All
pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers
of "Due South."  No copyright infringement is intended.  All new
characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of
the author.

This story contains no offensive material of any kind, except for the
phrase "stuff it."  Just keep that in mind ... ;>

THE BENTON'S CROWN AFFAIR

by Katrina Bowen

"No!"  Ben went rigid in his chair.  He grabbed Ray's hands and forced
them down and away.  Trying to remain calm, but still with an edge of
panic in his voice, he said, "Ray, let's think about this ..." Diefenbaker,
laying in the corner, whined sympathetically but didn't try to intervene.

Ray sighed patiently and put his hands on Ben's shoulders.  "Look, Benny.
We've been over this a hundred times, and this is the way it's going
to be."  He paused.  "You trust me, right?"  Ben hesitated, then nodded.
"And you know I'd never do anything to hurt you."  He raised one hand
again, gently tilting Ben's chin up.

Ben closed his eyes, and nodded again. "All right.  But please be quick."

"You know I will.  Just open up."  Ray leaned down and looked carefully
in Ben's mouth.  Satisfied, he straightened and said, "Yep.  Looks like
an infected molar to me.  Who's your dentist?"

"I'm sure it's just temporary, Ray.  The swelling will probably go down
in a day or two -- or if it doesn't, my grandmother had some excellent
recipes for poultices.  I'm sure one of them would work ..."

Ray kept his temper with an effort; he'd been watching Ben's jaw swelling
for the past two days, and he knew how much it had to be hurting the
Mountie.  "Fraser, it's nothing to be ashamed of.  You probably just
cracked a tooth when that blind exterminator hit you last week, and it
got infected.  These things happen to the best of us -- yes, they even
happen to you."

"I'm sorry, Ray.  It's just that there weren't many dentists up in the
Territories, and it's something I don't have a lot of experience with."
Uncertainly, he added, "Do you think they'll use a drill?"

"Yeah, most likely.  In fact, there's a good chance you're going to need
a root canal."

Ben went pale.  "A root canal?"

"Look, it's really not that much worse than having a cavity filled."
Ray looked at Ben, finally comprehending.  "Have you ever *had* a cavity
filled?"  Ben just shook his head mournfully.

"Come on."  Ray took Ben's elbow and pulled him to his feet.  "I'll take
you to my dentist -- she can probably fit you in as an emergency."  He
handed Ben his jacket; the Mountie took it reluctantly.  Dief got to
his feet and followed them out of the apartment.  As Ray pulled the door
closed behind him, he said, "And if you're very good, you get to pick
a toy out of the wishing well."

"That's not the least bit funny, Ray."

"Wanna bet?"

********************************************************************************

About two hours later, they came back to the apartment.  "Well, look
at it this way, Benny.  You were lucky -- all you needed was a crown.
You *could* have needed a root canal."  Ben just mumbled something
indistinct, dropped his jacket next to a chair and collapsed onto his
bed. Dief made himself comfortable on the floor beside him.

Grinning, Ray went to the kitchen and got a glass of water.  Coming back,
he handed the glass to Ben and said, "Okay.  Dr. Healy said she wanted
you to take the antibiotics for a week, but you only have to use the
painkiller until your jaw stops hurting."  He picked up the jacket and
took the two pill bottles out of the pocket.  He gave Ben one pill from
each. "Here.  Bottoms up."

Ben levered himself to one elbow; he swallowed the pills without
speaking.  With a groan he fell back against the pillow.  Concentrating,
he finally made his novocaine-numbed lips form a sentence.  "Is it always
that bad?"

"Nah.  You get used to it after a while."  Ben groaned again.  "I've
got to get going, Benny.  I'll leave my cell phone here -- you need anything,
you call me, okay?"  He got a groggy nod of agreement.  "Just stay put
until the painkiller wears off -- you'll feel better in a couple of hours.
I'll spread
the word to your neighbors, so if you can't get in touch with me, ask
one of them.  About time they started repaying some favors."  Ben just
waved a hand in farewell.

Ray left the apartment, smiling to himself.  He hated to admit it, but
it was kind of nice to finally see Ben come up against something he couldn't
deal with on his own.

********************************************************************************

Ben slept for several hours.  When he woke up his jaw was still sore,
but the swelling had started to go down.  He carefully sat up; he was
still a little groggy, but most of the painkiller had worn off.  Dief
sat to attention as Ben cautiously got to his feet.  Pleased that he
didn't wobble, he looked at his watch and went to the kitchen to take
another antibiotic. 

Coming back to the bedroom, he picked up Ray's phone and punched in his
number.  He walked to the window and gazed down at the street as he waited
for his friend to pick up.

