Thin Ice	  Thin Ice

 by Laura Lee aka Snowee

  

 Author's website: http://snowee.50megs.com

 Disclaimer: Accolades to Alliance for creating characters I could play
with.

 Author's Notes: 

 Story Notes: Graphic description.

 

 

 'If only I could go back,' Alexandra thought as the sound of her boots
squeaking on the tile floor in her entryway became vivid in her mind. 'If
I'd stayed to talk to Detective Kowalski and Constable Fraser for one more
minute. If I had stopped at that yellow light or taken the scenic route I
was going to take.' She could still feel the cold snow on her reddening
fingers as she brushed it from her hair and shoulders. Looking down, she
knew she would have to clean up the mess, but later. 

 'Why did I fight with him in public? Why did I threaten him?' With her
eyes closed, she could almost forget that she was lying on a cot in a
barred holding cell. 

 'Perhaps it's my own fault for being so stupid. I had so many chances to
leave, but I kept believing that it would get better. Besides, I provoked
him.' 

 She opened her eyes at the sound of footsteps approaching her cell. With
slow movement she sat up, partly relieved to see a familiar face, but
mostly horrified by the look on the one who favoured smiles. With a long
look, she moved toward the bars. She couldn't speak. 

 Finally, the voice she longed to hear spilled out words that made her
want to fall to the floor. 

 "It doesn't look good, Alex," Ray said softly. "Your prints were all over
the knife. You've threatened him in public." He swallowed. "In front of
us," he motioned to himself and the man beside him dressed smartly in his
red serge. "And..." He stopped and closed his mouth. Never had he imagined
he would be standing on the other side of a jail cell from Alexandra. She
was a competent civilian aide, a friend, and an aggressive personality,
but he never expected this. 

 Alexandra put a hand on the bar and leaned. "And?" she asked softly,
choking. 

 "And when we asked your neighbors, they said that... that they saw you." 

 She tucked her chin into her chest and put her hands over her face. 

 Ray couldn't look at her. Neither could Fraser. They looked at each
other, they looked at the floor, the ceiling, the other prisoners,
anything as long as they didn't have to watch the weeping mass before
them. She stepped back from the bars and leaned on the opposite wall. With
a wipe across her face and specifically her eyes, she looked up with
renewed strength. "Who got the case?" 

 Ray looked at Fraser before looking back at her and answering. "Don't
know. Welsh knows we're kinda friends. He thinks maybe Huey and Dewey." 

 She nodded gently. "I know them, too. They thinkin' of bringing in
another precinct?" 

 Ray shrugged. "Don't know. Look. We offered to come down here and see if
you want to make a statement. Just me and Fraze. You wanna talk?" 

 With widened eyes, she stared at the two of them and stepped carefully
toward the bars. "Do you think I did this?" 

 Ray shifted his weight. "Well, you know, Alex..." She cut him off by
quickly snatching his shirt through the bars with her right hand. Fraser
grabbed her upper arm and Ray grabbed her wrist as he pulled away. "Now,
see, this isn't gonna help your case." He finally pulled away and stepped
back. 

 Her knuckles were white as they gripped a bar. She gritted her teeth and
stared at him. 

 Ray adjusted his shirt again. "It's that temper. Not even thirty minutes
before we got the call you stood right in front of us and told us how
Emmette was stealing from you and you were so pissed you could just kill -
well." 

 If Fraser didn't know better, he could have sworn he saw a glint of fire
in her eye. She turned to him and her look softened. Taking a step back,
she looked at them both.  

 "No, Fraser. Forget it. I'm not doin' it." Ray dropped a file on the
abandoned desk, out of habit, he supposed, then froze. He looked at the
name plate as he picked up the file again. Alexandra Frank. He walked
quickly to Francesca's desk where he dropped the file. 

 Fran looked up at him and stopped typing. "What's this?" 

 "You're job until Welsh finds a temp or somethin'." 

 Fran looked nodded. "Or until Alex comes back." 

 Ray smiled and chuckled. "She won't be back, Frannie." 

 Francesca frowned and leaned back in her seat. "You don't think so?" 

 Ray spoke louder as he headed for his desk. "I know so." He sifted
through the folders and papers on his desk, feeling the glare from Fraser.
Finally he looked up at the ever stiff Mountie and folded his arms. "I
said no." 

 "Ray, I don't believe she is capable of committing this crime." 

 "Are you kiddin' me? Tell me yer jokin' Fraze." 

 "I assure you I am not joking, Ray. It was far too brutal." 

 "Brutal? Look, Fraze, I'm I' a little tired of tryin' to explain this so
let's try it one more time, kay? People are capable of all kinds of
things, including things they just don't do up there in peace-lovin'
Canada. Just 'cause you've talked to her and worked with her doesn't mean
you know her." 

 "She just doesn't seem to be a person who would become that violent." 

 Ray scoffed. "Are you kiddin' me? She went up against that junkie who
broke that chair tryin' to escape. She shoulda been a cop the way she's
put choke holds on half the criminals who come through here. Half of us
who've tried to challenge 'er." 

 "That doesn't make her a killer, Ray." 

 Ray nodded. "I know, I know, but the thing is she was always sayin' how
much she hated him. They fought. He beat her up. We knew that. Hell, we
all knew it. She never left 'im though, did she?" 

 "Perhaps," Fraser replied softly as he rubbed his forehead. "Even if that
were true, it doesn't excuse his actions." 

 "Or hers," Ray replied quickly. "Look, Fraze, this forgiving attitude's
really endearing, but she went home, hacked her husband to death, and
waited for us to show." 

 "That is something else that seems odd, don't you think?" 

 Ray let out a loud breath. "Ok, Fraser. I don't give a shit about this,
ok? Not our case. Huey and Dewey are going to handle it." 

 "I am not sure that it would be in her best interest to leave it
completely to them." 

 "God, Fraze. You get an idea in your head and - Did she ask for our
help?" 

 "Well, no, not specifically, but..." 

 "Did she even claim she didn't do it?" 

 Fraser cleared his throat. "No, but I do believe..." 

 "Then I'm finished. I'm not I' involved. Here's the routine, ok? Huey and
Dewey are gonna point out that she'll get off better if she confesses.
Boom. Signed confession and it's over. She goes up the river and that's
the end of it." 

 Fraser said nothing. He simply watched Ray root though his papers again
and come out with a folder. He glanced inside the folder, then set it down
and began to type. Still Fraser said nothing as he sat across from Ray and
watched him type the report. 

 Ray quickly pulled the paper out and clipped it to the folder, then set
it on top of a pile of finished reports. He began to look for the next,
but decided Fraser was being far too silent. "Ok, what do you want to do?"


 "Perhaps we could begin by going over the crime scene." 

 "Oh no, no we aren't doin' that." Ray stood and motioned to Huey to join
them. "I'm not doin' the legwork. I got a better idea." He waited until
Huey stepped up, then smiled. "Hey, Huey. Why don't you let me take
somethin' off your hands." 

 "Like?" 

 "Alex Frank. We'll save you the trouble of the interview. Get her
confession and all. That good for you?" 

 Huey shrugged. "Sure. No problem."  

 Alexandra was back on the cot, staring at the ceiling. She feared closing
her eyes because each time she did she was bombarded by clear images,
sounds, smells. Staring at the ceiling wasn't helping much either, but
examining the chipped paint distracted her. She heard footsteps and sat
up. 'Kowalski and Fraser?' She wondered why they had returned. She stood
slowly. "Back so soon?" she said in a voice that reflected her weakness of
both body and spirit. 

 Ray nodded as the guard opened the cell. While securing a set of cuffs on
her, Ray grinned. "We're gonna handle the interview for Huey and Dewey." 

 She followed limply as they took her to the interview room. She could see
in the blonde haired jerk's eyes that he was preparing for a confession
without a second thought. Nothing upset her more than the fact that she'd
already been determined guilty by officers she worked with every day. She
could figure out the Mountie, however. He was easy, though she never
understood him. 'He's probably already trying to defend me,' she thought.
'Probably looking for his next convicted innocent.' She smiled as she sat
in the cold chair Ray had pulled out for her. 

 For several moments, no one said anything. Ray could see from the glare
that she refused to speak first. He opened the file and glanced at it. 

 "You know, Alex, it's gonna go much easier if you just... just tell
us..." 

 "Confess?" she said, her eyes burning. 

 "Look, I can't make you say anything without a lawyer, you know that, but
we all knew Emmette was abusive and, well, maybe it was self-defense." 

 Ray watched her closely as she slowly took in a deep breath before
looking up at him. "It wasn't self defense." Her voice was firm, but
quiet. She paused and watched his reaction. She could see it in his eyes.
He was thinking now that it was premeditated or at least unprovoked.
Unprovoked on that day, anyway. Turning to the Mountie, she spoke again.
"Do you think I did it?" 

 Fraser felt uncomfortable at the way she had asked. He shifted and
cleared his throat before answering. "I'm not entirely sure my opinion..."


 "Do you?" she insisted. 

 Fraser looked again into her eyes. "I seem to recall a passage about
someone being innocent until proven..." 

 Her eyes flashed fire and she slammed her cuffed fists on the table. "I
didn't ask you that, did I, Constable? Always the damned diplomat. Do you
think I did it?" 

 Fraser looked at Ray, then shook his head just enough to say no. 

 Leaning back in the chair, she half smiled. "I figured as much. You don't
think a person could kill another human being. Well, if I didn't do it,
who did?" 

 Ray looked at the file while Fraser said nothing. "I have to tell you,
Alex, that there aren't a whole lot of options. It was snowing, but there
were no tracks in the snow except yours. The corpse was fresh. Your prints
were on the knife." He stopped and looked at her. 

 "What? You want me to deny that? It was my kitchen knife. The only decent
knife we had, by the way. I used it all the time." 

 "For?" Ray asked, making a note. 

 She straightened. "What do you mean 'for'? For cutting things. Was sharp
enough to, I don't know, stab a human being to death. That work for you?"
Her voice was fierce. 

 Ray shook his head. "Ok, Alex. Here's the thing of the deal. You're gonna
give us a confession. I'm gonna write it down, we'll have it made all
formal like and you'll sign it. Then we're done. Judge'll go much easier
on you if you just go along." 

 "Yeah, yeah," she said softly with defined anger in her voice. "I know
the routine. I been workin' here longer than you, remember? There's only
one problem," her voice was building in volume. "I can't tell you what
happened." 

 Ray took a deep breath and glanced at the report again. "Shall I go on
here? They found you with blood all over you. You've threatened him so
many times I can't even count." 

 With each word, she felt more warm. She looked around the room, sparse in
furniture, as her face reddened. She listened to all the words, trying to
connect something. 

 "You have a violent streak to begin with and you were just tellin' us he
stole from you. They searched the place and there's nothin'. No boot
tracks, no fingerprints nothin'. You might as well confess 'cause there's
nothin' here for a defense." 

