped to alleviate
the hollow ache inside him.
He sighed a little. He missed home, missed the purity of the snow,
missed how blue the sky could look when there was nothing around but a man
and his thoughts. Now he lay in the darkness with his memories and his
homesickness.
He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.
"Goddamnit!"
Ben opened his eyes drowsily as he heard the sound of a woman's
voice down the hall. It was an angry voice, seething with irritation and
annoyance.
He rose, pulling on his jeans. Dief jumped to his feet, wagging
his tail expectantly and Ben crossed to the door and opened it, looking out
curiously.
There was a young woman making her way awkwardly up the stairs,
attempting to carry a large, heavy box full of junk. Awkwardly, because
she had a marked limp which marred her walk. She was slight and
delicate-looking in her faded jeans and disreputable sweat-shirt and the
box seemed almost as heavy as she was.
He hurried forward immediately. "Can I help you with that ma'am?"
he asked courteously, reaching out automatically to take the heavy box from
her.
"No." she said curtly,"I don't need your help."
Her voice was hostile, but it was a clear voice and would have been
rather pleasant had it not been for the anger marring its tones.
He looked into her dark eyes and found no warmth.
"It looks a little heavy," he began easily and she pushed past him
"I don't need your help, savvy?"
He watched for a moment as she struggled to open the door of 3K
with a key. Then he reached out and took the box from her, ignoring her
fearsome glare.
"It looks like we'll be neighbours," he said cheerfully, and she
turned and looked around at him fulminatingly.
"It's too early in the morning for this," she muttered,"Is that a
Canadian accent I hear?" she demanded rather ungraciously.
"Yes ma'am, at your service."
She rolled her eyes, grabbed her box and slammed the door.
"ThankYOU, ma'am," he said to the door and went back to his room,
not sure whether to be amused or otherwise.
Marie-Claire massaged her leg, groaning a little. It hurt like the
devil and she felt a little guilty at having been so snappy with the
helpful stranger, but at seven in the morning, she hated meeting cheerful
Pollyanna types.
Through her haze of pain she vaguely remembered he'd been very tall
and well-built - very militaristic. She scowled. She didn't like guys who
looked like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. She didn't trust them at
all, especially when they called you 'ma'am'.
"Damn," she muttered and dismissed him from her mind. She was
becoming a sour old maid with sharp, snappish ways. She made herself a cup
of industrial strength coffee and let the caffeine thrum through her
already edgy body.
His blue eyes had reminded her uneasily of someone else and as she
drank the coffee, her hands trembled.
"So you've got a new neighbour - what's he like?" Ray demanded as
they ate lunch at a very greasy diner.
Usually it was Ray who conducted a neurotic monologue with Ben
commenting laconically from time to time when appealed to or disagreeing
when it was necessary.
Occasionally Ben would interrupt to interject an erudite
observation to me conversation whether it be the Latin origins of a
particular word, or the political context of a particular remark. It drove
Ray crazy, he hadn't the benefit of such a well-rounded education and he
couldn't believe Ben could actually quote the classics - and why the hell
he'd feel the need to.
"SHE's....very.....aloof." Bens said into his hotdog. "She slammed
the door in my face." he said, his eyes faintly puzzled.
Probably because women usually fell at his feet, Ray thought
sourly. He'd seen the way even the most hardened police woman turned to
mush around Fraser, saw the way they cooed over him and doted on his clean
cut good looks and old-fashioned charm and manners.
Some of the remarks that the two of them had overheard made Ben
turn brick-red and Ray gag.
"You make me sick, Benny, nauseous. I want to puke when I see
you." Ray exclaimed and Ben looked up from his food.
"I'm sorry you feel that way." Ben said politely. His hat was on
the chair beside him and he ate neatly, as always, to avoid soiling his
immaculate uniform.
That was another thing that annoyed Ray. It just wasn't fair that
Ben looked like a GQ model. He was tall, straight and had a certain quiet
panache. He could even wear that goddamned stupid-looking mountie uniform
and still pull the chicks.
Any other guy would have been a social disaster, but Ben stood as
tall and proud as if he was wearing Hugo Boss or Ralph Lauren instead of
idiotic pants and a jacket as red as a fire-engine.
"You expect every woman who meets you to fall at your feet - but
why? You don't take advantage of it, NO, it's just that good ol' Canadian
homestead charm! What's the point, dammit? It's wasted! I'll bet you
haven't been laid since you got here!"
Ben looked a little taken aback at this unwarranted diatribe,"Well,
I haven't been here that long, Ray, and I have been rather busy...." he
began and Ray swore, running a hand through his already thinning hair.
"Shit! How the hell do they reproduce up in Canada, anyhow?"
Ben was secretly pleased that Ray was yelling at him again. It had
been hard to return to normal....it had been uncomfortable when Ray,
overcome with guilt, had treated him as though he was breakable. He
studied his orange juice.
"I suppose you think you're gorgeous or something. Jesus, that
goddamned outfit you wear should be a turn off and a half!"
"Could you please pass the pepper, Ray," Ben asked politely.
"Don't they know you're just a Canadian hick??" he demanded. "You
even drive a dog sled for Pete's sake!"
"I thought you enjoyed the experience," Ben said with a hint of
reproach in his blue eyes and Ray smiled despite himself, he could always
depend on Ben to play the straightman to his wild, energetic enthusiasms.
Both of them often wondered what on earth they'd do without the other.
Ben's eyed opened. He could hear the sound of an uneven step
coming up the stairs. Obviously his surly new neighbour had returned. It
was five in the morning.
The door of her apartment opened and closed and he listened to the
sounds of her movements. It was a strange time to be returning home, eh
thought, and he lay awake as he heard the unlikely sound of Mozart playing
gently through the walls.
It was oddly soothing for such an acerbic woman. He closed his
eyes and let the music soak into him. It was almost ethereal, restful and
a pleasant lassitude filled his veins.
It drifted into a sobbing violin solo, haunting, high...it made him
think of Home.
"Ray, what's the matter with you - you haven't been yourself all
day?" Ben asked, looking mildly concerned in the midst of his own
abstractions. He had been thinking about his mysterious new neighbour all
day. All his famed powers of deduction and intuition couldn't help him
solve this perplexing enigma.
Ray glowered at him,"You still obsessing about that babe next door,
Benny?"
"I never said she was a babe," Ben said with great dignity,"I would
never dream of referring to a fellow human being in such a derogatory and
demeaning fashion."
"Oh, she's a dog is she?" Ray inquired sympathetically and
Diefenbaker growled menacingly.
"Shut up, you still owe me an eclair," Ray told the wolf who
sniffed and covered his eyes with his paws.
He returned his attention momentarily to his friend's
predicament,"Look, why don't you just ask her what her name is?"
"She keeps slamming her door in my face." Ray shrugged,
"Now you know how the rest of the world live, Benny. You could
always do your boy scout deduction trick - read her mailbox."
"She hasn't put her name on it yet."
"Winnebago (sp??)." Ray said absently, hypnotically.
"I beg your pardon?" Ben inquired, baffled.
Ray shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, he looked very
troubled.
"If her name's Winnebago I'll be very disturbed." he said inexplicably.
Ben considered what appeared to be a non sequitur with great
seriousness.
"Ray, is there any reason why her name WOULD be winnebago?"
"Benny - do you believe in dreams?"
Ben cleared his throat,"Well, among the Inuit I do believe that
there are certain....."
"Every night," Ray began in a rapturous tone,"I have this great
dream....this gorgeous babe with blonde hair and big eyes....you know she's
really stunning...like that actress what's her name and she
says.....'Raymondo...."
He drifted off into her own little private world.
Dief made a sound of inquiry, echoed in a less canine form by Ben.
Ray shook himself again,"Yeah, so I've got this recurring
dream....and then for the past week.....it just disappeared."
"Ray...what's this got to do with anything?"
Ray looked at him witheringly,"The winnebago....my dream's
vanished....poof! gone! Now every night, I dream about this winnebago."
Ben frowned,"Um...."
"What do you suppose it means Benny? I'm afraid to go to sleep!
All I see is this winnebago.....do you suppose I'm developing one of those
weird kinky fetishes? Don't you Canadians get them when you've been locked
up in the snow too long?"
"I've never had a fantasy about a Winnebago, Ray." Ben said
apologetically.
Ray paced the floor restlessly. "Maybe it's got something to do
with HER."
"Who, Ray?" Ben asked, thoroughly confused.
"The dog who lives next door to you."
"Ray, I told you, I never said that she was a dog."
"Damn, what does it mean? I've never even owned a winnebago!"
"Perhaps Ray..." Fraser offered as Ray cut him off in mid-stride.
"What am I thinking. I'm a cop." pounding his head with his hand.
"We have resources civilians and Mounties don't have", Ray said beaming.
"I'll have Ms. Winnebago's REAL name by the time you go home."
"But Ray, that's illegal", Fraser objected.
"Ah, it would be for you -- but you see I'm investigating a case."
"A case?" Benny asked quizzically.
"Yep. Disturbing the peace. Well, it will be as soon as you
report it. Let's go."
Ray turned and started to leave -- Fraser quickly caught up with
him, with Dief following right behind.
"You want me to report her for disturbing the peace so that you can
find out her name?"
Ray stopped abruptly in his tracks, spun around looking deeply
hurt. "Benny, I'm hurt that you'd think that I was doing this for ME.
Don't you want to know who is waking you up in the wee hours and slamming
doors in your face?"
"She'll eventually have to put her name on the mailbox Ray--I can wait."
"AH-HA!!" Ray erupted into jubilant, satisfied laughter, thoughts of
the Winnebago momentarily banished. "So there is a spark of interest in
the everso cool Mountie heart -- besides, what if she has a P.O. Box?"
"Of course I'm interested" interjected Fraser. "She's a neighbour
and it's important to know who your neighbours are in case of an
emergency...."
"Don't give me that Benny -- you're, you know -- INTERESTED! Let's go!"
"But Ray..."
The alleyway behind the apartment block was dank and unused.
People threw their garbage their without a thought for the local
environment. It spilled out of the bags, covering the ground with rotten
food, old wrappers and dented beer cans.
The notion of recycling hadn't yet made its appearance in the
neighbourhood and the stench was enough to make passers-by quite giddy from
the fumes on a balmy day.
Several cats ambled through the garbage aimlessly, picking their
way gracefully and sinuously, their paws padding through the filth as if
they were walking on a crushed silk blanket.
Their eyes studied the refuse narrowly, sniffing out potential
meals and they leapt from bag to bag, bin to bin in their search for hidden
benefits.
The most scruffy of the cats was a large, ratty looking character
with half an ear, one eye and a tattered coat which he wore as proudly as a
king's mantle. He was proud of his status as a homeless cat, it elevated
him among the overbred peerage Siamese whom he occasionally encountered on
his lone rambles.
He knew the garbage to avoid, he knew the sounds that gave away the
dangers of the street. He looked with contemptuous pity at the younger,
thinner cats who pawed through bags, spilling the contents onto the cold
ground.
It wasn't a good place for cats, but he had survived.....
He watched from his position on the fence as the shadows approached
the young Toms and then slunk away into the shadows when he heard the
piteous cries which were muffled by the sack which covered them.
"For God's sake! Some of us are trying to get some sleep in here!"
Marie-Claire bellowed as she buried her head beneath her pillow.
She could hear someone muttering outside her door and in
desperation she jumped to her feet, falling to the ground immediately in a
crumpled heap as her leg gave way.
Her mouth thinned, whitening around the edges as she thought
longingly of the painkillers in her bag. Resolutely, she dragged herself
to her feet and limped across the room, throwing the door open.
Crouched in front of her neighbour's door was a young black boy, in
his early teens with a baseball cap on backwards - at the tag still on it.
He was grabbing the handle of the door and rattling it. He was obviously
making an attempt at breaking in.
"The inexplicabilities of street fashion aside - what do you think
you're doing?" she inquired calmly, running her fingers through her tangled
hair and trying to settle her thoughts. She had been at her new place only
a few days and already she was beginning to wonder whether she had made the
right decision.
Admittedly the place was closer to the station, but she had never
liked rats....call it pathetic, but their revolting twitching whiskers and
beady eyes always made her shudder.
She had chased five out of her room - or perhaps it was the same
rat coming back for more. She wasn't knowledgable enough to identify it.
The boy smiled ingenuously, his white teeth brilliant and welcoming,
"I'm here to take Dief for a walk." he told her. "Frazier [heh
heh!] didn't tell me that the door was stuck again!"
"Do you really expect me to believe that? Hmm? you're not breaking
in?" she inquired severely, amused at his brazen-faced lie.
"I'm serious," the boy said indignantly. "I'm Willie! And Dief's
waiting for me...." He lowered his voice and said confidingly,"He's a good
wolf, but who knows what might happen when he's been shut up all day."
"A wolf?" Marie-Claire demanded, intrigued despite herself.
"Named Diefenbaker - a Canadian prime minister."
"I'm well aware of that fact." she said flatly, the amusement
fading out of her eyes momentarily. She went to stand beside the boy and
rattled the door experimentally.
"You mean he doesn't lock his door?" MC demanded.
"His lock got stolen ages ago -- the door gets stuck when the
weather is dry."
"OK," MC said practically and even though she knew it would hurt
like hell, she wound up and kicked the door in.
Under Willie's critical but admiring eyes, the door flew open and he
gave a low whistle. "Wow! Are you a kung fu expert or something?"
"Not really." she said, turning white from the agonising pain which
shot up her leg. "Damn I'm an idiot - WHY do I do stuff like that?" she
muttered to herself and gritted her teeth.
The throb in her leg was momentarily numbed as she stared at the
magnificent wolf which bounded through the door and jumped into Willie's
arms.
"He is beautiful," she murmured, an odd note in her voice as the
wolf turned his attention to her and regarded her suspiciously.
"He's deaf." Willie said expansively.
"Diefenbaker, I'm honoured to make your acquaintance.....I'm
Marie-Claire."
"Huh?" Willie demanded,"What kind of name is that?"
She smiled,"You can call me MC if your French isn't up to it."
Willie pulled on Dief's ears reflectively,"We're going for a walk -
you can come, too if you get your ass in gear."
Marie-Claire shrugged,"Give me a moment -" Willie followed MC to
her apartment & entered right behind.
"Man this place is a pit." Willie observed.
"Ah yes, but I call it home." MC countered sarcastically.
"You know I think you could use some expert help in fixing this
place up."Willie said as dollar signs flashed in his eyes.
"Expert help, huh?"
"Yeah, and I'm the expert" Willie boasted.
"That's O.K. I think I'll manage." MC dejectedly replied as she sat
down & put on her shoes.
"Hey, I'm serious. I helped Fraser & his place is all squared
away." Willie proudly declared.
"Looks a little sparse to me. Besides, I'll just bet you did it out
the goodness of your heart."
"Well...I..." Willie stuttered.
"Uh-huh.How much did he pay you?" MC inquired triumphantly.
"I don't know." he answered in an embarrassed tone.
"You don't know how much you were paid?" she asked incredulously.
"No. It was Frasers' pink money & nobody would take it. But that's
O.K. 'cause Fraser's cool & I'd done it anyway-even if he didn't pay me"
Willie beamed as Dief made an impatient sound.
"He paid you in Canadian money? Unbelievable." MC said, shaking her head
as she finished tying her shoes."O.K., I'm ready. Let's hit the road."
"I have to warn ya," Willie cautioned. "It's really Dief who's in
charge when we go out & sometimes it's kinda an adventure."
"I think I'll be able to keep up." MC assured him - she who had no
idea what she was in for. As Willie opened the door, Dief took off out of
the apartment & hurtled down the hall as if he were a wolf on a mission.
Willie glanced over his shoulder with a wicked grin,"Hey, suit yourself."
BEING NEIGHBOURLY: PART B
Dief reached the hallway door long before Willie & Marie-Claire had
even made it down the stairs but found his progress to the outside world
blocked by of all things a closed door.
Frustrated, he first pawed at it in hopes of it opening,that had
worked on more than one occasion but not this time. He then tried barking
- NOPE.
Admitting defeat,for the moment, he sat down and waited for the
cavalry to arrive. The tell tale signs of rescue came seconds later as he
felt 2 sets of foot steps coming down the stairs. Willie rounded the corner
at light-speed followed by Marie-Claire who was lagging a little behind.
"HEY HEY Dief," Willie said half laughing"you must not be feeling
yourself today. You let a little thing like a door stop ya." Making a half
growl half barking sound Dief let it be known he did not appreciate this
bit of scarasm.
Marie-Claire had caught up to the duo by this point rubbing her leg
and wondering what she had set herself up for. She approached Dief, knelt
down in front of him and cupped his muzzle between her hands.
"Dief, listen, I would really like to go on a walk with you-not a
track and field event. So here's the deal. If you want me to go with you
and Willie you're gonna have to slow down the pace. O.K.. It's up to you."
Marie-Claire opened the door slowly waiting for Dief to go charging
out. He slowly stood up, walked out the door then turned and waited until a
stunned Willie and Marie-Claire followed.
"Damn! Dief usually doesn't listen very well to anyone except
Fraser, and that's not even all the time. How did you do that?" an amazed
Willie asked.
"I gave him a choice"replied Marie-Claire not totally believing it
herself.
As they proceeded down the street towards the park Willie started
the third degree. Firing question after question at Marie-Claire.
"Do you work? Why are you home during the day?. Can I come to the
radio station and watch?"
Marie-Claire answered these questions as quickly as Willie could
ask them. When the questions turned personal though,MC turned the tables
and began her own barrage of questioning.
"Are you going to be a reporter when you grow up?,Why aren't you
home doing your homework? and"How did you get hooked up with Constable
Fraser?"
Willie spouted his entire life story sans his somewhat less than
legal exploits that landed him in Frasers' company. Marie-Claire, being the
seasoned journalist that she was noticed his avoidance of the question
regarding the origins of his relationship with the mountie and made a
mental note to explore this later.
By the time they reached the park Marie-Claires' leg was killing
her. She swore to herself that she would start working out to gain more
stamina, then started scoping out the park in search of a bench. At this
point Dief was a little antsy. Trotting was not his long-suit, he needed
to RUN.
Willie sensed this and asked Marie-Claire "Do you think you could
tell Dief it's OK to run now. He likes to chase the birds and squirrels
for a while. Then we get a snack and go home."
"Are you sure he isn't going to run away or eat a bird or
squirrel?" asked MC as visions of this unpleasant sight danced in her
mind.
"Come on. We do thsi all the time. Trust me." Willie beamed.
"Trust you, huh?" Marie-Claire asked somewhat doubtfully. "If
you're wrong- you're on your own- understand?" Willy nodded.
Marie-Claire looked at Dief and said, "Go ahead and terrorize the
wildlife, but stay within eye-shot, OK?" Dief gave an affirmative groan
and took off.
He ran around as happy as a clam in high tide for about half an
hour then returned to the bench and sat down as if to say he was ready to
go. Marie-Claire and Willie were having a nice chat about music. She was
actually getting an education on hip-hop rap. Though she would never admit
this to Willie, he suspected and was surprised that she seemed truly
interested in what he had to say. MC had won her ally.
"I guess it's snack time." MC said as she stood. "Where to? I
could use something myself."
