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Benny & Ray 105 The Case Dee Gilles Rated R

Jesus, he was still at it. Fraser dropped me off home at three a.m. this morning. We had been canvassing, interviewing, threatening to break heads, whatever it took to get somebody to crack. I just couldn't hang anymore. So I dropped him off at the station and I went home and got get some shut-eye. Here it is nine o'clock on a Sunday morning, and I'm refreshed and he's still in yesterday's suit.

I plopped down in the guest chair in his cubicle and got a good look at him. He sat hunched over his computer madly typing away, reviewing mug shots and records so fast I don't know how the hell anything was registering. His jaw was covered with a fine stubble-very manly. His eyes were blood-shot.

"You still goin' at it? Christ, Fraser-buddy. Bad guys will still be around in the next couple of days. You'll get'em." I handed him a cup of coffee, hot and fresh from the new Starbucks that opened down the street. I loved Starbucks. And I loved the red-headed girl behind the counter that served the Starbucks. She was hot, just like the coffee she served. Oh yeah.

"I'm making an arrest today," Fraser said grimly. "In fact, this morning." He printed off some pages and quickly walked over to printer station to whip them off the printer. He grabbed his suit jacket and picked up the coffee without even thanking me. "Coming?" he asked, before I even had a chance to take the first sip of my coffee.

As tired as I was, I jumped up and said, "Let's get into it." I was in the mood to break some heads today.

Fraser filled me in as I drove through the streets of Chicago.

We were looking for one Matthew Domenico, aged 21, of Chicago Illinois. History of violence, this kid. Aggravated assault, armed robbery. Kid going nowhere fast. I cracked my itchy fingers, peeling my hands from the steering wheel one at a time.

I glanced over at Fraser. He was staring straight ahead.

Benton Fraser and I had been working together for a while now. A year, year and a half, something like that. We got off to a rocky start at first. I know he didn't like me too much at first, and I can't say that I could blame him. After all, I beat up his boyfriend, or he beat me up, depending on whose story you believed.

But that was all in the past. I liked the 27 and everybody here, now that I had been here for a while. It was like a family to me, but better. It's like Lt. Welsh was the dad, and Marg Gamez was the mom. And Micky Doyle's like the crazy uncle that looks out for everybody else, and Dewey and Donald--I guess they'd be like the twin brothers that finish each other's sentences, and Elaine's like the sister, like the hot sister you'd bang if she weren't your sister. Yeah. She's like that. It's a nice little family.

And Benton Fraser, well, I'd guess he'd be like the strange brother that's like, an Einstein in a lot of ways, but kinda crazy in a lot of other ways and needs to be looked after, you know? He was an odd duck. Not to say I didn't like the guy, but he was a freak. Jumping out of windows when there were perfectly good doors, jumping from roof to roof. Sniffing the ground like a bloodhound on a trail. All the time licking evidence. That was disgusting. I keep telling him it's going to kill him one day. The other day we did a meth lab bust, and he licked something out of a beaker he found in the trash. I thought I was gonna puke. He did confess the next day that whatever he licked gave him a bad case of the shits that night. I said `told you so. Serves you right.' Next case he was at it again, tasting and nibbling away at the evidence.

And where did I fit into this nutty family? I guess I was like the kid brother that nobody quite thought could handle his business. But Fraser, he trusted me. He believed in me. And that's why I liked him so much. Ol Benton-buddy. We were a great team, a duet, if you will-- two partners in the fine tradition of buddy cops like Starsky and Hutch, like Joe Friday and...that other guy, and like those two Miami Vice guys, except we were both white.

So now we were dealing with a gay-bashing. The call from Vecchio came in around 9:15 last night--a break-in and vandalism in Little Italy. Guy got his face smashed in. Fraser and I were out the door, all over it, by 9:17. Fraser was already a pretty hell-bent guy anyway, but this guy Tommy being a pal of his. Well, that just added a whole new level of intensity to the situation. I had already warned him to be careful. We had rules about officers not being involved in any cases involving family members. That rule unofficially included friends, too, but that part was really up to Welsh. He let Fraser take the case because he's well...Fraser. Above all that kind of stuff. Even so, Welsh gave him a warning to keep his nose clean, keep it professional.

I knew Fraser would keep it together. He wasn't like the rest of us humans. Things were black and white for him. I'd never seen him cross that line. Not like the rest of us.

Fraser had told me that Tommy DeBenedetto and Vecchio had been friends since they were little kids. If it was Vecchio running the investigation right now, no doubt IA would be up his ass already. IA hated Vecchio. Everybody knew that. I mean, IA hated everybody, but they especially hated Vecchio.

Fraser and Vecchio were an odd couple, to say the least, but I knew the love was there. He had pictures of his little family all over the place. Like he wasn't the littlest bit embarrassed to be with a man. And a scrawny little bald man with a big nose at that. I could see if he was with a hot dude. But Vecchio? You'd think somebody as hot as Fraser could do better. Not that I think Fraser's hot...I mean, he's not a bad looking guy. I mean, well....I'm just saying. You know what I mean.

There was a bunch of pictures of their little girl up on his cubicle walls. Some of her alone, some of her and Fraser, some of the three of them. She was real cute. Maybe I envied the three of them, just a little. Must be nice, to have that kind of connection with other people.

Me, I'd been alone forever, living in the same shitty little one bedroom apartment by myself. I really hadn't fallen in love with anybody. Not really, not since Stella. Sure I'd dated a few chicks...some of them hot. Really, really hot. But I didn't have a real soul connection with them. Not like I did with Stella. I don't know what my problem is. I do wanna be with somebody. It's just that it's hard. I'm trying so hard.

We finally got to the Domenico house. It wasn't that far from DeBenedetto's place. His sis said he was at the church, so we drove down there to drag him out.

He was there, all right. We pulled him right out of mass. We hauled him down to the station. Fraser grabbed him a little rough and cuffed him. Thought the kid was going to piss his pants. I thought Fraser was going to beat the crap out of him for just a minute.

The kid sang like a canary as soon as we got him in the room and turned the hot lights on him. He ratted out his buddy Joseph Medeiros, and even his own younger cousin Andrew Domenico, who he said was the guy that actually hit DeBenedetto.

We threw Domenico into a holding cell, and went after his two accomplices next. We had them both off the street before sundown.

We had thrown every thing we could at them. We charged them all with aggravated battery, conspiracy, criminal damage to property and breaking and entering, and for committing a hate crime. We charged Andrew Domenico and Joe Medeiros with contributing to the delinquency of a minor, since Matthew was only seventeen. They were all going away for a long, long time.

Fraser finally collapsed on Welsh's couch in his office after dumping the two other kids into the holding cell. I called Vecchio and he came down and got Fraser, slung him over his shoulder and carried him to the car. Hanging on to the driver's side door, I filled Vecchio in on the details of the case as he idled the engine.

We went before Judge St. Laurent in the morning. She set the bail high at fifty grand for the guy that did the beating, Andrew. And ten grand for the other two. And they managed to come up with the cash.

By the end of the day, all three guys were all out on bail, grinning like Cheshire cats. I'd never seen Fraser red-faced with fury and frustration before. That was usually my job- being the hot-head.

Nothing we could do about it. That was the system. All we could do was prepare to go to trial and put those fuckers away for a long, long time.

FINIS