 All at once, Alexandra stood. "I!" She grabbed the chair she'd been
sitting on as Ray jumped from his seat. "Didn't!" She lifted the chair
back behind her shoulders as Fraser lunged and missed her while Ray jumped
onto the table. "Do it!" She swung the chair and the room was absorbed in
the sound of breaking glass. The two way mirror took several seconds to
stop making sounds and by that time, Ray and Fraser had her pinned to the
ground.  

 Ray's face was divided down the center by the steel grey bar, from Alex's
perspective. Fraser stood so that she could only see one eye. She kept her
arms wrapped around her knees as she sat in the corner and looked up at
them, still fuming. 

 Ray said nothing, he only stared back. Fraser could do nothing except
watch the two. Finally Alex shifted and put her feet on the floor. Ray
shifted in response as he spoke. "Look at yourself. You look like a fox
who just had a nice meal in the henhouse. You're nuts if you think you'll
get outta here." Alexandra didn't move, she only continued to stare,
boring a hole into Ray. "I'm tryin' to help you," Ray said firmly. "I'm
tryin' to make it easy on you." 

 Alexandra stood suddenly and the movement made Ray take two steps
backward. "Then find out who did this." 

 Ray smirked. "You're gonna go with that, then, huh? Gonna say you didn't
do it? Look at the evidence! You can't explain it away. Do you really
think you'll get out of this?" 

 Approaching the bars, Alex gripped them firmly. "Don't forget about the
Botrelle case, Detective Kowalski," she said smoothly. 

 Ray stepped forward. He met her gaze. He wanted to tell her to shut up,
tell her it was none of her business. Irate that she would try to use that
case, a case that he took so personally, against him, he pointed a finger
at her. "Yer not Beth," he said simply. "And how dare you?" 

 Fraser could see Ray's muscles tense. "Ray," he attempted to interject
softly. 

 "How dare you pull that out. Her husband committed suicide!" 

 "Ray," Fraser repeated more firmly. 

 "That poor woman went through a hell of a lot because of some corrupt..."


 "Ray." 

 "...political figures! That I'n't you!" 

 "Ray!" 

 "Yer a nutcase who's been dyin' for an excuse to whack the guy." 

 "Ray!" Fraser's word became staccato. 

 "Admit it!" 

 "Ray!" Fraser put his hand on Ray's shoulder. 

 "Admit it!" 

 "Ray!" Fraser spoke one more time as he clenched his fingertips into
Ray's collarbone. 

 Ray stopped short at that and leaned in. "You're goin' down and the only
thing that'll save you's if you make it easy on us and off yourself." 

 The glint of irritation built again in her eyes, but she said nothing. 

 Fraser tugged on his ear and looked through the bars at her. "Perhaps you
can tell us something that will help." 

 Ray pushed back his jacket and put a hand on his hip. "C'mon, Fraser. We
got better things to do." 

 Fraser looked at the determined look on Alexandra's face, then to his
frustrated partner. "Understood," he said softly and followed Ray.  

 On his knees, Fraser lowered his upper body and gazed with deep
concentration at the surface of the floor in the entryway. From the
entryway, there was access to the second floor and a door leading to the
living room. Seeing nothing, Fraser crawled to the living room and began
examining the carpet and under the furniture. 

 Ray followed, a step at a time, his arms folded firmly against his chest.
"Yer not gonna find anything, Fraze. Why'd I let you drag me here anyway?"


 Fraser said nothing as he stood and looked around the room again. He
stepped to the kitchen and looked around. Across the kitchen, near the
back wall of the house, was a spiral staircase leading to the second floor
and a door leading to the outside. Fraser began to make a careful search
of the area. He smelled and tasted nearly everything he came across. Ray
sighed and leaned against a wall. "The team went over this thoroughly. I
know yer good at findin' stuff they missed, but I don't know what you
expect to find here." 

 Fraser stood and glanced at Ray. "Isn't it possible that someone was
here, someone who may have killed Emmette, when she came home. She said in
her statement that she came in, brushed the snow off, then came to the
kitchen through the living room. Whoever was in the house at the time may
have left when she entered." 

 Ray nodded. "Yeah, but it was snowing when she got home and it stopped
before the team got here. They searched the snow, but there weren't any
tracks or even indentations where the tracks would've been snowed over."
Ray let out an audible breath. "There's no way to cover up snow track,
y'know Fraze. Got some Mountie trick I don't know about?" 

 Fraser shook his head. He glanced at the staircase, stepped close, then
looked up. "Did they check upstairs?" 

 Ray nodded. "Did a standard sweep up there. No signs that anyone'd been
in the house." 

 Fraser made his way slowly up the stairs. Ray followed reluctantly. 

 Watching Fraser work his way over every inch of the house bothered Ray. A
simple cut and dry case that should have been closed before lunch had
brought them back to the crime scene. Ray was growing tired of watching
the crimson and black clad man sniffing, tasting, and examining every
piece of dirt from Chicago to Ottawa. 

 Fraser stopped in the hall and looked up. Above him was the access panel
to the attic. 

 Ray saw the light bulb turn on in Fraser's facial expression then looked
at the floor. There was nothing odd about the floor and it appeared clean.
Fraser soon blocked his view, however, as he dropped to the floor. He came
up licking his finger. 

 "Insulation," he said softly. "The area was disturbed." He found a chair
quickly, opened the panel, and climbed through the opening. "Yes. Someone
has been up here recently." 

 "How recent?" Ray asked. 

 Fraser tipped his head. "I cannot determine that, but the insulation has
been disturbed." 

 Ray shrugged. "So if there was someone in the house, they could've hidden
up there until we left. Thing is, though, there're no footprints leading
into the house. There weren't fingerprints or footprints or hairs or
anything inside." 

 Fraser lowered himself from the space and brushed his hand over the
tunic. He nodded at Ray's observation. "That is precisely the issue. I see
how someone may have been overlooked, but now we must determine how
someone may have entered the house." 

 Ray grunted. "Fraser, c'mon! Get off it. You didn't even find anything
here. Some insulation and yer thinkin' she's off the hook. Now, look, I
liked workin' with 'er as much as the next guy. Place was never boring
when she was there, but it's true what they say 'bout redheads and her
temper was bound to land 'er in jail sooner or later." 

 Fraser made his way to the front stairway and walked down slowly,
examining, but finding nothing. "You're certain she did it, then?" he
asked finally. 

 Ray opened the front door and let Fraser walk in front of him. "Yeah. Why
not?" 

 "She said she didn't do it," Fraser defended. 

 "Well, I'm sorry, Fraze, but her denial lost it's charm when she hurled a
chair and broke glass. That's supposed to be unbreakable stuff, y'know." 
The cold in her fingers was beginning to return. The chill from the walls
was closing in on her. As Alexandra took a deep breath, she rolled to face
the wall and closed her eyes. She was letting the tears come. It wasn't
remorse that her husband was dead. She hated the man. She regretted her
position, though. She knew someone had carefully planted the scene so she
would be sure to take the fall. The question remained. Who was that
someone? 

 Angry at herself for her temper, she wiped her eyes and sniffed. She
tucked her fingers between her legs to warm them. Memories drifted in her
mind and she let them. She'd heard the officers and detectives use these
techniques for crimes and she was ready to give it a shot. 

 Her fingers were near her mouth so she could warm them with her breath
when she decided to leave the dirty melting snow in the entryway until
later. 'A sound?' She had thought she heard a sound. 'Funny. I didn't
remember hearing anything.' She had hardly taken note, assuming it was the
house settling. Then it came again. 'From the kitchen? From the stairs?'
She wasn't sure. Taking the route to the kitchen, she saw nothing out of
place, at first. A dark spot caught her eye. 'Juice? Some kind of syrup? I
suppose Emmette left this shit for me to clean up, as usual,' her inner
voice was angry that he'd left her yet another chore. She glanced at the
countertop and saw the phone hanging. Furrowing her brow she pulled it up
by the cord and set it back in place as she stepped slowly toward the wet
spot on the floor. 'I'll do it imperfectly, somehow, as usual, and there
will be another argument. The argument, of course, will end in...' That's
when she noticed it. 'Blood. It's blood. Oh god. Who's blood?' She took a
step forward, then froze. "Emmette?" she called out softly, but there was
only silence. She took another step and his foot came into view around the
counter. Quickly she stepped around the counter and saw him. Emmette was
on his back, blood practically pouring from him. The puddle was making
it's way toward a sag in the flooring which they had disguised with the
dining table. 

 Without thinking, she knelt beside him and checked his pulse. There was a
soft beating sensation beneath her fingertips. She could barely make it
out and it was unsteady. She put her hands in position to begin pumping
his chest, but felt only cuts, deep cuts. She tore open his shirt,
splattering blood onto herself and the cupboards. She could see that the
wounds were deep and there were too many, especially around the heart. Not
daring to attempt CPR with all the wounds, she sat there and stared. 

 She looked down and saw the blood, all the blood. More than she'd ever
seen before. It appeared to be so much more when she was standing beside
the body than when she was sorting crime scene photos for a report. 

 'The sirens.' It was the sirens that broke her silence. She stood on her
feet, then slipped in the blood. Catching herself on the counter, she
regained her balance. She felt angry now. Angry that he had gotten away.
More than a little angry that she wasn't the one to end their
relationship. She deserved the right to tell him to go to hell. 

 As the first officers stepped through the door, they saw her kick the
body and yell "You stupid bastard!" 'Probably not the best reaction at the
time,' she thought now, upon reflection. 'I just couldn't believe he would
do that to me.' 

 "Alexandra?" 

 She jumped when the voice softly came through the memories. She rolled
over and faced the bars. When she saw that it was Constable Fraser and
that he was alone, she stood cautiously and stepped to the bars, her brow
furrowed. 

 Fraser stood at attention, saying nothing for several moments. "Would you
mind if I asked you a few questions?" 

 "Off the record?" 

 "Unofficially, yes," he replied. 

 She moved from side to side, watching him as she paced. He was there by
himself, which gave away his secrets, if he had any. She knew immediately
it meant he had something, but not something substantial enough to
convince Kowalski. "What did you find?" she asked softly. 

 "It appears there was someone in your attic recently." 

 She looked deflated and stopped pacing. "Was that the best you could do?"


 "Pardon me?" 

 "We had a guy giving estimates on adding to our insulation 3 days ago. He
climbed up there to give us an estimate." She began pacing again, still
watching him. 

 "Oh," Fraser said softly. "His prints didn't show up," Fraser added,
realizing that if someone had been in the house, those prints should have
been extracted. He hated to think it, but could it have been someone
inside the police force? 

 She closed her eyes a moment, then glanced at him as she moved. "He wore
gloves. He came in, I showed him to the hallway, then he set down his
ladder and put on those big leather gloves before going up. I don't think
he touched anything before putting them on." 

 Fraser nodded. At times it was good to have someone who knew about
evidence giving him the information. 

 When she saw that he had no further questions, she stopped. "Is that it?
That's all?" 

