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Chapter Text
"Benny, I'm in love." Ray was wearing a smile that invited the whole world to share his happiness.
Ben had noticed as soon as he'd walked in that Ray seemed more relaxed than he had ... well since before his ill-fated undercover stint in Las Vegas and subsequent convalescence. On closer examination, Ben saw that Ray was glowing with an open radiance he hadn't seen since Special Agent Suzanne Chapin had returned to Washington.
"No, I know what you're thinking," Ray pressed on. "This one's not a criminal, not a Fed, not tied to gun-runners or the Mob—and she lives right here in Chicago."
"Ray, of course I wouldn't dream of doubting—"
Ray continued, oblivious and dreamy-eyed. "She's smart, she's strong, she's tough, and Benny ... she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Ben sincerely hoped he wouldn't say exquisite.
"She's like an angel."
Ah. Ben scratched his eyebrow. "That's wonderful, Ray. Where did you meet her?"
Ray blinked at him. "Here, in the office. She just ... walked right in." He drifted off in happy contemplation.
Oh my. "Ray is that, I mean, well ... isn't there a conflict of interest?" His eyes automatically sought out the sign painted on the window, reading the reversed lettering on the glass: CASA DI AMORE Matchmaking Service Since 1948.
"Benny, I am through with the scumbuckets and creeps," Ray said. "I am going into the business of love and happiness."
"That sounds like a lovely idea," Ben replied. "Er, what business, exactly, would that be?"
"Matchmaker. Ma's cousin's husband's aunt has a nice little storefront over on Western, but she's been wanting to retire for a while. I'm thinking that people falling in love and getting married, that sounds like a nice line to be in. With the payout for this," he nodded down at his bandaged torso, "plus my pension I can buy her out and have enough to keep me afloat."
Ben saw the shadows from Ray's experiences in Las Vegas lingering in his eyes, and agreed, "You have a very romantic soul, Ray. I have no doubt you'll be very successful as a matchmaker."
And indeed, a few months' experience as the new business owner proved that Ray's buoyant faith in love imbued his clients with the confidence to make relationships work.
"A conflict of interest? Oh, no, no." Ray waved away the concern. "She wasn't here for herself; she wanted to fix up her ex-husband."
"Her ... Isn't that a little unusual?"
Ray shrugged. "They're friends of the Lieu's. He worked with Kowalski way back, but the guy's a detective with the 19th now. Stella was in the 2-7 for a case the other day—she's with the State's Attorney's office—and got to talking with Welsh. I guess she's getting on with her life after the divorce but her ex is still calling her up, trying to get back together. So Welsh told her about my little business here, and in she came."
"Still, it seems highly irregular—"
"Yeah, I know. I know. I'm doing this one as a favor for the Lieu. And if it turns out that getting Kowalski happily hooked up gets him out of Stella's hair, well that's a bonus for me."
Ben frowned and fiddled with the brim of his hat.
Ray went dreamy-eyed again. "I told you she's a lawyer, right? All those brains in a gorgeous package—I'm tellin' ya, Benny, she's the one."
Oh, dear.
"I still don't see why you'll match up everybody else and not me."
Ray lifted his hands to the heavens. No matter how old Frannie got, she still had the same little sister whine she'd had since they were kids.
"Because there's only one person you want to get matched up with, and he's not on the market! Just because you read that Dawn O'Conner romance garbage—"
"He's single!" she shot back, but—thank you God—dropped the subject, and picked up a stack of files. Aside from constantly trying to get matched up with Fraser, she liked the business, and helped out whenever she wasn't down at the station. And Ray had to admit, she had pretty good ideas when it came to matching up everyone but herself.
"So what's this guy like?"
"According to Stella and Welsh, he's a good cop, a smart detective. Has a soft spot for people on the outs; goes the extra mile to get them justice. A little unorthodox sometimes, but he has three citations for bravery."
"Oh yeah? Is he good looking?"
"Hey!" Ray pointed the warning finger of big brotherhood at her. "He's not like the Mountie. He's also stalking his ex, okay?"
Frannie threw up her hands. "Fine, fine. I get it. I'm never allowed to date anyone. I'll just go join the convent now."
"A vow of silence wouldn't be such a bad idea," Ray groused back.
Frannie rolled her eyes, then got back to business. "So, fine, this guy needs someone who's okay with being a cop's wife—long hours, danger. What's he like outside of the job?"
"Solid working class Polish family. He likes dancing, sports, animals, kids."
Frannie started going through the files, then stopped. "So here's the other thing. How do you fix up a guy who doesn't know he's being fixed up?"
Ray ran a hand down his face. "Yeah, that's a problem. I was actually thinking about your friend Rachel. I ran into her Ma again last week, and she's still trying to get me to match her up with someone."
"Oh, I see. Why is it that Antoinetta Jackson couldn't hire you to fix up Rachel behind her back, but this Stella walks in, and you'll marry off her ex for her?"
Ray grimaced. "It's a favor. Unofficial. And maybe we get lucky and Kowalski and Rachel hit it off, and everybody's happy."
Frannie thought about it, and shrugged. "Maybe. But you still gotta find an excuse for them to get together."
"Lieutenant Welsh actually came up with a pretty good idea. It'll just take getting Rachel there."
"And how do you expect to do that?"
"Well, she's your friend. She'll go out somewhere with you."
Frannie's eyes went wide. "Oh, no. You're not making me go on her blind date."
"C'mon! What's it gonna hurt? Just a couple of people hanging out. They'll like each other or they won't. If they don't, Rachel had a day out with her girlfriend. No harm."
Frannie folded her arms across her chest. "On one condition."
"Oh, no. Uh uh."