"Nielsens. Mr.N always has stuff for us. Although Dief gets more
than I do. Mr. N says it's because he's a growing wolf."
MC looked at Dief and said to herself, "I hope not."
They made it to Neilsens in short order and true to form Mr.
Nielsen was more than generous with his daily rations to Willie and Dief
and after a proper introduction and some minor flirtations MC received an
eclair that would make her cholesterol count move up a few points.
Marie Claire checked her watch and wondered at how time always
flew. She knew she would never get enough sleep before she had to go into
the station. Oh well, she lamented, it wouldn't be the first time.
"Is there a grocery store nearby Willie? I need to get a few
things." she asked.
"Yeah, it's on the way. You haven't met Dave or Bob yet?" Willie
asked with a sly grin.
"No, who are Dave and Bob?" Marie-Claire asked.
"Well, it's kinda hard to explain but Dave and Bob are sorta the
same guy." Willie feebly replied.
"How can Dave AND Bob be the same person Willie?"
"It's something to do with the rain. When it rains he's Bob and
you really don't want to get him riled, but if it's nice, he's Dave and
he's real nice. It's something Fraser called weather sensitive or
something. I don't know. I just know we all go into the store to see
which one he is so we know what kinda day it's gonna be."
MC just stood there looking at Willie and wondered about the
neighborhood she had chosen to live in and shook her head. A mountie with
a wolf, a baker who was contributing to the delinquency of everyones'
arteries, a grocer who was "weather sensitive" and rats so big they should
help pay the rent. She thought to herself, "if I can just get a handle on
it, there just might be a book in all of this."
"OK Willie, let's go meet this Dave or Bob, or whoever he is today.
I have to get home and get some sleep."
"It'll be Dave today - no rain." Willie stated confidently as they
made their way to the store.
In the store Marie-Claire couldn't help but stare at Dave/Bob
wondering if Willie was just feeding her a line. He seemed like a regular
guy. Dave noticed her staring and began to wonder if something was wrong.
"Excuse me Miss, but is everything alright?" Dave inquired. An
embarrassed MC replied,
"Oh, yes, umm, I umm was looking for the umm cereal."
"Aisle 3." Dave instructed.
"Thank you." MC said and headed for aisle 3 feeling pretty stupid,
mainly because she hated cereal and now felt obligated to buy a box. She
picked the closest box - Captain Crunch - and headed for the dairy/produce
section to get what she originally came in for. At the checkout counter
Dave introduced himself.
"I don't think we've met. I'm Dave. Are you new to the neighborhood?"
"Yes, I've just moved in. I'm Marie-Claire. Nice to meet you."
"Captain Crunch. You like that kiddie stuff, huh?" Dave observed
brightly.
"Oh, that's just a umm, snack." MC absently replied. As Dave was
ringing up her total she noticed a very large brass barometer hanging
behind the counter next to the matching clock. They seemed out of place in
the little gray toned, flourescent lit store. She noticed that Dave tended
to glance in that direction quite often. Was he looking at the clock
or....
"Your total is $23.10." Dave informed her. But MC was busy trying
to figure out if there was any connection between the barometer and the
Dave/Bob story and didn't hear him.
"Marie-Claire, are you ok? You seem a little distracted?"
"Sorry. Sleep deprivation I guess. I work nights and sometimes I
don't get enough sleep, like today. How much do I owe?" MC said as she
shot a look at Willie and Dief who were waiting by the door for her.
"23.10." Dave reiterated. MC handed ove rthe cash, thanked Dave
and picked up her bags and headed for the door. Once outside MC said to
Willy, "He seems like a nice man."
"Yeah, cause he's Dave. Wait till it rains." Willie warned.
"Willie, I don't know when to take you seriously." MC said as they
headed home.
"Look! As a landlord you owe your tenants certain obligations."
Fraser looked up from the newspaper he was reading. Dief was
curled up under the window, his tail thumping up and down. For some
peculiar reason, the usually ravenous wolf had completely lost his
appetite.
Ben might have been worried if the wolf had appeared listless, but
Dief seemed cheerful enough, even if he did lift his muzzle most
aristocratically at the meal Ben has prepared so painstakingly.
"Have you been having snacks between meals and ruining your
appetite?" Ben demanded of his companion who snorted and gave a rather
doggy grin which was a little below his usual dignity.
The angry voice coming through the door from the hallway had
distracted him from the very interesting editorial about the US's use of
Intellectual Property rights in the Uruguay Round as the sign of a flailing
nation attempting to reassert its hegemonic status.
He had followed the Uruguay Round Outcomes with much interest.
He opened the door and saw his new neighbour standing nose to nose
with Argyle the scruffy landlord with his lank hair, vacuous expression and
snuffly features.
He still didn't know her name. She hadn't put her name on her
mailbox. She'd been there two weeks now and they occasionally passed each
other in the corridor but she never acknowledged his presence. She came
home at unearthly hours of the morning, he'd heard music sifting through
from her room.....an eclectic mix. Anything from Christine Lavin to Ella
Fitzgerald and once the Rankin Family which had made him think about
Canada.
"May I offer my assistance?" he requested courteously.
"No!" both of them said, turning to him simultaneously.
"I already told you, the rent only covers...." the landlord began
to whine.
"You told me that the rent didn't cover utilities -- so I paid
extra -- I almost froze my butt off that first night....there was no
electricity."
"I connected it for you, didn't I?"
"Only after I threatened to sue you." she bit back, an accent
creeping into her voice with her anger. "And what about those syringes I
found in the cupboard?"
"OK, OK, so the place used to be a hang out for crackheads and
smack dealers....they paid good rent...." he said defensively,"Then the
mountie put them out of business."
"Trade in illicit narcotics is a crime." Fraser said implacably.
"You didn't bother to tidy up -- what if I'd stabbed myself?"
Marie-Claire demanded.
She looked tired, Ben thought as he studied her pale face. The
dark auburn hair was pulled back tightly from her face and there were
shadows under her dark green eyes which hinted at lack of sleep or restless
nights.
She was five foot six, of medium build, but somehow there was an
air of fragility about her which made her seem much slighter and more
delicate. An impression immediately dispelled when she grabbed the
landlord by the collar and jerked him onto his toes,
"OK, I'm giving you one last warning - either get those rats out of
my place, or I'm calling in the exterminators and slapping you with the
bill."
"Hey, hey! Isn't this assault or something? Arrest her!" the
landlord said accusingly to Ben.
"You seem to forget, sir, that I am not a policeman here in the
United States. This is not actually my jurisdiction. Perhaps back in the
Yukon where I am an actively serving member of the police force, I might
have powers to exercise, but here I find myself as an ordinary citizen."
The landlord was still dangling on tip-toe. "OK, OK, I'll get rid
of the rats. What's the problem? Don't you like rats?"
"I don't like rodents....especially of the homo sapien kind," she
said and released him.
"Umm, excuse me Miss....." Ben said stepping forward.
"Bird, Big Bird." she said and limped back into her room and
slammed the door shut.
A muffled squawk was heard from the interior and the door was flung
open and a huge, healthy rat with gleaming fur came scuttling out of 3K in
a drunken fashion, weaving in somewhat erratic circles as it stumbled left,
right, evaded Ben's feet and hurtled down the hall. It's progress was
followed closely by a grubby looking sneaker.
Ben bent over gingerly picked up the sneaker. He handed it back to
its owner who took it from him,
"Thanks." the door slammed shut in his face.
He sighed.
Fraser breathed deeply of the polluted air, filling his lungs with
the carcinogenic fumes and exhaled again as he strode to work.
"Good morning Steve," he greeted the young Croatian boy who was
looking decidedly upset. "Is something the matter?" he asked, stopping by
the boy with the spiky hair and pale gold ear ring gleaming in his left ear
lobe.
"Lost my cat." the boy said laconically.
"Was he registered?"
"She. No, she wasn't registered. Da says he's probably
dead......squashed by a car or something."
"Cats often have a habit of straying away, perhaps she'll return soon."
"Na, Megadeath never got lost. She was tough." He slouched beside
Ben, tucking his hands into his slouch jeans and chewed on his lip, trying
not to look upset.
"Guys at school said she probably got poisoned....one kid's dog got
poisoned and its guts were eaten from the inside out." The expression on
Steve's face was an odd mixture of distress and morbid fascination.
"I promise I'll keep a look out." Ben said and Steve shrugged,
"Maybe I'll get an axolotl this time." he said and walked away.
Two mysteries, he thought to himself as he headed towards work, his gaze
steady. Diefenbaker's strange lack of appetite, and now Steve's cat.
Perhaps he could post notices around the neighbourhood......
Marie-Claire put a few quarters into the machine and waited,
feeling the floor thrum beneath her feet as her laundry whirred around
rhythmically.
A woman she had passed several times in the past few weeks entered
the laundry carrying a heavy load of laundry. She was was a petite woman
with cropped dark brown hair and very steady eyes.
She looked to be in her late twenties and there was a very
no-nonsense manner about her and she was dressed conservatively, but very
stylishly in designer jeans and a deep emerald green sweater with a fine,
subtle pattern.
She looked very trim, very fit and energetic and despite her lack
of inches, she carried the heavy load easily and set it down smoothly.
Marie-Claire smiled at her in greeting and said aloud,"Are you a nurse?"
She found herself staring down into a pair of eyes which in this
light appeared to be green, although when the woman smiled, they deepened
to hazel.
"Yes I am, how did you know?" the woman asked in a clear, friendly
voice.
"Something about the way you lift and put things down - and your hands."
The woman looked down at her hands and laughed ruefully,"Ah,
washerwoman's hands."
Her hands were square and very capable-looking; they were hands
accustomed to hard work.
"Not at all - but they're good strong hands." Marie-Claire told her.
The woman stuck out her small, but very strong hand, "Pleased to
meet you, I'm Elena Curran."
Marie-Claire automatically shook her hand. "Marie-Claire Dempsey."
she responded.
"I've passed you a few times," the woman said calmly,"And wondered
who you were. The Nguyens have mentioned you and so have some of the other
occupants of the building. I don't actually live here myself."
Elena began loading the laundry into the machine.
Marie-Claire didn't know what was expected of her from this
extraordinary little women so she said nothing, only eyed the load of
washing curiously. Elena continued,
"I'm a public health nurse, working on a NIH - that's the National
Institute of Health grant at the neighbourhood clinic. I make home visits
to my clients in the neighbourhood as well as my work at the clinic - I'm
just popping by out of hours to see how Mrs Nguyen's been. I know she's
been a little stressed lately and it's not good considering that the baby's
going to be born soon - I find out that the laundry hasn't been done for
week!
It turns out her husband's too busy, and old Mrs Nguyen is
bed-ridden, poor thing. It was all I could do to get Mrs Nguyen to stop
working at the restaurant let alone stay off her feet."
"I see." Marie-Claire said.
Elena's shrewd eyes studied Marie-Claire's deliberately
unexpressive face, took in the shadows in the girl's eyes and spoke again,
"How long have you had that limp, Marie-Claire? This is a medical
query not a personal one," she said when she saw Marie-Claire's face close
over.
The machines whirred loudly in the background as the two woman talked.
"A little over sixteen months."
"Have you ever undergone any physical therapy?"
"I haven't had the time - I have to pay the bills somehow." she was
infinitely annoyed to be justifying herself to a perfect stranger, even a
friendly person such as Elena.
"I thought so," Elena said shaking her head,"The limp doesn't have
to be so pronounced, you know."
"Tell me something, Elena, but is everyone in this neighbourhood a
good samaritan?" Marie-Claire demanded a little waspishly and Elena
laughed, genuinely amused, her generous mouth pulling into a delighted
grin,
"Ahhh, I see you've met our favourite mountie. You don't like him?"
"I have no opinion on him."
Elena shrugged,"He's a beautiful human being -turned this place
around. I've never met a man with such an innate sense of fairness and
duty.....I see him as a semi-tragic figure."
"Tragic? Comic is the word in that preposterous uniform of his."
The smile played around Elena's lips,"Everyone has a story,
Marie-Claire - a past which shapes the person we are today. Whether you
like that person or not, it's usually best not to pass judgment until you
have discovered that story. All I'm saying is that someone like Benton
doesn't just appear.....something has shaped him, tempered him into the
person he is today. I always assume that perhaps he has suffered a great
hurt...." she smiled in embarrassment,"I know, despite my unromantic
exterior, I must confess I'm a romantic at heart, in fact my weirdest
fantasy is....oh never mind that.
About Benton, he's introduced me to a great many of my patients -
and I often request his company when I'm afraid that I might meet with a
difficult reception from the homes I visit."
"Obviously we have a new saint among us." Marie-Claire said
ironically. She had heard how wonderful this famous mountie was from
virtually everyone in the neighbourhood and was beginning to feel decidedly
out of sorts.
"Oh he's definitely mortal like the rest of us," Elena said
soberly, the smile fading from her eyes. Without the smile, it was
possible to notice the fine tracery of lines around her expressive eyes,
and the glints of silver in her cropped hair.
Her face was young and old at the same time and it was clear that
despite her optimism, the woman had not had an easy life.
"He has feelings...he can be hurt, I never forget that...." her
voice faded away a little and then she smiled again,"Here I am gossipping."
She laughed at herself, smiled serenely at the young woman with the
defiant green eyes and the sulky mouth.
Marie-Claire began to reload her washing into her basket to carry
outside.
Elena spoke again,"Life's never easy for any of us. When I was a
little girl my mother had a favourite poem she would read us by Edgar Lee
Masters about Lucinda Matlock and the last part always sticks in my head -I
keep it with me like a talisman:
'At 96 I had lived enough, that is all,
And passed to a sweet repose.
What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness,
Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?...."
She didn't have the chance to finish because Marie-Claire
interrupted curtly,"Yes, I know this 'Degenerate sons and daughters, Life
is too strong for you - It takes life to love Life.'"
"I didn't mean to offend you, Marie-Claire."
"That's all right," Marie-Claire said with difficulty, picking up
her basket. "It was nice to meet you."
She walked from the laundry. Poetry-quoting nurses, deaf wolves,
non-delinquent street kids, tragic mounties.....she felt like she was in a
Fellini movie, all that was missing was a midget and a maniacal clown.
BEING NEIGHBORLY: PART C
"I told Jim that he should back off with the gym rubbish." Harold
said irritably, glaring at the phone. "The man should accept he's forty -
not a gym jock anymore."
The room was crowded, papers falling from Hal's desk onto the
ground. There was a mug of coffee on his desk. Legend had it that that
very same cup had been placed there ten years ago when he had taken over as
manager of AIR105.
The contents had long-ago congealed and were covered with a fine
layer of dust, ash and rapidly multiplying micro-organisms. Sometimes when
he was in the midst of a tirade, he would pick up the mug as if to take a
swallow from it. Staff always watched wistfully....the cup was at his
lips....but at the last minute he always set it down and they would sigh
regretfully. Maybe next time.
"What seems to be the problem?" Marie-Claire asked inquiringly as
she looked up from her notes. She sat in the "newsroom" across the
corridor. It consisted of a tiny box with bars in the windows, half a
dozen empty mugs on the sill and two chairs and a table over which she was
draped.
"I don't like the preachy bit at the end," she told Susan Power,
one of her colleagues who shrugged and scrubbed out the little quote from
the Bible. It had seemed appropriate at the time.
Harold threw himself into a chair and glowered impressively. The
door to his office opened onto the door to the newsroom. His door was
always open,
"I'm always in touch with my people! Available! Accessible!" he
would declaim at his monthly meetings which he held once a year or after he
was inspired by a motivational theme on Oprah or Donehue.
"What do you think? There is our hero at the gym, pumping iron, a
pretty girl walks past and he immediately piles the weights on and starts
showing off."
"Ouch, you mean he's pulled something?" Marie-Claire asked
sympathetically, tossing aside various articles until she found the one she
was looking for. She pulled the clip from her hair, re-fastened it, this
time more tightly.
She often wondered whether it was possible to be allergic to your
own hair.
She rather liked Jim Alderman, he was good-natured and cheerful.
"He's in the O.R. with a hernia." Harold said sourly.
"I can feel a shift swap coming on," Susan muttered, making herself
scarce and Harold glowered,
"Ungrateful cow - I trained her....raised her from when she was
nothing......."
"You make her sound like a dog or a prize horse," Marie-Claire said
dryly, cutting him off. If allowed to continue, he would have given the
same speech they all received - a play in which Harold was cast as the
wronged mentor Obi-Wan-Kenobi while all of his disobedient pupils turned to
the Dark Side.
Harold smiled seraphically,"Plans for the evening, MC?" he asked
her and she sighed.
"Harold, I covered for Jody last week - you know I hate doing that
bright and perky routine."
"I'll say," Harold said shaking his head,"You talked about
Nietzche, the Realpolitik and Kierkegaard - thoroughly depressed the hell
out of the listeners. One guy called up threatening to commit suicide
after you read out that passage about men being brutish, solitary and
short."
"The LIFE of man is brutish, solitary and short in a state of
nature," she corrected automatically, and that guy threatens to commit
suicide even during Mavis's Household Hints Hour."
"As I was saying......"
"And I hate the playlist, Hal - Michael Bolton, Phil
Collins......Elton John....Mariah bloody Carey..."
Harold winced, he still remembered the barrage of protests the
station had received after the listeners had heard Marie-Claire muttering
after the Michael Bolton song,'How am I supposed to live without you?' --
"Don't bother - drop dead, see if I care?"
The only reason he kept her on was because she was good at her job.
She was punctual, her writing was never flabby, her voice was clear and
precise.....she was a good newsreader. Breakfast radio was definitely not
her scene. He certainly wouldn't repeat that experiment twice in a row.
"Oh yeah, and then there's always the staple Joshua Kadison, and
hell, if we get bored, I can always play "The Rose" and we can all cry
together." Marie-Claire continued.
"I get the point, MC. And you know damned well that the playlist
is the way it is is because those singers are the top sellers - we play
what people want to hear."
"That's right," Marie-Claire declaimed dramatically,"The best of
the seventies, eighties and nineties.....a dozen songs in all, why has
musical history been so arid?"
"I'm not going to argue with you, MC." His left eyeball began
twitching erratically as he glared at her. It was a weird habit and always
fascinated Marie-Claire who wondered whether it would ever pop out of the
socket and how it managed to wobble without making the other eyeball
wobble.
He refuse to get it surgically corrected, muttering something about
the sacred temple of his optical orb.
"Stop looking at my eye!" he bellowed and she looked at him
repentantly, he wasn't a bad employer even if his favourite singer was
Michael Bolton. He was a definite improvement over some of her employers
in the past.
"You're covering for Jim until further notice."
"Hal - I'm here from four in the afternoon - slaving away over the
news I might add.....I don't get home until the wee small hours of the
morning....I can't possible take on hsi shift as well."
'I'm taking you off news for now, Susan can handle it."
"I am NOT doing Jim's lonely hearts show." Jim, despite being
fortyish, paunchy, jowley and homely looking had the sexy, exciting young
voice of a twenty-year old stud.
"Baby, are you lonesome tonight...." she purred in a creditable
imitation of Jim at his worst,"If I could touch your cheek....you'd not be
lonely no more....call now, tell Jim all your probs....." she said huskily.