 Fraser wasn't sure what to say. He'd been certain that his information
would provide insight. Now he was running out of answers. 

 She took a deep breath. "You don't think I'm capable, do you?" 

 Fraser shifted, noticeably uncomfortable. "I know you can be angry and
even violent, but to stab someone like that?" 

 "Say no, please?" 

 "Pardon me?" 

 "Say that you don't think I'm capable." 

 Fraser paused, then spoke firmly. "No. I don't think you are capable of
such an act." 

 She smiled slightly and began to pace again. "Thanks, Constable," she
said softly. She didn't speak again until Fraser shifted, taking a step to
leave. "I remembered something," she said, stopping him in his tracks. 

 He stepped toward the bars and looked in at her. He felt as though he was
watching a tiger at the zoo, passing back and forth to protect his
territory, feeling all the while that this small territory was not his
own. Too small and too far from its natural habitat, it wants only a
moment to escape. 

 "You remembered?" 

 "I was, uh, going over the events in my head. There was a sound. Um, I
heard a sound. I... I don't know what it was, but it wasn't... it
wasn't..." Unable to think of the words, she looked at him hopefully. 

 "Where was the sound?" 

 She stopped pacing and leaned toward him. "The thing is, I am capable." 

 "Excuse me?" 

 "I am. I'm capable of killing. I could've killed him. I wish I had killed
him. I thought about it a thousand times." She paused to gauge his
reaction. "Someone beat me to it," she added. 

 "Who do you think it may have been?" 

 She shrugged and stomped a foot. "That's just it. I don't know. I haven't
a clue. I've been thinking about it, but he didn't... I didn't know anyone
who might've..." 

 Fraser nodded, understanding. "What about the sound?" 

 She took a deep breath and began pacing again. "I don't know. The back of
the house. Might've been the kitchen, the stairs. I don't know." 

 "Can you describe the sound?" 

 She stopped again and looked at him. "No," she said, sounding surprised
at her own answer. "No, I don't know. I remember hearing something and
thinking it came from there, but I can't remember the sound itself." 

 "Hmm," Fraser breathed softly. 

 She watched him a moment and saw that he wasn't planning to expound. "Can
I ask another question?" 

 Fraser nodded politely and concentrated on listening. 

 "Who called the cops?" 

 Fraser thought a moment. He hadn't actually seen the file and that point
was never mentioned. "Do you think that may be relevant?" 

 She shrugged. "Don't know. I just wondered because I knew it wasn't me.
They walked in when I'd only been home, I dunno, a minute or two?" 

 Fraser tilted his head. "Hmm." 

 She knew what that sound meant when it came to Fraser. After seeing his
commanding officer make the same noise on more than one occasion, she
realized it was a Canadian thing or a Mountie thing; she was undecided.
Knowing he would answer her only if he felt like it, she left it alone and
continued. "Honestly, I lost track of time, but I know someone else
must've made the call." 

 She leaned against the bars and rested her face between two of them.
"What about Kowalski?" 

 No matter how often he heard it, Fraser was still taken off guard when
his partner was referred to as Kowalski. Most people continued to call him
Vecchio, but Alexandra had once explained that since Kowalski had the
opportunity to get his life back, she suspected Vecchio was soon to return
so, in order to keep them straight in her mind, she began calling Ray
Kowalski by his last name. "What about him?" Fraser asked. 

 She shifted her feet, but her face didn't move. "He's still not helping,
right?" She looked down at her feet. "Damn." 

 Fraser tugged his ear. "I'm afraid the Detective has reservations..." 

 She looked up at him again. "I know. I know. I've worked with these cops
for years. Well, Kowalski not so long, but they know me." She chuckled
once, then continued. "Guess it proves the impression I leave at work,
huh? They've all got me up the river before, well..." she let the sentence
trail off and sighed. 

 "I'm sure they are doing their best. I'm certain Dewey and Huey are out
right now..." 

 "Hmf," she scorned. "They're off on another case. They're waiting for my
hearing tomorrow. What do they care?"  

 Fraser was tired, but he had a lot of work to do. He'd wasted his entire
day on the Frank case, searching for clues, talking to Alexandra. He had
checked to make sure the neighbours had been questioned, but unable to get
into the files to see what had been said, he started on a quest of his
own. Most of the information he gathered was more damning than not. The
two had a history of fighting. Whether they had been overheard in the
privacy of their home or seen out in the middle of the street, that fact
had managed to remain clear. 

 Now he sat before a pile of paperwork that should have been completed and
on Inspector Thatcher's desk hours ago. He nearly dropped the pen as the
exhaustion crept in again. It was the knock on his door which snapped him
to attention. 

 "Enter," he said softly as he the door opened slowly. He looked up to see
Inspector Thatcher standing in the shadows and he immediately stood.
"Sir?" He had forgotten that she was still there. She had stayed late to
finish some work of her own and since the Consulate had become so quiet,
he assumed she must have left. 

 Meg smiled slightly. "Still working? You know, you could be sleeping now
if you had finished those earlier." 

 Fraser looked down. "Understood." 

 "I'm sorry to make you finish them now, but I am the one who looks bad if
they aren't completed in a timely manner." 

 "Understood," Fraser repeated as he sensed his father move behind him. 

 "Hello, son," Robert greeted. Fraser made no reply, but couldn't stop the
flash of annoyance from crossing his face. 

 Thatcher stepped closer to his desk. She had seen the odd look on his
face and wondered if he was becoming affected by the late hour.
"Constable? Is something the matter?" 

 Fraser paused before replying. "Uh, no, sir." 

 "Other than my not having grandchildren, that is," Bob added with a grin.


 Fraser couldn't believe his father was bringing that up again. "Uh,
nothing," he repeated, which only added to Thatcher's concern. 

 She rested a hand on his desk. "Perhaps you should leave some of this
work until tomorrow. It would seem you are in need of rest." 

 "C'mon, son. Here you are, here she is. It's dark and you two are alone
until morning." 

 Fraser cleared his throat and ran his thumbnail along his brow. "Yes. It
would seem I am lacking, uh, rest," he said in frustration. 

 Meg nodded and stepped back toward the door. 

 "Don't make me take matters into my own hands," Robert said softly as he
smiled in Thatcher's direction. 

 "And how do you plan to do that?" Fraser asked, his tired mind making him
forget the inappropriate comment. 

 Meg stopped, her hand on the door knob. "Pardon?" 

 "I'll find a way. I'm not going to sit around in my afterlife waiting
forever, you know." 

 "Shut up," Fraser said softly, but not softly enough. 

 Thatcher looked upset as she straightened. "Constable Fraser, that is
completely... completely... I am at a loss. Remember that I am your
commanding officer." 

 Fraser bowed his head. "I must apologize, Inspector. I am not sure what I
meant to say. I didn't mean to..." 

 "I should hope not!" she said and slammed the door behind her. 

 Fraser turned to his father and scowled. "I really don't think this is an
appropriate time for a visit." 

 "Why is that, son?" 

 "I have a lot of work to do." Fraser sat in his seat and picked up the
pen. 

 "I know. That's why I'm here." 

 Fraser stopped and looked up. "Now you are going to do my paperwork?" he
snapped. 

 "No reason to bite at me, son. I came about the other thing." 

 "The other thing?" Fraser shook his head. "I assume you are referring to
the case I am working on with Ray?" 

 Robert nodded. 

 "What, exactly, do you plan to do?" 

 Bob said nothing for a moment, only looked at his son. He tried to think
back on cases, knowing this was what he needed to say, what needed to be
heard, but nothing fit. It didn't matter anyway. Since his death he had
been more of a sounding board to his son than anything else. The boy knew
all his cases and more about him than he wanted to admit. 

 Fraser almost sensed his father's thoughts. He had read every journal, it
was true. He had soaked up everything they could provide. Even when his
father believed someone had been framed, it had never been this airtight. 

 "Your old cases won't help me this time," Fraser said softly. 

 "And you're not sure she wants your help anyway." 

 Fraser looked at his father. He had hit the mark and vocalized the one
thing that bothered him most. Her reluctance to let him help may have been
getting in the way. With that he grabbed his coat and headed out into the
cold.  

 Fraser had to use his powers of persuasion to convince the guard to let
him see Alexandra, but when they did, he wasted no time. 

 Alexandra was sleeping lightly. Tossing and turning, she was a mess. When
she heard her name, she rolled over and sat up. She saw Fraser and walked
to the bars. "What are you doing here?" 

 "I need you to think. Think of anything that your husband may have been
involved in, any connections he may have had, any place he may have hidden
an address book or something." 

 With a glare, she gripped the bars. "Why?" 

 Fraser removed his hat. "We have to find something to go on. So far,
someone has set this up for you to take the fall." 

 Alex shook her head. "You came in the middle of the night to tell me
that?" 

 Fraser straightened. "No. No, I came because I have to know..." He
paused. "I can't help you if you don't help me. I know I can find the real
killer, but I can't do it without you." 

 Alex stared at him a moment. Fraser was surprised, not knowing what he
had said to put that fire in her eye. It was the look she had before she
lost her temper completely, but she merely turned and went back to her
cot. As she sat, she looked back at him. "In no time I'm going to be in a
prison cell. I'm already guilty. It's too late. It's... too late." She
paused and licked her lips. "What the fuck do I care if you get your
do-gooder badge for the week?" Without another word, she leaned back and
faced the wall, ignoring the few times Fraser called her name quietly
before finally leaving.  

 Ray was feeling tired after his evening of work, but it was nothing in
comparison to what he saw coming toward him in red serge the next morning.
With all his duties and all his charm, Ray had never seen Fraser anything
less than pristine, yet here he was with bloodshot eyes and a somber
expression. 

 "Hey, buddy," Ray said softly. "What happened to you?" 

 Fraser straightened, took a deep breath, and blinked. Somehow he began to
look better, but Ray could still see the problems underneath. "I had a
long evening. There was a lot of paperwork to catch up on." 

 Ray nodded and sat behind his desk. 

 Fraser sat across from Ray. "I noticed they canvassed the neighbourhood?"


 Ray nodded. "Yeah, that's where we got some of our witnesses. Why?" 

 "Do you think we could review those today?" 

 Ray huffed and shook his head. "It's not our case and the boys're on it,"
Ray replied. 

 "I really think we ought to review them," Fraser restated. "We also
wondered who called the officers." 

 Ray stopped what he was doing and looked at Fraser. "We who?" Fraser
looked away and Ray guessed the answer with a shrug. He could see he
wouldn't win, as usual, so he went to Huey's desk, found the file, and
brought it back to the desk. "All right," he said as he looked over the
report. "Emmette called them, says here. Neighbours saw her go into the
house." 

 "I thought there were witnesses to the actual crime." 

 Ray looked through the papers. "Looks like this lady said she saw it.
Then she said she heard it. Now she says she won't testify." 

 "Hmm." Fraser made the familiar sound. "That seems odd." 