"Yes, or I won't go." Aw, crap. Frannie had on her stubborn-like-a-mule expression.
"C'mon Frannie, please?" God, how did she reduce him to pleading, every time? "All right! All right! Fine." And she was always so smug about it, too, damn it.
Ray kicked back in the stadium seat, his feet on the back of the seat in front of him, and twirled the toothpick in his mouth. He hadn't been to a ball game in years, but Harding Welsh had called him up out of the blue with a free ticket; Welsh's brother was buddies with the owner of the Cubs' farm team, or something. He'd been planning on going with some friends from work, but couldn't get away, and offered Ray his seat.
It was only a triple-A exhibition game for charity, a post-season visit to the big city to play the Cardinals' farm team, but a game at Wrigley was still a game at Wrigley. He could cheer the Hawkeyes and boo the Bats, no problem.
Ray wasn't getting along so hot with his captain these days, so it had been kind of nice to drop by the 2-7 for the ticket and see Welsh, meet the civilian aide who was coming today. Reminded Ray there'd been a time he'd loved his job, liked the people he worked with.
There was a bustle of activity to his left, and he stood when he saw the girl he'd met a few days ago coming down the row, with another pretty, dark-haired girl ahead of her and a tall, good-looking man behind.
"Francesca. Hi." He ditched the toothpick and stuck out his hand.
"Hi, Ray." She reached around to take his hand briefly before nudging her companion closer. "This is my friend Rachel. Rachel Jackson. Detective Ray Kowalski." Frannie fiddled with tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Nice to meetcha, Rachel." Ray shook her hand, then waited expectantly.
"Oh! Oh, and this is Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police." She laid her hands on the guy's arm.
"Pleased to meet you, Ray." The guy reached politely around the ladies to shake his hand with a friendly smile. Wow, guy looked like something out of a catalog or something, but seemed nice enough.
"Canadian, huh? Well, I guess I can overlook when the Canadians won the World Series."
"Twice," replied Mr. Mountie with just a tiny glint in his eye, and that was cool, Ray liked that real deadpan humor.
"So, Benton Fraser, what do you like to go by?"
"Ben, Benton, Fraser, whichever you prefer, really."
Suddenly Ray noticed Francesca was looking a little put out and realized it was maybe kinda rude to be talking over the girls' heads like that. He waved towards their seats and they all sat down.
"Owner box, third row! I've never had seats in Wrigley like this," said Rachel. She'd ended up next to him while Francesca cuddled up to Ben.
"Yeah, right on third base, the hot corner." Ray gave a little punch in the air for emphasis. Welsh's brother had really set them up nice. "So, you like baseball?"
"Oh, yeah. I go to every Cubs game I can."
"Cool. I used to go to Cubs games with my Dad, worked out with them for a while when I was older."
"Really? Did you ever go to spring training? I go to Arizona every chance I get for the pre-season."
"Nah, never made it to Arizona. My folks were living down there until recently; I guess I shoulda taken advantage when they were there." Too bad his Mom had insisted he sounded miserable on the phone, and had packed up his Dad and moved them back to Chicago.
"Oh, it's the best for a fan. The stadiums are smaller, and you're practically right on the field with the players." Huh. She was really into it, and it did sound kinda fun. "It's how I know spring is really here; it's like when my year really starts."
Out of the corner of his eye, Ray caught Ben jumping in his seat, startled. It looked like Francesca was elbowing him and grinning. Weird.
"For me," Ray said, "spring is when baseball starts and hockey ends. Then when baseball's ending, the hockey season starts. Perfect timing."
"Hockey!" Rachel wrinkled her nose. "Ew. A bunch of thugs. Plus they're all padded and covered up. Baseball players, you can see how cute their butts are." Rachel nudged Francesca.
"On the contrary," Ben spoke up. "Hockey is a sport of considerable speed, grace and skill."
Yeah, he had a Canadian on his side. "Exactly." Ray pointed at Ben in agreement.
"My brother's a big basketball fan," Francesca interrupted, probably trying to head off an argument.
Ben and Ray's eyes met, and they both shrugged. "I certainly enjoy the opportunity to shoot a few hoops or take in a youth game, but I have to admit I'm not a big fan of the NBA," Ben said.
"I'm with ya there—I'll always go for a pick-up game. But to watch? Well, college ball's all right."
"Curling!" offered Ben.
Ray looked at him blankly. The girls looked confused, too. "Sorry, buddy, you lost me there," Ray admitted. "Boxing."
"Oh yes!" responded Ben. "A pugilistic display takes the nature of sport down to its very essence. A literal demonstration of mano a mano."
Rachel gave a full-body shudder this time. "It's barbaric."
Ray sighed. "Yeah, that's what my wife used to say."
"Your wife?" asked Rachel.
"Ex," he explained tightly. And wow, he'd managed to not think about his divorce for half an hour, but now his mood was turning gray and cold, even though it was actually a pretty warm, sunny day for October. He could see he was even bumming out Francesca and Ben. Fortunately he didn't have to keep up with conversation; the starting lineups were being introduced.
It got easier, though, when he could focus on the game. Rachel was obviously a fan; Ben, too. Francesca didn't seem to know much about the rules, but she sure was enthusiastic. Hearing her shout things like "Throw it to the shortgap!" was its own kind of entertainment.
Ray and Ben got hot dogs and peanuts for the group, and Ray decided to keep his beer intake down. For once he was having a good enough time to want to remember it, unlike the usual seven lonely days a week he just wanted to blot out.
The second time the girls got up for a bathroom run together, Ray motioned Ben to move to the seat next to him. "So, you really like boxing? 'Cause I do some training with some kids. They're gang members—it might not be your thing—but I'm trying to give them something positive to do, you know?" He did a little bob and weave.