Hal drummed his fingers on the table. He could never figure out
why drumming one's fingers on the table was considered a sign of deep
thought. He could never quite establish whether he was supposed to drum
from left to right, or vice versa. In the end he gave up and just tapped
his fingers on the wood.
"You get a free rein, MC. That's what you're angling for, isn't
it?" he challenged, his dark eyes gleaming.
She smiled faintly,"I can say anything I want? Play anything I want?"
"Within reason," he temporised,"Ten to two am may not be the most
family listening time - but we don't want to offend any of those insomniac
oldies."
Marie-Claire put her pen down, pursing her lips.
"Is this a good time to ask you for a raise?"
"Get out of here Dempsey."
She sighed.
Ray collected Fraser from the front of the Consulate. "It was very
kind of your mother to invite me to dinner, Ray."
Ray scowled as his mobile phone rang. "Yeah mom, I know! I've got
the eggplant....but Jesus, do I have to? You know it gives me gas....ahhh
FIFI???"
At the Check It Out Corner Convenience Late Store Ray and Fraser
wandered around the aisles in search of the elusive eggplant. Dave waved
hi in an amiable fashion.
"Obviously it won't be raining in the next few days." Fraser commented.
"Knock it off, Fraser, you don't believe that oldwive's tale do
you? The guy's a kook - he's got a personality disorder. He should be
locked up or at least doped on prozac."
"He's harmless, Ray, and there have been many instances in history
of humans who are weather sensitive, why my own grandfather's left toe
would always ache when a storm was imminent. And it's also a popular
misconception that Prozac is an anti-psychotic medication. Actually its a
serotonin reuptake inhibitor anti-depressant, so it would do nothing for
psychotic ideation."
"Yeah right, the guy's just watched Sybil too many times." Ray said
emphatically.
"Ray,....that's her." Ben said in an undertone.
"Who, my mom?" Ray demanded, looking around in a panic.
"No....my neighbour!"
"The dog....Ms Winnebago...."
"She's not a dog, Ray." Ben said reproachfully.
Ray shrugged, "If you'd just done as I told you and reported her
like I said....you'd know her name, past, marital status....."
The two of them peered around the pet food aisle, their eyes intent
on the young woman standing by the dairy products cooler. She was
picking up various containers of what appeared to be cream, shaking it
slightly, listening intently, a frown on her brows as she put it down and
then picked up the next one.
"What do you suppose she's doing?" Ben asked, mystified.
Ray was more blase about it, "I hardly think you're in the position
to judge, Benny, someone who puts diseased horse meat on his face is not in
the position to knock a girl because she likes listening to cream. She's
probably listening to see what kind of grass the cow ate....or whether the
cow had any relatives...."
"Ray, I hardly think....."
But Ray was enjoying himself, "No hell, maybe she wants to find out
the cow's favourite TV shows....you know, like Burke's Law....Jake and the
Fatman."
"Ray...." Ben said evenly, "You know just as well as I do, that
that's impossible."
"Why is that impossible?" Ray wanted to know.
"No one watches Jake and the Fatman."
"Even in Canada?" Ray demanded.
"Even in Canada."
"Well whadya know?" Ray said cheerfully, "We have something in
common after all."
He studied her narrowly, taking in the faded jeans, oversized man's
shirt and loosely tied back hair.
"She's not a dog, Benny."
"I told you."
"But she's also no babe......" Ray said with the air of a connoisseur.
If it had been anyone else apart from Ben, he would have looked
annoyed. As it was, he looked patient. "Ray, you know how I don't like it
when you use such blatantly discriminatory terms. I find them
unilluminating, unhelpful and more than a little offensive"
"But she is kinda cute.....in a non-babe way," Ray mused, "Not my
type....but I'm always here for my pals," he said and strolled forward.
Marie-Claire was picking up the final container of cream and
shaking it discreetly when a dark-haired man with a broad smile approached
her.
He wore a garishly coloured shirt which billowed around his narrow
frame. His baggy trousers fell around very polished shoes and he had a
chunky gold chain around his neck. He reminded her of a rather benign
looking frog.
The smile was irresistible, though, it invited one to smile in
agreement, even though one had no idea what he might be smiling about.
A suave opening remark had been on his lips, but it died as he
stared into her very dark green eyes. Those witch's eyes could see into a
man's soul and he had a horrible suspicion that she knew that he had been
guilty of dumping his trash in his neighbour's trashcan to save having to
take out the trash himself the day before.
"Hello," he said cheerfully. "Stereo broken?"
Marie-Claire looked down at the cream she was holding in her hand
and laughed.
"Actually....I know it sounds a bit silly...but I've bought this
really delicious blackberry and apple pie from Nielson's......and I wanted
to buy that really thick cream....you know the stuff which has the
consistency of plaster of Paris?"
"I know the one," Ray said sagely, "Shaking's the way to go - but
you can't just do it delicately." he told her.
"Really?" she demanded, in fascination. He nodded emphatically.
"Let's be practical. I'm an expert at this, my ma sends me on
errands all the time." he told her with an air of confidentiality.
"Is she a good cook?" Marie-Claire asked.
"The best."
"My mum was a horrible cook," Marie-Claire said with a reminiscent
laugh. They both stared at the shelf.
"So, what have we got?" he demanded.
She read the different names aloud, "Double Cream, Thickened Cream,
Double Thick Cream, Light Double Thick Cream, Thickened Double Light cream,
Double Dollop Thick Cream, Double Thickened Reduced Cream and Aunt Mary
McGregor's Creamy Cream."
"Exactly - how's a guy to tell? You don't do it by listening...."
he reached out, grabbed one and shook it once in his hand, "You see? You
can feel the cream moving."
He handed it to her and she shook it once, nodding judiciously.
"That's not the right one, then."
They shook a few more, "Aha!" Ray exclaimed in glee, making
everyone in the store turn around and stare at him except Dave who was busy
debating the merits of home delivery with a customer.
"You see - this one doesn't move at all.....solid as plaster of
paris," he said exultantly.
She took the container from him, smiling at him. It was a
brilliant smile, he noted immediately and smoothed away the gravity from
her young face. It was also a smile which discouraged flirtation but
encouraged a warm friendliness instead.
Her dark eyes were actually a very dark, deep shade of green,
thickly lashed and intelligent and set below strongly-marked brows.
Her chin was pointed, her hair a rich dark auburn and her skin pale
and creamy. When she smiled, a dimple appeared in her left cheek which
gave her smile a peculiarly lop-sided charm. There was nothing beautiful
about this face, her jaw looked stubborn, her eyes were too clear and
willful, but there was a wealth of charm and intelligence and he grinned at
her.
"The name's Raymond Vecchio," he said extending his hand.
"Marie-Claire Dempsey, pleased to meet you," she said pleasantly,
shaking his hand in a firm grip.
Her eyes flickered momentarily to the pet food aisle where the brim
of a large hat was protruding from around the corner.
"Is he listening for caribou or just eavesdropping?" she queried dryly.
Ray cleared his throat, "Ahh, he's just communing with the Puppy
Chomps.....makes him feel at one with nature."
'I see." Marie-Claire said wisely, her smile tugging irresistibly
at the corners of her full-mouth.
"Perhaps you'd like to meet him....." Ray suggested.
"No thanks, red gives me severe urticaria." she said flippantly.
"It was nice to meet you. I'd better be going."
She walked to the checkout and Ray returned to where Ben was
standing beside the cat litter and hissed, "Urticaria?"
"Hives." Ben said helpfully.
"You had a dozen opportunities to come out and introduce yourself!
There are no doors around here! The worst she could have done was stick a
salami in your face - and it's not as if that would be unbearable in the
light of what else you've stuck in your face. His voice altered
momentarily, "You didn't tell me she was lame."
"She's not lame...she has a limp."
"Pretty bad limp, but she seems like a nice girl," he said
judiciously. "Can you tag the accent?"
"She's Canadian."
"How do you know that? I couldn't tell." Ray said as they walked
to the checkout, aubergine in hand.
"Good evening, Dave." Ben said pleasantly.
"'evenin', Fraser." Dave said cheerfully, "What can I do you for
tonight?" he asked.
"Just the eggplant." Ray said putting the vegetable down on the
counter. The three of them watched as the counter hesitated and then
propelled the vegetable slowly and inexorably to the spot in front of Dave.
"She said 'mum'." Ben said aloud.
"So? That doesn't mean anything - lots of people say mum. Her
accent didn't sound like anything familiar."
"It's a very neutral accent," Ben agreed.
"I noticed that, too," Dave said conversationally, "It could be as
a result of moving around a lot as a child. I've noticed that people who
speak a lot of languages, or studied at those international schools - tend
to have less distinguishable accents. In fact, my friend Bob tells me the
same thing."
Ray couldn't restrain himself, "Dave, you ARE Bob."
Dave looked tolerantly at Ray before grinning at Fraser, "You're
friend's a real comedian, isn't he?"
Ben said nothing but as the two walked outside, Ray threw up his
hands, careful not to relinquish his firm grip on the aubergine, "I'll bet
you regret not letting me take her in, now." Ray said jokingly.
"With a name like Marie-Claire.....perhaps she's a
French-Canadian," he mused. "But then wouldn't she have said maman....or
mama?"
"Should we plan for an exodus.....two Canadians in your slum
building....anymore and we could have a ghetto on our hands. Come on,
we've got the eggplant....let's go and get your wolf."
It was 2:30am a restless night in the city. Planes seemed to be
flying lower than usual, wailing sirens could be heard in the distance
almost continuously, and a never ending parade of vehicles seemed to be
going by on the street below.
All of this & more were being incorporated into Fraser's' dreams.
These sounds & a not so subconscious longing for his beloved Yukon,
transformed his dreams into something that resembled film-noir.
A loud crash & an ear splitting screech or was it a scream, awoke
Fraser rudely out of his sleep. He laid there with his heart racing, not
knowing if this was real or part of his wistful dreams. Ears straining for
anything out of the ordinary, he waited in the dark.
There it was again. It was more like a screech but this time it
sounded muffled. He sprang up, ran to the window & scanned the alley below.
Two people could be seen struggling with....in the darkness he couldn't
quite make out what it was. He raised the window which always made the
awful wood on warped wood sound. This alerted the people below who
immediately looked in his direction.
"Excuse me. "Fraser called out. He did not understand what was
shouted back as he proceeded out unhesitatingly on to his fire escape and
began climbing down to investigate, with Dief bringing up the rear.
The smaller of the 2 figures started to run away ,as the larger one
yelled something else Ben did not understand. Then he too ran away.
By the time Ben & Dief reached the ground they had vanished. Fraser
proceeded to the end of the alley to see what he could find, but they were
long gone & besides, he wasn't exactly dressed for a foot race. Then he
heard Dief growling & barking. He turned to see the wolf pacing around very
agitated and fixated on something between 2 dumpsters.
Fraser double-timed it to Dief. Cautiously he approached the spot
which held Dief's attention. Looking down he saw a black canvas bag, almost
invisible in the dim alley light. As he approached the bag it moved & then
moved again as if alive.
Fraser reached for the bag & very gently opened it - when a large
cat jumped out. The cat hit the ground, took one look at Dief & jumped with
startling accuracy into Fraser's arms. Not expecting this, Fraser stood
there holding the cat dumb-founded.
"What the hell is going on out here?" a familiar female voice from
the shadows demanded. "I'm getting pretty tired of being awoken in..." the
voice trailed off as she approached Fraser & Dief. "It's you again! Don't
you ever sleep?" Marie-Claire inquired.
"Well yes, actually I was asleep when..." an embarrassed Fraser
began, but Marie-Claire cut him off before he could finish.
"I don't think I've ever seen a Mountie in his PJ's in an alley
with a cat stuck to his chest before. Do you do this often or are you
perhaps sleepwalking?"
"Sleepwalking? No I heard..."
Marie-Claire moved closer to Fraser to pet the cat.
"I'll bet this kitty knows the REAL story. May I?" Marie-Claire
asked as she reached out to take the cat.
"Certainly" replied Fraser handing the cat to Marie-Claire. The cat
seemed to take to Marie-Claire immediately. "You seem to have made a
friend." Fraser observed.
"Do you know who he belongs to?" Marie-Claire asked as she stroked
the cats ear.
"No I think he's a stray. In fact someone had put him in this
bag." said Ben holding up the black bag.
"Who would do that and why?"
"I don't know. They ran away before I could find out." Fraser
explained.
"So what are you going to do with him?" Marie-Claire demanded.
"The cat?" he questioned.
Marie-Claire shot him a look, "Yes, the cat!"
"I hadn't really thought about it. He's a stray. Perhaps I
should take him to a shelter."
Marie-Claire's voice went up at least an octave. "A SHELTER! ARE
YOU NUTS? If he isn't claimed or adopted in a week it's adios and off to
the great litter box in the sky. NO! NOT A SHELTER. Why don't you take
him--you found him."
"Me? Umm, I don't think he would approve of Diefenbaker." he
temporized.
They both looked at Dief, who had this odd glint in his eyes.
"No, perhaps you're right." Marie-Claire agreed.
"May I suggest perhaps that you give him a home. I believe you
mentioned to the landlord something about having rats. Historically, cats
are a very good rat deterrent." Fraser said brightly, with the air of
having thought of something quite brilliant.
"You know Mountie, you might have just hit upon a good idea."
Marie-Claire declared as she turned and headed back towards the fire
escape. She looked back to see both him and Dief just looking at her.
"Are you guys coming or are you going to camp there all night?"
BEING NEIGHBORLY: PART D
Morning came early after such a late night. As Fraser dressed for
work, he attempted to discuss with Diefenbaker the occurrences the night
before. Adjusting his lanyard in the mirror, he said "...and did you
notice last night our new neighbor was friendlier? I told you, 'you can
attract more flies with honey than vinegar'. It just took some time before
she felt comfortable enough to talk with us, but by being polite we
demonstrated that we would be accepting when she decided to talk with us."
Diefenbaker responded with a half-growl/half-whine that seemed to
indicate disbelief on his part.
"Well, think what you like" he said. "Willie will be by again after
school today. I've noticed that your appetite in the evenings has really
decreased. You two aren't stopping for fast food again are you?" Fraser
put on his hat and opened the door to leave. "Try to save some room for
dinner tonight, all right? Bye."
As Fraser shut his door , and he thought about stopping by to see how
the new cat was settling in next door.
While Fraser contemplated knocking, inside the apartment Marie-Claire
was becoming slowly aware of an annoying high pitched loud noise by her
right ear. Then suddenly she felt something cold and wet touch her cheek.
She opened her eyes to discover a cat hovering over her, staring intently.
Oh, God, the cat she remembered. She must have forgotten to close her
bedroom door when she got back last night, she thought.
"Meoooooow" wailed the cat impatiently.
"What?" she cried irritably. This was a miserable way to awaken she
thought. She glanced over at the clock. It read 7:06. "Hey, kitty! I
work nights, so I get to sleep in. I'm not getting up." She closed her
eyes to go back to sleep.
Before she could drift off again she felt something cold and wet
pressing on her cheek again. "Ok, ok. Let me see if I can find something
for you to eat."
As she sat up in bed she noticed a lump at the foot of the bed that
hadn't been there when she went to bed. "AAAck" she shrieked. Then she
paused. The rat wasn't moving very fast. Actually she noticed he wasn't
moving at all. The cat hopped off the bed and stood next to the rat and
meowed loudly. "Well, I guess I'll have to keep you now that you've made
yourself indispensable. Let's see what else we can find you for
breakfast."
As she trekked into the kitchen, there was a knock on the door. Who
could be here at this ungodly hour of the morning she thought? She opened
her door to find Fraser standing in her doorway beaming. "So how's the new
cat working out?" he inquired cheerfully.
Marie-Claire responded with a quick slam of the door. God, the nerve
of some people she thought, doesn't he know how early it is? Marie-Claire
chuckled to herself as she had an evil thought. She went into the kitchen
for a plastic bag.
Fraser meanwhile was still standing in the doorway trying to figure out
this new turn of events. Based on last night, this was not the reception
he had anticipated. As he pondered what he might of said to offend her,
the door opened again and Marie-Claire handed him a plastic bag with a
suspicious looking lump in it and then she slammed the door again. As he
walked away to dispose of her gift, he thought he heard soft laughter
coming from behind her door.
As Ray drove them down to the station, he noticed that Fraser was
quieter than usual. "So, Benny, what's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
he quipped trying to get a rise out of Fraser.
Fraser looked up quickly. He hadn't realized how lost in his own
thoughts he had been. "I'm sorry Ray, I was just thinking about," he
paused. "about" he paused again.
"About what?" Ray said impatiently.
"About last night and Ms. Dempsey" he said with an air of puzzlement.
"OOOh" Ray said excitedly. "You got something going on with your
new neighbor now? Benny, I'm surprised."
"No, no" Fraser corrected quickly. "Late last night there was a
noise in the alley and there were two people arguing, but by the time I got
there they were gone, and all that was left was the bag."
"Ah, I can see why you're upset - Late night Littering - Your
neighborhood is really going downhill now Fraser" Ray joked. "So how's
your neighbor involved?"
"She came out to see what was going on as well. And she was actually
quite polite and pleasant when she took the cat."
"Wait, a minute, what cat?" Ray inquired. Ray was getting the
feeling that he was missing key parts of the story, which was something
quite unusual for Fraser to do. Something must really be bothering him he
thought.
"The cat that was in the bag of course." Fraser answered.
"Of course." Ray said while throwing his hands in the air. This
story seemed to be going nowhere fast.
"And who let the cat OUT of the bag?" he demanded and then decided
it was time to get the facts and stop waiting for Fraser to bring them up
he decided. Facts about the neighbor for example. "So she's not slamming
doors anymore huh?" Ray somewhat dejectedly spoke. He should have known
it was only a matter of time before this new woman was throwing herself at
the Mountie like all the others.
"Yes, well no."
"Which is it Fraser?" Ray impatiently inquired.
"Well last night, Ms. Dempsey was quite pleasant to speak with and
she took the cat graciously, however this morning when I stopped by to
check on how she and the new cat were doing, she slammed the door in my
face.
And then she opened it to give me the dead rat. And then she
slammed it again. I don't understand why there was such a change in her
behavior this morning from last night." Fraser sounded understandably
bewildered.
"A dead RAT?" Ray chuckled. The more he heard about Marie-Claire
the more he liked her. That lady had spunk. "Benny, the reason why she
didn't slam a door in your face last night was because there wasn't a door
available in the middle of the alley."
At Ray's comment, Fraser looked crestfallen. Why does he care what
this lady thinks Ray wondered. Ray answered his own mind's question.
Because he cares, because he ALWAYS cares. Ray felt badly about his remark
and tried to turn the conversation to something lighter. "So, what's the
cat's name?"
"I don't know." Fraser replied and then he laughed.
Ray joined in the laughter and said "Oh, no not this again!" "So
how do you propose we find out" he said with a smile.
The dog sniffed aimlessly at the various trees and garbage cans,
fascinated by the multitude of smells.
The moon was caught up in the branches of one of the trees in the
park and gave a faintly unearthy glow which made it feel as if the whole
world was midnight.
The litter on the freshly cut grass blew here and there as the
invisible hand of the breeze ruffled the ground.