 Ray nodded. "Yeah, well, I'd think somethin' was up with that 'cept we
got more. Neighbours next door were out in the backyard and they said they
heard it through the windows. We got neighbours 'cross the street say they
saw her go in and the cops got there a bit later. We got the neighbour
behind 'em said they saw somethin' going on, but they couldn't see
details. Gave her height, though, as the person who stabbed 'im." 

 Fraser ran his thumbnail along his brow as Ray spoke. Each morsel was
more damning than the one before. 

 "What about the call? Could we listen to the recording?" 

 "Huh?" 

 "The phone call Emmette made to the emergency operators. Perhaps we will
be able to hear something..." 

 "Fraze, come on. You get an idea in your head and..." he paused. "Ok,
fine, but the transcript says Emmette said she was after 'im." 

 "I think it would be pertinent." 

 Ray shook his head in exasperation. "All right, all right."  

 "...Please, please send someone immediately. You have to send..."
Emmette's voice was hushed with an air of panic. 

 "Sir, calm down. I need you to tell me exactly what's happening. The
officers are on their way." 

 Fraser listened intently for any sounds. He heard footsteps, but with
Emmette's voice, he couldn't determine anything from them. 

 "She walked in the door and started an argument. I was trying to calm
her, but she lost control. She's just gone crazy, " he said. "I think I
hear her coming. I don't know what she'll do if she finds out I called the
cops. I have to go." There was a very quiet creaking of the floorboards,
barely audible, then a clap and knocking sound. Fraser presumed he had
tried to hang up the phone, but dropped it instead. 

 Ray stopped the recording and looked at Fraser. 

 "Is that the end of the call?" Fraser asked. 

 Ray shook his head. "After that you just hear him gettin' killed." 

 Fraser reached over and started the recording again. Ray was about to
protest, but saw that Fraser would not listen. 

 "Sir?" the operator said. 

 Fraser heard Emmette speaking. The tone was different now, surprised,
anxious and it grew a bit faint. Fraser noted two distinct sets of
footsteps moving slowly away from the receiver. "Wait! What are you..."
The voice was interrupted by the first stab. Fraser bowed his head as he
listened. Judging from the sound, the two were standing approximately 4
meters from the telephone. 

 "Sir?" the operator repeated. 

 Ray looked away, disgusted by the sound he was hearing, but Fraser kept
listening. 

 "Oh god," they heard the operator say. The sounds on the other end grew
silent and the operator ended the call. 

 Fraser rubbed his forehead and looked at Ray. Ray said nothing, but
looked smug. He could tell from the look on the Mountie's face that he
hadn't heard anything to disprove the theory.  

 Ray wasn't sure what he was doing in the morgue. Somehow Fraser had
managed to talk him into tagging along once again. Staying near the door,
he slipped on his jacket and listened to the conversation. 

 "Seventeen stab wounds to the upper torso," Mort said formally. "It
appears he lived for a few moments after the stabbing, but he was
unconscious fairly quickly." 

 "What about the angle of insertion. Assuming that he was standing when
the stabbing occurred, have you determined the height of the assailant?"
Fraser asked as he looked over the cleaned wounds. 

 Mort straightened and held a fist above his head. "Assuming the stabbing
occurred like this," Ray glanced over his shoulder to see the motion, "he
or she would have been between five feet seven inches and five feet nine
inches." 

 Ray cleared his throat. "Alexandra is five seven and a half," he stated
without further explanation. 

 Fraser nodded. "And the impact?" 

 "They were strong motions." He leaned back to the body and pointed at
several wounds as he spoke. "It would seem the person who stabbed him must
have used this motion and had a strong arm." 

 Fraser leaned in and looked closely. "Strong, yes, but not much stronger
than Alexandra." 

 Ray turned and kept his eyes on Fraser. "See? You didn't need the body to
tell you she did it." 

 "Could have done it, Ray," Fraser corrected. 

 Ray grunted. "What's it gonna take to convince you?" he said viciously. 

 'I'm nearly convinced,' Fraser thought to himself, but stood stoic. 

 "I'm startin' to think the only way you'd disbelieve's if you saw it
happen. Well, let me get the crime scene photos for ya. That should be
close enough. Take a look at the scene an' tell me she didn't do it." 

 I'm capable. The words she had spoken drifted back into Fraser's mind. It
was those words that didn't click. If she didn't do it, why was she so
determined to let him know she was capable? 'If she were truly capable,
she would have done it long before now, wouldn't she? After all, he was an
animal,' Fraser thought, letting the details filter through his mind once
again as he followed Ray back to the squad room. 

 Ray grabbed the envelope of pictures and led Fraser to the interview
room. Not another word was spoken until Fraser closed the door and Ray
spread the pictures across the table. The two sat simultaneously across
from each other and fingered through the photos. Ray pulled one to the
top. "Look there," he said, pointing at the bloodstain. "She was standing
in his blood. She slipped in it or somethin'. Those are her shoeprints."
He pulled out another and placed it on top. "The knife on the ground. Her
prints. Only hers. Blood all over it. Blood all over her." He began to
pick through for more pictures. "When are you gonna stop defending, Fraze?
When you gonna see that she's a killer." He paused and looked up at Fraser
who was examining pictures. "She had a pretty violent temper, Fraze." He
paused. "Guess it's true what they say 'bout redheads, eh?" He half
smiled. 

 Fraser stopped and his gaze met Ray's. "Who hung up the phone?" 

 "Huh?" 

 Fraser pulled out a picture and pointed to the phone. It sat on the
counter opposite the side where the body lay. The almond receiver was in
the matching cradle, spotless. Fraser tapped the phone in the picture and
looked at Ray. "If the phone was off the hook when she killed him and it
was on the hook when they got there... presumably no one touched anything.
It was a crime scene, was it not?" 

 Ray nodded. "Dunno. Must've been one of the cops. Maybe the arresting
officers'll know." 

 "Perhaps," Fraser replied.  As Ray and Fraser walked through the squad
room after calling the arresting officers, Ray stopped briefly at Huey's
desk. Huey looked exhausted. "Afternoon, Ray," he said softly. "'Ey, Huey.
How was your morning?" 

 Dewey sighed audibly. "They set the bail for Alex Frank at $100,000. She
got angry and kicked a guard. Now it's $200,000." He shook his head. 

 "When's the trial?" 

 "18th," Huey replied. "You 'bout done peakin' through my files?" 

 Ray looked and saw that Fraser was standing nearby so he leaned close to
Huey. "Almost got the Mountie convinced, then you can have 'em." 

 "What are you two doing now?" Huey asked as Ray stood straight. 

 "Uh, gonna ask a couple officers about the case as soon as they get
here." 

 Huey wrinkled his forehead. "Oh?" 

 "Yeah. We're wondering which one of 'em hung up the phone." Ray rolled
his eyes. 

 Dewey leaned in. "What do you mean?" 

 "Someone hung up the phone before takin' the crime scene photos. Fraze's
got it in 'is head that it's important somehow." 

 Fraser shifted and twisted his hat. "It may be very pertinent," he
corrected. "If they weren't the ones to hang it up, then who did? It may
be a very important clue." 

 Huey, Dewey, and Ray nodded as if on command then Ray stepped away.
"Yeah, well, we'll let you know this gripping piece of information," Ray
said as he walked through the doors and headed for the interview room. 

 The two sat quietly, waiting for the officers, lost in their thoughts.
Ray was anxious to get the answer to the question so they could move on,
but Fraser had other things on his mind. For some reason, prints had not
been taken from the phone. It seemed odd to him, but then he supposed the
crime team had either forgotten or not deemed it necessary. In any case,
he was uncertain why an experienced officer would hang up the phone at the
scene of a murder investigation. 

 Of course, his thoughts were more preoccupied with Alex's behaviour. She
seemed disinterested in getting out of prison and, in fact, had made it
easy for herself to stay there by not giving them all the details. 

 Finally, Fraser looked at Ray who was lost in his own world. "Why didn't
anyone ever help her?" 

 Ray snapped to reality. "Who, Alex?" 

 Fraser nodded slightly. "Yes. We all knew he was an abusive spouse, she
made it no secret, but no one at the station ever tried to stop it." 

 Ray shrugged. "She di'n't want us to." 

 Fraser tugged his ear. "How do you now that?" 

 "She never asked," Ray replied simply. "Look, you know she was strong.
Guess we all figured she could defend herself if she wanted." 

 "Emmette was a large man." 

 Ray nodded. "Sure, I guess." 

 "Aren't police officer's supposed to assist in cases of domestic
violence?" 

 Ray said nothing for a moment, but he felt cornered and annoyed. When he
finally spoke, his voice had a tone of finality. "Guess it was just always
a part of who she was. Real hard to know how to help someone who doesn't
let ya. Was her own fault for goin' back I guess." Fraser felt angered at
the remark, but allowed Ray to keep speaking. "What I mean," Ray
corrected, "is she knew better and we knew she knew better, but she still
went back. It's not... it's not the same as when we go in and break up a
couple where he's beatin' on 'er like a helpless animal." 

 "Therefore there is no reason for concern?" Fraser asked in confusion. 

 Ray heard the words and they sounded ridiculous. It seemed now that there
was no reason for ignorance, but it had simply been easier that way.
Regret crept in, but before it planted in his mind, the door to the
interview room opened. Two police officers stepped inside and looked at
Ray, then let their eyes stop on Fraser. 

 Fraser and Ray stood and greeted the officers. Officer O'Neill was young
and had orange hair, freckles, and a smile. The other, Officer Patten was
a little older. His face was stern and his hair was dark. The officers sat
across from Ray and Fraser who now sat beside each other. They chatted for
a moment about the case before Ray asked the important question. 

 "We just need to know, for the report and all, which of you hung up the
phone?" 

 The two officers looked at each other, then back to Ray. Officer Patten
spoke first. "I'm sorry?" 

 Ray produced the photo from the folder before him. "Well, Mr. Frank had
dropped the phone, left it off the hook when he was murdered. In these
pictures, you see, it's on the hook. Looks clean so someone with clean
hands must've hung it up. We just need to know which of you did it." 

 Officer O'Neill studied the picture. "I don't remember hanging it up,
but, well, maybe. I guess I could've." 

 Patten cleared his throat. "Think, Shane. You have to know for sure.
Didja?" 

 O'Neill looked pensive, then looked up. "No. Nope. Wasn't me. I remember
it was on the hook when we walked in. I'm sure of it." 

 Ray looked at him hard. "Are you sure?" 

 O'Neill nodded. Patten looked at Ray. "I was a step behind him. I didn't
see him hang it up and I'm positive it was on the hook when I entered the
kitchen." 

 Ray nodded, seemingly satisfied. 

 Fraser shifted. "Would you mind if I ask a question?" 

 Ray looked at Fraser, curious to the question. 

 Fraser straightened a little more. "Why didn't anyone collect
fingerprints from the telephone?" 

 Patten shrugged. "We'd taken her into custody by then. We left when the
team got there so we didn't see them working." 

 "You left at that point?" Ray asked. 