"That's very commendable, Ray. I would very much like to see your program. I'm a great believer in outlets for disadvantaged youth."
"Really? Uh, that would be great, greatness."
"And, Ray, now that the hockey season has started, well, I have a friend who has friends ... I can get tickets to the Blackhawks, if you'd like to go."
"Seriously? I would love that! Hey," Ray gave him the cop stare. "You're not mixed up with scalpers are you?" Ben was just starting a horrified gape when Ray laughed and bumped his shoulder. "Nah, I'm just yankin' your chain."
Ben grinned. "Well, if you object to whatever nefarious means I use to obtain tickets to a professional game, I also know of a pond quite suited for playing, when it gets cold enough. That is, if you skate."
"Huh, it's been a few years, but I'd like that. It'll be another month or two, though."
"True. Fortunately boxing is more accessible year-round. When is the next match? I'll ensure my schedule is free."
"We got one coming up—" Ray saw Francesca and Rachel coming down their row. Francesca was giving them a weird look, like maybe ... disappointment?
"So what're you guys talking about?" she asked.
Ben snapped around, all posture and square angles. "Ray was just inviting me to a boxing match."
Rachel squinched up her face again. "Hey Frannie, let's go down to the rail. I want a better view of Constantino. I hope he gets called up!" It was pretty obvious it wasn't the kid's batting average she was interested in.
"Bubba Dean's not so bad either," Francesca replied, doing a little head toss as she turned away from Ben.
The girls shuffled back to the steps and down to the railing, where they could get a closer look at the field. Ray glanced at Ben, who had relaxed again.
"Uniforms seem to have an effect on women." There was something very wry about the way Ben said that.
"That's male objectivism, is what that is."
"Objectification. Yes, indeed. Fairly harmless in the casual sense, but more difficult to deal with when an individual's outer appearance is given more importance than a person's inner dreams, goals and character."
Ray figured there was a story or two behind that. "So, are you and Francesca ...?"
"Oh, no, we're not ..." Ben pulled at his T shirt collar, looking a little flustered. "We're friends. Colleagues."
Ray eyed him closely. "And she's hopin' for more."
"She is most persistent." Ben was getting all tense again.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure a good-looking guy like you probably gets a lot of attention, in the objectification sense."
Ben scratched his eyebrow. He was full of tics when he got uncomfortable. "No more so than you, I'm sure, Ray."
Really? "Do you think I'm attractive?"
"I'm not really qua— well, yes Ray, I do."
Huh. Ray hadn't cared what anybody thought about his looks in ages. You know, kick 'em in the head if they didn't like him. He'd been Stella's pick since they were kids, and nobody else mattered. He hadn't really thought about the fact that since she'd taken herself out of the picture, he'd have to think about maybe impressing somebody else someday. And here was this complete stranger—talked kinda like a schoolteacher, but a cool guy and definitely a star in the looks department—saying that he, Ray Kowalski, was okay. Well, all right.
"Sorry, I, uh, didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. Just, since the divorce ..."
"It's quite all right Ray. My pleasure."
And you could see it really was a pleasure. Guy was maybe a little freakish, but a good guy. A sunny day at Wrigley, a ball game, good company—Ray was almost remembering what happy felt like. It was ... nice.
They watched the rest of the game, chatting, shouting at the field, and keeping half an eye on the girls, making sure they were okay. Better than okay, they seemed to be having the time of their lives, hanging over the railing, ogling the players.
When they game ended, Francesca and Rachel were still huddled together, thick as thieves, probably saying things about the players that Ray did not want to know about, thank you very much. Most of the fans had emptied out, so Ray and Ben stood at the end of their row, waiting for the girls.
"Oh, Frase!" Francesca looked up. "Uh, we can drop you back—"
Ray interrupted, "Hey, I can take you. Wherever it is you need to go."
"Oh, that's very kind of you Ray. Much appreciated. But please," he told the girls, "may we escort you to your car?"
Of course their car was parked about three miles away from Ray's, but he was getting the idea Ben had been raised by someone even stricter than his own Mom about manners. But he could do the polite thing, shake hands, say what a pleasure it was.
But it was even nicer when he and Ben got to the Goat, and Ben admired her for real, not just the polite gentleman act.
Ray ran a hand over her roof. "Me and my Dad worked on her, rebuilt her engine ... This is six coats of paint."
"She really is a fine automobile. I'm sorry to say my father wasn't able to teach me anything about cars, though I do know my way around a dogsled team."
"You're kidding me."
"I assure you, I'm quite serious."
Wow. Crazy Canadians. "So where's your Dad now?"
Ben gave a strange little look over his shoulder, but turned back. "Well, I ... That's odd." He rubbed his eyebrow. "Usually that's one of the first things people learn about me. I first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's killers."
"Oh, man. Your Dad got whacked?"
"Indeed. And it was Francesca's brother— Would you like to go and get something to eat? It's a bit of a story."
"Yeah, yeah, sure."
And so Ray heard all about how Ray Vecchio and Ben busted the crooked Mountie, and Ben got stuck at the Chicago Consulate 'cause nobody wanted him back, and he got to do real policework with Vecchio and Welsh at the 2-7 on the side, but that ever since Vecchio had gone undercover for the Feds and then pensioned off after getting shot, it had been mostly sentry duty and paperwork. Which Ray figured had to be a special kind of hell, even though Ben kept saying the filing of forms was an important duty for the proper functioning of the government. Right. It just wasn't the same as running down a perp and throwing him in the cage—that was job satisfaction, and Ray could tell Ben agreed, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud.
