CABBAGES AND KINGS

By TimBeastie Graduc

Disclaimer: All characters portrayed belong to Alliance etc etc ad infinitum and beyond. Please do not recycle without permission of the author.

Dedicated to Pat (fowl inspiration ;) and all at DS chats.

Detective Raymond Vecchio clung tenaciously to the side of the windblown rickety wooden tower, some 20 ft or so from what he considered to be his natural habitat, i.e. terra firma. <Why is this my life?> he asked himself sadly, firmly terrified. He risked a quick glance up to his travelling companion, erstwhile friend and partner. If the frequent lightening bolts issuing from the storm laden sky didn't get him then he Raymond Francisco Vecchio would.

A sudden image of Fraser being fricasseed by a lightening bolt brought him some comfort. Yeah - Fraser's pelt standing on end, face soot-blackened, lanyard askew...

Meanwhile the recipient of Ray's lightening fed imagination continued to clamber up the shaky edifice blithely unaware of the malice aforethought being plotted behind him.

"Really Ray this is extraordinarily invigorating isn't it?" yelled Fraser into the teeth of the gale. "It reminds me of a particularly amusing incident I was party to during basic training. Although...I suppose it really wasn't quite so entertaining for Sergeant McMurkie... It's funny but I can't face a brussel sprout these days without...

"Son" interrupted his father, floating steadily at Benton's left side "You are babbling. Not only are you babbling you are making no sense whatsoever. There never was a Sergeant McMurkie and your grandmother told me that your prejudice against brussel sprouts started when Shep Partridge force fed you 25 of the things during the 14th Tuktayuktuk Christmas Jamboree. Boy were you ever sick!"

Fraser stopped climbing and glared at his father, who gazed, quite unperturbed, back.

"There *was* a Sergeant McMurkie." he hissed.

"Oww!" yelled Ray who had just bumped into Fraser's boots. "Move it will ya Benny! Ya dragged us up here, for whatever mad Canadian reason...nah, scratch that I gotta be the madman round here for *ever* listenin' to ya!"

Fraser looked down at Ray. A shadow of unease passed over him as he caught sight of a rather malevolent glint in those green eyes. No - it must have been a trick of the lightening. Ray was his friend, his best friend. Reassured by that thought he apologised cheerfully - further infuriating the bedraggled detective.

That done Benton turned back to continue his "discussion" with his father - sadly deceased but at present not quite dead enough. However Fraser senior had vanished into the blustery ether. Fraser humphed under his breath and continued to climb steadily.

At the top of the tower was a small hut-like affair and both men hauled themselves into the relative calm. Fraser produced his small monoscope and scanned the area for his quarry. Although whether this was man or beast he had as yet neglected to inform his partner.

Ray hunched down on the rough wooden floor and hugged himself moodily. Back in Canada again, back in the wilderness again. It was all a twisted Canadian plot, and he knew just which twisted Canadian. <Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't out to get ya> he mused. <I have to give it to him though, he's good. Get's me here on a guilt trip. Huh, you shoot your *best* friend and ya pay and pay and pay...> He sighed.

<"Please Ray, I can't give you any further information. However I'm sure we'll both enjoy the journey *this* time. The exercise will do my *back* a power of good." Duh! You are such a sap!>

From the furthest darkest corner of the hut a small green duck emerged and waddled cautiously towards the Mountie. Ray tracked its progress silently, chin on knees. The duck reached Fraser's shiny wet boots and leaned forward:

"Quaack!!"

"Yikes!!" yelped Fraser, leaping a good 2 ft into the air, dropping his monoscope out of the window.

"Duck." said Ray informatively.

Unperturbed the fowl creature made its way towards its intended target - what looked like a discarded half eaten sandwich. It gulped this down quickly and returned to its corner waggling its tailfeathers, very pleased with itself.

Ray took one look at Fraser's face and began to feel much much better. An enormous grin split his face and as he leaned back into the darkness he bore a striking resemblance to Alice's Cheshire cat.

"That was *not* funny Ray." fumed the Mountie.

"Oh yes it was Benny. Trust me on this." snorted Ray. "It was also humorous, droll, whimsical, amusing and just plain hilarious. Now are ya gonna tell me what our little expedition to lumberjack's paradise is all about?"

Fraser jammed his stetson securely on his head. In a lesser person this might have looked like temper, not good hat management.

"Sorry Ray, not just yet. I think it would be much better if the explanation came from the... er person we're waiting for." responded the mountie rather evasively.