 "Yeah. We got another call so the head of the team told us to go." 

 Fraser nodded, apparently satisfied by the answer. Both were a bit
surprised by procedure. Everyone was far too confident that they had their
criminal, Fraser noted with slight disgust.  

 The cot in the new jail cell was only slightly more comfortable than her
last, Alex noted as she leaned against the wall and read her book. She
turned a page and paused, taking in her surroundings. 

 The large, thick brick walls were painted in a soft blue colour,
supposedly relaxing she had heard at work one day. 

 Her bunkmate was shouting in her shrill tone, asking the guards for
water. Alex wasn't sure how she would cope with this woman until her
trial. She already wanted to shut her up permanently and the woman had
only said four obnoxious words to her. "You get that bed." 

 Alex looked back at the pages of the book and let out a breath. She
didn't really feel like reading, but it was better than speaking with the
nearby Neanderthals. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. 

 The memories flooded in and she was going to let them. After all that had
happened, she hoped to find that shred that would prove her innocence. 

 As if it were happening in that moment, she felt the hands grasping her
arms as she kicked at Emmette's body. She pulled away and jumped across
the kitchen. Looking back she saw the two officers coming toward her. The
older one grabbed her again. "Hands behind your head!" 

 As the younger one pointed his gun at her, she struggled. Not seeing her
moves as threatening, he stood solid and watched as his partner tackled
her to the ground. 

 She had been ignoring the bruises, but as she felt herself at the scene,
she knew the one in her back was from the officer's knee and the stretched
muscles in her upper arms had resulted from him having to tug her arms to
cuff them behind her. She hadn't said a word, but now, with her face
pressed against the ground, she relaxed slightly. "Is he dead?" 

 Having been unable to check the body yet, the officer didn't reply. As
the sounds of the ambulance neared, she spoke again. "I hope he's dead." 

 She heard a clinking and jumped, then looked at the bars. There was the
guard, keys in hand. "Let's go. You got visitors." 

 Alexandra sat upright and climbed from her bunk. She walked slowly with
the guard. "Who is it?"  

 Ray set down his gun and signed the paper wistfully. Fraser pointed out
that he had no guns and signed the sheet. 

 "Did you send the officers to collect fingerprints from the telephone?"
Fraser asked, continuing their conversation on the case. 

 "Yeah," Ray said simply. "Won't do much good, though. Not worth anything
now that people've been through the house." 

 "I suspect the only prints will be those of Emmette and Alexandra,
however." He paused. "If someone has wiped it, there won't be any prints
at all. At least you and I will know." 

 "Know what, Fraze?" Ray said quietly. "Know nothin'," he added as a side
note as they walked through a security door. 

 "Why weren't the prints taken from the phone at the crime scene?" 

 "Wasn't a concern," Ray replied. "They knew Emmette'd touched the phone
and they figured with her in custody there wasn't a point, I'm sure." 

 "Isn't it standard procedure?" 

 Ray glanced at Fraser. "I suppose, but sometimes things get left behind.
Forgotten." Ray stepped up to the door of the conference room and looked
in. He saw Alex sitting in her seat, smoking a cigarette. Ray had never
seen her smoke, he noted as he opened the door and looked at her, then at
the guard. "Would you mind cuffing her to the table or somethin'?" he
asked. 

 The guard looked at him. "I don't think that's necessary." 

 Ray grinned as he looked at Alex's challenging glare. "I do." 

 "Now how'm I supposed to smoke if I'm cuffed to the table. Pain in the
ass tryin' to smoke with 'em cuffed together," she said as she held up her
wrists and took a puff. 

 Ray and Fraser sat across from her. "What is it about incarceration and
smokin'?" Ray said as he watched her. 

 She smiled a little. "Shorter life sentence, I guess. Used to save my
smoking for after Emmette and I had a fight, but I guess I can't wait
around for that anymore." 

 "Gonna throw any chairs?" 

 She shook her head and ashed the cigarette. She glanced at Fraser, then
Ray, then looked back at the cigarette. It was nearly gone, so she reached
into the pack before her, pulled out another, and used the old to light
the new one, then let out a long puff. 

 Fraser tried to hide the disgust on his face as the smell wafted into his
nose. 

 Ray leaned back. "Uh, this is what we're gonna do. You're gonna go over
the scene with us one more time. Gotta clear up some facts." 

 She glanced at Ray, then looked at Fraser. "Didja find something?" 

 Fraser was stoic as Ray spoke. "Why don't you tell us?" 

 She took a deep breath. "I walked in the house. I thought I heard
somethin' in the kitchen so I went there and saw Emmette on the floor." 

 Ray made a note. "Why didn't you tell us that? I mean, you kept sayin' to
the arresting officers and to us that you couldn't tell us what happened."


 She took a long puff, then ashed. As she tapped the cigarette, Fraser
noted that her hand was shaking. "I... I didn't know what happened. He...
he had a pulse when I came in. I thought... well, and the cops didn't tell
me if he was dead until they were bookin' me. I already knew they thought
I did it." 

 "Why didn't you tell 'em you didn't?" Ray asked, leaning forward. 

 She shrugged, looking down at the table. "I wished I had. I guess I
wasn't sure how to say 'Hey, if I'd had the chance, I'd've stabbed the
bastard to death, but somebody beat me to it.' Somehow it just didn't
sound right in my head." She looked up. "Or out loud. Truth is, I wanted
to kill 'im so many times." 

 "You didn't." Fraser said, finally. "I think you had many opportunities,
but something always kept you from actually going through with it." 

 She shrugged as she listened to Fraser. "But I could've." 

 Ray nodded. "Was the phone off the hook when you came into the kitchen?" 

 She looked down at her cigarette, the smoke trailing off and dissipating.
"Uh," she paused, then looked into his eyes. "Yeah." She shifted in her
chair. "Uh, yeah, it was. I remember thinkin' that the stupid bastard
must've left it off the hook. I heard it making that sound when I got
close to the kitchen. You know, the sound a phone that's been off a while
makes so you know to hang it up. Saw it hangin' off the edge of the
counter and when I pulled it by the cord and hung it up, I heard...
something. Something upstairs. A... A sort or thud, I guess. I still had
my hand on the receiver when I saw... well, it turned out to be blood." 

 "Turned out to be?" Ray said, with interest. 

 "I thought it was juice or somethin' at first. I figured Emmette left a
huge mess to provoke a fight." 

 Fraser tugged on his ear. "Did he do that often?" 

 "What? Provoke fights?" She paused. "We both did. It was... I dunno. It
was a game. We'd see who could start the fight before the other had a
chance." 

 "Why?" Ray jumped in. 

 She shrugged. "It started out small, you know? After we got married, he
started finding things to yell about, to hit me. I wasn't going to have
that, so I hit back. Pretty soon it got easier to start the fights myself,
so I'd find something to screw up, just to start the fights. I dunno. It
took me a long time before I wanted to leave. At first I fought back so it
didn't seem like it would last, but it did." 

 She took a long puff and ashed the cigarette, still shaking. "Well, I
don't know when it changed, but if one of us didn't leave, the fights got
really brutal, like he'd threaten me with a broken bottle or I'd throw a
book at him. So I'd leave, or he'd leave and that'd be the end of it. When
I'd come back, he'd be flopped in front of the TV drinkin' a beer or
somethin'. After that, it didn't seem like a big deal. The fight was over
and it'd be a while before we'd start fightin' again." 

 Ray pondered her comments a moment, then glanced at Fraser. Fraser was
sitting stiffly, soaking it in. Ray turned back to her. "Ok, so when did
you want to kill 'im? Why didn't you leave then?" 

 "I wanted my money back. I kept a separate account and a few months ago,
my money started disappearing. I was saving up for a new car or an
apartment or... well, I dunno. I had a whole lotta money saved up and it
started disappearing. I confronted him and he said he'd pay me back. I
just kept thinkin' if I waited around just a little longer, I'd get some
of it back. I never did, though. I wanted to kill 'im every time I thought
of all that money and the fact that he had a hefty life insurance policy."


 Fraser ran his thumbnail along his eyebrow. "Did you ever call the police
when you were fighting?" 

 She shrugged. "No. Of course not. Me workin' at the precinct made him
kinda scared to call the cops. He figured they'd always be on my side. I
never called because, well, I never knew if someone I knew would answer
the call." 

 Ray nodded. "What kind of insurance policy we talkin' about?" 

 "Hundred thousand," she replied simply. "Same as mine." 

 With another nod, Ray smiled slightly. "Anything else, Fraze?" 

 Fraser looked at Ray. "No," he said, then followed Ray's lead in
standing. 

 Alexandra stood quickly and Ray reacted by stepping backward. The guard
straightened as Alex spoke. "Is that it?" 

 Ray relaxed. "Well, yeah. I guess. Why? Is there somethin' else?" 

 Alex placed the cigarette in her mouth and puffed deeply as her fingers
quivered. "I just assumed you had more. More than a phone." 

 Ray shook his head. "We can't find anything. I'm telling you, it's hard
to believe your stories when they just don't seem to fit. 

 "What do you mean they don't fit?" 

 "They're convenient. We come with something, you find some feeble
explanation. Too easy." 

 She began to look angry, the look in her eyes intensified. "I'm
remembering, ok? I can't... can't remember everything." 

 "So we find something and you explain it away." 

 She glared at him. "You got something else? You got something you're not
telling me? What?" 

 Ray grunted. "A whole lotta nothin' ok? We got a whole lotta facts that
point at you and a little speculation that points't someone else. Course
who that someone could be's beyond me and everyone else." 

 Alex glanced at the guard as if judging the distance. She stepped around
the chair, grabbed it, and threw it across the table at Ray. Meanwhile her
cigarette fell to the floor. 

 Instantly the guard was on her as Fraser helped Ray to stand. Ray's nose
was bleeding and he held it with his hand. Alex struggled and the guard
took her to the floor to hold her. 

 "What the hell was that for?" Ray yelled as Fraser tried to shuffle him
to the door. 

 Over the noise of more guards coming into the room to help restrain her,
Ray heard her yelling. "I'm just a damned good liar!" 

 Ray swore as he stepped into the hall and headed for the men's room.
Using toilet paper to catch the blood, he curled his free hand into a fist
and punched the door to a stall. 

 Fraser only watched not knowing what to say. 

 Ray ranted for a few minutes, but finally regained his composure. His
nose had stopped bleeding, making him glad it was apparently not broken.
He glanced in the mirror and saw the one half of his face reddening. He
glanced then at the speechless Fraser. "What?" he asked, seeing Fraser had
something on his mind. 

 "I want to go back and talk to her." 

 "Are you nuts, Fraze? I'm done with this case. I'm done. She did it and
that's that." 

 Fraser cracked his neck. "Are you sure?" 

 Ray had to admit that if the conversation they had just come from was an
act then she was the best actress he'd ever seen. He let out a long
breath. "Not anymore," he said softly. "But she'll probably be confined
now anyway." 