Ray shared a few case stories of his own, all from a few years ago. The whole Stella thing had sucked the satisfaction out of everything for a while, but he wasn't going to talk about that tonight. He was actually having a good time, and it was hard to see it end when it was time to take Ben back to the Consulate.
Ray lay awake for a while that night just enjoying the memory of the day. He'd hung out with someone who shared the same interests. Was a cop, even if he was a Canadian one. A decent guy, too, not some jerk. Someone who actually liked him for him; and between his parents and Stella and whoever he'd had to be on undercover jobs, Ray had kind of forgotten who he was. He hadn't really thought about it that way before. Yeah, Stella was a part of him, part of his identity, but so was boxing and busting dirtballs and working his retro-thrift style. Sure, when she took off she left a gaping hole in his life, but maybe it wasn't completely empty after all.
The boxing match, Ray got. The hockey game, he got. Walking the wolf-dog—who by the way was damn friendly with his tongue—he got. This, he did not get.
"Ben, I got eight hours where I gotta do nothing but take down license plates." And good thing he'd asked that "attractive" question when he wasn't wearing his glasses, which did not do him any favors in the looks department, if you asked him.
"It's no trouble at all, Ray. It's just as easy to spend time in your company on a stakeout as in front of a televised hockey game. And believe me, I'm quite inured to the boring aspects of police work."
"Huh. Well, I guess even this is better than doing a statue impression."
"Right you are."
Still it felt good, Ben wanting to spend time with him, even when last-minute duty got in the way of their plans. Damn collectible stamp thieves, setting up meets with potential buyers at some freaky UFO-theme diner.
Diefenbaker leaned forward from the back seat and licked his ear, and Ray hid his grin in the shrug to escape the wolf. He was going to have a wet ear and dog hair in the back seat and a head full of weird Eskimo—or, rather, Inuit—stories by the end of the night—and it was about fourteen thousand times better than going it alone.
It turned out he ended up with a head full of weird UFO stories from a case Ben and his old partner had been on, plus the entertainment of making Ben say "philatelist" ten times fast. And it was about a hundred thousand times better than going it alone.
Ray whipped open the office door, apparently cutting off a lunge by his sister for it. "Benny, thanks for coming in. I think I got another prospect for Kowalski. Here, siddown."
"Ray, Ray seemed fairly uninterested in pursuing Ms. Jackson's company. I'm not sure he's ready—"
"Whoa. That's mostly 'cause she didn't like the boxing and hockey thing, right? I already checked this one out. It's not a problem. She's more interested in meeting a good guy, fast, and she's easy-going on the details. She's also okay with doing a casual meet-up first, to see how they get along, instead of a date, so I was hoping you could do like before ..."
Francesca was beaming hopefully at him. Ben eased the crick in his neck and hedged. "Well, I know nothing about the young lady. What is she like?"
"Her name's Dolley. She's an artist. She's pretty. She's looking for a nice guy. Anything else you need to know?"
Ben capitulated. "Well, I do have passes to the traveling exhibit at the Art Institute, Hoofed Megafauna above the 49th: Ungulates in Oils. I was planning to invite Ray, as he'd mentioned an appreciation for painting. I suppose it could be a group outing."
"See, that's the spirit, Benny! I knew I could count on you."
"It'll be wonderful, Frase." Francesca leaned forward eagerly.
Ben leaned back. "Yes, well, I'll let you know the details." He jumped from his chair and fled.
Ms. Madison was pretty. And personable, and articulate on the topic of art. Ray seemed to accept her inclusion in their trip just fine, so perhaps Ben had been worried over nothing.
Ray had come up with the suggestion for a pre-museum lunch. "This place is small, but the pies are great."
The pizzeria was small, and Ray directed them to grab the last open table while he ordered at the counter. While they waited for their order, Ben entertained them with a brief overview of the place of caribou and moose portraiture in Canadian art history.
When the pizza arrived at their table, Ben was at first focused on the delightful aroma, and smiled his approval to Ray. So he didn't notice Dolley's distressed response until the rather pronounced undulation of her torso caught his attention. Unfortunately, by the time he took in her pale, unhappy face, she was already regurgitating on their table.
"Oh, dear!" Ben leaped up to grab some napkins while Ray scooted quickly back, then came around behind Dolley to ask, "Hey, you okay?" He sounded upset, but was in fact wearing a wide smile.
Ben was shocked. "Ray, I ... well ... this isn't really amusing. This poor woman is ill."
"No, this is something I saw on TV," Ray gritted through his teeth, lips still pulled up tight. "As long as you're grinning, you can't upchuck."
"Oh, that seems a very useful trick." Ben pulled the corners of his mouth up. "Ah. Interesting," he decided.
The rest of the diners, including Francesca, were a sea of suffering, wincing away from the inescapable smell of vomitus and trying to keep their own stomachs.
Ray and Ben, grins frozen on their faces, glided between the tables, escorting the miserable ladies to the exit.
"C'mon, Benny, who puts pineapple on a pizza? That's disgusting! No wonder she puked."
"Ray, the young lady later confessed she's three months pregnant with another man's baby."
"Ah, crap. I'll have to have a little talk with her about full disclosure when she's looking to get fixed up." Ray rubbed his face and sighed.
Ben ended up taking Ray to the exhibit later, just the two of them, and that was pretty cool. Well, the whole painting giant deer thing was kind of nuts, but Ben told a lot of stories about growing up in Canada, pointing out places he knew in the paintings. It looked pretty—like a nice, clean place to go. When Ray said so, Ben offered to show him some time, and Ray hadn't meant to be hinting for an invitation or anything, but Ben looked like he was happy to offer, and, yeah. That'd be real nice, one of these days. Course one of these days he'd have to show Ben the benefits of a vacation on a warm, sunny beach, too.