"And just *who* are *we* waiting for...?" asked Ray suddenly suspicious. A horrible thought struck him -

"If you've...if..if it's that crazy "Walter Mitty"MacDonald you are both following your telescope thingie outta here, same exit, same speed, same splat!" <Yeah Ray "Galileo" Vecchio. Two Canadian nitwits to go!> Ray brought his hands up over his head and slammed them down with a great deal of unnecessary emphasis in Fraser's opinion.

"Actually Ray, his name's Ian...and well I'm afraid.."

"Be afraid, be very afraid." interrupted Ray grinding his teeth. Ian MacDonald, the ditz responsible for the unnatural death of his beloved Riv. Come to think of it Fraser had a hand in that particular murder too and both had gone unpunished. Was there *no* divine justice?

Almost instantaneously a bolt of lightening cracked to the ground a couple of feet away from the tower.

"Aarrgh!!" yelled someone in pain.

<*Ian?*> hoped Ray.

"Oh dear." said Fraser peering below into the gloom. "I'm sure that's Ian. I hope he's not too badly hurt."

Ray shot a quick glance at the turbulent sky. <Thanks, I owe ya!>

Ray joined Fraser, who had produced a small flashlight and was illuminating Ian's hopping figure.

"Bouncy kinda guy ain't he?"

"Now Ray there's no need to take pleasure in another's misfortune." scolded Fraser.

"Hey Benny I'm taking all the pleasure I can get outta this *situation*. This is another fine mess ya got me into and my name ain't Oliver Hardy."

Fraser raised his left eyebrow, a curiously vulcan gesture.

"Er no Ray." he agreed.

Scrambling sounds issued from outside, punctuated at intervals by "ouch!" or even "yeeouch!"

"Here let me help you in." offered Fraser, helpful as always, as Ian's head began to appear.

"Aarrgh!!" screamed Ian as Fraser unfortunately picked his tenderest portions.

"So MacDonald.." said Ray leaning against the wall, arms folded, totally unmoved. "What hokum have ya been feedin' Benny this time? Ya otta know better than take advantage of the poor boob." Fraser opened his mouth to protest at the unkind description but thought better of it. He needed Ray on his side.

"Have ye no sympathy for a man's pain?" moaned Ian milking the situation shamelessly.

"Nah, but I have a shiny new boot your rear end's gonna be introduced to soon enough if ya don't spill.."

Fraser tutted in the background, whilst searching through his capacious pockets for some salve to tend Ian's injuries.

Friends and family...

Willie considered Dief's recumbent figure. The wolf lay sated and comfortable on Fraser's bed. He had spent the day running rings round his "sitter" and Willie was sure he detected a lupine smirk amidst the crumbs. He had better rouse him though...

Inspector Thatcher appraised Lieutenant Welsh's slumbering figure. He snoozed at his paper strewn precinct desk apparently free of all cares, fingers laced contentedly round his stomach. She bent over to wake him...

Francesca Vecchio regarded her mother fondly as she relaxed in her easy chair. Hopefully Ray would have consumed her little surprise by now. That would teach him for telling her best friend that she waxed her chin.

"Ma.." she said softly.

"Did you think Benton was looking a little stressed out when he came for dinner yesterday?" Frannie was genuinely worried about her favourite mountie.

"Yeah, yeah the mountie's been actin' kinda weird, now it's time for walkies" said Willie to Dief's sleep snuffled query.

"I would be grateful if you could contribute to Fraser's psych profile. Er.. he's been rather strange recently..For Fraser that is." Lieutenant Welsh looked bemused; just how much stranger could the mountie get?

"Fraser's wolf's worried about him." said Fraser's friendly neighbourhood vagrant to his fellow traveller of the streets. "Hmm yeah. Not without some justification in my opinion."

"You think detective Vecchio can take care of him boy?" asked Willie as they passed by.

"Ah Benton's a good man Francesca and I'm sure my Ray will take care of him. Don't worry cara. Not everyone likes brussel sprouts." Ma patted Francesca's hand reassuringly.

Lieutenant Welsh scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "It's OK he's got Detective Vecchio with him. Screwy as they are they make one hell of a good team. Would you care for some cheese fondue Inspector?"

Back at base camp...

"You have gotta be kidding!" exploded the ever volatile Vecchio.

"Benny, please tell me you don't believe a word of that..that...b.b."

"I believe the word you are searching for is *balderdash* Ray" countered Fraser mildly.

"Yeah right!"

"It's true every word of it. I swear on the soul of my dear departed Grannie Crawford - Joan Crawford that is. Stern but fair. Used to send us food parcels from Hollywood, ah the lobster thermidor, the Caeser salad! A great lady."

Ray snorted and pointed to Ian. "A great liar, truly world class. In fact there are probably alien civilisations out there sending their little gray men down just to study his technique."