The dog's ears pricked up sharply and it sniffed the air, aware of
an unfamiliar scent in the air. Its eyes scanned the darkness.
It could hear the sound of animals complaining, cats mewling and
dogs barking, yet the sound was muffled.
Very curiously it pottered around the corner, guided by sound and
scent. The little dog encountered the Cat with his majestic bearing and
tattered ear. The two studied each other warily and there was a hint of
warning in the cat's gleaming eyes. The sound of the protesting animals
came closer and the dog hesitated, not sure if to run and humiliate itself
before the dignified feline or to stay and risk the consequences of the
unknown.
It was a showdown of wills and the cat's stood perfectly still,
staring implacbly into the interloper's puzzled eyes.
Eventually the little dog made a low bark and ran away into the
darkness. There was a brief moment of triumph for the Neighbourhood Cat
with his tattered ear and battered appearance. He tasted the victory,
knowing full well it was to be a brief moment of pleasure which would soon
turn to ashes.
He knew what his pride had cost him as a bag was pulled over his
head and he was enshrouded in terrifying, suffocating blackness.
"Haven't we got enough for tonight?" a voice demanded nervously.
"We never have enough." another man retorted angrily,"Quit being so
jumpy, Doug, you're getting on my nerves. You almost let that cat get
away."
"He wasn't going anywhere," the first voice said defensively,"It
was like he was waiting for us to get him."
"You're getting paranoid - they're just animals." He swore briefly
as one of the Alsatians he had bagged bit him. He kicked the dog, hearing
it yelp in agony with a smile of cruel satisfaction. "That's right, be a
nasty boy - all the better." he said putting the bag in the back of the
truck.
The truck drove away into the darkness and the Neighbourhood Cat
was jostled around in his prison of shadows and curled tighter, cursing his
pride.
Marie-Claire was walking by herself towards Dave's Check It Out
Late Convenience Store wishing not for the first time that she was one of
those organised people who had a shopping list prepared, rather than having
to duck back and forth to collect items she hadn't remembered the last
time.
She walked through the doors and stared at the man standing behind
the counter. At first glance, she had thought that it was someone else,
but looked again, and saw that it was Dave. He still looked blond and
thin, but now he had a bandanna tied around his head, his jaw was stubbled
and he wore a khaki green shirt tucked into faded blue jeans.
A studded belt was around his waist and he was scowling menacingly
at everyone, including Marie-Claire.
"Who are you?" he demanded rudely. Before she could answer he
spoke again. "You must be Marie-Claire," Dave/Bob said roughly, his voice
harsh and altered. His eyes squinted at her. "Dave's told me about you."
He said gruffly, nodding with his version of friendliness.
"Umm, yes.....I'm Marie-Claire," she said hesitantly. "And you
must be...Bob?" she wondered aloud, unable to believe that she was playing
along with him. She tried to remember her highschool psychology and
whether she had ever learned anything about whether it was safe to humour
an imbalanced individual.
She found her hand being seized in a strong grip and pumped up and
down energetically,"That I am, and you're a sweet young thing for all your
funny walk. Dave says that you've been hanging out with that kid Willie,
and Constable Fraser's dog."
"Wolf." Marie-Claire corrected, glad to be able to talk about
something which was anchored to reality. "Dief's a wolf."
Bob nodded judiciously,"What do you want?"
Marie-Claire blinked at him, thinking in terms of metaphysical
desires and aspirations, long-term goals and ambitions. Then she realised
he was referring to her shopping.
"Oh.....I was trying to bake a cake," she said with a tentative
smile,"And I'd beaten the eggs, but I've got no flour."
Bob walked with her as she went to get the flour and regaled her
with stories about his grand and glorious past in the merchant marines.
"Constable Fraser!" Bob called out with something akin to affection
in his rough voice. "It's been a while."
"That it has," Ben said, shaking hands politely with the
shopkeeper. "It's good to see you Sergeant Bailey. Good evening Ms
Dempsey," he said courteously to Marie-Claire who nodded coolly.
"I was wondering whether you'd seen this animal?"
He held up a photograph of Steve's cat Megadeath.
Bob squinted at it. "Can't say as I have."
"What about this one?" Ben asked, holding up a picture of a
rottweiler cross.
"Nope. Sorry." Bob said apologetically. Ben sighed.
"There's been a spate of disappearances in the neighbourhood. They
vanish without a trace. It's very perplexing. I've checked the local
pound, pet stores and gone door to door. No one's seen or heard anything."
"Is this why you were standing in your pyjamas in the alley the
other night?" Marie-Claire inquired against her will.
Ben turned to her and nodded,"That is correct. Unusual sounds
awoke me from my sleep. Unfortunately my arrival caused the unidentified
persons to vanish into the night, leaving behind no trace except for your
cat, and the bag - which I'm currently having analysed by the lab."
Bob closed one eye reflectively, rubbed his stubbled jaw and
said,"This reminds me of when I was in Bangkok, missing animals - they
turned up again mysteriously in the restaurant next door." he said and
Marie-Claire looked extremely displeased,
"I hope you won't go around repeating that tale, Bob."
Bob shrugged,"War is hell. Constable Fraser, did I ever tell you
about the time when I was stranded with my men in the middle of a........."
His voice trailed away as the two men walked back towards the counter and
Marie-Claire was left alone.
Before she could step outside there was a deafeaningly loud clap of
thunder, the heavens opened and the rain pelted down.
Her jaw dropped incredulously and she turned and looked over at Bob
who was engaged in deep conversation with Fraser.
"Do you have an umbrella, Ms Dempsey?" Fraser inquired of her and
she shook her head, still looking outside where the rain was bucketing down
in thick sheets.
"The weather report said it would be a beautiful fine day." she
said to Bob who shook his head and scowled menacingly,
"Weather reports? You believe those liars? They're tricksters -
all of them. Government-employed meteorologists - it's a conspiracy!
Pulling the wool over the eyes of the masses, mark my words, the CIA's
behind......" she tuned out his words as she sighed and walked over to the
aisle which sold umbrellas.
She picked a neat little black umbrella and paid for her purchases,
stepping outside and sighing a little.
Fraser was standing beside her with his own umbrella aloft,
effectively protecting his immaculate uniform from the rain.
She didn't want to ask, but found that she just had to ask,"How did
you know he was Bob today, mountie?"
"This morning, on my way to work, I encountered Mr Nielsen's
youngest daughter Gretchen who informed me that she had seen Bob taking out
the garbage." He omitted to mention that Gretchen had also fluttered her
long lashes at him in a way he found most disconcerting.
Marie-Claire shook her head,"This place cannot be real." she
stepped off the curb awkwardly, sinking up to her ankles in water. She
grimaced and continued to walk through the water.
"Ms Dempsey, would you allow me to carry you groceries for......."
"Maybe it's a publicity stunt?" Marie-Claire thought aloud,"Small
store - needs a gimmick, what better than a shop-keeper with a
dual-personality.....but then.....advertising would be less of an effort."
she thought, her brow puckering as she sloshed unheedingly through the
thick puddles.
The umbrella was useless, she decided, folding it up and just
letting the rain sluice over her as she walked down the street back to her
apartment.
"Ms Dempsey - you're getting wet." Fraser pointed out.
Marie-Claire turned around, the rain had plastered her hair to her
head and her clothes were absolutely soaked. She was grinning broadly, it
was the first time Fraser had seen her look so happy and she shook her
head, "You mounties are so observant." she commented and walked away
humming 'Singing in the Rain' beneath her breath.
Fraser decided that he would never understand women.
"Make sure you get out of those wet clothes! You wouldn't want to
catch a chill!" he called out after her.
She turned around, her face still alight with laughter and
delight,"I love the rain, actually." she told him and walked away.
"What have we here?" Fraser asked with interest when he and Ray
walked through the door and found Wille and Dief staring at cake slices on
the table.
Ray reached out for a piece.
"No, no, no NO!!!!!" Willie called out.
Ray dropped the slice of cake in shock.
"What is WITH you, kid?" Ray demanded in exasperation.
"Marie-Claire made it." Willie said in tones of considerable
horror. Dief barked in agreement.
"Come now, Willie, I'm sure that Ms Dempsey's cooking is perfectly
fine. You must be exaggerating." Ben picked up a piece and despite Willie
and Dief's combined warning, he took a bite and chewed.
A very peculiar expression crossed his face.
He looked around desperately for the garbage bin.
"Spit it into your hat." Ray advised helpfully.
Ben crossed to the garbage and spat it out, wiping his mouth with
his handkerchief and returned to the table, looking slightly perturbed.
"You were right Willie."
"Now I'm REALLY curious." Ray said and took a bite despite the
expressions of horror from the other three occupants in the room.
They watched in fascination as Ray choked, turned a very peculiar
colour, gagged and spat the cake into his hand.
"Benny."
"Yes Ray?"
"You know how you told me she gave you a dead rat?"
"Yes Ray."
"I know how it died."
"I don't think so Ray."
"She must really hate you, Benny." Ray remarked.
"What makes you say that?" Ben asked.
"She's trying to poison you. Why else would she give you this cake?"
Willie looked guilty,"Actually, she gave it to Dief and me - she
made the cake for us. I couldn't say no. It would hurt her feelings."
Ben nodded,"Quite right, you can never insult someone's cooking. It
would be an unpardonable social solecism."
"Maybe I'll arrest her for manufacturing prohibited substances."
Ray joked.
The four of them stood around the table staring at the cake. "What
are we going to do with it, Fraser? Dief almost died when he ate it."
"So did I." Ben agreed, as he frowned over the problem.
"Rat poison?" Ray suggested.
"You're being rude, Ray."
"Hey, you tasted it."
Willie headed for the door.
"Willie - you left your cake behind." Fraser pointed out.
"That was the whole intention, Fraser." Willie told him.
"The kid's smart." Ray said approvingly.
"See you tomorrow Fraser." Willie said and the door closed behind him.
"What am I going to do with it, Ray?" Ben asked, staring down at
the revolting cake.
"I don't know, Benny, I don't know."
While Ben and Ray debated what to do with the cake without
inadvertantly breaching world environmental guidelines for the disposal of
toxic waste, Marie-Claire tossed her wet clothes into the basket. It was
really raining cats and dogs out there, she thought. Why hadn't she paid
more attention at the convenience store? Maybe those rumors about Dave and
Bob were true. She resolved to pay closer attention in the future.
As she precariously balanced the basket on one hip while locking the
door with her free hand, she heard a familiar voice behind her ask
"Can I help you with that ma'am?".
"No!" she quickly stated. As she turned to go down the stairs, she
irritably noticed her mountie neighbor still looked as fresh as a spring
day in his dress uniform, not at all touched by the seeming monsoon
outside. Marie-Claire hurriedly brushed past him and headed off towards
the laundry room.
As Marie-Claire entered the laundry room, she saw a familiar figure
perched on top of one of the washers. "Hi Elena!" she called out. "Did
you get caught in the rain as well?"
"No, I saw Bob this morning and put my umbrella back in my backpack.
Though with the way its been raining, a rainsuit and hip waders would have
probably worked better." Elena replied. "How are you doing today,
Marie-Claire?" the nurse inquired.
"Except for leaving all my laundry outside to air dry this afternoon?
Just wonderful." she stated sarcastically.
As Marie-Claire moved forward to put her clothes in the dryer, she
noticed something in Elena's lap. "What's that?" she wondered out loud.
"It's a baby quilt for Mrs. Nyugen. It's a Celtic Knot appliqu
pattern. I keep telling her that she's got to carry this baby full term or
else she doesn't get the quilt."
"How is she doing?"
"She's doing quite well, all things considered. She's still pretty
stressed out about that awful graffiti spray painted on their door last
weekend." Elena shook her head and lowered her hands. "Some people can be
so hateful!" she said with a strong southern drawl.
"I hadn't heard anything about that. I've been working some crazy
hours recently. What happened?" Marie-Claire asked.
"Well sometime Saturday night, someone spraypainted their door with
messages about them eating dogs and cats. And it looked like they splashed
red paint on their doorway. And on the wall across from their apartment,
someone wrote 'Good Morning Vietnam, Go back while you still can!'"
"How awful!" she responded, "Do the police know who did it?"
"If they do, they're not saying" Elena replied testily. "I'm sorry,
I'm not angry with you." she apologized. "I just can't imagine having to
live in fear like they do. Today it's just words on a wall. What will
tomorrow bring?"
There was a silence as both women pondered the Nyugen's situation.
The buzzer of the dryer interrupted their thoughts and the silence.
Elena walked over to the dryer and drew out one of the towels. "Looks
like they're done" she exclaimed. "With as much laundry as I seem to be
doing, perhaps I should quit my day job and go professional" she joked
with Marie-Claire.
"You know, I come here pretty often. I could just throw the Nguyen's
laundry in with mine and save you a trip over here."
"That's very sweet of you, Marie-Claire, I'll mention it to Mrs.
Nguyen?" Elena said with a smile.
The petite nurse began to fold the clothes and towels on the washing
machine next to Marie-Claire. As she finished, she turned to Marie-Claire
and said "A friend of mine, Mike, a physical therapist, is coming over to
the clinic tomorrow to demonstrate proper body mechanics for our home
health aides. I was wondering if you would like to stop by around lunch
time. Mike may have a few suggestions for you for your leg."
"I'll think about it," she said out loud while thinking; sure, when
hell freezes over.
"Ok, I'll catch you later."
BEING NEIGHBORLY: PART E
A thick cloud of smoke hung in the remains of what was passing for
air. This, combined with the smell of stale beer served to drive out any
remaining oxygen in the small warehouse.
Darkness was the order of the day, windows boarded up so that no
one could see out, or in. For the group of men gathered around a small
fenced in pen at the heart of the building, conditions were perfect.
The men themselves were an interesting group. Several books had
been written about men such as these, most notably "A Case History of the
Criminal Mind". Each one made an effort to be both part of the proceedings
and yet anonymous in the shadows. All had money. Great wads of cash in
hand, wallet, or pocket. Each had come to part with a small amount in
hopes of making a larger one. All of them spoke in low whispers, casting
their chances against how much they could afford to lose. And likewise,
all were prepared to run like a pack of roaches the moment after the light
comes on.
Abruptly a hush fell over them as a short, sweaty faced man
approached the ring. The light of a single, bare bulb shone on his
thinning hair.
"Gentlemen," an oily voice escaped his thin lips, "Please conclude
your wagering. The next bout begins in..."a glance at a cheap pocket
watch,"...two minutes."
At this the other men in the room began to separate and take up
positions from which to watch the fight. The old pros not needing to
finish betting, the new ones too ashamed to do so.
Two medium sized cages were rolled out onto the floor next to the
ring. Everyone could see the two animals kept within. Once both fine
examples of their species, the two dogs had been half starved and beaten to
make them ferocious. They fought and scratched to be released anytime
anyone came for a closer look. Hatred had been introduced. Hatred for
man, hatred for the other, and hatred for themselves.
The openings of the cages were placed against similar openings in
the fence surrounding the ring. Ropes were run through pulleys and
attached to hooks above the doors of the cages.
"Gentleman, it is time." Oily Voice again. "Stop your bets,
please." He waited a moment for silence to fall, then, when all was quiet,
he quickly stepped aside and gave a nod to the two men at each rope.
A swift downward pull brought the doors of both cages up and
released the animals into the ring. They stood transfixed in their cages,
unwilling to trust to their apparent release. Then the Black Lab on the
left cautiously came forward. Soon he was followed by the German Shepherd
on the far side. Both sniffed the air and stood eyeing their surroundings
and each other.
Something landed with a wet slap in the center of the ring.
Immediately their attention was fixed on the first food either had seen in
a week. It was a the limb body of a dead stray cat which had been captured
in the streets. A quick sniff and both dogs were at it in seconds. The
desired effect was achieved and they were quickly attacking each other in
an effort to gain possession.
It ended quickly. The Shepherds more powerful jaws locked onto the
Labs throat and held. No amount of clawing and scratching would help. The
Lab quickly lost the ability to even whimper over its fate as its throat
was torn out. Yet the Shepherd still hung on until, at last, he was
covered in blood and the Lab lay dead at his feet. The Shepherd licked its
lips and began a gruesome feast.
And money changed hands.
The tiny terrier quivered with fright, its heart pounding
frantically as it cowered in the corner. It could taste fear in the air,
taste it and smell the savagery which pervaded the entire room.
One moment he had been wandering through the garbage of the streets,
the next moment he had found himself in a strange environment surrounded by
other dogs and cats. There was panic in the air, similar to the panic at a
slaughteryard or the pound when the executions were taking place. Animals
always knew when they were going to die.
The barking was getting closer and the dog's large eyes glanced
around frantically, his muzzle twitching as he looked in vain for an escape
route.
The lame cat cowered against him, the two of them shrinking back in
fear.
"Go on! there they are!" one of the men called out as he let the
leash on one of the vicious dogs go slack.
The pack made a sound of exultation and dove at the small, helpless
cat who trembled.
Within seconds, the little animal was torn to pieces, its hot, rusty
blood further enraging the savage dogs who demanded more.
The tiny terrier despite its scratches and injuries managed to creep
away while the dogs were savaging their prey.
Mrs. Gonzalez was frantically searching for her son Pedro Carlos
Gonzalez III. Pedro II was adamant that his son be named after him as he
was named after his father. The only problem was Pedro II disappeared
shortly after the birth of his son leaving Mrs. G. to wonder why was it so
important for him to have a namesake in the first place.
Pedro III or Pete as he liked to be called was 14 and absolutely
crazy about animals. He would spend hours at Lincoln Park Zoo walking
around, talking to the keepers and drawing the animals. He would joke that
because they lived so far from the zoo it took him a bus, an El, 2 cabs and
a helicopter drop to get him there.
On this particular day though, Pete was 3 hours late getting home
from school and Mrs. G was in a panic. He had been late before but never
like this. Hence, she searched every square inch of the route he took to
and from school. No one had seen him after he had left for the day. It
would be dark soon, Mrs G. thought anxiously. "I must find him before dark."
she said to herself.
Pete had left school on time. Another uneventful day. It was a long
and boring walk home and Pete had discovered that if he took a short cut
through the alleys he could save himself about 10 minutes. The downside of
this was that if his mom ever discovered that he was using the alleys she
would kill him. He took the chance anyway - she was at work how could she
possibly find him out?
As he progressed down the alley lost in thought, he suddenly
realised that while ambling along in his own private world, he had managed
to wander into an unfamiliar area. He glanced around curiously, not
particularly concerned at his predicament, regarding it as something of an
adventure which would lift the day above the humdrum.
The place was rundown, deserted with cracks in the old buildings.
Suddenly, he heard a cry or whimper. Pete stopped immediately, the sound of
an animal in need always made him alert and he listened closely. It was
coming from an abandoned building just a few metres away. Pete approached
the building and pushed open the door. The whimpering was definitely coming
from inside.
"Great." said Pete to himself. He made the usual noises people made
when they wanted an animal to come but to no avail. Reluctantly he took a
few steps inside. It was much darker than he imagined it would be during
the day and it smelled peculiar and a prickle of discomfort shivered across
his skin.
The whimpering was much louder now and seemed to be coming from the
direction of the staircase located to his right.
