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Benny & Ray 135 The Brotherhood Dee Gilles Rated PG-13

I futzed around in the kitchen, getting my ingredients together. I was cooking for Stella. Something I'd never done before--cooking for her. It felt good. It wasn't much of meal, just spaghetti and meatballs with sauce from a jar, plus I was gonna heat up some thick slices of hot buttered Texas toast in the oven, and I'd bought a decent bottle of Merlot. I was determined to do everything right this time; I treated Stella the way she deserved to be treated, the way I should have treated her years ago. I had to shake my head, thinking about it. So many years we could have had together that we didn't because I was an idiot.

Stella liked the new apartment. She actually enjoyed coming over. My old place was an embarrassment. I had plenty of room here, with two bedrooms and a decent-sized living room. The place was sunny, had a little back yard.

My landlord John Ayers was a good guy, and his lady was really nice too. John was an easy-going, outdoor type. I could see why Fraser liked him so much. I guess I'd consider John a friend of mine now, too. We'd talked about getting together some weekend and going on a double dinner date with the girls. He asked me along to go on a hike with the Sierra Club, too. I really wasn't into the outdoors so much, but what the hell? I'd give it try. It was nice to have a guy friend besides Fraser.

I grabbed a handful of dry spaghetti and broke the long strands in half, grabbed another handful and snapped that in two, also. I stuffed it all down into the boiling salted water. I mixed the ground beef in the bowl with my hands, and tore off little bits to roll large meatballs between my palms.

A home-made dinner was my way of making up to Stella for the date I had to break Friday night. That asshole Briggs made me and Fraser go out on an abso-fucking-lutely useless waste-of-time stakeout. I think that guy was just jerking us both. Guy's a fuckwit. Nobody at the station could stand this guy, not Welsh, not Dewey, not even Margarita, and she was nice to everybody. Even Fraser didn't like him, although he'd never admit to it. Briggs put Fraser on edge. I could always tell when they'd have a run-in; Fraser's voice was always a little higher, his jaw set tight. It was clear that the guy had something against Fraser. God only knows what Fraser did to piss him off.

Vecchio and I had talked about it, when I helped them move. Fraser had gone upstairs for a few minutes, and we snuck in a quick conversation, before he could come out and catch us at it. We agreed that something had to be done about it. Vecchio told me to stay on Fraser's case about it. I said I could do what I could, but he knew how Fraser was. He said, yeah, head as hard as a rock, and I said yeah, and kind of laughed.

We traded a few Fraser stories throughout the day while we moved their junk, and had a few laughs. Course, we embarrassed the crap outta Fraser, but that was part of the fun. I kinda like Vecchio now, even despite the Stella thing. He's gotten a certain hipness to him, I think. He's good at keeping Fraser reined in, making sure he doesn't get too nutty. And Fraser keeps Vecchio from being so rough around the edges. I kinda get the two of them together now. Yeah.

I laid my meatballs on the broiler pan and stuck them in the oven washed, then raw meat off my hands. I heard Stella's key in the door. Yep, so I'd given her a key the other day. Things were pretty serious. I smiled, anticipating seeing her beautiful blue eyes.

I stopped smiling as soon as I saw her face.

"Hey," I said, instantly curious.

She slowly walked toward me, shoulders sagging. "Hey."

I gave her a kiss. "What's up?"

"Bad day. Really really bad day."

"Yeah?"

"Did you hear from anybody at the station today?"

"No. Should I have?"

She breathed a sigh of relief. "No, I guess not. That's a good sign, then."

I pulled out two chairs and we sat down at the kitchen table.

"Do you know a man named Brady Hill?"

I shrugged.

"He and I used to...well, he's a friend of mine."

I bit my tongue. Not my business, I told myself. Not my business.

"He's in Internal Affairs," Stella supplied.

I rolled my eyes. Those bastards never quit. "Who they after now?"

"Ray Vecchio, Benton Fraser. And most of the 27."

"Come on! Somebody's gotta be smokin' crack."

"You remember the case of Tomas DeBenedetto from this spring, right?"

I nodded.

"Briggs came to Brady. Told him he suspected that Ray was behind the retaliation beating of the Domenicos."

"Was he?"

Stella got indignant. "Of course not! Ray'd never do something like that! But Briggs has got it in his head that Ray did it. And he thinks that Fraser was in on it too, and that Elaine Franklin and Michael Doyle helped to cover it up."

I blew out my breath. "I know Briggs is a kook, but don't that beat fuck-all."

"He wants Ray fired. He wants him to do jail time. I'm scared for him, Stan."