He turned to Fraser who looked thoughtful. "Are you telling me you *did* have a Great Uncle Tiberius?"

"Uh yes Ray. In fact Tiberius was not his real name, that was Dougal, but as a child he discovered a Roman coin in his back yard, a denarius I believe it was... he formed the opinion that the Romans had in fact landed in Canada. Though I believe it was later discovered that the coin had come from a cereal packet...cornflakes or possibly McMurkie's porridge oats...but anyway.. not one to let facts get in the way Tiberius spent his life immersed in Roman history, trying to prove his childhood theory. Hence the name change."

Ray shook his head, trying to clear it. Fraser was having his usual brain numbing effect.

"OK, but the cabbage leaves??"

"Quite true Ray, Tiberius was found dead wrapped in cabbage leaves, but we don't really like to talk about it."

"You surprise me! Geez."

"Yeah well the guy was murdered and now his killers are after *me*" said Ian bringing the centre of attention back to himself.

"Yes, the *Neilson* triplets? I don't think I've encountered those names before."

"Very dangerous gang." explained Ian.."Look I made notes.." He offered a rather squelchy notepad to Fraser.

* Chic Neilson: Addicted to earl grey tea, buttered scones and the life and crimes of Professor James Moriarty. Keen ornithologist.

* Sporty Neilson: Preoccupied by mindless physical violence; this keeps him very fit.

* La La Neilson: So called because of an unfortunate fondness for country music. The tunes he can remember but the actual words skip him by - not *such* a bad thing. (Also strangely fond of pink custard).

"Yes but what have they actually done - in terms of criminal activity?" asked Fraser.

"Ah, well that's in my other notebook...I left it at the hotel. Suffice to say they are out to get me and if they do I'm toast."

"Lightly browned Mr MacDonald?" came a soft voice from the shadows..

"Ulp!" gulped Ian.

Chic Neilson (for it was he) cradled the little green duck in his arms, stroking it softly.

"There there my pet. You didn't give us away after all. I really shouldn't have left the scone lying there, but I'm afraid the taste was *quite* abominable."

A second figure emerged from the gloom. Chic turned his head slightly towards him.

"You have the duct tape La La I trust you know what to do with it?"

The third figure produced all the *persuasion* required for the hapless trio's co-operation.

"Ah a Magnum .757, a very effective..." began Fraser eager to show off his considerable knowledge of the world's weaponery.

"Shut up will ya Benny." interrupted Ray more than eager not to have their peril emphasised.

Fraser subsided. Ray seemed rather moody, best not to aggravate him. He was probably concerned at the effect the duct tape would have on his Armani coat. Yes that was probably it. He bent forward and whispered -

"Don't worry Ray I'm sure it will have no effect whatsoever." He followed this up with a suitably reassuring smile.

Ray gaped at Fraser. The poor guy had finally flipped. What a situation to be in - noodle brain to the left of him, noodle brain to the right and three homicidal maniacs straight ahead. Maybe he shoulda listened to his pop after all. After all just what was so bad about being an accountant or bookie or geez he'd settle for janitor just about now.

Fraser Sr appeared in front of his son, rather disgusted at the unexpected turn of events. Never mind, he supposed Benton would be able to extricate himself, he seemed to have that knack. Anyway this was his opportunity to learn the truth about his uncle. He had always felt uncomfortable about the sanity question and certainly there were times when his son seemed to act fairly...oddly.

"Son, ask them about Uncle Tiberius."

"Dad!" hissed Fraser in an undertone, which had strong undercurrents of why didn't you warn us earlier.

Fraser Sr picked up on this subtle nuance..

"Now you know I can't interfere.."

"Interfere!!" Fraser strained forward against the tape.

"Now let's not get too upset about this shall we?"

"Well I'm fairly certain I'll have the opportunity of showing you exactly how *upset* I am. You do realise these men are going to kill us?"

Ian and Ray exchanged telling glances. La La, Chic and Sporty did likewise. There followed much shaking of heads and tsking.

"You are perfectly correct in that assumption Constable Fraser." said Chic.

Fraser sighed deeply. Well at least he'd get out of addressing the 250 envelopes for the Consulate Ball he knew were waiting on his desk. The Inspector had been quite pleasant about it really.

"Don't worry Constable, I'm sure these can wait until you get back from your *holiday*. I trust you will return fully funct... er..*refreshed*." Then she'd shooed him gently out of his office. "Do try to get some rest." she had called after him. How nice of her. She really had his best interests at heart..now if he could only work on that...still looking at his present situation that appeared something of a lost cause. Pity really. He sighed again.

"Uncle Tiberius" prompted his father.

