Inspector Meg Thatcher's private phone line was ringing as she opened her office door. She set her briefcase and purse in the chair by the door as she crossed the office to her desk to answer the phone. Naturally, when she picked up the receiver, she was greeted with a dial tone - too late.

*Oh well,* she thought, *if it's important they'll call back.* She collected her things from the chair and returned to her desk to sort out reports that had to be faxed to Ottawa.

"Constable Fraser, do you have the budget report? I need to include it in the package for Ottawa."

Benton Fraser appeared in the doorway with the requested report. "Yes, ma'am, I completed it last night," he said, handing her the report.

Just then the phone rang. "Thank you, Constable." Meg reached for the phone as Fraser turned to leave. "Canadian Consulate, Inspector Thatcher speaking. May I help you?"

There was a brief moment of silence, then a slightly snickering voice said, "It's me again, Margaret."

"Excuse me, do I know you?" At this, Fraser turned in the doorway, in case his help was needed. Meg had a slightly bemused look on her face.

"What'cha doin', Margaret?" the caller asked.

"I believe you must have the wrong number. This is the Canadian Consulate." At that, she hung up.

"Is there anything I can be of assistance with?"

"No, Constable, I don't think so. Just a wrong number. Thank you." Fraser nodded, returning to his duties for the day.

But was it just a wrong number? There was something vaguely familiar about the caller's voice, but Meg couldn't quite place it. *Oh, well,* she thought, *lots of people sound alike on the phone.* And with that she put the whole thing out of her mind and returned to the Ottawa package.

* * * * * *

At last - the package was finished and on its way to Ottawa. And for once, she didn't have anything urgent that she had to take home to finish - not like the past couple of weeks, when it seemed like every night she wound up having pizza delivered to the consulate because she was there half the night. No, tonight she could go home, relax with a good CD and the new Tony Hillerman novel and forget about all this. As she was gathering her things together, she heard Fraser and Ray Vecchio come in the front door; they were discussing the past night's Blackhawks/Canadiens game.

"Fraser, that last Hawks goal was good - they should'a won that game!"

"Ray, the shooter was in the crease."

"Three inches! That's it!"

"That is sufficient for the goal to be disallowed, Ray."

Just then, Meg's phone rang. *Please don't let that be Ottawa.* "Canadian Consulate, Inspector Thatcher speaking. May I help you?"

There was a slight pause, followed by this morning's slightly snickering voice - "It's me again, Margaret." Just who was this guy, anyway? And how had he gotten her private number? She must have made a sound of some sort, because suddenly Fraser and Vecchio were in the doorway; Fraser wearing a look of concern. "I told you before, this is the Canadian Consulate. You obviously have the wrong number and if you call here again I will have you arrested." With that, she slammed the receiver back into it's cradle.

"Inspector, can we be of assistance?"

"Yeah, is there anything we can do, either officially or, like, ah, under the table?"

Meg sighed, not really that surprised that Fraser had filled in his unofficial "partner" on this morning's doings. It did surprise her a little that he offered to help, though. *Maybe he isn't as bad as he wants me to think he is.*

"I don't.... I just..... Detective, what's the best way to trace a phone call these days? I'm afraid I haven't kept up."

"Well, those Caller ID boxes work pretty good, unless the other end has their number blocked. Was that a threatening call just now?"

"No, more irritating than anything else. And I don't think those Caller IDs will work on multi-line phones. Still, I can't help but think there is something familiar about his voice."

"Inspector, what exactly does he say?" asked Fraser.

"First he sort of snickers, then he says 'it's me again, Margaret' like he's talked to me before. Then he asks me what I'm doing. I haven't let it go any further than that."

"Maybe he got the message this time, but if he calls again call me and we'll get a tap on your line," Ray said, fishing a card out of his pocket and handing it to Meg. "Call me if you need to." *Or want to.*

"Thank you, Detective; I appreciate your concern."

* * * * * *

*Ahhh,* Meg thought, *that hit the spot.* She had just finished soaking in a hot bubble bath and, wrapped in a furry bathrobe, was getting ready to settle down with some Chinese carry-out, soft music, good wine and the new Tony Hillerman Navajo Country novel. She was about halfway through chapter four when the phone rang. Absently she picked it up, her mind still in Shiprock Arizona with Jim Chee and Joe Leaphorn. "H'lo?" There was a brief pause and a snicker, followed by "It's me again, Margaret." Meg's blood ran cold. Who WAS this nutbag, and how had he gotten her home phone number? It was unlisted. "Who is this and how the hell did you get my home phone number?" He snickered. "What'cha doin', Margaret?"

She slammed the phone down before he could say anything else. Just who the hell was this guy, anyway? Then she began to get a little frightened - if he had her home phone number, he might have her address as well. Checking first that her front and back doors were locked securely, Meg retrieved her purse and hunted through it until she found Ray's card. Taking a deep breath, she dialled his number.

"Vecchio."

"Ah, yes, Detective, this is Inspector Thatcher."

"Well, Inspector. What can I do ya for?"

"He called me, Detective - here at home."