"No, what I'm saying is sometimes a perp needs the threat of a good head-kicking to get him to spill."
"But Ray, surely criminals are well aware of the proscriptions against police brutality. If you threaten them, they'll know they're safe from actual harm. Unless, of course, they do suffer actual harm, in which case their charges will be dismissed."
"Ben, if they can remember actual law, if they're even thinking of anything except the fact they just pissed their pants, you're not doing it right. You gotta ... Mm!" Ray lunged for emphasis, "get right in their face." Ray was dancing along the sidewalk beside him, making broad gestures in illustration.
"I don't know, Ray. I'm not sure the Queen would approve of such—"
"The Queen? The Queen?" Ray added more height to the hops in his sideways stride. "Ooo, Canadians!" Ray screwed up his face and balled his fists in frustration, and Ben smiled inwardly. "I'd like to see the Queen interrogate some dirtbag that's been slipping roofies to girls. I'll bet ten minutes in she'd be whackin' him with her handbag." He mimed it in midair.
Ben loved Ray's exuberance, watching him express himself so passionately. He was well aware Ray knew where the line was on police brutality; he wouldn't be on the streets, much less held in such esteem by Lieutenant Welsh, otherwise. No, he had to admit to baiting his friend in order to spark some of their more colorful exchanges. He was also well aware Ray was on to him and played along.
"Ray, the Queen would never resort to—"
"Help! Thief!"
Ben turned immediately towards the cry, and saw Ray out of the corner of his eye do the same. A shopkeeper was standing in her doorway and pointing up the street towards a runner. He and Ray took off as one, racing up the street after the suspect. When they got within half a block, Ray yelled, "Chicago PD. Stop!" but it had no effect. The suspect ducked into an alleyway in the block ahead of them, and Ray peeled off. He glanced back and brushed a thumb along his nose, and Ben brushed his nose back. Understood—Ray would be at the other end of the alley.
Ben redoubled his speed.
By the time he turned the corner, their quarry was halfway through. Before he made it out, though, Ray came speeding around the corner at the far end, long legs pumping and coat flying open. "Police, asshole!" The runner windmilled to a stop and stuttered backwards a few steps before turning around. Trapped between Ben and Ray, he hesitated for a second, but then kept going. It was short work on Ben's part to take him down.
Ben looked up, just for a moment, to see Ray barreling up in full cop mode. It was exhilarating to be working on the street again, if only by chance. Suddenly the ground heaved under him. He heard a scuffle, and, "Do not move, jackass, or there's not going to be pieces left to lock up. You hear me?" And then Ben didn't hear anything at all until, "Ben! Ben! Can you open your eyes?" He saw a hand coming down. He knew that hand—distinctively curved thumbs, long fingers. Safe. His eyes slid closed, and he felt the hand brush against his cheek and pat. "Hey, do not pass out on me again, Ben! Do not!" He opened his eyes again. This time he saw Ray's face looking anxiously down on him. "You with me? You here? Dispatch has a car coming, and an ambulance."
Ben smiled. "I'm fine ... I will be fine," he corrected. He did have quite a headache.
His father peered down at him over Ray's shoulder. "The Yank's right, son. Sometimes it takes a threat of violence with some offenders." If Ben could get away with closing his eyes again, he would, but Ray looked too worried about him still. "Very effective technique when done properly. The Yank's quite good at it, very impressive work." Ben would have rolled his eyes if he could be sure it wouldn't make his headache worse.
Fortunately they were interrupted by the arrival of the uniformed officers and the EMTs. Ray arranged for his perp to be cuffed, Mirandaed and taken in as quickly as possible, then insisted on riding in to the emergency room with Ben.
He hovered throughout the doctor's examination. "He had the perp down, but then the guy flipped him and slammed his head on the street. He was unconscious for, like, a minute, but he woke up okay."
"One minute, you think? All right, thank you, detective. Pupils are responsive and it doesn't look like there's any lasting impact other than that goose egg, which will be pretty tender for a while. Still, constable, you shouldn't be alone tonight, in case you develop any symptoms of a more serious head injury."
"You're staying at my place," Ray insisted before Ben could speak. "No arguments."
Ben snapped his mouth shut, though it was tempting to see if he could goad Ray into threatening to kick him in the head if he didn't comply. Unfortunately he didn't think the doctor would see the humor. Instead he just relaxed and waited for discharge, Ray's hand a comforting anchor on his shoulder.
"Casa di Amore, Francesca speaking." Frannie glanced at the clock. Figures her lunkhead brother would take off at five and she'd still be there working.
"I ought to call the Better Business Bureau on you!"
"Mary? Is that you?"
"Don't you 'Mary' me! What on earth were you thinking?"
"Uh, Ms. Lincoln? Did your meeting with Ray not go well?" Frannie winced in anticipation.
"Not go well? Not go well?" Frannie flinched harder and pulled the phone away. "What is the point in sending me out to meet a gay man? A gay man with his boyfriend standing over his shoulder the whole time? I am looking for a husband here, not someone to do my hair with!"
Frannie gaped at the phone a moment. "Ms. Lincoln, there's some sort of misunderstanding. Ray's not, uh ... And his friend, they're just friends. I mean, I know Fraser. He's not light in the loaf pan."
"Light in the ...? Good lord, you people are incompetent! I know full well when someone is sending me 'back off my man' vibes. I wasn't expect them tonight from the man accompanying my date, but he practically drilled holes in my skull with his eyes!"