 "Perhaps," Fraser replied, "but we are officers of the law working on her
case. Wouldn't they allow us to see her?" 

 Ray shrugged. "Yeah. I guess." He took another long breath and let it
out. "What are you gonna ask 'er now anyway?" 

 "I'm not sure," Fraser replied. 

 Moments later they were standing across from a shackled Alexandra. Ray
had to do some sweet talking to get in to see her after the incident, but
they finally agreed. Ray challenged her with his eyes, seeing that she was
no longer able to take a swing at him. 

 Fraser was still collecting his thoughts when Ray jumped in. "Not so
tough now," he said, mocking. 

 Alex huffed. "Gonna have a nice shiner there, Kowalski," she replied.
"Why'd you come back?" 

 "I have some concerns," Fraser interjected before the banter could
continue. As her eyes moved to him, Fraser continued. "Did you kill
Emmette?" Knowing the answer, Fraser watched her reaction to help him
gauge her. 

 Alexandra let out a long breath. "Little late to ask that now, isn't it?"


 Fraser noted the way she turned his words around without actually
answering. He was beginning to doubt his own logistics, but quickly
recognized the weakness in those thoughts. "We're not going to be able to
help you if you cannot answer a simple question," Fraser added, feeling
the frustration drift through into his words. 

 With a scowl, Alexandra replied. "I never asked you to help me." She
paused, then repeated in a louder tone, "I didn't ask for your help!" 

 Fraser didn't know what to say as he felt Ray's eyes bore into him. Ray
took a step toward Fraser. "What is this, Fraze?" 

 Fraser glanced to Ray. "I don't know," he replied softly. "I can't be
certain..." he let the words drift away and took a deep breath. 

 Alexandra looked concerned. Even the ever trustful Mountie was losing
faith in her. She focused her eyes on Ray. "I didn't, ok? I didn't kill
'im." She paused, realizing this was her last chance. "I'm sorry, ok?" She
looked at Fraser. "You have to believe in me," she said firmly. 

 "If nothin' else, you are nuts," Ray said, observantly. 

 She looked away. "Probably," she said softly. 

 Fraser shifted. "I think the important thing to focus on are the sounds."


 She glanced up between Fraser and Ray. "I can't even remember them very
well." 

 Fraser nodded. "Close your eyes and concentrate." 

 She looked at him and took a deep breath. "Look, Constable," she said
bitterly, "I'm not going to be a part of your..." she paused, looking for
the word. "Methods," she finished after a moment. 

 "Pardon?" 

 She glanced at Ray, then back. "I have a real problem here, ok?" 

 Ray shrugged and stepped forward. "What's that?" 

 "You," she said, staring at Fraser. 

 Ray and Fraser's eyes both widened in surprise. Fraser was speechless. 

 "The Mountie? You got a problem with Fraze?" 

 She looked away. "I don't want your help, but you're the only one who
believes me," she said softly, her tone obviously aimed at Fraser as if
Ray wasn't there. 

 Fraser felt odd. Never before had someone expressed such distaste for him
to his face. He straightened again. "Why don't you concentrate on those
sounds." 

 No one moved as he spoke. His voice was a kind of quiet they'd never
heard before. As he continued, he placed his hat on his head. "You should
also think about him. Did he ever say anything that seemed odd or did you
ever overhear a conversation that seemed unusual? Perhaps you can think of
something useful." 

 Alexandra nodded. "All right," she replied softly. 

 Fraser spun and began to walk away. Ray stayed a moment. He looked as
though he wanted to ask her a question, but he just stared instead. 

 Finally, she spoke. "The point is, not even you believe me, do you?" She
paused. "Sometimes he is just so... so..." The look of annoyance on her
face answered his question. "At least he believes me," she said softly.  

 Alexandra slept restlessly, as she had for several nights. She hadn't
heard from either Fraser or Ray in several days. Knowing her court date
was quickly approaching, each hour seemed an eternity. Someone had framed
her and she was going to see the inside of a cell for a long time. Unable
to think about all the things Fraser had asked her, she thought of her
defense. It wouldn't be easy, but she had it all figured out. If she
pleaded innocent up until the trial, then changed it to self defense, she
might still be able to make a deal. A deal was all she wanted now. It
would reduce her sentence to practically... it wasn't true, though. 

 Staring at the ceiling wasn't helping to ease her tension. The words of
the Mountie slipped into her mind as she closed her eyes. She felt like
she was slipping, falling into some unknown abyss. She felt the bottom
nearing, though she couldn't see anything. With a start, she opened her
eyes. Not even blackness gave her peace. She turned onto her stomach and
pulled her pillow over her head. 

 A sound returned. She hadn't noticed it before, she hadn't recognized it,
but while she was standing over her dead husband's form, she had heard a
sound. It was a shuffling sound, a quiet movement and a creak in the
floor. She thought she knew every creak in her house, but not this one.
She tried to identify the location. It was in the master bedroom on the
top floor. The closet. Someone had opened the closet. She had something.
Gripping it tightly like a pardon, she sat up slowly. The place was mostly
dark and she heard the now familiar sounds of the guards. 

 Sitting there with her head in her hands, she flashed to a moment, a
split second of time. She had opened the door to the house and heard
Emmette hanging up the phone. She hadn't made note at the time, but it had
happened often. She would walk into the house or into a room and Emmette
would hastily, but casually, finish what he was doing. The casual part had
kept her suspicions away, but now she knew the hast had to mean something.


 Pocketing the notes in her mind didn't help her sleep, but it helped her
make it through the night. As soon as morning came, she called for the
only two officers who could help her.  Quite honestly, Fraser hadn't slept
well that night either. His need for justice had pulled him into a case he
wasn't entirely sure he could solve. It wasn't the first time he'd had
doubts, but it was the first time it had bothered him this much. Dreading
the day ahead, he dressed in uniform and stood guard at the door. The
clock chimed the time and Turnbull took over, but there was still no Ray.
Typical, Fraser noted as he waited. 

 When the black GTO finally pulled up to the curb, Fraser hurried to it.
He stepped in, but didn't even have the door closed when Ray spoke. "She's
got something." 

 "Whom?" 

 "Alex," Ray replied. "I got a call this morning that she had something
important to tell us. I dunno what, but I intend to find out what ploy
she's up to now." 

 "Shouldn't Detectives Huey and Dewey be handling this situation?" 

 Ray shook his head. "She asked for us, both of us." 

 Fraser ran a thumbnail along his brow. He wasn't sure what that meant for
her. He did note, however, that Ray was willing to return, a good sign in
Fraser's book. 

 As the two walked into the room, Ray was careful to stay to one side.
Fraser couldn't help noticing that Alexandra looked hopeful. She waited
calmly to speak. 

 Fraser sat across from her, but Ray kept his position. Finally he tired
of waiting and spoke. "Well? I thought you remembered something," he
coaxed harshly. 

 She started with a deep breath. "Yes. A sound. After I came into the room
and saw Emmette there, on the floor, there was more sounds than I
remembered. I'm not sure what it was, I don't really know, but it came
from the bedroom. See, after Emmette and I moved into that place, I
noticed something strange about the closet. I was making sure the thing
was cleaned out before I started unpacking and when I washed the wall it
sounded hollow. I thought it was strange and when I messed with it, I
found that the panel came out. There were boxes inside, long forgotten, I
guess. Covered in dust..." 

 Ray grunted. Alexandra stopped and looked at him. "The point?" he said,
folding his arms. 

 "I'm getting to it. I mentioned it to Emmette. He said that it was odd,
but not really. Old houses and all. Anyway, I never thought about it. I'm
sure, I'm positive that the sound I heard came from that closet. Maybe
someone hid behind that panel. If they curled up, they could fit." 

 Fraser ran his thumb across his brow. "I suppose we could have a look." 

 "There's more," she continued. "There were lots of times when I'd walk in
the front door or into his office and he'd act... well, not suspicious,
but I think now maybe it was something." 

 "What do you mean?" Ray inquired. 

 "I mean, between the two of us, we made plenty of money. His disappeared
first, then mine. I'm thinking now, maybe it was bookies. Maybe he was
gambling it all away. I tried asking him a bunch of times, but it'd end up
in a fight and... well," she looked down at her hands. "I remember him
talking to a guy named Vin a lot. Mostly I heard things like 'I'll call
you later, Vin.' So I don't know what they talked about. He kept an
address book at his office." 

 "Finally," Ray said under his breath. She looked quizzical so Ray
continued. "Well, if you are gonna keep claiming it wasn't you, you had to
come up with some wild goose chase, didn't you? I've been expecting it." 

 Her face changed and the anger started in again. "I told you..." 

 Ray took a step forward. "Why'd you ask us, huh? We the only one's who're
going to waste enough time?" 

 She moved to stand, but thought better of it. "I asked you because no one
else will bother to try." She looked at Fraser. "You believe me." She
paused, hating the fact that this was her last hope. 

 Fraser nodded. Without another word, he picked up his hat and led the way
out of the room.  

 Diefenbaker pranced through the front door and padded his way up the
stairs. Fraser and Ray followed the wolf. At the top of the stairs, Dief
stopped. Fraser pointed down the hall and enunciated "Bedroom." The animal
hurried along the hall and into the room at the end. 

 Fraser walked into the room and slid open the door to the closet, then
allowed Dief inside for a sniff. Dief pawed at the side wall and Fraser
pushed aside the clothes. He reached into his pouch for a pair of latex
gloves and leaned in, pulling away the wall as Alexandra had described. 

 Ray leaned over Fraser's shoulder and let out a breath. Inside were
several drops of deep brownish-red blood and a pile of bloody clothes
wrapped around bloody rubber gloves. Reaching into his back pocket, Ray
pulled out a bag and held it open so Fraser could put the clothes inside. 

 As he moved to his feet again, Fraser glanced at Ray. "I suppose we
should get them tested." 

 "This is getting queer," Ray said softly. "I can't believe... she must be
telling the truth." At that he looked around, then grinned a little. "I'm
gonna run down to the car and get a print kit." 

 Fraser nodded and went back to examining the area. After a few moments,
Ray returned and opened the box. As he began dusting, he was disappointed
to reveal a large number of smeared and partial prints. "I've still got a
lot of questions, though," Ray said softly as he worked. 

 "Such as?" Fraser raised his eyebrows. 

 "How this makes sense. I mean, I get it, but..." he let the sentence fall
in the air as he reached around into a tight spot to collect a print. 

 "Actually, many things make sense this way." 

 Ray snickered. "Like what? Guy killed Emmette, then came up here and
stripped down? How'd he get out without someone noticing some naked guy
leaving the scene of a crime? I mean..." 

 "I'm certain there is another explanation." 

 "And he didn't leave tracks comin' up here," Ray added. The only
possibility there is if he stripped down in the kitchen, then walked his
naked ass up the stairs. It's a dumb scenerio, Fraze." 

 "Then how would you explain it?" Fraser asked. "How do you suppose she
came up here and took off these bloody clothes and..." 