"That's not too far," Pete thought to himself. So he headed in the
direction of the sound. As he approached the staircase the crying became
more intense almost a panic and his heart pounded.
He looked under the stairs and what he saw gave him a start. At
first Pete couldn't tell if it was a cat or a dog. The animal was dirty and
bleeding. It was missing clumps of fur from various parts of its body.
Pete moved in closer talking in a low voice in the vain hope of
calming the poor animal. As he got closer it tried to disappear into the
wall trying to get away from Pete. At this distance Pete could tell it was
a small dog. Seeing that his presence was not helping he decided to
withdraw and see if he could find someone to help.
As he turned to go he heard voices coming from somewhere above him.
Then a door opened and he could hear the voices very clearly.
"Get someone to find out where that noise is coming from and make it
stop. OK.? We don't need someone wandering in here snooping around." Pete
didn't waste any time looking for a spot to hide. He knew that whoever
belonged to that voice would not understand that he only wanted to help the
dog.
He glanced around and saw a stack of barrels. "Perfect" he said to
himself and made tracks. above. A man came out of the office and started
down the stairs. The light from the office had the effect of a spot light
on the staircase and the area directly below. In this light Pete could see
that the man had a gun in his hand. As the man reached midpoint on the
stairs the little dog darted from his hiding place and made a bee-line for
the door that Pete had left open.
"Hey! What the..." the man yelled as he now ran down the remaining
stairs and headed towards the open door. Pete's racing heart fell to his
feet - or felt as if it did. For a panicked moment, he feared that the man
would pursue the little dog; but to his momentary relief he did not. Instead
he spun around and stood very still peering into the darkness.
It was at this moment Pete realised his mistake and the gravity of
the situation. The man was no longer after the dog, now he was hunting an
uninvited guest - Pete. He held his breath and wished that his heart would
not beat quite so loud. Waiting in the shadows Pete promised God in a
fervent fashion a grocery list of things he would do and not do if HE would
just get him out of this predicament alive.
"Jack! Get down here!" the man yelled. A figure appeared on the
stairs a moment later,
"Yeah, what? Lost your doggie?" he demanded sarcastically.
"Get down here!" the man with the gun demanded angrily. Jack
proceeded down the stairs and towards the door in a leisurely fashion.
"What's the matter Denny?" Jack asked.
"Who brought the supplies in today Jack?"
"I did Denny. You let me in, remember?" Jack told Denny in an
insolent manner.
"That's right." Denny said in a condescending tone which oozed
menace. "So Jack, that means YOU were the last one in-correct?"
Fear began to creep into Jack's previously flippant voice as he
answered,
"Yeah-I guess so." his voice quavered slightly, no longer so calm.
Without warning, Denny grabbed Jack by the jacket and shook him,
"Good. Then you can tell me why this door is open."
"I-I-I don't know" Jack stammered, all his bravado well and truly
vanished.
With this, Denny shook Jack even harder. "YOU DON'T KNOW? I DON'T
WANT-I DON'T KNOW!"
"OK, OK - I had my hands full and I kicked it shut. I meant to come
back and bolt it. I guess I forgot. I'm sorry." Jack rambled nervously.
"It won't happen again."
Denny glared at Jack "I want you to search this place and make sure
nobody got in. UNDERSTAND!" Jack nodded obediently. "You know Jack, if the
cops find this place you're goin' back to jail. This is a definite violation
of your parole. Remember jail Jack? The boys would be very glad to see you
again."
"Y-Yes Denny, I understand." quavered Jack, a nervous twitch in his
jaw making its presence known. Denny released him contemptuously.
"Start with the pens and be sure they're all locked down. Tonight's
the big night. A LOT of money is riding on those dogs. OK, that terrier
that got loose after its fight yesterday, not only lived through the damned
night but beat - feet or should I say paws, out of YOUR open door. I'm gonna
go and find him and practice my very own version of euthanasia before
someone finds him and starts wondering how he got so chewed up. Get Ralph
down here to watch the door. I'll be right back. I doubt he made it very
far in his condition." With that Denny headed out the door. Jack called
Ralph and then went upstairs to carry-out Dennys' orders.
Pete sat as still as he could. Trying to comprehend all he had
heard and hoping he could find a way out before anyone discovered he was
there. Pete checked his watch "damn" he was already more than a half and
hour late and it didn't look like he was going anywhere anytime soon
either. Twenty mins. later Denny returned in an even worse mood than when
he left. His hunting trip was unsuccessful. "At least one of us got a way."
Pete thought. As Denny bolted the door,
that anyone came early and that the spectators would start arriving in
about an hour.
"Great! another hour with no chance of escape. Mom is gonna KILL ME!
If these guy don't do it first" Pete thought as a chill ran through his
body.
The time passed with agonising slowness but eventually people
started to show up. Disreputable men with faces only mothers could love -
and even then only at a great distance.
Ralph and another man who was built like one a WWF wrestler, let the
visitors in one by one after they had frisked them and confiscated anything
that could be used as a weapon and issued a claim check of some sort to each
person.
Despite being a boy of the television age, Pete had never seen so
many guns and knives in all of his young life in such a short period of
time. By 7:00pm the unwashed assemblage had proceeded upstairs and the door
was bolted.
It was dark outside and he was in no doubt that his poor mother
would think that he was probably dead.
"Well," he thought "I will be once I get home." Pete made a
decision to wait a little longer to ensure the coast was clear before making
a break for it. As he waited he could hear the men laughing and shouting
and he could smell the acrid smell of cigarettes and cigars.
Suddenly there was a great deal of cheering from rough throats and
clapping from callused hands. It sounded as though an announcement of some
sort was being made. Pete had been on the verge of making a run for it when
he heard the most frightening sound he had ever heard.
It was the sound of wild animals - growls, snarls, yelps and what
sounded like high pitched screams echoed throughout the building in an eerie
and pitiful fashion. It was only then that Pete realised that the men were
having the dogs he heard them talking about earlier, fight each other.
He felt sickened beyond belief. He knew with a grim certainty that
he had to make a break for it now while a fight was going on and all the
noise would muffle the sound of the bolts on the door being drawn back.
Pete made his move. The bolts were rusty and he had a hard time
pulling them back. It didn't help that he was in a panic. After what seemed
an eternity, the last of the bolts slid back and he was able to open the
door.
Once outside, he ran as fast as he could out of the alley and to the
main street. With tears streaming down his face he ran as fast as he could
towards his home, losing his way several times so blinded was he by panic
and tears.
Once he paused and looked around anxiously, certain that he was
being followed. "Who is it?" he demanded nervously and he stared in
astonishment as he saw the little terrier limp out from behind a garbage can
and look at him with large, panicked eyes.
Glancing around frantically, Pete hastily scooped the wounded animal
up into his arms and started to run again.
Two blocks from his house he stopped to catch his ragged breath and
that was when he saw his alarmed mother. She stopped and stared at him as
if she was seeing a ghost. Then ran to him and engulfed him in the best hug
he could remember.
"Be care of the dog mom." he said breathlessly as the little terrier
made a faint sound of protest.
Both were crying as they walked the last 2 blocks home. Once at
home Pete told his mother everything that he had witnessed, the little dog
shivering on the rug as it made a feeble attempt to lap at some milk.
Mrs Gonzales' reaction was unexpected. She was calm but quietly
furious. Not angry at Pete (as he had been certain she would be) but angry
at what the world was coming to.
"You will have to report this to the police, Pete."
This did not make him a happy camper. All he could think of was one
of those shows on TV where the friends of the bad guys come to wreak havoc
on the unfortunate informer and his family for the rest of his very short
life.
His mom understood. She suggested that perhaps that nice Mountie
that lived in the neighbourhood might be able to help. Pete reluctantly
agreed to that as he stroked the terrier's matted fur with a tender hand.
BEING NEIGHBORLY: PART F
Marie-Claire walked up the stairs to Mrs Nguyen's room, her leg
aching and she wondered how the woman managed the rather tortuous stairs at
all.
She knocked on the door firmly, waiting until she heard an accented
voice ask shyly. "Yes? Who is it?"
"My name's Marie-Claire, Elena normally does your laundry and I said
that I might be able to give you a hand." she said through the door. She
heard the unbolting of doors and Marie-Claire saw that Mrs Nguyen was a
tiny, delicate woman with a great swollen belly.
She had long black hair pulled back in a loose pony-tail and she
looked tired and very drained. "This is very kind of you," Mrs Nguyen said
haltingly,
"The nice man in the red - he say he can help me......but....." she
lowered her voice and said in a slightly appalled voice,"he is a man. It
would be very embarrassing to have him washing our underwear."
Marie-Claire's lips twitched but she didn't laugh, because Mrs
Nguyen sounded so very serious. The thought of the very proper mountie
hanging up pantyhose and brassieres to dry made her want to dissolve into
hysterical laughter though.
"I quite understand," she said soothingly.
"Would you like a cup of tea?' Mrs Nguyen asked in her soft voice
and Marie-Claire smiled,
"That would be wonderful - as long as you allow me to make it," she
said using her most charming and persuasive smile. Before Mrs Nguyen quite
knew what was happening to her, she was sitting down in a chair with her
feet up and a cup of tea in her hands.
"And your mother, would she like a cup of tea, too?" Marie-Claire
asked. Mrs Nguyen nodded, momentarily enjoying the luxury of sitting back
and relaxing. Marie-Claire carried the cup of tea into one of the tiny
bedrooms. An old woman with a face like a baked apple looked up at her with
bright, dark eyes and she smiled,
"Would you like some tea?" she asked indicating the cup she held.
The old woman looked at her and a smile creased her face. Marie-Claire
assisted the very light woman into a sitting position and gave her the tea.
She returned to see Mrs Nguyen kneading her temples distractedly.
The room was very neat and tidy, in one corner was a little shrine with
incense sticks burning. Occasionally she heard the hum of mantras at night
and had assumed that they had been at prayer.
The monotonous chanting and rhythmic sounds were an intriguingly
exotic contribution to the sounds of the morning and night.
A window was broken and she saw that paper had been taped over it
and she sat down next to Mrs Nguyen and asked gently,"Elena says you've been
having problems."
"It is nothing." Mrs Nguyen said stubbornly, not wanting to appear
even weaker in front of a stranger and Marie-Claire who understood the
meaning of pride nodded. She went to get the laundry, grinning at the
rather jolly budda who was beaming at her from the ledge.
"I won't be long," she said,"Do you prefer to use the dryer to dry
your clothes, or do you prefer a line?"
"Dave delivered some groceries this morning." Mrs Nguyen said as if
that answered everything.
"Err, so I assume that means - the line?" Marie-Claire clarified and
Mrs Nguyen nodded,
"Will not rain." she said confidently and Marie-Claire tried not to
look sceptical as she left the room carrying the laundry. On the way down
she encountered Mrs Trapp, a rather obnoxious woman with a finger she used
to point. For such a stubby, fat little finger it managed to carry a great
deal of emphasis about it.
"Someone ought to do something about those people." she said
aggressively as Marie-Claire approached her. Marie-Claire set down the
basket of laundry for a moment and straightened, a faintly militant gleam in
her green eyes.
"Oh?" she asked coolly. "And what people might these be?" she
queried. The sausage-like finger waved in her face again,
"Those people, barbarians all of them!" Mrs Trapp told her.
"Chanting all day long, burning things.....those sneaky, slanted eyes....!
They should go back to their own country." Mrs Trapp announced with the air
of someone who believed that she was saying something for the very first
time.
"You must be commended on your very generous and broad-minded
outlook, Mrs Trapp." Marie-Claire said with a great deal of sweetness.
Mrs Trapp narrowed her beady eyes, the finger waved in
Marie-Claire's face again,"It's bleeding hearts that you that will make this
great nation of ours get polluted."
"Sieg Heil." Marie-Claire murmured sotto voce and was about to make
a very provocative remark when a polite voice murmured,
"Actually, cultural diversity is more of a plus than a minus. There
can be nothing more remarkable than seeing many difference cultures living
together in harmony and learning from each other." Mrs Trapp's face
changed with alacrity as the tall uniformed mountie approached them.
"Hello Benton," she cooed,"You must come around for some of my fudge
brownies soon, my daughter Flossie would love to have you come around. Why
not tonight?"
An expression remarkably like panic flickered over Ben's usually
impassive features. "Thank you kindly, ma'am, but I'm afraid that I have
already promised Miss Dempsey here that I would assist her with her
laundry."
A choked sound escaped Marie-Claire's throat but she said nothing.
Benton looked relieved at her silence. Mrs Trapp waved her finger around in
front of Marie-Claire's expressionless face again, an edge in her voice,"A
big girl like you should be able to do her own washing."
"Well, I never can separate the whites from the coloured without
guidance," Marie-Claire murmered,"Laundry's requires such a delicate
balance, you know."
Mrs Trapp looked down at Diefenbaker and patted him on the head as
if he was a poodle. "Nice doggy," she cooed and Dief showed his teeth
menacingly,allowing a growl to escape his throat. Mrs Trapp's smile slipped
slightly. "Oh well, I'll see you soon," she said patting her blue curls with
an air of flirtatiousness. "I just love a man in uniform," she said before
she waddled away in her purple, floral dress.
"Wimp." Marie-Claire murmured as she prepared to pick up her
laundry. He was too fast for her this time and picked up the laundry and
strode downstairs with it.
"Are you referring perchance to my words to Mrs Trapp perhaps?" Ben
asked cautiously.
"You turned down a cosy evening with Flossie and the brownies. I
didn't know Mounties were allowed to lie." she murmured as she made her way
down the stairs, avoiding the handrail. It gave her the most incredibly
painful electric shocks and it drove her crazy.
"Well, the way I see it, it wasn't precisely a lie," he explained.
"I'm curious to know why you didn't disabuse her of the notion immediately."
He had met Flossie Trapp once before. She was as decisive as her
surname and had clung to him with the stubborn tenacity of a limpet. It had
taken him days to wash off the scent of Lulu perfume and the food she had
plied him with had made even his cast-iron stomach rebel.
"I wouldn't wish that old battle-axe even on you, mountie." she told
him and was playing with Dief as they headed to the laundry. Dief was as
sprightly as a puppy and the two of them had obviously played on many
occasions in the past.
"How is your new household addition fairing, if I might be permitted
to ask?" he asked politely.
"Did you want to help me dispose of more dead rats?" Marie-Claire
inquired with arched brows.
"Well, not exactly, I was just making polite conversation." he said
ingenuously.
She took the basket from him, set it down next to the machine,
wincing at the shock she got from the metal and then turned. "Are you aware
that the Nguyens are being harassed?"
"Yes, I apprehended two of the culprits only yesterday, two young
boys with a can of spraypaint."
"And their window has been broken." she said accusingly.
"I'm aware of that that, I'm currently negotiating with the
perpetrator to ensure that he pays for the damage. Cats and dogs are going
missing in this neighbourhood, though."
Marie-Claire's eyes narrowed dangerously and he added hastily,"Not
of course, that there is any connection between their disappearance and
ahh....ummmm."
Marie-Claire pushed him out the door of the laundry, noting absently
that she didn't get a shock from contact. She patted Dief one last time.
"Miss Dempsey, please allow me to expl...." The door slammed
in his face.
Fraser stared at the closed door. "You know Dief, I'm beginning to
think that our neighbour has something against me." Dief barked in agreement
with a decided lack of sympathy in his voice.
Ben and Willie were walking along together in the park. "I aced my
Math test." Willie said proudly and Ben nodded approvingly, "Is this
the same Math test in which you tried to lead a strike?" he inquired.
"Hey Fraser! You're the one who told me about the International
Charter for Human Rights."
"Somehow, I don't think that a Math test can quite be considered a
contravention of the charter, Willie." Ben said a little apologetically.
Willie's lower lip stuck out,"That's what MC said."
"MC?" Ben asked curiously.
"Your neighbour," Willie said impatiently,"Don't you even know her
name."
"I am only slightly acquainted with Miss Dempsey."
"Dief's mad about her. She's crazy about him, too." Willie said as
the wolf panted up to them after having hurtled wildly around the park in
pursuit of imaginary prey.
"From that remark, I may surmise that they're well-acquainted?"
"She comes out walking with us everyday, MC's cool. She even plays
a bitta Snoop Doggy Dog for me, but she reminds me that I should be in bed."
Willie said with a grin.
"Snoop Doggy Dog?" Ben asked, looking confused and Dief made a sound
of disgust. Willie looked equally disgusted,
"Man, don't you know anything, Fraser? I'll bet you've never even
heard of NWA or Ice Cube."
Fraser cleared his throat,"I confess that the names are not familiar
to me."
"Music, Fraser - it's music. Rap, hip hop - that kinda thing."
"Ah, now I see. This is the music which has its origins in the
ghettoes and often expresses anger and notions of black empowerment, am I
right?"
Willie grinned,"I'll bet you've never heard the 'Cop Killer' song."
"Well no, I admit that I have not, although I have heard the Eric
Clapton song 'I shot the sheriff'. I'm more partial to Puccini, myself.
Occasionally a little Mozart and Beethoven - if I'm feeling contemplative
the Chopin nocturnes are always very soothing."
Willie looked frankly disgusted. "Man, you're as bad as MC, she
likes all that fancy stuff as well. Good thing she likes other stuff, too,
though. She says her boss lets her play all kinds of music as long as she
keeps the ratings up."
"I'm afraid you've lost me again." Ben said apologetically.
"She's a DJ, Ben - she works the late shift - on AIR 105." Willie
said with an air of pride,"She says that when I'm on vacation, I can go in
one night and help her out."
"Oh. So that's what she does." Ben said with the air of someone who
has solved a great mystery. "She always comes in late."
"Yeah, she sleeps late, too. She helped me break into your place,
you
know." Willie said looking wicked and Ben looked astonished. "She
broke into my apartment?" Ben asked curiously,"My lock is broken."
"The door was stuck." Willie explained, "MC kicked it in for me."
"And Dief didn't do anything?" he looked at his wolf disapprovingly
and Dief made a sound as if to say -'what did you expect? I like her - did
you really want me to eat her?'
"No of course not," Ben asserted to himself,"Such an act of violence
would have been quite unacceptable, however a warning might have been
appropriate."
Dief snorted and ran off again.
"Mr Nguyen?" Marie-Claire inquired as they all stood in the hall,
queuing for the bathroom.
"Yes - you must be Miss Dempsey." the slender, softly-spoken man
said.
"That's right, it's Marie-Claire actually. How is your wife today?"
"She is better, the baby has been causing her to sleep badly,
though." he said, looking a little worried.
Marie-Claire played with her soap,"Has the window been fixed yet?"
"Oh yes, the man with the big hat brought around the boy who did it-
he has promised to pay us."
"That's great." Marie-Claire said with pleasure. Moving down a few
steps when a damp bather emerged from the steamy bathroom. At this
rate she'd never get a shower tonight. She sighed and decided she'd shower
when she got back from work that night.
Ben lay back in bed, the radio on and playing softly. It was tuned
to AIR105.
He had been listening the previous night when she had been reading
aloud from her favourite metaphysical poets, interspersing her reading with
incongruous selections of music which ranged from Loreena McKennit to Bon
Jovi and Pearl Jam.
"It's late, I've had too much coffee and I'm really wired," he heard
his bad-tempered neighbour's voice murmur.