"What can you tell me about Tiberius Fraser. Is Mr MacDonald right - did you murder him?"

"Murder's such an ugly word." responded Chic disdainfully, "I prefer despatched myself."

"Fine, did you *despatch* him?"

"Why certainly. I considered his method of removal somewhat appropriate after all it was due to his meddling that I was forced to undergo a coronary artery bypass graft. I believe the medical slang for this is CABG. Rather pleasingly esoteric I thought and of course it threw the authorities completely off track. Of course the fact that he had also "cabbaged" $5,000 out of La La only added to the general appropriateness of our action."

Ray groaned. Not another smartass crook. La La continued the exposition. Sporty was

obviously the strong silent type.

"You think it's easy wrapping a corpse in cabbage leaves? You know how many we had to use? We pinched them from Runamukluk's Roots and Shoots, the store for vegetarians who like to hunt. You might know it Constable."

"Ah no I don't believe so."

"Oh well. Tiberius deserved all he got. Stiffed me good out of $5,000 greenbacks."

"What?!" Fraser was horrified - a criminal in the Fraser family?!

"Yeah Mr squeaky clean Mountie, you got a skeleton in your family closet and we put him there."

"That's an absolute calumny!" Tiberius, clad in a royal purple toga complete with laurel wreath, strode between Fraser and Chic.

"Good grief Tiberius. What *do* you look like?"

Tiberius turned and stared down his nephew. It was the glare of the haughtiest Roman emperor to his lowliest subject.

Robert Fraser narrowed his eyes. Tiberius might have been his uncle, but he had died young and in Fraser Sr's eyes his spirit was a mere upstart pup.

Fraser refused to be distracted by his father who seemed to be talking to thin air. He could tell from the body language that his parent was mightily upset, but what the heck. The biter bit Fraser figured.

"You poisoned me!" Tiberius pointed at Chic Neilson, trying to poke him in the chest but failing to get a response.

"It doesn't work like that Tiberius. What were you doing associating with known criminals? Why does that *person* think you stole money from him?"

Tiberius deigned to look round at his nephew after a few more attempts to slap Chic silly.

He sniffed. "All I did was to give $25 for a Roman coin that turned out to be worth slightly more. Anyway I wasn't entirely sure he had obtained it honestly."

"Slightly more!" Robert was aghast. It seemed his uncle had been guilty of deception and possible receipt of stolen goods. Tiberius as the family screwball seemed much the better option. He didn't think he need share this confession with his son however - wouldn't do his morale any good, and it was probably low enough anyway.

Sporty Neilson produced a couple of small cans from his long winter coat and began splashing fluid round the hut. From the odour Fraser's keen nose immediately identified it as a paraffin based substance. Ray's nose was keen too - keen to get out of there.

"It's quite brilliant." boasted Chic "in the middle of a lightening storm who's going to suspect arson? My plan of course. Come La La, come Sporty we must bid these peasants adieu." So saying he took out a lighter and threw it casually to the furthest pool of liquid.

"Oh, I think a small souvenir is in order." Chic strode forward and plucked Fraser's beloved stetson from his head.

With a flourish of the hat Chic disappeared from the hut, closely followed by his brothers with Sporty pausing to live up to his reputation by giving Benton a vicious kick in a rather vital area.

"Unghhh!" moaned Fraser. Ray and Ian cringed protectively. However Sporty ignored them and followed his siblings.

The flames licked around them though the wood was quite wet and this slowed the spread of the fire.

It appeared they had two choices - turn into charcoal briquettes or jump 40 ft to a wetter but equally certain doom. La La had done his job well, not only were they individually bound but all three formed an improbable Siamese tape triplet.

Ian however proved unexpectedly resourceful. Bending over his knees he used his lips to produce a small blade from one of the many pockets in his camouflage trousers; manipulating this with his teeth he began cutting the tape *very* carefully.

What seemed like hours later the triplet split into its component parts. Each of which made a concerted dash for the exit with Ray almost tripping over an old horse blanket the Neilson brothers had used as a disguise. He flung it out in disgust and followed suit.

"Hey Benny you're on fire!"

"Uh I realise that Ray. Hmm I'll think just roll over shall I? Seems like a good idea..."

Ray's eyes narrowed. Fraser was going into shock he was sure. Wrapping Fraser in the old horse blanket, he quickly leaned forward and pulled the mountie's boots from under him.

Fraser thudded painfully to the ground and Ray rolled him over smothering the flames.

"Wow!" gaped Ray having unpeeled Fraser from the blanket.

"I thought the uniform was indestructible..."

Fraser's uniform was in largely singed tatters though Fraser himself seemed to be fireproof with only slightly singed eyebrows to show for his ordeal.