 "I see your point, Fraze, but my point is, what's the explanation?" 

 "The prints may enlighten us," Fraser said as Ray closed up the kit and
started back toward the hallway. 

 "And besides, if it was someone else, why leave the clothes?" 

 "If someone saw him walking away from this house carrying a bundle of
bloody clothes, it would look suspicious. Perhaps the assailant planned to
return later. With it being barricaded until the trial, he wouldn't be
able to return for some time." 

 Ray nodded. "So who...?" 

 Fraser looked at Dief. "I don't know, but perhaps the neighbours can tell
us more." 

 "Prints'll tell us too, but they're not clear. So we'll get these in
after we talk to the neighbours?" 

 Fraser nodded. "Then perhaps we should go to his office and try to find
that address book." 

 "Not a very good lead," Ray added with a sigh. 

 "True, but it's a lead."  

 "Mrs. Miller?" Ray raised his voice to be heard through the screen door.
Fraser hadn't been able to contact this woman when he had made the rounds
in the neighbourhood before, but he hoped now she could tell them more. 

 The woman on the other side nodded slowly. 

 Ray pulled back his jacket to reveal his badge. "We just have a few
questions for you." 

 She nodded and opened the door cautiously, allowing Ray and Fraser to
step inside. Fraser stopped and looked at Dief. The woman looked out at
the animal, then looked at Fraser. "I'm sorry, but I'm allergic to dogs." 

 Fraser nodded. "Quite all right," he replied, then motioned to Dief who
moved to a sitting position on the porch. 

 The woman tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and smiled a little.
"I thought I'd answered all the questions I would have to answer." 

 Ray straightened. "We just need to clarify a few things." 

 She waved to the chairs set around a dark wooden coffee table. "Can I get
you something to drink?" 

 Fraser shook his head as Ray replied. "No, thank you, ma'am." 

 She looked disturbed by the term. "Call me, Amanda." 

 "All right," Ray said and flipped open his notebook. "Now, Amanda, can
you go over the details one more time?" 

 She shifted. "Everything?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Why?" 

 Fraser tilted his head. "Is something the matter?" 

 Amanda shifted again and looked at him. "No. I'm fine." 

 "Then please..." Ray coaxed. 

 "The truth is, I don't know what happened." 

 Ray cleared his throat. "See, here's the thing. You told the officer's
you saw something, but when the detectives came in, you told them you only
heard it. Ma'am," he saw her cringe and corrected himself. "Amanda, we
need to know what you know." 

 She took a long breath before speaking again. "Well, it was no secret
they fought a lot. I mean a lot." 

 Ray nodded. 

 "Ok, well, the thing is I saw her threaten him once. She chased him
outside with a big kitchen knife and yelled that if he came after her
again, she was going to stab him to death." 

 "When did this happen?" 

 "About a week ago." 

 "All right. We still need to know what happened that day." 

 She paused. "Look, I'm not really sure, ok? I told them I saw it because
after she threatened him last week, I was sure..." She paused and glanced
out the window before wringing her hands and looking back at them. "Ok, I
thought I saw something weird. I saw her come home, then I saw the cops
show up pretty fast after that. I saw them arrest her and, well, I said it
was her because she went in right before the cops came. I just assumed. I
didn't really see anything or hear anything," she paused. "It was all so
sudden, though. She came home and the cops were there so fast." 

 Fraser straightened a bit. "Did you notice anything strange after all
this happened?" 

 She paused. "Yes, actually. There was this guy. After the cops left, I
saw this guy. I saw him walking past my window." 

 Ray furrowed his brow. 

 "Well, the thing is I had just barely walked through the front door after
getting the mail. When I was out there, I glanced up and down the street.
I always do, just to see if anything interesting is going on. Anyway, I
didn't see him. I mean, this is a long street, no streets turn onto it and
he wasn't there, then he was. So I figured he must have been visiting one
of my neighbours, y'know? Like he just came out of their house. So I sort
of watched him. Wondered where he was going, I guess. He walked down to
the other end of the street and got in a car." 

 "Did it appear to be his car?" 

 She nodded. "So what I was wondering is why did he park all that way down
the street? If he was in sales or something, I would have seen him. I
would have known. I was home all day that day." 

 "So you got a good look at him?" 

 She tucked her hair behind her ear again. "Yeah, I guess. He was very
strange." 

 "What do you mean?" 

 "Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, but it was all cold. You know, it had
been snowing that day. Started snowing just before she got home." 

 "Yes. So he looked cold?" 

 "Well, yeah, especially considering he wasn't wearing shoes." 

 "He walked all the way down the street without shoes?" 

 She nodded. "It was a rather brisk walk and he stayed in the street where
most of the snow had already melted." 

 "Think you could give us a description of the man?" 

 "I'll try," she replied.  

 Fraser held the seat forward to let Dief climb in the back as he glanced
up at Ray. "I suppose we should go back to the station to attempt an
identification from her description?" 

 "We could," Ray replied, pulling open his door and getting behind the
wheel. He waited as he watched his red clad partner slide into the
passenger seat and pull his door closed. Turning the key, the engine
hesitated a moment before revving to life. "It'd be a waste of time,
though," Ray finished. 

 Fraser turned his head as they began to move. "Pardon?" 

 "Well, it's pretty obvious that this is the work of Butch McGrath." 

 "Is it?" 

 Ray nodded in response. "Her description made it click. His real name's
Kurt, but he's known as Butch. He's a hit man." 

 Fraser furrowed his brow. "Hired? Well, it appears Emmette may have been
involved in something illegal." 

 "Right. Butch does most of his work for Vin Canelli. That's why we're
gonna go see Duncan." 

 "Duncan who?" Fraser asked, not sure why this Duncan was a priority over
Canelli or McGrath. 

 "Who Duncan. It's Markus Duncan." Ray turned a corner and followed it
quickly by another. 

 "Who are these people?" Fraser asked, finally frustrated that Ray had
apparently gone on a tangent without him. 

 "Alright. Vin Canelli's mob. He runs a section of town on the South side
for the big boys. Vin's right hand hit man is Butch McGrath. Butch's
really good at his job. Little too good maybe? Anyway, if Butch killed
Emmette, Vin had the hit out." 

 "Then shouldn't we be going to visit the gentlemen involved?" 

 "For what? We've got no evidence, Fraze. Just one woman who saw him
walkin' down the street and some bloody clothes." 

 "Yes, but I assumed we would collect testimony and a confession from..." 

 Ray chuckled. "Yeah, that's gonna happen. Canelli's seen the inside of a
holding cell more times than I can count, but he's not going away. Too
smart." 

 Fraser nodded. "I don't see why you believe Duncan will help us more
than..." 

 "There you go with logic again, Fraze. Look, I know you can find evidence
in a banana peel, but I'm the one who knows how to talk to people around
here, ok?" He slowed to a stop. "We're here anyway. Look, Duncan knows
Canelli. Knows the ring. Thing is, though, Markus Duncan's on the outside
which means if he gets picked up, there's no one to save him. He's got a
rap sheet as long as my arm, so he'll be ready to talk." 

 "I understand what you are saying, Ray, but isn't it somewhat
questionable using an unreported source to gain information?" 

 Ray sat a moment and stared at Fraser. "Why don't you wait here. Wolf's
not allowed inside anyway." 

 Fraser nodded. "Understood." 

 Ray walked through the doors of the pool hall and glanced around the
room. It was for the best he had shaken the Mountie because he knew Duncan
all too well and wasn't sure where this would lead. 

 Finally he spotted the man leaning over a beer at the bar. He was a tall
man, thin, but strong. His blond hair was quite long and straggly. Ray
couldn't miss him. He stepped up quietly, then tapped Duncan on the
shoulder. 

 The man looked up, then leaned back. "Oh great. What do you want?" 

 "'Ey, Duncan. Long time no see." 

 "Yeah. What do you want?" he repeated. 

 "I got some questions for you." 

 Duncan shook his head. "Uh uh. Not doin' it." 

 Ray pulled off his jacket. "Oh, I think you are." 

 Duncan straightened. 

 "It's just a few simple questions about Canelli and his sidekick Butch." 

 "Butch? Canelli?" Duncan paused to swallow. "Uh uh, no way. I know
nothin'." 

 "Oh, I doubt that, Duncan." He saw the stubborn look on Duncan's face and
continued. Ray glanced at his watch. "Oh, look at that. You are, at this
very moment, violating your parole. Hmm. What are we gonna do about that?"


 Duncan shifted. "No, no, it's lunch." 

 "You're having beer on your lunch hour? I bet your boss'd love to know
about that." 

 Duncan stood and towered over Ray. "Come on." 

 "Come on what?" The detective stood his ground. "You talk and I won't
have to." 

 The larger man looked threatening. Weighing the consequences in his mind,
he suddenly dashed toward the back door. 

 Ray followed, leaping over a pool table and jumping as Duncan went to
jump another. The two went down, Ray smacking his face against the corner
of the table. 

 At first he didn't notice the pain, but he winced trying to ignore it as
he placed a tight hold on Duncan. Duncan cursed. 

 "Well, are we gonna do it this way?" Ray asked. 

 "No," Duncan replied in surrender. "I'll talk, ok? Just let me go." 

 Ray shifted, but kept hold of the man's arm. 

 "What do you want to know?" Duncan asked. 

 "Looks like Butch killed a guy. Wife's takin' the rap, but it's got
McGrath written all over it." 

 Duncan nodded. "Frank, right? Emmette Frank?" 

 "That's it. What do you know?" He stood now and pulled Duncan to his
feet. 

 Duncan shook his head. "Look, this is kind of...public, don't you think?"


 Ray agreed and pulled Duncan by the arm through the pool hall and to the
back door where he'd tried to escape. Still keeping his grip, Ray stood
with him in the alley. "Ok, what you got?" Duncan stalled, looking around
the alley and shifting his feet. Ray coaxed him to continue, shaking his
arm. "Talk!" 

 "All right, all right," he began. "Emmette was dealing with Canelli, you
guessed, I'm sure." 

 Ray nodded. 

 "Emmette's not too good on payin' debts. He paid Canelli back at first.
Maybe fifty grand total. Had a hard time getting some of it, but said he
finally got it from his wife. So Canelli let him run up more debts." 

 Ray could see that Duncan was not going to flee now, so he let the man's
arm go as he kept talking. 

 "Canelli kept letting him add it up until the total was a quarter mill.
Canelli said to Emmette 'Ya gotta pay up.' Emmette said he didn't have it,
but he could get it, but he needed help. Said the policy on his wife was
half a mill and if he helped him kill her, make it look like an accident,
he'd give him the whole half and be done with it. Canelli said ok and sent
Butch." 

 "So Butch was supposed to set up an accident?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "But how? How did Emmette end up dead and Alexandra end up in jail?" 

 Duncan shrugged. "I heard the plan was to make it look like they were in
a fight and she fell. Like maybe slipped or something. I dunno. It was
enough to still get the money on the policy, but it was believable,
right?" 