Without its bad-tempered edge, it was a very pleasant voice.
Unusual, with a hint of a lilt in it at moments. It was a shame she didn't
speak like that all the time.
"According to a......reliable source.....there will be rain tomorrow
so put your umbrellas in your bags folks. In tribute to my overdose on
caffeine, here's Ella with 'Black Coffee'." The music drifted through
the room as Ella's torchy voice made coffee and cigarettes a somewhat
sensual vice rather than the unhealthy, bad habits they were.
After the song, she returned and began a rather droll monologue.
"'Little Women' and 'Good Wives' - great books. But I know like you all
know that they contain one of the worst crimes of the century. I don't know
about you all, but I think it's a great travesty of justice that Jo and
Laurie didn't get married.
Let's face it - they were made for each other. In 'Little Women'
-the relationship was ideal, they had a meeting of minds. Their spirited
temperaments were suited to each other. Don't give me any of this rubbish
about being their incompatible - it's clear that the two of them were the
ideal couple. Tell me what you think."
Ben listened for the next couple of hours as she played music and
handled a spirited talk-back session with a great deal of flair and good
humour.
A university professor called up to expostulate that Louisa May
Alcott was a 'great woman' who had skilfully been able to weave a tale and
find a character like Professor Bhaer who was compatible to Jo's fiery ways.
He accused Marie-Claire of sacrilege and so forth and rather than cutting
him off, she allowed him to ramble on until he had said his piece.
She added further fuel to the fire by adding that she thought that
Amy was
a blonde-headed simp with no function other than to be decorative.
Outraged calls flooded in and she listened patiently to all the replies.
"OK, the lines for the 'I loved Laurie' phone poll are still
open,"she announced later into the evening. "I've got a copy of Louisa May
Alcott's diary here. I wonder whether you were aware that Miss Alcott was a
feminist? She was annoyed that so many girls were writing to her demanding
to know who all the little women married.
There's a rather pithy statement in here about her irritation with
everyone's assumption that it was the inevitable destiny of every woman to
be caught up in the coils of matrimony. She then went on to say that she had
intended Jo to remain a spinster, but that the barrage of mail made that
impossible. Thus, in a spirit of perversity, she married him to the oddest,
funniest little old German professor that she could find."
Marie-Claire paused,"My theory is that she had originally intended
the two of them to be married, but that the nagging made her marry them to
other
people."
The "I Loved Laurie" poll results were announced at the close of the
evening and she concluded the evening somewhat inexplicably with Barry
Mannilow's 'Bandstand Boogie'.
The alley-way was dark as usual and Marie-Claire decided that she
was going to have to go and force Argyle into installing some lighting in
the area. She pondered how she would go about intimidating the oily
landlord.
She pulled her canvas bag higher onto her shoulder when she heard
the sound of shouting and crying. A rock was thrown through a window and a
woman's voice rose hysterically.
Marie-Claire broke into an awkward run, heading up the stairs to see
her neighbour running up the stairs, dressed in jeans and a hastily pulled
on shirt.
"What's happening?" she demanded.
"I think the Nguyen's are getting harassed again." Ben called
over his shoulder as he took the stairs three at a time.
Mrs Nguyen was crying hysterically and Mr Nguyen was frantically
trying to
calm her down as well as tend to old Mrs Nguyen who had suffered a cut to
her forehead.
There were rocks in the room and the smell of burning cloth.
Ben smothered the flames from the homemade fire bomb, his observant gaze
missing nothing, noting that burning cloth had been wrapped around the
stones before they were hurled into the room.
"She's going into labour." Ben announced as Mrs Nguyen crumpled into
his arms.
"I'll call an ambulance." Marie-Claire told him.
"Not enough time, probably" he said curtly. He turned to Dief who was
waiting by the door. "Go get Elena, Dief." he ordered and the wolf vanished
with alacrity.
Marie-Claire was looking a little green. "The baby's coming NOW?"
"Yes." Ben said lifting the sobbing woman into his arms and carrying
her to the bed.
"Boiling water and shoe laces, right?" Marie-Claire said to
herself,"That's what they always want in the movies....."
Marie-Claire stood in the doorway petrified realising exactly how
Prissy had felt in Gone with the wind when she had confessed to a furious
Scarlett O'Hara, "I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies speech"
************
"Go to Mr. Mustafi's and call 911, Miss Dempsey."
"I thought you said that they wouldn't get here in time."
"I said there MAY not be time and even if they arrive after the birth we
still might need them in case there are any complications." Ben said calmly.
"No, no, please don't go." Mrs Nguyen pleaded.
"Mr Nguyen," Ben said to Mr N who was busy trying to calm his
hysterical mother & his wife N down, but failing miserably due to his own
panic
Ben turned towards MC. "Ok, I'll go make the call. I'll need you
to stay here and assist her Marie-Claire."
Marie-Claire turned an even deeper shade of green and was being to
feel a little lightheaded. "Me?" she inquired. "I don't know anything
about childbirth." She looked over at Mrs. Nguyen worriedly.
"You'll be fine and I'll only be gone for a few minutes." he said to
MC. He turned towards Mrs Nguyen. "Have you tried some of the
visualization techniques that Elena showed you yet?"
"No, not yet. I'll try now" Mrs. N. whispered back.
"I will return shortly." the Mountie replied. "Remember to take
deep breaths. Inhaling through the nose and exhaling slowly through your
lips." Ben turned towards the door and then halted and faced MC.
"Please make sure she's taking slow deep breaths and that she doesn't push
yet."
"Not a problem" MC muttered under her breath. The longer Mrs. N
waited to have the baby the better,. she thought. Her stomach felt quesy
just at the mention of "pushing".
BEING NEIGHBORLY: PART G
Ben walked quickly out the door down the hall to make the necessary
calls.
MC found herself alone with Mrs. N to practice deep breathing and
visualisation techniques which strangely enough relaxed her as well.
"Deep breath, exhale," she muttered to herself. "Hmm an epidural
would be nice," she thought to herself for a hysterical moment and then
turned back to Mrs N who was doubling over in another contraction.
"I like Benton......but he is a.......man...." Mrs N whispered to
Marie-Claire, clutching her hand convulsively. "He should not be here when
I am having my baby." she said softly.
"Mrs Nguyen, I understand how you feel." she said haltingly, feeling
a desperate desire to bolt madly for the door shrieking at the top of her
lungs. Her stomach did another flip.
She patted Mrs Nguyen's hand feebly,"Umm, I'll stay with you.....but
you are going to need Constable Fraser's help if your baby comes before the
ambulance or Elena.
"No, no......will be OK.....last time....took many hours before the
baby was ready to be born.
"Really?" Marie-Claire asked lamely, gulping at the thought of a
long labour.
To her overwhelming relief, Elena and Ben walked into the apartment
at that point.
Elena surveyed the chaotic room and Marie-Claire's queasy-looking
face calmly,
"Fortunately I was changing an IV site on one of my other patients
only a few blocks away when Dief virtually dragged me out the door." she
said humorously.
"Thank God you're here." Marie-Claire said in relief.
Elena's professionalism snapped into place immediately.
"What's she doing?" Marie-Claire asked Benton who was rolling up his
sleeves and beginning to scrub his hands and arms.
"She is asking Mrs Nguyen questions to determine if its a false
labour." Ben told her knowledgably.
"Does the pain better with walking?"
"No."
"Is the pain constant or does it go away?"
"Now constant."
"Where is it located?"
Mrs Nguyen pointed to her lower abdomen.
"How long has pain been present?"
"Not sure, was feeling very uncomfortable before bed, but intense
pain only started about 1 hr ago."
"Mrs. Nguyen, I'd like to go ahead and examine you to see how far
along in your labor you are. May I?" inquired the nurse.
Mrs. N rapidly nodded her head and then glanced in the direction
of MC and Ben who were standing in the doorway.
"Constable Fraser, Marie-Claire, would you mind waiting for us in
the kitchen? Let me wash my hands Mrs. Nguyen and I'll be right back."
Elena then proceceeded to lead Ben and MC into the kitchen. "I'll let you
know whether we're having a home birth or not as soon as I can" Elena
said with a smile while drying her hands.
As Elena finished her examination, she said to Mrs. N. "I believe
that you have just started the 2nd phase of labor. You are almost fully
dilated and labours tend to get shorter with each subsequent birth, so
this one may have progressed faster than your last. I think that we'll
have just enough time to get you to the hospital before you give birth.
Let me go let MC and Ben know. Don't forget - deep breaths & no pushing
yet."
Meanwhile in the kitchen, Benton and Marie-Claire were sitting at the
Nguyen's kitchen table anxiously awaiting Elena's report.
"Are you feeling all right, Miss Dempsey?" Ben asked Marie-Claire
who was swallowing hard.
"Just peachy, mountie." Marie-Claire said flatly.
At that moment, Elena walked back into the kitchen. "I'm glad
y'all were here & called me. It looks like though she's just beginning the
second stage of labor, so we have some time before the birth." she spoke
with a faint Southern accent.
"Second stage? Is there anything we can do?" Marie-Claire asked a
little
nervously.
"Someone should keep a lookout for the ambulance. If it comes soon,
Mrs N can deliver at the hospital rather than in her bedroom."
"Dief?" the wolf trotted obediently out the door.
Elena looked over at Benton. "Mrs. Nguyen said something about a
firebomb?" she inquired.
"Yes, apparently there were several thrown into their apartment
tonight." he replied. He smiled and said "I was going to ask her about
them, but then it didn't seem like a good time."
Elena laughed in reply. "You're probably right. The more relaxed
I can keep her the better off she'll be. Have you talked to Mr. Nguyen yet?"
"No, we were waiting to see if you would need assistants." he said.
"Well, I think we have enough time. If things begin to progress a
little faster, I'll be sure to let you know. Let me go back and see how
she's doing. Please let me know when the ambulance arrives."
Ben stood up. "I think I'll go find..." MC cut him off with "Yes,
I'll be ok. You go talk to Mr. Nguyen and I'll check on the other Mrs.
Nguyen. I'll just put some tea on." she said.
Ben started to question, but then thought the better of it and shook
his head with a frown. How hard could making tea be? He was sure it
couldn't turn out like that cake. He walked out of the kitchen still
shaking his head at the memory of that so-called-cake.
As Marie-Claire started the tea, she realized for the first time
that she was alone. The Nguyen's couldn't be responsible for the missing
animals, she knew. Now she had her opportunity to find proof.
There was a sharp bark that prompted quick action from the occupants
of the apartment. Diefenbaker stood in the doorway to the apartment
followed closely by 2 EMT's who were still breathing heavily after the run
up the stairs. One of the EMT's turned to the other and said in between
breaths "Joe, how 'come people having babies never live on the first floor?"
Joe just shook his head as he tried to catch his breath. While the EMT's
were catching their breath in the doorway, Elena came quickly from the
bedroom and began to give them report on Mrs. Nguyen's condition.
Benton and Marie-Claire quickly joined the growing number of people
in the Nguyen's tiny living room. Elena turned to Benton, and said
"Mr. Nguyen and I will ride with her to the hospital in the ambulance.
We'll call Mr. Mustafi to let you know as soon as the baby is born. Thank
you again for your help." Elena then followed the EMT's down the stairs
with Mr. Nguyen.
********
"I'm glad you're here, Ray." Ben said when his friend arrived.
"I don't know what you think I can do, Benny? It sounds like your
normal slum neighbourhood attacks."
"There are dogs and cats going missing around here. At first it was
just strays, and then household pets started to go missing as well." Ray
looked at Ben incredulously.
"Let me get this straight - you called me all the way over here - on
a Saturday night, away from my hot date, to tell me that you want me to
investigate missing cats and dogs? Do I look like Trixie Beldon to you,
Benny?"
"I think we have a serious crime our hands here, Ray." "Benny, this
is the United States, this is Chicago. Maybe in the Yukon a missing dog or
cat is reason to call a state of emergency, but down here, a kidnap, a
murder - now that's a serious crime."
"Ray, I think that Constable Fraser's got a point." Marie-Claire
said as if it killed her to say it. "People are accusing the Nguyens of
killing and eating the animals. And that's impossible."
"Why is that impossible?" Ray demanded.
Ben answered first. "Because they're buddhist, and they're also
vegetarian."
Marie-Claire looked annoyed at having had the wind taken out of her
sails.
"I also took the liberty of going through their garbage." Ben
announced.
Marie-Claire exclaimed indignantly,"I already went through their
garbage!"
Ben looked a bit taken aback. Marie-Claire glared back at him. Ray
looked back and forth between then two of them,"Guys, guys -you two
obviously have a lot in common. So, did you go through the garbage at the
same time or different times? Maybe it's a Canadian bonding thing, you
know, we have tupperware parties, you guys have garbage rifling parties."
"Who told you I was Canadian?" Marie-Claire demanded, bristling in
anger.
"The mountie." Ray said with a grin. Marie-Claire shot him an
expression of intense dislike. "Anyone ever tell you talk too much,
Constable Fraser?"
Ben was profoundly relieved that there was no door handy. "Garbage
Rifling - I see possibilities. Maybe a national holiday, bring your friends,
the whole family can do it. You didn't sniff it, too did you? Benny's big
on smelling things."
"It's called olfactory analysis, Ray."
"It's called Being Disgusting, Benny."
"Could we get back on the topic here?" Marie-Claire demanded
impatiently. "And lower your voices, Mrs Nguyen senior is asleep."
The three of them sat down at the kitchen table. Marie-Claire felt
rumpled in her cardigan and jeans. The mountie managed to look immaculate
even though he must have dressed in a hurry and in the dark.
"There were no bones in the garbage, Ray."
"Oh, do you really think that they would have dumped the cat bones
and the dog bones in the garbage?" Ray demanded.
"There's no way they could have killed and eaten all the animals
that have gone missing."
"What's your theory then? After your wild horse chase, this'll be a
good one."
"I was right in that instance, Ray."
"He made ME go through garbage that time," Ray explained to
Marie-Claire who was beginning to look diverted by the badinage between the
two. "And don't forget the time we went through the garbage so that Fraser
could lick ketchup off iron bars. Yech." He shuddered in remembrance - it
was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.
"Garbage always tells a story, Ray, I've told you that." His blue
eyes were very serious as he spoke. "I found cat food and dog food cans in
the garbage."
"Aha!" Ray exclaimed,"You see? They did do it!"
"Constable Fraser, perhaps over in the Yukon you forgot this, but
PEOPLE also tell a story. I asked the Nguyens about the cans and they told
me that they like to feed the stray animals - it's part of their religion to
be kind to poor dumb animals."
Dief who had been watching intently, yelped reproachfully and
Marie-Claire laughed and apologised. He licked her hand to demonstrate his
forgiveness. "Thank you, Dief." she said hugging him.
Ray sighed,"Okay, okay, I suppose you're going to give me the speech
about cultural stereotypes...."
Ben spoke,"No, I was not. In fact, dog is considered a delicacy by
many Vietnamese people. It is also highly appreciated in certain provinces
of China, namely Guangdong in the South of China where it is possible to
buy....." he trailed off a little lamely at the very chilling expression in
Marie-Claire's eyes. "But in this case, the fact that they Nguyens are
buddhist, clearly rules out any possibility that it could have been them who
ate the animals.
Furthermore, it would be impossible to capture and slaughter so many
creatures and leave no trace whatsoever. The smell and the residue would be
very difficult to eradicate."
"Furthermore," Marie-Claire interrupted,"Mrs Nguyen couldn't even do
her laundry let alone murder an animal! Mrs Nguyen senior is bedridden and
Mr Nguyen's too busy running a restaurant to be able to go around playing
vigilante to a bunch of strays."
"He runs a restaurant?" Ray demanded, sitting up, visions of Cat Dim
Sim and Fried Curried Dog dancing through his head.
"It's a vegetarian restaurant, Ray, the fried rice is excellent, I
highly recommend it." Ben informed him.
"I like the bean curd rolls better." Marie-Claire said under her
breath.
"Too spicy." Ben disagreed.
"If you can't take the heat....."
"Guys, guys!" Ray interrupted again. "We're left without a suspect
then. Who could be doing this? I don't recognise the MO - not that I'm a
big expert on cat and dog napping anyway......hey! this reminds me of
something else.....I remember something like this! A big case - all these
puppy dogs were going missing.....and some sicko bitch was making coats out
of their skins......" Ray frowned in concentration,"Was it a case? Maybe it
was a detective movie......god I hate it when you forget things....."
Ben and Marie-Claire said nothing. Both of them looked very blank
in the midst of Ray's reminiscences. "Guys help me out here - you know the
one I mean? And then they get rescued at the end.....?"
Marie-Claire asked in a strangled voice,"Ray - do you mean '101
Dalmatians'?"
"Yes! Exactly!" Ray exclaimed in heart-felt relief at having
finally remembered,"What was her name again?"
"Cruella De Ville." Ben supplied helpfully.
"It was a Disney movie." Marie-Claire pointed out, trying hard not
to laugh.
Ray looked defensive. "Hey, she could still provide a very useful
profile of a psychopath."
************************
Later that same evening...
"I can't believe they called the baby Fraser." Ray said shaking his
head,"Just imagine this - for the rest of his life, this poor kid will have
people asking him what his first name is. Fraser Nguyen - he's never gonna
to live it down."
"Well if it had been a girl, they were going to call her Elena -
which is a nice name." Marie-Claire pointed out as she made coffee in her
kitchen.
"At least it sounds like a first name. The kid is not going to
thank you or his parents for giving him a name like that."
Fraser had volunteered to make the coffee and she had turned him
down. Fraser and Ray instead stood in the corner and winced in pain as they
saw the heaped tablespoons of instant coffee that Marie-Claire spooned into
the waiting mugs.
Perceval eyed the visitors warily, eager to point out that he was in
charge.
In particular, each time Fraser attempted to take a seat, Perceval
would spring gracefully up on to the destined sitting place and sit there
calmly licking his paws and giving a very contemptuous look at the perplexed
mountie.
Ray accepted the mug of fragrant coffee, took a sip and choked.
"You could clean sinks with this stuff." He expostulated and
Marie-Claire sipped at hers,
"This is pretty weak compared with what we drink at the station,
Ray." she pointed out mildly.
Fraser was drinking his own mug of coffee gamely, not making the
same faces as Ray. He could only be grateful that Marie-Claire didn't offer
them any biscuits or cake.
"I think we need to get the lieutenant's permission to launch an
investigation, Ray." Ben pointed out.
"He's going to laugh us out of the place. Agh - what IS that?" Ray
demanded in revulsion, looking around in an attempt to locate the atrocity.
"It's the Village People - don't you know it?" Marie-Claire inquired
as the music played softly through the speakers.
'' the Village
people sang with considerable joie de vivre and Ray looked revolted.
"Yech." he said, shuddering. "You're lucky you're deaf." he told
Dief who opened a sleepy eyelid momentarily and then closed it again.
"If this goes on much longer - who knows what will happen to the
Nguyens." Benton pointed out. "The case needs to be solved and the real
culprits brought to justice. Only then will the Nguyens' persecutors leave
them in peace."
"True." Marie-Claire mumbled reluctantly into her coffee. "So Ray,
what happened to your hot date?"