"I think you should keep the blanket for now Benny." said Ray soothingly. He figured from the look on Benny's face that the destruction of his beloved uniform was really upsetting him. Hmm Benny really needed something for the shock. Ray dug into his pockets and produced a small bag of mints, an unexpectedly thoughtful travelling gift from Francesca.

"Here Benny, something sweet for ya. You look like you could do with it."

Fraser accepted the mint gratefully and popped it in his mouth.

Approximately 1.45 seconds later he choked violently and spat it out .

"Water!" he gasped and began to lick a rain drenched fir nearby.

<Frannie!! I shoulda known..I'll get ya for that!> fumed Ray.

"So MacDonald I guess I owe ya one. How on earth did ya come to have that handy?"

"Well" said Ian extraordinarily pleased with himself. "I was trying to be like the mounties - you know the motto - Be Prepared - so I was."

Fraser choked, still recovering. "Uh Ian I believe you'll find that that is the motto of the Scouting Movement, founded by Lord Baden Powell..."

"OK enough history already Frasier, where do we go from here? Those nuts might be anywhere."

Fraser winced at a painful memory.

"I have a compass" said Ian helpfully, newbie boy scout.

"So do I." echoed the mountie and the cop.

"However I believe I am the only one experienced enough in using the instrument. So I suggest we go this way.."

Fraser wrapped his blanket firmly round his shoulders and strode off into the forest.

Ian and Ray looked at their brand spanking new compasses regretfully, shrugged their shoulders and set off after him.

"Where exactly are we going Benny?"

"Back to the jeep Ray."

"That rust bucket?!"

"It is a perfectly serviceable vehicle Ray." admonished Fraser. "Although I believe your particular driving skills may have pushed the manufacturer's specifications to the limit."

"Why don't ya just say it Benny? Ya think my drivin' sucks don't ya?"

The mountie considered his reply. He was not by nature a liar, yet he didn't really want to hurt his best friend's feelings.

"Sucks Ray?" He would try the "I don't know a single word of American slang despite having living more than two years in your country" approach. It usually worked extremely well with Ray and this was no exception.

"Never mind. Geez." It just wasn't worth it. Ray held the view that Fraser with his photographic memory had probably digested the entire slangbase of every country in the world and probably kept up-to-date with a subscription to Weird Words Weekly.

Ray pulled out his mobile. The rain was steady but he felt he ought to warn the authorities about the blazing firetower. He was rather shocked at his act of good citizenship - if he wasn't careful he would turn into a Canadian at this rate, must be something in the air.

Fraser sneezed approvingly though with due care; it wouldn't do for Ray to catch cold, there might be unfortunate repercussions to say nothing of percussions.

"Should I call the cops too?" asked Ray. "It's up to you Benny. With your great uncle being implicated and all that.."

Fraser looked uneasy. He felt he would prefer not to explain his family involvement, yet he was a mountie sworn to uphold the law. Still as a law officer perhaps with Ray's help he could bring the Neilsons to justice himself...

Ray quickly caught on to this internal argument and pocketed his phone. "It's OK Benny I understand."

"It's probably best we don't go back to the hotel" shivered Fraser. "The Neilson's may return there."

"So where *do* we go? I'm hungry, tired, wet, singed..." Ray's voice had a slight nasal quality to it.

"My sister" said Ian.

Fraser cocked his head to one side.

"Your *sister*?"

"Yes my *sister* - Flora."

"Flora, as in Flora MacDonald?" Fraser raised a singed eyebrow.

"Of course. We are direct descendants of the Prince. You know..droit de seigneur and all that." Ian winked suggestively.

Ray looked clueless.

"It's alright Ray. Nothing you need worry about. Just an interesting *historical* insight...possibly."

"It's the truth!" protested Ian.

"Yeah right!" said Ray and Fraser couldn't help silently echoing the sentiment.

"Come in gentleman, do sit down..I'll just make some tea." Flora MacDonald greeted her brother and his friends with typical Canadian hospitality.

"Oh you poor thing." She tutted at the blanket wrapped, stubble chinned mountie who now bore a passing resemblance to someone called Clint Eastwood, according to Ray.

"I'll get you something dry to wear." she continued. "Only, well all I've got are well *my* clothes - if you don't mind?" She was a large boned woman astonishingly similar to Fraser in height and appearance.

Fraser considered the irony of the situation. If it was good enough for Scottish royalty...anyway he had done this sort of thing before. He followed Flora to her bedroom to get changed.

"Ah Bonnie Prince Clintie" sniggered Ray on his return.

Fraser flounced to his seat. Ian had brought Ray up to speed with the prince's story.

<D d.darn it!>

Fighting fire...