"I ... I'm sorry. I'll see what—"
"Never mind! Consider yourselves fired."
Frannie set the phone carefully back on the cradle, her ears still ringing from the hang up. What the ...? Ray and Ben did spend a lot of time together ... Frannie chewed on her lower lip. No, the woman just had to be nuts, that was it. She wrote "Whacko" on a Post-it note, but hesitated before sticking it on the file. She should probably try to find out what happened.
Ben paced his small office-cum-bedroom, still agitated. What a singularly unpleasant human being that woman had been! Ben tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, lord knows, but that Mary Lincoln was outrageous.
From the moment she met Ray, she had worked questions into her conversation designed to elicit personal information of a particular nature: What kind of salary did a detective make? How long had he been on the job? Benefits? Was there hazard pay? What kind of car did he drive? What neighborhood did he live in? Did he pay alimony?
The first questions Ray had answered, asking whether she was interested in working for the department, and Ben thought maybe he had misunderstood her intentions. But as time went on, Ben's admittedly uncharitable initial reaction towards her had proved correct. Ray became increasingly confused by and uneasy with the questions, and Ben became incensed.
When Ms. Lincoln moved closer and rested her perfectly manicured nails against Ray's sleeve, Ben gave her a warning glare with the full force of his strength behind it. She gave him a long, measured look back, then an angry grimace as she withdrew her hand.
Ben knew she couldn't possibly have represented her true intent to Ray Vecchio when she'd applied to the agency; Ray would never tolerate that sort of client. Ben shuddered. He didn't think she was the sort of gold digger he'd read about in police cases who would go so far as to murder a husband; Ray wasn't nearly wealthy enough to merit that kind of attention. Still, her interest was single-mindedly material and her manners appalling. Fortunately he had successfully driven her off and knew Ray was safe at home, but he still felt guilty about his participation in the matchmaking conspiracy.
The ring of the phone interrupted his thoughts.
"Frase?"
"Francesca, are you all right?" He was immediately concerned by her faltering tone.
"Um, that Mary Lincoln. She was just crazy, right?"
Oh dear, another victim of that harpy. Ben replied firmly, "Mary Lincoln is not fit for civilized company. I dread that she is at large, seeking a husband; I wouldn't wish her on my worst enemy."
"Really?" Francesca perked up a little. " 'Cause she fired us."
"Count yourself lucky, Francesca. She's unmatchable, or she should be."
"Oh, okay, good. Thanks, Frase." Francesca sounded deeply relieved, and he hung up the phone, glad that he'd been able to ease her mind.
He had a one-on-one hockey scrimmage planned with Ray for the next day, and good vigorous sport with his friend would drive the rest of his foul mood away.
The blonde woman talking to Lieutenant Welsh outside Casa di Amore could only be Stella Kowalski. Ben understood that a couple who met so young could drift apart, but he was afraid he'd have very little in common with someone who didn't value the many appealing aspects of her ex-husband. Nevertheless, he would be polite, for the sake of both his friends Ray.
Diefenbaker, who'd become quite protective of Ray Kowalski, was fortunately more interested in the terrier with the couple inside talking to the Vecchios.
Lieutenant Welsh did the honors. "Ms. Kowalski, meet Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police."
"Constable Fraser, it's good to meet you." She gave him a firm, brisk handshake. "That was great work you did, apprehending Randal Bolt—twice."
"Ah. Thank you." Ben often forgot he had a small bit of notoriety in the Chicago justice system.
He caught sight of Ray through the glass door, waving them in, and the couple rising from their seats. "Please, shall we?" he said, holding the door open.
"Guys, meet Manny and Maureen, my latest success story. They're on their way to order the wedding invitations at this very moment." Ray and Francesca were both beaming proudly, and Ben added his congratulations to the chorus.
"Come on, Mo, let's let these nice people have their meeting. We have a wedding to plan." Maureen happily took her fiancé's arm, and if Ben wasn't mistaken, the stationers would not be their first destination. "Jack!" she called back for her dog, who reluctantly left his sniff-fest with Diefenbaker.
Now that they had the shop to themselves, Ben couldn't help but notice Ray taking in Stella appreciatively—and that the attention was returned. Ms. Kowalski seemed to have an eye for the suit Ray was wearing, and Ben had to admit that if she admired sartorial elegance, perhaps his first friend Ray was a better match for her than his second.
"All right then." Ray rubbed his hands together. "Time for an update on the Kowalski case. Benny, what happened with Abigail?"
Ben sighed. "I'm afraid the meeting with Ms. Adams was over nearly as soon as it began. I had just introduced them, and Ray volunteered to bring her a glass of something. She requested red wine. The reception was quite crowded, and, well, as he was handing her the glass, someone knocked into him quite forcefully from behind, and the wine ended up on her dress. Ray was able to secure napkins quickly from a passing waiter and made an initial attempt to blot the stain before realizing that the location of the stain made it inappropriate for him to do so, and he left the napkins to her." The Lieutenant and Ray winced in appreciation of the awkwardness. "Unfortunately, Ms. Adams was convinced that the entire mishap was an intentional effort on Ray's part to 'grope' her, which she proclaimed loudly and insistently to all in the immediate area. I could not convince her that I had seen that it was truly an accident, and I'm afraid both parties left, angry and upset, in opposite directions."
"Oh, dear," sighed Francesca.
"Precisely," Ben agreed. "Ms. Kowalski, I assure you, Ray had no—"
She held up her hand. "No, it's okay, I know Ray isn't that kind of dog. Uh, no offense," she added, when Dief growled quietly at her. "I just hope there's another candidate that maybe he won't screw up with right away."