"Hello, Ray.  Yes, I'm feeling much better...  Well, I'd rather not take
any more pills than I have to -- yes, Ray, I know the dentist gave them
to me because she wanted me to take them.  But you know that the body
produces its own painkillers -- Endorphins...  No, really, that's what
they're called.  I am *not* making it up.  No, I don't think Dr. Healy
gave me the prescription for no good reason, but --"  Ben broke off as
something on the street caught his attention.  "Could you hold on a moment,
Ray?"  He ignored the angry squawking as he placed the phone on the shelf
by the window.

A man and a woman were arguing on the corner below.  The argument appeared
to be becoming more and more heated, with both of them
waving their arms furiously.  Even through the closed window, Ben could
hear their raised voices, though not the words themselves.  Suddenly,
the woman turned and started to run away from the man ... right in the
path of a car careening down the street.

Stunned, Ben looked down at the crumpled body, already surrounded by
a small crowd.  The car kept on going.  Instinctively, Ben raised the
window and put one leg over the sill.  Just as instinctively, Diefenbaker
took a firm hold of the back of his shirt and growled a threat deep in
his throat.  Ben looked down at the glaring wolf, and back to the street
below; he sadly realized that there was nothing he could do for the woman
that wasn't already being done.  He slowly pulled himself back in and
picked up the phone.

"Ray?  Yes, Ray.  I'm very sorry.  But I have to report a hit and run
right outside my apartment ... No, Ray.  I'm afraid I don't know why
these things always happen to me."

********************************************************************************

It didn't take long for Ben and the other witnesses to give their report
to the officer on the scene; to all appearances, it was a straight-forward
hit and run.  The woman's grief-stricken husband, Charles Trygsted, had
been taken home in a cab, loudly swearing that if he had only known ...

Ben was still outside when the Riv pulled up to the curb in front of
him. Ray got out and joined Ben sitting on the front steps of the apartment
building.  "So how ya feeling?  Your jaw looks smaller."

"Thank you, Ray."  He reached up and absently rubbed at the shrinking
lump.

The two stared at the street for several minutes.  Finally Ray said,
"Let's save ourselves some time.  You don't think it was an accident.
I'm going to try to convince you that it was.  You're not going to listen
to me, and we're going to end up doing something stupid and heroic --
which I'm starting to believe is the same thing."

"That's about the size of it, Ray.  Although I can't really agree with
you about the nature of heroism --"

"Stuff it, Benny.  Are you sure you weren't still whacked from the painkiller?"

"Quite sure.  Judging from the dosage and the elapsed time from when
I took the last pill --"

Ray broke in, giving in to the inevitable.  "Okay, okay.  So why don't
you think it was an accident?"

"I'm not really sure."

Ray's shoulders sagged  "If you want me to listen to this, Benny, you're
going to have to make me some coffee first."

Several minutes later, sitting at the kitchen table, Ben continued. 
"It struck me as odd that Mr. Trygsted would keep on looking at the street.
After all, if two people are having a heated argument, oncoming traffic
wouldn't be uppermost in their minds."

"Unless they were in a car at the time."

"Yes, but that wasn't the case here."  Ben went on eagerly, "And after
she ran into the street, Mr. Trygsted never looked at his wife until
*after* she was hit.  He called out to her -- probably telling her to
stop -- but well after he'd seen the approaching car."  Ben stopped himself
and frowned.  "Just for a moment, though, he seemed truly surprised.
And for a few seconds after his wife was hit, he kept on looking down
the street ... as if he was still looking for something."

"Come on, Benny.  Maybe he *was* just stunned."  Ray got up and
poured himself another cup of coffee.  "Do you have any idea what they
would have been arguing about?"

"I'm afraid not.  I couldn't hear their voices through the glass." 

"Maybe you should have asked Dief to look out the window.  He could have
read their lips and told us what it was about."

"I'll try to remember that for the next time the situation arises, Ray."

"Good.  Cause knowing you, it probably will."  Ray sighed.  "Okay.  I'll
go down to the station and see if Trygsted has any kind of criminal record
-- if I can, I'll get a copy of the report, too."

"Thank you, Ray.  Oh, and is there any way you could find out if an insurance
policy was taken out on Mrs. Trygsted recently?"

"Sure.  Why not?  It's not as if I have any work of my own to do."  He
walked out of the apartment, his voice trailing behind him.  "Why shouldn't
I spend every waking moment of my life doing legwork for a Mountie? And
how do you know it was for the insurance, anyway?  Maybe he just hated
her ..."   The door closed, and Ben nodded to himself as he put the dirty
cups in the sink.  It was getting easier all the time to convince Ray
to do the right thing.  In another decade or two, he might even be able
to do it graciously ... or perhaps not, he concluded as he heard the
Riv squeal away from the curb.