Meanwhile the Neilson brothers belted down the narrow winding road leading to the highway...

While a shiny red fire engine charged in the opposite direction....

Fortunately although Sporty was a psychotic thug he was also an excellent driver and collision was narrowly and spectacularly avoided. Both vehicles screeched to a halt, bespattered with copious quantities of glutinous mud.

Chic was politeness itself.

"I am so sorry officer, it's all my fault, I felt we just had to make that extra effort to reach poor cousin Peregrine..I'm afraid it's touch and go..farming implement...you understand. Naturally with the weather being what it is your appearance was totally unexpected..." Chic was suspicious. Could it be..? Surely not.

"Oh dear. Well this time I suppose..." the fire officer was sadly gullible. "We'll just get on our way sir, if you'll move your vehicle. Thank you kindly."

"Certainly, only too pleased." nodded Chic.

"Oh by the way sir, do any of you happen to be a Detective Raymond Vecchio?"

Chic blinked. "Detective *Vecchio*? No, why do you ask?"

"It's alright sir, it's just that a Detective Vecchio called in the fire we were on our way to - it's in the forest. Funnily enough a fire in a firetower!" Ha ha ha. Officer Grubb was prone to laughing at his own bad jokes.

<Ha bloody ha!> thought Chic, grinding his teeth as he smiled widely at the firemen.

The Neilsons made it back to town at speeds considerably in excess of any speed limit. The atmosphere in the car was chilly to say the least. The duck however dozed happily on Chic's lap.

"So what if he's called the cops. They got a damn good look at us...and there's MacDonald." growled La La.

Chic snorted. "I don't *think* so. That mountie's family is implicated. He didn't seem any too pleased about that. No, I think we're safe for now. He looks like just the sort of klutz who'll try to come after us himself..well with the American cop and MacDonald - which still keeps them in one neat disposable package."

"Yeah so what do *we* do?"

"I think we need to take the initiative." Chic pulled Ian's other notebook from his coat and thumbed through it.

"There..just the *leverage* we need." He pointed to Ian's sister's address helpfully written on the back page. He gave Sporty instructions and clutched the door firmly as the car made a tight 180 degree turn.

Butteries and Ben...

"It's the Fraser tartan too." beamed Flora bearing down on the party with a trayful of teatime goodies.

Fraser leaned forward and took the first edible item he came upon. He stuffed it quickly, if rather inelegantly, in his mouth - before he said something he would regret, or Ray would make him regret. He had an image to uphold - not however full length evening dress - with tartan sash and matching Alice band.

Unfortunately at this juncture his *superhearing* decided to kick in.

"Hngh umm.."<munch, munch> "ung.."<munch, painful gulp> he gasped.

"Someone's coming to the door. Actually it's three people..and I believe a duck...It's the Neilsons! Quick..I have a plan!"

Ray's heart sank. <A Fraser Plan. Oh dear!>

"Good afternoon gentlemen and what can I do for you?" simpered Ms Fraser, beaming through hastily applied Hot Red lipstick. *She* was wearing a matching vivid pink headscarf and apron which read "Kiss the Kook". La La and Sporty leered winningly. Chic frowned at his smitten siblings. The duck quacked - loudly.

"Ahem, Miss MacDonald? We're friends of your brother Ian. Is he at home? We would like to have a quick word with him. It's rather important."

"Oh I'm sorry he's not here..but he did say he'd be round for tea. Would you care to wait. I'd be happy to offer you some *refreshments*. What a cute little duckie!" Ms Fraser was so sugary Ray could feel his teeth rot.

Ms Fraser smiled sweetly at the duck and tickled it under its beak.

"Ouch!!"

"Oh I'm so sorry ma'am, she doesn't usually bite. Naughty naughty." soothed Chic.

"That's alright it doesn't hurt in the least I assure you." said Ms Fraser ruefully, rubbing *her* wrist. "Do have a seat. As you can see I've everything prepared for Ian and his friends. Only I was just about to bring the tea through. Could one of you kind gentlemen help me with the cups." Freshly mascaraed lashes fluttered directly at Sporty.

Sporty nodded eagerly while Chic and La La settled themselves down. Miss Mountie 1948

shimmied through the door, Sporty close at *her* heels.

Ray quickly sneaked into Flora's larder which was a difficult squeeze for a tall guy. It looked as though it was stocked for a nuclear winter and then some.

Something tickled his face. He jumped back in alarm and arachnaphobia.

<Get a grip Vecchio! Better just see what that was though.> He pulled out Fraser's torch and flashed it carefully round.

<Yeeuk! That's disgusting!> Ray was glad he hadn't spotted the hanging rabbit carcases before entering. Now if only he could find something to deal with Sporty...