I considered Stella. Yeah, she did look bad. Her eyes were a little puffy, like maybe she'd been crying. I thought over my next words, choosing them carefully. "Listen, ah...Stella, hon. I gotta ask you. You still got feelings for Vecchio?"

"Stan."

"Really. You sweet on him?"

"Stanley."

"You are, aren't you?"

"I'm with you, aren't I?"

"That's not exactly answering my question."

"Ray Vecchio is a decent man. He didn't do what he's being accused of; I know it. And certainly neither Ben Fraser nor Doyle nor Detective Franklin had anything to do with it either. It's preposterous."

I nodded, sifting through the facts of the situation. "This guy's trying to clean house."

"Yeah. This guy's a bad seed."

"So why did this IA guy come to you?"

"Because I've worked a lot with intra-department policy and law. Brady thinks Briggs is dirty."

"I wouldn't doubt it."

"Listen to this: Briggs had quite the reputation for causing P.R. flaps at his old districts. There are records of several citizens' complaints. And several officers have filed complaints against him, citing malfeasance and unprofessional conduct. The guy by all counts is a racist, for starters, and a major homophobe."

"Which explains why he's bustin' Fraser's chops."

"Yeah. Thing is, everybody who has ever complained about him has quit, been fired, or transferred out. Briggs has been on the force for a long time. He's got a hell of a lot of power and influence with the right people. Now, Brady hasn't turned over the case to his boss yet, so officially, no charges have been filed. He's looking into a counter-case for Fraser's behalf, citing workplace discrimination, but he's trying to get all his ducks in a row first. I told him to get Human Resources and the FOP involved so they can go to bat for him. He's trying to gather any official docs and find any witnesses who are willing to stand up against Briggs. For starters, he's trying to track down a former officer Dudley, but apparently he's left the state and moved a couple of times since. But in the meantime, Briggs is after him, wanting to know when he's going to get moving on filing the charges. He can't stall anymore. This is a bad situation. I'm glad that I know about this, but then again, I hate that I know. This has got all kinds of legal ramifications, and could have a huge impact on a lot of people. I shouldn't know what I know, Stan."

"So, I guess that means, neither should I, right?" I said.

"Yeah." She suddenly started. "Hey. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you into this, too."

"It's all right. I can handle it."

She smiled sadly. "So I guess we're in this together, huh?"

"I guess we are." I took her hand, squeezed. "So whatta we do?"

Stella sighed. "I thought I might go to Louise and ask her for some advice."

"Judge Louise St. Laurent?"

"Yeah?"

"She hates'em both. She'd have them thrown under the jail. Don't say anything to her or anybody else."

"So what would you like me to do, Stan?"

"Get this guy Brady to stall a couple of more days. Give me 48 hours." I stood and started pacing. "Did you say anything to Vecchio about this?"

"No. I tried calling him and couldn't reach him. I called his cell phone from a pay phone and got his voice mail. I didn't want to leave a message."

"Why not?"

"Too risky. I can't let there be any evidence of a communication between him and me if the situation gets out there. And I didn't dare call him at the station, either. Too many people know me."

"I'll talk to Fraser. Hold on." I moved toward the phone on the kitchen wall.

"Don't!"

"Why not?"

"Because. Someone might...

"You're really jumpy. Fraser's my partner. We talk all the time. Nobody's going to think anything of me calling him if it ever comes up."

"Stan....just get to a pay phone. Just to be safe. Will you?"

"Alright. Watch the food? There's a phone across the street at the Laundromat. I'll be right back."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, babe."

I grabbed a handful of change from a cup I kept on the kitchen counter. "Hey, don't worry about anything. It'll be fine." As I ran downstairs and across the street, I thought, crazy world...I'm helping my new girlfriend/ex-wife's former lover and his boyfriend out of a jam. I stuck my hands in my pockets as I jogged down the sidewalk. It was colder than shit out and I'm in a T-shirt. Wish I'd taken the time to grab my jacket.

Hunching over the phone, I dropped some coins in the beat-up old coin box. Looked like the thing had been jimmied about a dozen times. The receiver felt like a block of ice. I held it away from my ear.

The phone rang twice. "Detective Benton Fraser. How can I help?"

"You still at work?"

"I'm on my way to pick up Carie."

"Ray home?"

"No. He's at the station until ten. What's wrong?"

"We got a situation. I'm coming over. Just gotta eat first. See you in an hour?"

"Alright, Stanley." I could already hear the worry and curiosity in Ben's voice.

"See ya," I said. I hung up and ran back inside to the warmth, and Stella.

FINIS