"Huh?" Ray demanded in confusion.
"You said that this call had pulled you away from your hot date.
What's her name?"
Ray cleared his throat,"I said that I WOULD have had a hot date if
you guys hadn't called me away." he said meticulously and Marie-Claire
chuckled. Ray changed the subject hastily. "So Benny, did you get any data
back on that bag you had taken to the lab?"
"Not yet, it appears that it wasn't placed high on their list of
priorities." Benton said gravely.
"I wonder why." Ray said sarcastically.
Benton stared at Perceval. The mangey cat glared back. "In fact,
at this present moment in time, Perceval appears to be our only witness and
piece of evidence."
Ray snorted. "Some witness."
**************
The station was as chaotic and crowded as ever with gum-chewing
prostitutes glowering at uniformed officers while the scuffed linoleum
acquired more and more scuffs as the day grew longer. Lieutenant
Welsh was looking harassed in his office.
"Vecchio, you can't seriously expect me to mobilise valuable
resources to chase down dogs and cats........in fact, what is it with you
and animals? Wasn't it horses last time?"
"And if you will remember, sir, we solved the case and those
responsible were apprehended."
Huey and Louis were making dog and cat noises in the corner. "Arf
arf Vecchio - finally finding your soulmates?" Louis demanded with the air
of a Cavalier Wit from the court of King Charles II.
Ray turned to retort but Fraser interceded smoothly and with great
diplomacy, "If you will permit me to speak, sir," he began courteously. "This
case also has another dimension which Detective Vecchio and I both believe
to be of great importance.
The neighbourhood has turned somewhat ugly in its response and there
have been a great many unfounded accusations levelled at the Nguyens, a
Vietnamese family who live in my apartment building. It is quite
possible, sir, that you may have a racial incident on your hands. On
numerous occasions, they have been the victims of harassment and property
damage."
Fraser's eloquence left the lieutenant unmoved, he'd heard so much
of it in the past and he looked at the mountie sceptically. "Don't you have
anything to do? Why are you always playing Robin Hood?" he demanded.
"With all due respect, sir, Robin Hood was an outlaw. I would hope
that I act within the law and with the utmost respect for its strictures. I
believed that the rule of law is a fundamental tenet of our society."
The lieutenant looked impressed despite himself,"Can I borrow that
next time I have to give a speech?" he asked.
"Certainly, sir. I would be honoured."
"Where was I?" the lieutenant demanded as he stared into Fraser's
impassive face. "Oh right - dogs and cats. Vecchio, you and the mountie
are on your own on this one."
"You're forgetting the wolf, sir." Louis pointed out with a smirk on
his smug face. The lieutenant grimaced,"How could I forget the wolf?"
BEING NEIGHBORLY: PART H
Fraser and Ray walked from the office. "Benny, was it strictly
necessary to go into all that rule of law stuff?" Fraser looked faintly
surprised,"Didn't you study jurisprudence at the academy? Jurisprudential
studies are an integral part of RCMP training."
"Benny, didn't anyone tell you that you're just supposed to cram for
the exams and then go onto more important things?"
He waited patiently while accepted a mug of chamomile tea,"Thank you
kindly Hugo," Ben said politely. "The point is that we're left with nothing
again. Where's Marie-Claire?"
"She's waiting outside with Diefenbaker. Dief's presence tends to
somewhat irritate the lieutenant."
"Is she your girlfriend?" Elaine inquired as she materialised from
nowhere.
"I beg your pardon, Elaine?" Fraser inquired.
"The red-haired girl with your wolf out the front," Elaine asked,
indicating with her thumb.
Fraser who had been in the act of raising his mug of tea to his lips
looked horrified. "You mean Miss Dempsey? Oh no, she's my neighbour......"
Elaine looked mollified,"You sure? Ray says she's Canadian." Ray
said impatiently,
"Elaine, not all Canadians are related or going out! Now can you get
your mind back on more important matters. Did you scare anything up on the
records about missing animals?"
"There's nothing between us." Fraser added. He glanced at
Marie-Claire through the windows and she scowled at him. "Nothing at
all." he continued, looking very shaken at Elaine's words.
"Benny, snap out of it. You, too Elaine." he told Elaine who was
looking a little mournful.
"Yeah, animals aren't just going missing in your neighbourhood
Fraser, it's happening all over the place. Come over here and I'll show you
the map."
"Thank you kindly, Elaine."
"Lab results came up with zip on the bag." Ray announced as he and
Fraser walked outside to where Marie-Claire was waiting with Dief.
She was playing a game in which she held out her hand and Dief
snapped at it, biting gently when she was too slow.
"I'd be careful of that if I were you." Ray said, looking a little
apprehensive as the wolf closed his jaws over Marie-Claire's hands gently.
"He wouldn't hurt me," Marie-Claire said in a sickening smoochy
voice to the wolf who looked up at her with adoring eyes.
"He never does that to me, Benny," Ray complained to Ben,"He steals
my donuts and doesn't even say thank you....although he hasn't been stealing
them lately." he said reflectively.
"There's a reason for that," Fraser said unexpansively and
Marie-Claire sniffed.
"What did your boss say, Ray? Are you getting any help on this
one?"
Ray shook his head,"No, he said it's just us - and the wolf." he
said with a grimace.
"That's it." Fraser said suddenly. He looked meaningfully at his
wolf who looked at him balefully, reading his master's mind. "Dief can go
undercover."
"You mean bait." Ray said flatly.
Fraser looked slightly offended,"Of course not. Diefenbaker is a
highly trained animal. Lupuses are extremely intelligent - Dief is
perfectly capable of handling himself in any situation, Ray."
"He's got a point, but how would you feel about being bundled into a
bag?" Marie-Claire inquired, cupping Dief's muzzle in her hands and looking
into his eyes. He made a rather disgruntled sound. "I thought so." she said
in agreement.
Ray threw up his hands,"So you're going to let your wolf walk around
in the street until he gets wolf-napped? Are you out of your
frozen-snow-capped mind?"
"Naturally not, we'll have to do a little more research. We'll be
lying in wait to follow where they take him."
Ray looked at the wolf,"Great, an undercover wolf. You're not
seriously suggesting I put a wire on him, are you?"
"That's just silly, Ray." Ben said absently. "I suggest we find
Willie." Ben said abruptly. Marie-Claire and Ray stared at him.
"What?"
"Willie knows the streets around the apartment very well, he's
naturally inquisitive and notices anything out of the ordinary."
"Oh yeah? So why didn't he say anything before?" Ray demanded
sceptically.
"We didn't ask, Ray, we didn't ask." Ben replied as he strode off.
Ray looked at Marie-Claire. She shrugged. After a moment's hesitation,
they followed.
***************
Willie lounged back negligently in his seat looking pretty pleased
with himself for having three grownups hanging on to his every word.
"Anything out of the ordinary, huh?" Willie demanded, scratching his
head, looking very contemplative - a look which was completely spurious.
"Yeah kid, have you seen anyone bagging cats and dogs?" Ray
demanded. Willie looked rather disdainful of such roughshod interrogation
techniques. Subtlety was required.
"Can I have another milkshake?" he demanded.
"MAY I have another milkshake." Marie-Claire corrected automatically
and she and Fraser signalled for another milkshake at the same time, both
stopping and staring foolishly with their hands in the air.
"That's OK, I want two." Willie said, beaming seraphically. With two
milkshakes ensconced in front of him Willie was happy.
"This is blackmail." Ray grumbled.
"Consider Willie to be a reputable source, Ray." Fraser said
consolingly.
"The kid's robbing us blind." Ray complained.
"So what do you know, Willie?" Marie-Claire invited the young boy
who leaned forward and said in a dramatic whisper.
"There's this kid named Pete."
"And?" Marie-Claire encouraged and Willie paused until he had their
attention.
"He's got this dog that's been cut up pretty bad."
"Ew," Ray exclaimed,"How?"
"He won't say - but I ain't never seen a dog that looked worse than
this dog." Willie announced.
"That's it?" Ray demanded. "You paid two milkshakes and a hamburger
for that?" he demanded indignantly and Ben raised a hand to silence Ray,
"Could we speak to Pete?"
**********************
"I don't know anything." Pete denied bluntly and quailed a little
under the stares of three adults and a wolf.
"What's the dog's name?" Ben asked conversationally, stroking the
Terrier's fur.
"Grunt." Pete said reluctantly."he's mine."
"He looks like he's had it hard for a while."Ray observed.
"I'm taking care of him now."Pete protested."He'll be fine."
"Yes, but the other animals that have been abducted, will
not."Fraser pointed out."We need your help."
Pete took a deep breath, pulling Grunt from Fraser's arms. He
stroked the thin fur on the full pink belly of the contented Terrier. His
face contorted into a mask of panic and anger.
"But you've got to stop them for good."He pointed out.
"We will."Fraser assured."I promise."
"Okay, but I was lost."Pete pointed out.
"Tell me what you saw, what you smelled, leave nothing out."Fraser
toned, his voice lulling and hypnotic. Under Fraser direction, they were
able to garner several key points about his location from Pete.
**************
A few hours later, they went to a coffe shop, mulling over Pete's
crytic descriptions.
"Ray, why have you got that expression on your face?" Marie-Claire
demanded as he glanced at Ray in the coffeeshop.
"Oh now we get the tracking scene." Ray informed Marie-Claire as
Fraser sat there with an abstracted expression on his face.
"The tracking scene?"
"Yeah." Ray told her,"You know - he does a sort of mysterious guru
routine and hey presto! he comes up with the answers."
Marie-Claire munched on the remains of her cake and asked,"Do you
mean like the bit in every episode of the A-team where they make
something?"
Ray frowned. "No, not quite like that. I mean, Benny here doesn't
make nuclear bombs out of fertiliser or soy sauce - but he sort of
hypothesises."
"Hmmm, sounds interesting." Marie-Claire said a little sceptically.
"Does he need special music like the A-team did? you know - like a theme
song?"
"Hey there's a thought," Ray said, looking diverted when Fraser
didn't seem ready to come out of his contemplations yet. "Benny - do you
want to us to sing for you until decide to rejoin us?"
"Pete said that it was a large building with many occupants - and
large barrels. Also he was trying to take a shortcut from his school back
home via the back alleys." Fraser thought aloud.
Fraser turned to the waitress who was hovering at his elbow
attentively,"Excuse me, miss."
"More coffee?" she asked hopefully.
"I was wondering whether you might happen to have a map of the area
around here somewhere?"
The young girl looked at Fraser with wide eyes. "Ummm, a map?" she
wondered aloud,"I'll go and check out back."
In the meanwhile, Marie-Claire ordered another round of coffee.
"Well at least we know why the animals are being stolen now." She
said sipping her coffee.
"Yeah the Animal Liberationists are going to wanna know about this
one." Ray said grimly. "The gall of that? stealing people's pooches out
of their homes!"
"Well I'm glad that the Nguyens will finally be exonerated - I
think I'll go and spike Mrs Trapp's blue hair dye." Marie-Claire said
judiciously.
"Ewww, so vicious." Ray said with a grin and turned to where Ben
was frowning over the maps.
Ray peeked at the page. "Hey no way,' he pointed out. "The kid's
school is here, he must have really wandered out of his way in order to get
home."
"There IS an industrial area here, though Ray." Fraser pointed out.
"Who's to say how far off track Pete might have wandered."
Marie-Claire suggested.
"Still," Ray pointed out practically,"Look how many factories are
here - there's dozens of them. How are we going to find our way there?"
Fraser folded up the map and thanked the waitress courteously.
"That would be our best lead at this point then."Fraser stood, taking a few
bills of Canadian money from his wallet. Ray snorted in disguist, slapping
at his hand.
"I'll get it."Ray grumbled. Marie-Clare looked at Ray, then up to
Fraser's handsome face.
"You know, in the interest of promoting better country relations, you
should start carring American currency."Marie-Clare chided the tall
mountie. Fraser's eyebrows rose into his hat band, and a flush crept slowly
upwards from his collar.
"I..You, of course, are correct."Fraser tucked the money back inside his
wallet. Ray stared at Benny, then back to Marie-Clare.
He rose and headed to the car.
"How come you always know the right thing to say?"Ray whispered, his
breath soft against her ear, and her nose was tickled by the masculian
touch of Polo. Marie-Clare flushed, ducking her head.
Opening the shop door, Ray and Marie-Claire looked at each other
and started humming the tune to the A-team as they followed Fraser out to
the Riv where Dief was waiting impatiently.
. "Let us consider what information we have - little as it is,"
Fraser told them. "The venue would, by necessity, need to be sufficiently
large to house all the spectators and the animals themselves.
Now large-scale dog-fights would be very conspicuous by their noise
and the stench of dying animals - hence, it would need to be one of the
most remote factories or warehouses."
Ray frowned,"That still leaves us with about half a dozen places on
the edge of town it could be."
"Disposal of bodies." Marie-Claire said from the back where she was
playing with Dief. "Could you pass me a pencil and paper?" she asked and
Fraser obliged.
"Miss Dempsey is right." Fraser pointed out. "Consider the
magnitude of this operation. What do they do with the dead animals after
the fights?"
"Bury them?"
"The industrial area on the edge of town is a concrete jungle, Ray
- it's not feasible for them to bury all the animals."
"Incinerators." Marie-Claire suggested,"We look for a place with an
incinerator?"
"Good guess." Fraser nodded. "But you must remember that the
factories on the outskirts of the area are largely abandoned. To have a
working incinerator would call undue attention to the operation."
Ray frowned.
"The barrels." Marie-Claire exclaimed as she wrote furiously in her
notebook.
"What about the barrels?" Ray demanded,"Soap, wine - what were they?"
"Acid." Fraser told him. "It is one way to dispose of the bodies -
dissolve the carcasses in acid."
"Ewwwww." Ray said in distaste. "But it makes sense, the old *****
factory manufactured industrial strength acids until the company went bust
a few years back. The liquidators never got round to selling the place
off."
Fraser raised his eyebrows at them, holding the car door open for her.
Ray held her hand, helping her in the back."I'll drop you off at home."
"Oh no, you won't."She venemiantly protested."The mountie couldn't keep
from dragging me into this, your not dumping me now that it's getting
interesting."
"She has a point, Ray."Fraser pointed out guilty."I did..."
"Shut up."Ray snapped, rolling his eyes."What else could happen today?
Marie-Claire settled into the back seat, with a smug smile on her lithe face.
****************
It wasn't hard to find the old factory, with most of the area being
rundown, and closed. Finding a dark spot was easy, Ray parked the Riv some
distance away from the factory and the four of them crept towards the
entrance. When they were inside the building, Ray took Marie-Clare aside.
"Stay close, and keep your head down."Ray ordered."You might get hurt."
"I didn't know you cared."She teased him. Reaching out, Ray pulled her
tight, giving her a passionate, but far too brief kiss. Ray broke away,
creeping after Fraser.
"I don't."He remarked off hand."But if you get shot, I'll probably get
canned."
"Sure."Maire-Clare was too stunned to come back with any thing incredably
smart.
Fraser sniffed the air and indicated that they follow him.
Creeping down a dank stairway their noses prickled at a sharp acrid
smell and they looked down into basins containing a something that they
might prefer not to identify.
Ray was holding his nose and spoke somewhat nasally,"Benny, I'll
bet that's acid, for and heaven's sake - don't go tasting it, it'll burn
your skin off!"
"The smell alone is sufficient to identify it, Ray." Ben said
seriously as he scanned the unsavoury soup.
Dief was looking very uneasy and Marie-Claire said,"Maybe I should
take Dief out of here."
"That could be a good idea. Animals are very quick to sense the
distress of others." Benton said. "Animals in a slaughteryard always grow
very agitated."
"That's because they're going to be dead." Ray pointed out, holding
his service revolver in his hand.
"Yeah that, too." Marie-Claire pointed out. "Ummm - how were you
two thinking of apprehending everyone by the way? I just realised that
we're grossly outnumbered."
"This is true, Benny."
Ben stiffened, his eyes growing alert. "Follow me," he ordered he
headed further downstairs down an even darker passageway.
The sound of animals grew louder and Marie-Claire put a hand to her
mouth as she smelt the stench of animals confined in an airless area.
They entered a containment area filled with tiny cages which held
numerous dogs and cats prisoner.
"These cages are too small for them." Marie-Claire said in distress.
Dief made a low growing voice in his throat, shrinking back against
Ray's legs.
Ray patted the wolf's head with sympathy, glancing around,"There
there," he said in adequately,"Cover your eyes, boy." he told the wolf who
looked around in distress.
"These animals haven't been fed in days." Fraser said grimly after
inspecting several of the animals.
"Benny, what's the point of these little guys then?" Ray demanded,
indicating the undersized dogs and the cats. "Not that the bozos
responsible for this are into fair play - but what is the excitement in
seeing a big dog mawl a cat?"
"I'd gather from what Pete told us that the smaller, weaker animals
are used to blood the fighting dogs - to make them vicious." Fraser told
his friend.
"There's someone coming." Fraser said urgently and the four of them
bolted behind a pile of wooden crates in the corner just as three men
walked into the room.
He stared rattling the cages of the animals that had begun to whine.
"Shut up, you little bastards!"
Dief stepped into the walkway, teeth bared, and growling.
"Aww, nuts."Ray slapped his forehead.
"How did you get out?"the man asked Dief, mistaking him for another dog.
"He didn't escape."Fraser stated, standing up. He smashed his fist into
the mans jaw with his right fist, immedialty followed up by a left upcut.
The man wobbled, blood dripping from his spilt lower lip. With a gurgle of
incoherency, and rolling eyes, he toppled over. Ray pulled out his cuffs,
then smiled evily.
"Benny, drag him over here."Ray ordered, opening a medium sized cage."And
give me one of your socks."
"Do you hear something?"Maire-Clare asked, one hand on the ruff of
Dief's neck. The large wolf growled, trying to pull away. Maire-Clare held
tightly, bending over him."Hold still. If you run away, we'll never catch
the bad guys, you'll give us away!"
Dief settled down, flashing her a hurt look. Fraser cocked his head,
relacing his boot."Upstairs, I believe. The fight has started."
"Damn it, I have to radio this in."Ray muttered, pocketing the man's
gun."you have to stay here."
"Like fudge I will."Marie-Claire retorted.
"Look, they have guns. Guns have bullets. Bullets KILL people!"Ray bellowed.
"Don't play macho with me, Armondo!"Marie-Claire roared back.
"This isn't playing, Marie."Ray calmed,running his hand over the top of
his hair."You could get killed."
"I'll take the chance."Maire-Clare smiled wickedly at him."Besides, I
could pretended to be one of the pit watchers."
"Oh Yeah, you look like the criminal sort."Ray snorted.
"I could be."Maire-Clare weakliy protested, looking to Benton for support.
"No, I don't believe you could."he replied.
"Don't push me."Maire snorted, following Ray. Dief lagged at her heels,
giving Fraser a pitiful look. Benton spoke softly, concern in his eyes.
"Protect her, Diefenbaker."
Dief wolfed his agreement.
****
BEING NEIGHBORLY: PART I
The top of the stairs blossumed into a huge room, with a caged area in
the middle. It was small and slick with blood. Two large dogs were tearing
each other apart, the holwing of men and dying animals covering up their
entrance. Ray grimaced, it was nasty, but he'd seen worse. Marie-Clare
froze at the top of the stairs, a gasp escaping her mouth. Fraser eased
past, leading her off to a corner.