"Now if you'll just take this tray...er..yes well, I really think we should be getting back to the others..*here!*" Sporty was getting a trifle too frisky for "Flora" who skirted the kitchen table at some speed before thrusting the tray of teacups forcefully into *her* putative paramour's grabbing hands. Sporty promptly replaced the tray on the table and continued his pursuit.

Until that is a frozen leg of pork bounced off his skull.

"Good shot Ray" panted "Flora".

"Yeah. I guess I saved your bacon that time." grinned Ray bending over Sporty's lifeless form. "There, I guess the odds have just evened up nicely." he continued waving Sporty's gun.

"Uh Ray..I don't like to be picky at a time like this but you'd better hand that over to me."

"Aw Fraser, it was bad enough I couldn't take my gun with me. No-one's going to know."

"I would know Ray. I'm sorry but I *would* have to arrest you."

"Geez. OK Ms Dudley Dorighterthanright...here!"

"Thank you kindly Ray."

"Sure. Remind me next time to let the bad guys catch up with you first next time you decide to play dress up. After all it would be the *polite* thing to do."

"I think not Ray." Fraser shuddered and glanced down at Sporty to make sure he was still out for the count.

Just then the door handle rattled and La La peered in spurred on by a mixture of jealousy and voyeuristic instinct.

"Flora" was bending over his prostrate brother patting his cheeks non too gently.

"Oh dear..I'm afraid he's had a bit of a funny turn. Is he prone to fits?"

"Duh.." La La came forward for a closer look.

Ms Fraser halted his advance by producing Sporty's gun. Still smiling winsomely *she* indicated Ray Vecchio who leaned casually behind the door. In his hands he held two large rolls of duct tape.

Fraser and Ray made speedy work of ducting the duo. Fraser opted for the mummiform look while Ray chose "this is the last Xmas present I have to wrap and I'm using up all the tape and I *don't* care how it looks, soddit where's the end of the tape, soddit." form.

In the hallway, Fraser and Ray had a small *discussion*.

"Give me the gun Benny. I can take it from here."

"No Ray." Fraser looked puzzled.

"I said *give me the gun* Benny."

"Ray I will not give you the gun. I am perfectly capable of arresting Chic Neilson *by myself*."

"You look ridiculous. You realise that don't you Benny. Just wait till your *colleagues* come round to take these guys into custody. Your choice Miss Mountie."

"Oh dear."

"Of course" continued Ray cheerfully "The Neilsons have already seen you in that get up..hmmmm. Unless..."

"Yes?" (anxiously)

"Unless ya swap clothes with Flora and stay out of sight. You really look like her or vice versa - whatever. I'll say ya went off to rescue some fur bearing animal in distress or sumthin'."

"Good plan Ray." <I do *not* believe I just said that.>

"Thank you kindly." <I do *not* believe I just said that.>

Chic sat comfortably in his chair wolfing down his fourth buttered scone.

"Um excuse me...." Ms Fraser poked *her* head round the door.

"Yes dear lady?"

"This." In lieu of making a proper arrest Fraser felt he had to immobilise the remaining member of the Neilson family. In one hand he held Sporty's gun, in the other, half a roll of duct tape.

"I..I don't understand."

"Oh yeah." said Ray appearing by the "lady's" side.

"Ah!" Chic appeared to consider his situation for a minute. Fraser approached, peeling off the first strip of tape.

Suddenly Chic pushed the duck in Fraser's face.

"Quaaack!" protested the creature flapping wildly into the air.

Chic leapt for the door. Only to be met with a good old fashioned Chicago style police block.

"Ungh!" moaned Chic sinking to his knees. Ray grinned and dusted his hands, well satisfied.

Meanwhile the duck made good its escape through an open window. Fraser dashed (as best he could in such a long dress) after it. OK he hobbled after it, anything more would have meant hitching his dress to totally immodest heights.

"Duck!" yelled Ray.

Fraser paused quite stunned by Ray's grasp of the obvious.

A frisbee flew into the back of his head and stunned him even further.

"Duck means *duck" Frasier. It does not mean *duck*." sniggered Ray at the fallen mountie.

"Here duck..here duck..." Ray held out Flora's last remaining scone. The duck cocked its head suspiciously at him, then decided that it just couldn't resist the lure.

<Just like Dief> thought Ray. <Another foodhound..or should that be foodfowl?>

Plane sailing...

Fraser leaned his still throbbing head against the seat cushion. His beloved stetson had been recovered from the Neilsons, Ian and Flora were to testify against the brothers..and he had managed to acquire a new uniform, albeit from a local costume shop. Ray had quibbled a little over the price but had stumped up in the end. Oh well that's what Ray was - always there for you - a real friend in deed.