Suddenly Ray was all business. "Okay, Inspector, here's what we're gonna do - tomorrow we're gonna tap your line at the Consulate, and put a Caller ID box on your home phone. If he calls again I want you to use your answering machine to record the call - any call that comes in, you hit record and tape it. If it isn't him you can erase it, but if it is we'll have it on tape as evidence. Ummmm - you gonna be alright there alone tonight? You want me or Fraser to come by?"

"Thank you, Detective, but that won't be necessary. I'll be fine tonight. I don't think he'll call again tonight."

"Yeah, okay, but I'll be by there first thing in the morning with the Caller ID." His voice softened. "Don't worry, Inspector. We'll get him. G'night."

"Goodnight, Detective. And thank you." Meg set the phone back in its cradle. She felt better knowing that wheels were turning, and she was now somewhat more in control of the situation. Still, her book was no longer as appealing. Sighing, she sat back down on the sofa, picked up the container of beef and snow peas and turned on the TV in an attempt to take her mind off of things. Click - behind the scenes at a cable sports network. Click - women's lingerie designer. Click - newsmagazine. Finally she settled on CNN Headline News, although she really didn't pay that much attention to it. After a few minutes she just hit Mute and kind of watched the pictures while the CD player continued to play softly in the background.

* * * * * *

Meg slept fitfully that night, and it showed the next morning in the dark circles underneath her eyes. She was drinking a cup of coffee when Ray arrived as promised with the Caller ID box. He hooked it up and showed her how it worked.

"I.... I really appreciate this, Detective. Would you like some coffee?"

"Nah, I'm too used to the forty-weight at the station to drink civilized coffee," he replied, more than a little surprised at this softer side. He was beginning to see what Fraser saw in her, whether or not Fraser would admit it to himself. This thing really had her shook. "Besides, I've already had two cups this morning. Can I give ya a lift to the Consulate? I gotta go by there anyway, to get that phone tap set up."

"Thank you, Detective, that would be very nice."

* * * * * *

When they arrived at the Consulate, Ray immediately got on the phone to arrange for the wiretapping. Meg went into her office and sat down at her desk, not really wanting to do anything at all. As she sat there with her head in her hands, Fraser tapped gently on the doorframe.

"Inspector? Is there anything I can get you? Some tea, perhaps?"

"No, thank you, Fraser, not right now."

"An English muffin or some toast, perhaps?"

"Maybe later, Fraser. I'm not in the mood right now." Meg sounded drained.

"Don't worry, Insp - Meg. We'll catch him."

"I know, Fraser. This thing just has me a little spooked, that's all."

"Okay Inspector - lines are set to go." Ray bounced into Meg's office, almost as wired as the phones were. "When he calls again just try to keep him on the line so we can get a good trace."

Meg looked up, bleary-eyed. "Detective, do you mainline coffee or something? You have enough energy for six people."

Ray grinned, saying "Nah, must just be the chocolate and sugar. But for now, we wait."

And wait they did. Apparently Meg's challenge the night he called her at home spooked him, because it was a full week before he called again. But in the end, temptation got the better of him, and.....

"Canadian Consulate, Inspector Thatcher speaking. May I help you?"

Pause..... snicker..... "It's me again, Margaret."

"I was wondering if you were going to call again," Meg said, waving frantically at Turnbull to get Fraser to start tracing the call.

"What'cha doin', Margaret?"

*Tracing this call so I can get your slimy perverted ass thrown in jail,* she thought. But she said "I'm trying to work - maybe you should try that sometime."

"Betcha can't guess what I'm doing."

*Oh I'll just bet I can.* "That's OK, you don't have to tell me." *Please don't tell me.*

On and on he went; Meg just tuned it out. Then suddenly she heard scuffling in the background, then Ray's voice on the other end of the line. "Inspector, this is Vecchio. We got him." Meg let out a groan of surprise and relief; Ray just held the receiver away and looked at it, surprised and a little pleased at the response. Tentatively he put it back to his ear. "..very much, Detective," Meg was saying. "Where was he?"

"In a phone booth on LaSalle. He got your number because he's the pizza delivery guy."

Meg sighed. *I KNEW he sounded familiar.* "What next?"

"We'll haul his ass to the station, he'll lawyer up and be back out on the streets before I get the paperwork done. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again, though."

"Thank you, Detective - Ray - for all you've done for me. I really do appreciate it."

"My pleasure - Meg."

* * * * * *

About two hours later, Meg was preparing to leave for the day. As she was about to lock her desk, the phone rang. "Canadian Consulate, Inspector Thatcher speaking. May I help you?"

Pause..... snicker..... "It's me again, Margaret."

Meg was absolutely floored. What did he do, use his one phone call for this??? But this time the litany was different...

"They got me, Margaret. I'm going away. I'll miss you, Margaret, will you miss me?"

*Not on your life!*

"But when I get out," he continued, "I'll come see you. And I'm gonna bring a live chicken, a weedeater, and some peach preserves! We'll have us a high old time!" With that, Ray finally caught up with him and had him hauled off to holding, leaving the phone dangling from its cord. Looking at it, he wondered if it would work again... placing the receiver to his ear, he said into the mouthpiece, "Vecchio." Meg just groaned louder. Smiling, he hung up the phone. *I still got it!*

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