 "Yeah, but the wrong person ended up dead." 

 Duncan shrugged. 

 "Not only dead, but stabbed to death. I don't think it was the plan to
make it look like anyone accidentally brutally stabbed them self." 

 Duncan shrugged again. "How'm I supposed to know?" 

 Suddenly Ray remembered something. "Wait. You said that Emmette said her
policy was $500,000?" 

 Duncan nodded. 

 "Are you sure?" 

 Duncan shrugged. "Yeah, positive. Why?" 

 Ray shifted. "Ok, Duncan. Better get to work or whatever you are doin' to
break parole these days. I gotta run." 

 Hurrying back to the car, Ray climbed in quickly, then sat there, a look
of confusion on his face. 

 "Is there something wrong?" Fraser asked after studying his friend. 

 Ray shook his head as if shaking something away, then turned. "Alex was
supposed to die?" He was asking as though Fraser would have some
miraculous answer. 

 "Pardon?" 

 Summing up the conversation with Duncan, Ray turned on the engine and
faced Fraser. "So how did she end up in jail? Something gone wrong,
obviously, but..." 

 Fraser concentrated and started at the beginning in his mind. 'If Butch
had been there to cause an accident with Alex and ended up with blood on
him, then he was definitely near Emmette when Emmette died. It didn't
guarantee that Butch held the knife, especially considering the whole
thing was meant to be an accident. Perhaps Butch had blood on him, but not
his hands and he hung up the phone.' He glanced out the window. 'Although
if she had done it, why would she lie about such a simple thing as the
phone? She didn't know the connection at the time.' Continuing to run the
information in his head, he was quiet. 'And how could a stabbing appear to
be an accident?' 

 Ray hardly had a chance to notice the quiet friend in the passenger seat.
The first thing he did in the car was make a call, presenting just enough
information for a warrant. Once the arrangements were made, he ran over
the same information Fraser had in his own head. 

 He hadn't mentioned where he was going, but Fraser didn't take the time
to observe that Ray had pulled up in front of an office building where a
black and white was waiting. Ray bundled up the information he had and
tucked it back in his mind. It was something he often did when a case
eluded a worthy guess. It allowed him to see new information more openly. 

 Now Ray led an attentive Fraser to the office of Emmette Frank, warrant
slipped in his jacket pocket and followed by the officer who had brought
it. 

 Half expecting to find some definitive piece of evidence in the office,
Ray turned over every stone. The officer helped and so did Fraser. Sifting
through the drawers, Fraser straightened and held up a dark blue address
book. At the same moment, Ray was going through the file cabinet and
turned, proudly showing a smaller brown one. They looked at each other a
moment. 

 "Guess we go through both," Ray said finally and went back to the
cabinet. Fraser finished with the desk and moved around a plant stand. The
officer looked at the bottoms of chairs, but they found nothing. 

 "Ray, it appears..." Fraser began, but was interrupted. 

 "There's something here." Ray kept his head buried in the file cabinet. 

 "What?" Fraser asked walking over to Ray and looking over his shoulder. 

 "I don't know." 

 "Well, what did you find?" 

 Ray frowned and turned around, looking directly at the other officer.
"You know, thanks and all, but I think we're about done." He paused, but
the officer didn't move. "You can go Officer, uh, Michaels was it?" 

 The officer nodded. "Are you sure?" 

 Ray nodded and the officer left. Ray turned back to the cabinet and began
fingering through. 

 "What did you find, Ray?" Fraser repeated, knowing the answer would not
be pleasant. 

 "I'll find it, ok?" 

 "Ray, there's nothing here." 

 "I'm so sick of this, Fraze. I'm a damn good detective and I can't figure
out this simple murder." 

 Fraser took a deep breath. "It isn't exactly simple, Ray. It's quite
complicated. You and I both know there is more than..." 

 "I know! And I'm gonna find it," he added, determined. 

 Fraser was feeling a bit of a rush. He was disappointed, anxious,
confused. "Ray, what are you going to prove?" 

 Ray stopped. "I don't know. All I know is there has to be something
more." 

 Fraser ran a thumbnail along his brow. "You know, something very strange
has happened on this case." 

 Ray turned and closed the drawer to the cabinet. "Yer tellin' me. Seems
like we can't agree on whether she did it or not. At least, not at the
same time." 

 Fraser nodded. "And now that we have something to go on, definitive proof
is our hurdle." 

 Ray agreed. "Look, I just don't know where to go from here. In one of
those books we're gonna find a number for Canelli. Alex knows nothing,
Butch'll never talk. I mean, the only person who knows the whole story is
Emmette and he's..." Fraser straightened. Ray recognized the look in his
eye and shifted, pulling back his jacket and putting a hand on his waist.
"What?" 

 "The whole story? Maybe Emmette doesn't know the whole story," Fraser
supposed. 

 "Meaning?" 

 "Emmette told this Mr. Canelli that he could have $500,000. Emmette Frank
only owed $250,000, right?" 

 "Too good to be true. I know. Guy would double his money in this deal." 

 "But Alexandra said the policy was only $100,000" 

 "Right." 

 "So only one of two things are possible. Emmette arranged another policy
in her name and she doesn't know..." 

 "Or he lied." 

 "Correct. Now, assuming he lied..." 

 "And Canelli found out..." 

 "Mr. Canelli could, perhaps, ensure a different outcome." 

 "And have Butch change the hit from an accidental fall to a spousal
murder. It was already set for him to be there and to help set it up, but
one little change and you got someone else to take the blame so you're not
even so much as a suspect." 

 Fraser nodded. "We need to make sure there isn't another policy, first." 

 Ray picked up his phone and dialed. "Frannie? Yeah, I need you to check
something for me... Yeah, right away. There should be some sort of
insurance policy on Alexandra Frank for $100,000. We need to know if there
are any other insurance policies under her name... I know it's a lot, but
we need it right away... Ok, if you do it, I'll bring him by the station,
how's that?... Thanks Fran," he flipped it closed. 

 "Was that about me?" 

 "What?" Ray asked. 

 "That you would bring 'him' by the station?" Fraser's curiosity was
aroused. 

 "No, why?" 

 Fraser paused. "Then who?" 

 Ray snickered and hurried from the office.  

 Alexandra lay on the uncomfortable cot hugging herself. Examining the
minute details of the wall, she was only trying to keep her emotions
still. She felt rage and helplessness, hopelessness and nothingness all at
once. It was beginning to swallow her. 

 It had been 3 days since the last time she had talked to Detective
Kowalski and Constable Fraser. She was beginning to realize that placing
all of her faith in those two souls was her biggest mistake. 

 She couldn't remember anything else, nor could she come up with an excuse
to call them in. They had given up on her, she knew. Given up because it
was easier? No, that wasn't like the Constable. More likely they gave up
due to lack of evidence. 

 Her trial date was still several days away, 'but it might as well be
tomorrow' she thought with angst. She shifted as she became more painfully
aware of a lump in the mattress. She let out a deep sigh at that moment. 

 The footsteps neared her cell and when she heard them stop, she looked
up. Surprised to see the Mountie and Kowalski standing there, she sat up.
She watched as the slight grin formed on Ray's face and he tapped the lock
on the cell. The guard slipped in the key and pushed the button. Slowly
the door opened. 

 Alexandra stood beside the bed and stared at them. 

 "Aren't you coming?" Ray asked. 

 She took a step closer, but stayed on her side of the cell. After a
moment, Fraser cleared his throat and stood aside. Ray stepped inside,
took her arm, and pulled her out, then kept hold of her elbow as they
walked along the corridor. 

 "Are you going to... to tell me... what..." she stuttered, her surprise
getting the better of her." 

 Ray cleared his throat. "Well, we looked in the closet and know what we
found?" He led her into the interrogation room and opened the door. She
sat at the table and Ray stood beside Fraser. 

 "No, what?" she asked, quizzically. 

 "Well, we found bloody clothes. Oh, and prints. Partials, but prints were
there. Testing showed cat hair." He shifted. "Cat hair on the inside and
outside of the sweat shirt and sweat pants. Seems kinda queer, right?" 

 She nodded. "But..." 

 "So they did more testing and found fibers. Fibers of a t-shirt. Turns
out some guy in a t-shirt was seen leaving your house later that day and
it seems that certain someone's girlfriend has a cat. Do you know what
kind of cat?" 

 She shook her head. "How am I supposed to..." 

 "Same kind of cat who left hair inside and outside of that shirt. So we
got some suspects, we got some prints, we got some fibers." Ray stopped
talking at that point. 

 "How does it fit?" she asked, still not clear on the details. 

 Fraser took a step toward her. "It appears Mr. McGrath was hired to kill
you. The theory is that you were meant to have an accident forced by Mr.
McGrath and your husband." He pulled a chair from the table and sat down.
"We learned that your husband lied to a Mr. Canelli, do you know him?" 

 She nodded. "Mob guy, right?" 

 Fraser agreed, then continued. "So Mr. Canelli requested that Mr. McGrath
take care of Emmette instead so the tables were turned to a stabbing as
that could be easily pinned on you." 

 "All right," she said softly. "And how..." 

 "So Mr. McGrath wore sweat pants and a sweat shirt over his clothes.
After the stabbing he removed them and took them upstairs where he hid
until the police left." 

 "Ah," she added quietly. 

 "So you're free to go. We got Butch in custody and you're free," Ray
added. 

 She stood, feeling too many things at once. She was relieved, first, but
felt a certain surrealism. She couldn't make herself move, imagining the
chase if she tried to walk away. 

 Finally Ray opened the door. "We'll walk you out," he said. 

 She nodded and stepped from the room, moving slowly, expecting to wake
from the dream at any moment.  

 "Congratulations on the new job," Welsh said as he passed the small crowd
gathered around Alexandra. 

 "Thank you," she said as she took a bite of the cake. 

 Ray leaned over and tapped her shoulder. "You'll be missed." 

 She chortled. "I'm not so sure." 

 "Who else'll put us in a choke hold?" Dewey asked. 

 She set down the plate and smiled a little. "Come on guys. You don't need
to pretend. It's better this way." 

 Kowalski bowed his head. He knew she was right. She'd never have a decent
chance in this place after everything that had happened. She couldn't
trust anyone there anymore. 

 Fraser, though, wished things could be different. "Perhaps..." but he
wasn't quite sure how to add hopefulness to the situation. "Perhaps things
will be better in the new position," he finished. 

 She nodded. "Thanks, Constable," she said, then leaned closer and
whispered. "Thanks a lot." The words were almost painful, but he had given
her hope and faith and, most importantly, freedom. She tried to hate him
for it, but it was impossible. She turned to Ray. "And thank you,
Kowalski." 

 Ray nodded, wishing he had been more deserving. "You'll be missed," he
repeated. "I have to get back to work," he added and walked to his desk. 

 THE END 

End Thin Ice by Laura Lee aka Snowee: alaskanrose515@hotmail.com

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