"So, how're ya going ta explain *that* to the Dragon Lady?" interrupted Ray, indicating Fraser's bandaged head.

"Ya going ta tell her the truth?"

"Naturally I shall tell the truth." <sniff>

"Yeah that you were beaned by a frisbee."

"Of course." Fraser sniffed again.

"Nasty cold ya got there Benny."

"Humph."

"You're not sulking are ya?"

"I *never* sulk. I just want to get some rest."

"Yeah right. OK I'll quit teasin' ya." Ray snuggled down into his seat and closed his eyes.

"Excuse me sir, would you like a drink?"

Fraser glanced up at the stewardess and considered the drinks trolley. He was sorely tempted, but opted for a small ice pack. The cold soothed his head and resurrected happy memories of..of..? Hmmm he couldn't quite remember. An elusive image swept the edges of his mind, but no he couldn't quite catch it.

"Hello son." said his father who had somehow felt it appropriate to appear in the apparel of a WW1 Flying Ace.

Fraser groaned inwardly but directed a politely stiff smile towards his parent.

"I thought I'd try wing walking. Care to watch?"

Fraser held a hand over his eyes.

"No thank you. It may have escaped your notice but this seat does not have a particularly good view of the wings. Perhaps you would like me to go and ask the Reverend Mother over there if she wouldn't mind moving so I can get a better look at my dead father's outdoor cabaret act."

"Head hurt does it son? That frisbee must have hit pretty hard. I understand. Don't worry about me." Fraser Sr attempted the classic parent guilt trip to little apparent effect. Suddenly "Biggles" Fraser whirled round facing an unseen intruder.

"Oh, it's you.." He swallowed nervously.

"Um hello mother."

"Son you look ridiculous." scolded his mother.

"Well" said Robert rather huffily. "I thought it might cheer the boy up."

"More mollycoddling Robert. It just won't do."

"Well it certainly doesn't seem to be appreciated. Anyway why are *you* here mother?"

"He's beginning to remember."

"Remember what?"

"His first love."

"Not that awful Victoria woman?"

"No of course not. Actually I don't think I ever did tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Robert you can be so obtuse sometimes. About Benton's first love of course."

"So why would he forget?"

Having caught only the one side of what was a rather heated argument Fraser was getting curious about what his grandmother was telling his father.

"Excuse me.."

"What!" His father twisted towards him, irritated at the interruption.

"What!" echoed Mrs Fraser, equally put out.

"Sorry, but I take it I am the topic of conversation here. Would it be too much to ask if you could clue me in? What did I forget?"

"Your first love apparently."

"My first love. Well excuse me but I have perfect recall on the subject. Her name was Jeannie Treen and she was a brunette with deep blue eyes and rosebud lips..."

"Oh yes! She was all of 15, and you moped like mad when she and her family left for Antigua."

"I did not *mope*. I went through a period of re-evaluation. I got in touch with my spiritual side."

"Son you spent three weeks in your bedroom *moping* and writing soppy poetry."

"You *read* my poems!" hissed Fraser outraged.

"Your grandmother sent them to me after you "filed" them in your wastebasket. I think she was worried about you. I seem to recall she suggested extra English tuition."

"Well they were *dreadful*." grimaced his grannie.

"However" she continued "it was Sarah McMurkie not Jeannie Treen who first caught the boy's eye."

"Ah! McMurkie." said her son. "That explains it."

"Explains what?" puzzled his son.

"Your obsession with that name."

"I *do* not and never have known anyone called *McMurkie*!!" Fraser fairly hollered the last statement at his startled parent.

"Nuts! You've mentioned that name at least twice in the last 48 hours. Mother, just what is the story between Benton and this McMurkie girl?"

"Benny could ya quit talkin' to yourself ? I'm trying to catch a little shuteye here." muttered Ray. "Any louder and you'll be taking another *rest cure*."

Fraser looked round the cabin and caught a few interested stares from his fellow travellers. He shrunk down into his seat. His face matched his new uniform perfectly. He watched as his father's mouth dropped.

"Benton Fraser!! Really son!"

With that his father disappeared leaving Fraser with the uneasy feeling that Sarah McMurkie's story had just been told. D--d if he could remember it though.

He nudged Ray.

"Ray do you have any aspirin?"

"Aw Frasier." Ray turned round to face his troubled friend.

"Anyways I thought you didn't take prescription medicine Benny?".

"This time Ray..this time I diefinitely do."

Notes:

1. Was the duck an anas horribilus?

2. Sarah McMurkie's story...will it ever be told? <evil grin>