Ben stiffened. The failure of the first four attempts was not in any way a "screw up" on Ray's part, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from pointing it out, as he would not be at all in control of his tone if he did so.
"Fortunately I think I do have someone else," Ray replied. He opened a folder on his desk. "Martha was divorced three years ago. She's a paramedic. She likes sports, Chinese food and cars."
Stella and Lieutenant Welsh nodded appreciatively.
"Okay," continued Ray, "what plan can we come up with to get them together?" Ben winced inwardly. His days of offering consulate receptions for these ... these schemes were decidedly over.
Francesca suggested, "Harding, maybe you can invite Ray to a party at the 2-7, and she can come."
The Lieutenant tapped his lip as he pondered the idea. "Maybe ..."
"We can say it's my birthday, or something."
"But Francesca, it's nowhere near your birthday," protested Ben. He pulled at his collar, surprised to find a sweater under his fingers, not his uniform. Why, then, was it so difficult to breathe? This whole situation was ... was ...
"I know, Frase. It's just to trick him to come to the party."
... intolerable.
"I'm sorry," Ben burst out. "I simply can't continue to be a party to this subterfuge. I apologize for throwing a wrench in the works, so to speak, but I can safely say that Ray is simply not interested in pursuing any woman romantically at this juncture, and to continue in these attempts to force him to do so would only be a disservice to him and to the young ladies in question. Ms. Kowalski," he turned to Stella. "If you wish your ex-husband to cease following you, then rest assured I will be more than happy to take him off your hands myself."
Four pairs of eyes stared at him. Four jaws dropped.
"Constable, I didn't realize ..." the Lieutenant began, at the same time Stella started to say, "But, but Ray's not ..." while Ray blustered, "No way, Benny! What the hell—!" Frannie just looked a little wobbly around the lower lip.
Ben leapt to his feet and cut them off. "Honestly, this whole situation came about to give Ray something better to do with his free time than to pine after Ms. Kowalski. I flatter myself that that is now the case, and if I've found some measure of companionship as well, then it's all to the better. I dearly hope that you will agree that Ray's contentment is a worthy outcome, even if he's not fulfilling the master plan you all took it upon yourselves to design for him. Good evening."
Desperate to escape the stifling atmosphere, he swept out the front door, Dief in his wake, leaving the conspirators gaping after him in shock.
"Honestly," he confided to Dief as they walked towards the Consulate, "why are they so insistent that Ray get romantically involved? What's wrong with being single and having friends?"
Dief stopped short on the sidewalk and sat, forcing Ben to stop and look back at him. "What?"
Dief cocked his head in disbelief and barked.
"'I've smelled you?' What on earth does that mean? Really, I think you're becoming unhinged."
Dief just shook his head and started trotting up the sidewalk again.
Ray entered the Consulate, worried but hopeful.
Benny looked up from the front desk, surprised. "Welcome to Canada, Ray."
Ray fidgeted a little. "About the other night ... look, I'm sorry I overreacted about you and Kowalski. You just caught me by surprise, you know?"
Benny rubbed his eyebrow. "I understand that you have become close to Stella, and that you have a certain image of Ray colored by her perspective. I hope you can trust my judgment when I say that Ray and I are, as you might say, simpatico. Despite the differences in our backgrounds we have a certain rapport, and I find him an engaging companion, admirable in numerous respects."
Oh, jeez. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Benny. I do not need to know all of what you ... admire. As long as you're happy, okay?"
"Yes, Ray," Fraser replied simply.
"All right. We good?"
Fraser's smile finally looked relaxed and genuine. "Of course, Ray."
"Good. I gotta get outta here." He jerked his thumb back towards the door. "Got some lonely hearts need fixing up."
"Very well, Ray. I ... thank you for coming by."
Ray jogged down the front steps of the Consulate, then realized the wolf had slipped out behind him. "Hey, buddy, what the hell was that? 'Rapport'? 'Admirable'? Jeez, and I thought the Mountie was hopeless with women."
Dief barked in commiseration and Ray shrugged. "What the hell, as long as it works for Kowalski. I guess guys don't need all the mushy talk."
Dief barked again and Ray narrowed his eyes at him. "You don't care; you're just going along with me to hit me up for junk food, aren't you?"
Dief sat with his tongue lolling. Shameless, just like Benny always said. Ray shook his head. "Don't tell," he instructed the wolf, as he dug a powerbar out of his coat pocket and unwrapped it. Dief sniffed it curiously. Ray sighed. "Yeah, Stella's trying to get me to eat healthy. But it beats pemmican, I'll tell you that much." Dief snapped it up. "Yeah, I thought so."
Ray had just let Ben and Dief in the front door when the phone rang, so Ray jogged back to the kitchen.
"Stanley?"
"Mom. Hey, what's up?"
"Oh, good. I was hoping to catch you before you went in to work."
"Actually, I worked the weekend, so I have a couple of days off. S'okay, though, I'm up early anyways." He held up the kettle and a mug to Ben and made a questioning face. Ben nodded yes, so Ray put the kettle on the stove and rooted around for a teabag, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. "So what's going on."
"Well ... I talked to Stella the other day."
"Uh huh." Nothing new about that.
"And she told me about your new ... friend."
"My new ... You mean Ben? How the hell does Stella know about Ben?" Of course Mr. Bat Ears looked up when he heard his name.
"Oh, I ... I think maybe through Lieutenant Welsh?"
"Oh yeah, Welsh, okay. That makes sense. So what about him?"
"Well, I just ... I wanted to have you and your ... Ben over for dinner. It's okay, your father is okay with it, too."