"Please, find a phone, Maire-Claire."He frowned at the large crowd."This
may turn unpleasant."
"How much more unpleasant can it get?"Maire-Claire snapped. Fraser
pointed to the cage, his mouth a grim line.
"Dief could be next, or Ray and myself."Fraser turned back to her."Men
who have gone this far over the line will not care who dies for their
pleasure. Wiether it is man or animal.Or woman."
"Be careful."Marie-Claire hissed, before heading for the closed rooms.
Fraser crossed over to Ray, as they began to formulate a plan.
"I am not sure how to stop this and them at the same time."Fraser pointed
to the fighting pit and the roaring men. Ray pulled his gun firing it into
the air. The men froze, turning aound alowly.
"Put 'em up. All of you."Ray comanded."The first one who wavers gets a
really big hole for their trouble."
"Wavers?"Fraser asked.
Ray shrugged."You're rubbing off on me."
"You can't get us all."Someone yelled from the back. The two large dogs
kept fighting, being ignored by the crowd.
"True,"Ray nodded."But who wants to be the first to take a bullet?"
Fraser began to make his way to the cage, as Ray was lining men up against
the wall.
"That's right, hands on the wall, legs spread. You move, I'm gonna shoot ya."
"Ray, I think I can stop the dogs."Fraser opened the cage, as Ray's
turned, eyes wide.
"Fraser, NO!"Ray yelled, as Denny swung his arm at Ray's turned face. The
blow caught Ray below the ear, popping his jaw. He stumbled back, as the
fighting animals escaped the tiny confines. One dog lept out, catching
Fraser in the chest. Knocking him off his feet, Fraser wrapped his arms
around the struggling dog, attempting to calm the wounded animal. The
other dog, grabbed Fraser by the boot, clamping down with steel trap jaws.
Even through the thick sole, Fraser winced at the pinching of his foot.
Ray stumbled backwards, seeing black spots. Balling up his fist, he
struck Denny in the nose, feeling the man's large probiscus shatter beneath
the force of the blow. Coming from the office, Maire Calire picked up a
large peice of wood from the floor, walking out of the shadows. Another man
started towards Ray, and she clobbered him across the back of his head. He
went down like a felled tree, and Marie-Claire brandished her weapon at
the remaining men.
"Any other takers?"She warned, as Ray popped his jaw back into place.
Diefenbaker streaked from her side, grabbing the dog mauling Fraser's boot
by the neck. Dragging the smaller dog away, Diefenbaker squeezed until the
other dog accquessed, rolling over on it's back. Diefenbaker allowed it to
lick his muzzle, and began to growl at the dog still struggling in Fraser's
arms. It wimpered, freezing in terror. Fraser regained his footing, limping
slightly from the ruined boot.
"Did you get lost?"Fraser asked the wolf, who was basking in the
attention from the other dog. Dief wrinkled his canine forehead, then
turned to look at Maire-Claire."She looks like she is handling the problem
quite well by herself."
Deif whined, then bounded off down the stairs. The two injured dogs
followed him with wagging tails. Fraser cocked his head, then walked over
to Ray and Marie-Claire.
"I can hear sirens coming this way."
"I talked to Elaine."Maire-Claire smiled."I think we'll have a nice rescue."
"Who needs to be rescued?"Ray grumbled, shaking out his stiffening,
bruised hand.
************
Ray glared at Denny and his unsavoury companions, rubbing his
knuckles.
"Oh, and P.S. - you guys are going away for a long time!" Ray called
out as the men were led away by the uniformed officers. Ben felt
compelled to point out,
"Umm Ray, PS is an abbreviation for the Latin 'post script'. It
means 'after writing', which technically speaking would render it
inappropriate for use in oral conversation.
Although, let me add that I am the first to admit that English is a
dynamic language which is amenable to much change and flexibility. However,
one most deplore the certain laxity which exists today, particularly in the
lexicon of the youth of America....."
"Benny! You're giving me Latin again? You know I hate it when you
talk about that entomology stuff."
"Actually it is a common misperception that entymology is the study
of the history of words. That is in fact etymology. Entymology is the
study of the behaviour and form of insects, such as - "
"Okay, okay! Just shut up! I've had it with you and all your
medieval Latin."
"Actually Ray, it comes from the modern Latin, entomologia." Ray
looked over at Marie-Claire for assistance,"Now I know why you slam doors in
his face."
"You told him I slam doors in your face?"Marie-Claire demanded."Do
you tell him EVERYTHING?" she demanded, her voice rising in indignation."No
wonder everyone thinks you're gay."
She walked away in disgust. Ray stiffened. "GAY???? Who thinks
we're GAY????! No one thinks I'm GAY!!!!." He looked outraged, every iota
of his machismo and testosterone challenged by Marie-Claire's careless quip.
He quivered with indignation,"She doesn't know what she's talking
about."
"I think she was joking, Ray." Ben pointed out, with what might have
been a slight tremor of laughter in his voice. "And actually, the word
'gay' itself is an interesting example of the dynamics of the English
language. It's original meaning to be happy and joyful, has now been
rendered virtually obsolete. I think it is a very interesting
phenomenon........"
"You're making me fun of me Benny - I can tell."
"No Ray, I'd never do that." Ben assured him gravely.
"I hope she slams another door in your face."
"I'm sure she will, Ray, I'm sure she will." Ben told his friend
as the two of them walked away.
*********************
Marie-Claire waited for Kiri Te Kanawa's soaring soprano to finish
singing "O Mio Babbino Caro", perhaps one of the most overplayed Puccini
arias in the world. Somehow it remained one of the most poignant for her,
though and she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, dreaming her
own thoughts and lost in her own private world, far away from the dingy,
rundown radio station.
She opened her eyes again and glanced down at her hands, seeing the
empty coffee mugs in front of her and the notepad with the scrawled
requests from her loyal listeners.
"That was "O Mio Babbino Caro" - translated to be "O My Beloved
Daddy", definitely melodramatic, but one of my favourite arias
nonetheless."
Marie-Claire sighed a little, it had been a long week and it was
hard to get the stench of the dying animals out of her nostrils. It was
impossible to rid herself of the memories of the dying animals who had been
the innocent victims of a sick notion of profit.
She segued up Loreena McKennit's 'Huron Beltane Fire Dance' as she
wondered what she was going to say next. Her mind was momentarily blank,
her worst nightmare.
It was times like these she wondered whether Hal was right in
suggesting a script. No, Hal was never right. He had been delighted with
her story on the dog-fighting racket, though.
AIR105 had been the very first to air the story and the papers and
television news had been scrambling to get the inside story. By then it
was too late, the culprits had already been led away and Marie-Claire had
already grilled everyone concerned and put together a story which might be
a little more sensational than the traffic and weather reports in which the
station normally specialised - but so long as the ratings went up, Hal
didn't mind. Actually, considering how low the station's ratings were,
there really was only one way they could go.
Marie-Claire opened her mouth, closed it again as she had
absolutely no idea what on earth she wanted to say. Then suddenly,
dreamily she began to recount a story which had been nagging at the edges
of her subconscious all evening like a persistant whisper.
"At the beginning when the earth was new, the animals were the
chief and were more powerful than humans, whom they hunted, killed and ate
- except one girl and her little brother who lived in hiding."
Fraser was sitting in his apartment in the darkness, Dief at his
feet. The radio was on and only Marie-Claire's low-pitched voice with its
unique cadence filled the room. He knew the story, but it had never meant
more than than it did at that moment. Marie-Claire's voice was like thick,
rich cream - on air anyway.
"The brother was very small, no bigger than a newborn child, but
the girl was normal in size. Because she was so much bigger than he was,
she did all of the work. One winter day the girl had to go out and gather
food in the woods. To keep Little Brother occupied, she gave him her bow
and arrows. 'Hide until a snowbird comes,' she told him. 'Wait until he
looks for grubs in that huge dead tree and then kill him with one of your
arrows.'
Dief stirred momentarily, slightly perplexed by the stillness of
his master who did not move an inch as the story unfolded on the airwaves
in the silent hours of the morning. He looked up inquiringly and Fraser
scratched his wolf's head absently.
"The girl went off and the snowbird came, but Little brother's
arrows missed him. 'It doesn't matter,' the sister said when she returned.
'Try again tomorrow.' The next day she went into the forest again. Once
more the bird came, and this time the boy's arrow hit and killed him.
Proudly he showed the bird to his sister when she returned home that night.
'Sister, I want you to skin the snowbird and stretch the hide,' he
said. 'I'll be killing more birds, and when we have enough skins, you can
make a feather robe for me.'
'But what should I do with the meat?' asked the girl. At that time
people ate only berries and other green things, because they didn't hunt;
it was the animals who hunted them."
Ray yawned widely as he sat scrunched up in his car in front of the
stakeout. He was tempted to give Marie-Claire a ring and tell her to can
the preachy stories and somnolent music and play something loud like Nine
Inch Nails to keep him awake.
He shifted uncomfortably, keeping awake with great difficulty as he
watched the entrance to Lenny the Squid's doorway. He wondered how long
the little creep would be inside. It had been hours already.
He groaned when Marie-Claire continued and the music in the
background was a somewhat mournful Irish ceilidh. He couldn't fathom her
weird tastes in music, only a few hours back she had been playing Wham's
'Wake Me Up Before You Go Go' which had kept him awake, but put him in a
thoroughly bad-temper.
"'Make soup out of it,'" said Little Brother, who was clever in
spite of his size. Every day for ten days he shot a snowbird, and his
sister made him a fine feather robe from the skins.
'Sister, are there no other people in this world?' he asked one
day. 'Are we the only ones.'
'There may be others, but we don't dare go looking for them.
Terrible animals would stalk and kill us.' But Little Brother was
consumed with curiosity. So when his sister went off to gather food again,
he set out to look for other humans. He walked a long time but met neither
people or animals. He got so tired that he lay down in a spot where the
sun had melted the snow away. While he was sleeping the sun rose and shot
fiery rays upon Little Brother. Waking up, the boy found that his father
robe had scorched and tightend around him so taht he couldn't move. To
free himself he had to tear it apart, ruining it.
'Sun, I'll get even! Dont' think you're up so high that I can't get
at you! Do you hear me up there?'"
Marie-Claire's mimicry of an indignant young boy was so accurate
that Dief could see that Fraser's mouth curved in a faint smile. His head
tipped to one side, still trying to understand the joke and then gave up,
resting his head back down upon his paws.
"Angry and sad, Little Brother returned home and wept when he told
his sister of what had happened. He lay on his right side for 10 days and
refused to eat or drink. Still fasting, he then lay on his left side for
another ten. After twenty days of fasting, he rose and told his sister to
make a snare for him to catch the sun. She had nothing more than a short
length of dried deer sinew, and out of that she made a noose. 'I can't
catch the sun with this little thing," he complained.
So the girl made a string for him out of her hair, but he
said,'This isn't long or strong enough.'
'Then I'll have to make a snare out of something secret,' she said.
She went out and gathered many secret things and twisted them into a
strong cord. The moment he saw it, Little Brother said,'This is the one!'
To wet the cord he drew it to his lips again and again so that it grew
longer and stronger.
Then Little Brother waited until the middle of the night when it is
darkest."
Marie-Claire's voice grew low and hushed and she forgot to segue up
anymore music as the story unfolded and she, too became caught up in her
own words. The lines were quiet, all the callers lying at home tucked up
in bed, their blankets up to their chins, eyes wide and staring up at their
ceilings.
A few die-hard Joe listeners mourned his absence and hoped and
prayed for the day when he and Michael Bolton would return to the dark
hours of the morning. Nonetheless, as the lonely hearts sulked, they
listened intently, occasionally muttering under their breaths.
'He went out and found the hole through which the sun would rise,
and at its entrance he set his snare. When the sun came up at the usual
time, he was caught and held fast, and there was no day that day. There
was no light and no warmth.
Even though the animals were the chiefs who had killed and eaten
the people, they were afraid. They called a council of all their elders
and talked for a long time. At last they decided that the biggest and most
fearsome of the animals should go and gnaw through the cord holding the
sun. This animal was the Dormouse, who was not small, as it is now, but
big as a mountain. Even so, Dormouse was afraid of the sun. 'What you
want me to do is dangerous, but I shall try,' she said said bravely.
Ray's eyelids drooped inexorably as his head nodded and his chin
found his chest. His thoughts began to travel into a dream world, a world
far away from over-sized Dormice and unfortunate suns. Lenny the Squid was
still in that joint, perhaps he was dead. Perhaps he had been listening to
Marie-Claire and had fallen into a coma and required life-support.
The news had been interesting though. Marie-Claire had given a very
detailed account of the horrific treatment of the unfortunate animals in
question. The station was finding good homes for the animals concerned - a
shameless promotional ploy, competitors thought balefully. Ray had even
given a phone interview - which had been cut out of the story when the
story did go to air, but that was only because the interference on the
mobile made things incoherent. He fell deeper into sleep as Marie-Claire
continued her neverending story.
"Dormouse went to the place where the sun rises and found him in
the snare. Struggling to free himself, the sun had grown hotter. As
Dormouse aproached, the hair on her back smoked and was burnt off, but she
crouched down and began to gnaw at the cord. She chewed and chewed and
after a long time managed to bit it in two.
Freed at last, the sun rose at once and made everything bright
again. But the heat had shrivelled Dormouse down to her present size, and
the sun's rays had half-blinded her. So she was given the name of
Kug-e-been-gwa-kwa, Blind Woman.
Thorugh brave Dormouse had freed the sun, everybody realised that
Little Brother who had snared the sun was the wisest being in the world,
and the one with the greatest power."
Marie-Claire hesitated for a moment, she had only just remembered
how the story finished. Only just recollected its ending and her mouth
twisted wryly as she realised why she had begun the story in the first
place.
"Since that time the humans have been the chiefs over the animals,
the hunters instead of the hunted."
The silence on the air lasted a few heartbeats and then the
phonelines began to light up.
"I'd like to order a pizza, no anchovies, those black things or
those green things." the caller announced imperiously.
"Wrong number," Marie-Claire announced as she switched to line two.
"The story I just told you was an American Indian Legend called
'Little Brother Snares the Sun.'" she answered the fellow insomniac caller,
as she hunted around for an appropriate song to play.
Finally she settled for Joan Baez singing 'Silver Dagger' and
returned her attention to talkback.
"The story is attributed to the Winnebago....."
Ray's eyes snapped open convulsively as he jerked into a sitting
position, knocking his tepid coffee over.
"What the....?" he demanded of the air.
".......a midwestern woodlands tribe who sided with the British in
the War of 1812 and the War of Independence." Marie-Claire continued as Ray
put his hand to his head. He hadn't had a Winnebago dream for days. If it
had persisted for much longer he would have had to seek therapy.
As it was Elena had suggested visualisation techniques, deep
breaths before he went to bed, imagining his place of peace and
tranquility......with no winnebagos.
Thoroughly disturbed Ray glanced up and saw that Lenny the Squid
was finally emerging from his hideaway.
"It's getting late, and I'm getting out of here...." Marie-Claire
was saying on the air and Ray shook his head. There was some weird, cosmic
link between Marie-Claire and winnebagos. He wasn't a superstitious man,
but it was immediately after his dreams of winnebagos had commenced that
she had appeared on the scene. There just had to be a connection.
"The eagle has landed," he said into his mobile-phone, after waking
up Huey and Gardino who had been playing snap in the patrol car around the
corner.
Marie-Claire made her way slowly up the stairs. Hal had called up
complaining that she had bored him witless with her flaky Indian stories.
"Sorry Hal, next time I'll read out the condensed novel in
Cosmopolitan magazine."
"I'll have you know I didn't appreciate that crack about Michael
Bolton you made at the end of the show."
"Which crack was that?" Marie-Claire had demanded, genuinely
baffled, mentally sorting through all the snide remarks she had made. Hal
was always worried that the station would get hit with a defamation suit.
Her leg was aching again and she toyed with the idea of going to
Elena for help, discarding the notion as soon as it entered her head.
She fumbled with the lock of her door, sleep making her uncoordinated.
Her neighbour's door open and she was confronted with six feet of
faintly tousled mountie.
"Good evening Miss Dempsey." he greeted her cheerfully as if they
were on the best of terms.
Her obstinate lock refused to give and she swore rather pithily in
idiomatic French, making Fraser blink a little.
"Would you like any assistance, Miss Dempsey?" Fraser inquired and
Marie-Claire didn't deign to answer him. Her head ached and all she wanted
was a hot shower and then to fall into bed.
"I just thought that you might want to know that all of those
apprehended today were most co-operative and the ring-leaders were caught
as they attempted to flee town today."
Dief edged his muzzle around Fraser's knee and grinned doggily at
Marie-Claire who smiled reluctantly at him.
"Don't let this go to your head," she told him.
"I heard the placement calls on the radio - all of the unfortunate
animals in question will be placed in good homes. Though naturally none of
them are as fortunate as Perceval." He said pleasantly.
The door finally opened and Perceval came strolling, his nose in
the air and his tail high as if he was an aristocrat rather than the
somewhat disreputable ragbag he was.
He was truly the most ugly excuse for a cat she had ever seen.
Multi-coloured, slightly evil-eyed with crooked ears and an arrogant walk,
he was an unlovable and villainous-looking creature. Nonetheless, he was
an extremely loyal feline and an excellent rat catcher.
Although, Marie-Claire thought with a frown, the big, fat healthy
rat hadn't been found yet. She suspected the rodent of laying
low....growing bigger....fatter.....more bold until it could devour
Diefenbaker.
It was a source of annoyance that the big, fat rat still eluded her
trusty mouse catcher. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn that
big, fat rat was paying her cat protection money.
Perceval played around her ankles, purring to show his approval of
her return.
"Good evening Perceval," Fraser greeted the cat who gave him a very
disparaging glare out of its indeterminate-coloured eyes.
Very deliberately, Perceval turned around, lifted its tail in the
air as he strutted into Marie-Claire's apartment as if he owned the place,
at the same time giving Fraser a very clear view of his posterior.
"Well he behaves like his name, even if he doesn't look like it."
Marie-Claire said to herself, glancing at her neighbour who was still
looking a little bemused at being snubbed by a cat.
"I thought the Native American story you recounted this evening was
most appropriate - and well-told."
It was hard to be rude to someone who was being so nice, but
Marie-Claire was nothing if not consistent.
"I need a shower." she said flatly.
"Oh that reminds me," Fraser began,"I realise that it's been a
little cold, but do you realise that your long, hot showers are using up
all of the hot water? By morning - the water is ice cold."
He walked right into that one, Marie-Claire thought wickedly,"Well
you can dream that you're back in the Yukon, constable," she said as she
closed the door firmly behind her.
"It would seem that our neighbour's manners are improving, Dief,
she didn't slam it that time," Fraser commented to his wolf who looked very
sceptical, turned around and headed back into the apartment.
For the remainder of the morning as Fraser lay back in bed and
listened to the sounds of the Bee Gees wailing through his wall, he
wondered if door-slamming wasn't preferable.
THE END
Return
to Koala's Gum Tree