Jeez, his Mom was acting weird. "Uh, sure, Mom. Fine." He dropped the mouthpiece under his chin. "Hey Ben, how do you feel about the food groups of sausage and cabbage, within the general theme of all you can eat?"
Dief gave an excited bark before Ben could finish saying, "That sounds lovely, Ray."
Ray swung the bottom of the phone back up. "You up for feeding a shameless mutt, too?"
"Oh, he ... Ben's there?" His Mom sounded a little out of breath or something.
"Yeah." He poured hot water over the teabag. "He says dinner's good. Hey, are you okay?"
"I told you, honey, it's fine. I'm fine. We'll expect both you boys, and the dog, here Friday at seven."
"Okay, sure. Sounds great." He hung up the phone and stared at it. "Okay, that was weird." He shook the cricks out of his neck.
Ben hemmed. "I may have neglected to mention that Lieutenant Welsh introduced me to your ex-wife a few days ago. Thank you kindly," he added, as he took the mug.
"So you met the Stella, huh? Whadja think?"
"Uh, she's a very attractive woman." Ben sort of stalled out after that. But then he was always a little more uptight in the big red suit—Ray was glad he'd gotten to know him in civvies. Ray had a feeling Ben was wrestling with one of those if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all things. He could see Stella not being Ben's kind of person.
"S'okay, you don't have to answer."
Ben looked relieved. "Honestly, Ray, it was a very short encounter."
"No big deal. Hey, you got the wolf chow in the bag there?"
"Oh, yes. Thank you so much for looking after him while I'm on this diplomatic detail. I should be able to pick him up tomorrow evening."
"No problemo. We're going to have us a good old time, aren't we?" Dief danced up on his hind legs and barked excitedly. "Yeah, buddy!"
"Please, just try to keep the junk food to a minimum. His digestive disturbances can be profound."
"No wolf puking on the rugs. Check." A couple of bites of pizza wouldn't hurt him.
The message light was blinking when Ray got home, so he pulled off his gloves, punched the play button, then started unbuttoning his coat.
"Stanley!" He and Ben had just left Skokie an hour ago, and his Mom had called already? He didn't know how she'd survived being in Arizona so long.
"I just wanted to tell you again how much we enjoyed meeting your boyfriend." He blinked and shook his head, pulling his arms out of his coat sleeves. Mom was terrible at keeping up with slang; she must think it was like calling girl friends, girlfriends.
"They don't call them that, Barbara," he could hear his Dad in the background. Yeah, you explain it to her, Dad. "They're 'domestic partners' or some damn thing."
Ray's coat slipped from paralyzed fingers to the floor.
What?
His Mom was going on again about something, but Ray wasn't listening. Suddenly he was seeing their dinner with a whole new set of eyes.
Oh, such a polite young man, and Ray hadn't exactly understood why she'd seemed relieved, but he hadn't really thought about it. They'd eyeballed Ben a bit at first, but he'd quickly been pretty much adopted, then stuffed to the gills. Dief, too. But ... the baby pictures—the baby pictures his Mom hadn't pulled out for anyone outside of family since she'd showed them to Stella when they were 14. And the way she'd pulled Ray aside briefly before they left. Such a nice man, and very good-looking. With an approving pat on his arm. And, oh man, his Dad had gruffly admitted he'd missed him, before, and never wanted to lose his son again. Was this what that'd been all about? Ray felt a little wobbly.
Ray had just figured they were glad he had a friend, that he wasn't hanging around drunk outside Stella's window, yelling for her. (It was just the one time, really, since he unfortunately did not have an alcoholic blackout, and the memory of making like Brando was embarrassing as hell.)
This, though ... The machine was making its end-of-the-message squeal, and Ray mashed blindly at the buttons until it stopped. This was seriously nuts. Ray tried to make sense of it, but his brain was caught in a tiny little loop going my parents think me and Ben are boyfriends over and over.
Finally his detective instincts kicked him in the head and told him to gather more information, stupid. So he pushed replay on the machine, and waited while the tape rewound.
His Mom said "boyfriend" again and his Dad said "domestic partners" and Ray had to force his brain to pay attention and not freeze up on him.
"I have to admit, honey, we were both a little shocked when Stella told us." That's what Stella had told them about his "new friend"? Was this some sort of weird new game of hers? His Mom had to have misunderstood. Had to have.
"I hope you'll understand that it's not a reflection on you that your father called Lieutenant Welsh to find out more about your young man." The Lieu? What the hell?
"Oh dear, Ben's probably standing right there next to you. Honestly, Ben, sweetheart, it wasn't about you either. We just didn't know you, and it was all quite a surprise, something we had to, well, adjust to. But now that we've met you, well, you really are quite a catch." Oh, jeez, thank God Ben wasn't here with him. Ray shuddered just thinking about the awkwardness if Ben heard what Ray's parents were saying about him. Them.
"Anyway, Stanley, honey, we just want you to be happy. And Lieutenant Welsh had nothing but nice things to say about Ben; he said he'd be proud to call him son. And Stella and the Lieutenant both mentioned how passionate Ben was about you. Stella said almost like your knight in shining armor." And Ray's brain couldn't help but shut down again, because this was a whole new level of weird.
He blindly jabbed at the buttons again until his Mom's voice cut off, then staggered into the bedroom where he fell back on the bed and lay there in shock.
"This can not be happening!" he warned the ceiling. "This is some kind of a ..." He jerked up and looked around the room for the candid cameras. "This can not be happening," he repeated, more quietly. Because, this was Ben, damn it, his best friend. And their whole "friendship" had just taken a trip into the Twilight Zone.
Maybe if he was lucky he'd wake up to find it was all a kielbasa-induced nightmare.