********************************************************************************

Ray knocked on the apartment door and entered without waiting for an
answer.  Ben looked up expectantly.  The detective waved a handful of
files, and dropped them in his friend's lap on his way to poke his head
into the refrigerator.  In a muffled voice, he said, "Sorry to disappoint
you, Benny -- when was the last time you went shopping? -- but they made
an arrest in that hit and run.  Some college kid, confessed the whole
thing. He's pretty broken up about it.  What's this brown stuff?"  He
sniffed at a container.

"I have no idea.  Mrs. Mehti gave it to me, and it seemed rude to ask."
He hid a smile as Ray dropped the container and continued to rummage.
"So I assume the culprit has no connection to Mr. Trygsted?"

"No, and I gotta tell you, you're the first person I've ever know who
actually says 'culprit.'  Looks like an open and shut case."  He finally
shut the refrigerator and came into the living room.  He turned a chair
around and straddled it.

"Did you find out anything about the insurance?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't easy.   So I got Elaine to do it."

"Ah.  That was very helpful of her."

"Not really.  You're taking her to dinner next Saturday."  He shrugged
innocently.  "Well, you *were* the one who wanted to know."  He gave
in as Ben's expression of mingled shock, exasperation and dismay.  "I'm
*teasing*, Benny."

"I see.  And what did you find out?"  Ben asked patiently.

"Well, your hunch was right.  Trygsted took out a new policy on his wife
last month.  But I don't see where that gets us," he added hastily. 
"I mean, the kid never heard of Trygsted or his wife.  It was just an
accident. There's no proof that Trygsted had anything to do with it."

"I agree, there's no proof."

Relieved that his friend was finally getting reasonable, Ray said, "Good,
I'm glad to hear --"

"Do you happen to have Mr. Trygsted's address?"

Ray dropped his head into his hands.

****************************************************************************

Carefully, Ray peeked over the hood of the Riv and quickly ducked down.
"Well, he's in the dining room talking to some guy.  What do we do now?"
It was dark by this time, and the house was set back far enough from
the street that voices wouldn't be heard over the intervening distance.

"Offhand, Ray, I'd say we should try to get closer so we can hear what
they're saying."  Ben started to move from around the car, and Dief stood
and shook himself, ready to move as well.

"Wait a minute!"  Ray grabbed Ben's sleeve and pulled him back.  "We
were talking about heroism and stupidity earlier, right?"  Ben nodded.
"So fill me in.  Which is this?"

Ben paused, thinking it over.  "Well, I suppose that would depend on
what we hear when we get to the house, wouldn't it?"  He made for the
open French windows in a crouching run.  Ray, swearing as loudly as he
dared, followed.

"Whatta ya mean, ya ain't gonna pay me?"  A voice was saying loudly.
"I was there, wasn't I?  Ain't my fault that kid cut in front of me.
You promised me that money!"

"The agreement was, you run over my wife and make it look like an accident.
You didn't run over *anyone*, did you?"  Trygsted said calmly. Ben and
Ray looked at each other in amazement.  "Therefore, I think I should
get to keep the money.  This really worked out amazingly well for me."

"Hey, I was there in good faith.  Don't ya think I woulda run over her
if I coulda?"

"What are you going to do?" Trygsted said in a smirky voice.  "Go to
the police?  File suit against me?"

Ray looked at Ben and shrugging, whispered "I can't believe it's going
to be this easy."  He stood up and stepped over the low window sill.
"Speaking of the police ..." He held his gun in one hand, his police
credentials in the other.  Ben came next, observing the two criminals
impartially.

Trygsted just stood there, stunned.  The other man looked as if he was
considering making a break for it, but he stopped when Dief hopped gracefully
inside and stood in front of him, growling.  Ray looked at the man and
grinned.  "Tell me, what are your opinions on turning state's evidence?"
He started to read Trygsted his rights, but he stopped abruptly and looked
at Ben.  "Do you have any suggestions on how I explain why I'm here in
the first place?  I mean, Welsh *has* been pretty patient, but he has
his limits. I can't keep on saying, 'Well, sir, I've got this
Mountie who has hunches' forever."

Ben thought for a few moments.  "How about probable cause?"

Ray considered that.  "Yeah, that usually works.  I can do something
with that."  He continued the Miranda warning.

Later, as he and Ben watched the two men being take away in separate
police cars, Ray said, "So how's your jaw feeling now?"

"Oh, much better."

"Good."

"Of course, you realize how fortunate we are that I *did* wait so long
to go to the dentist."

"Oh yeah?  How's that?"

"Well, it should be obvious, Ray.  If I had gone last week, I wouldn't
have had to take the day off today.  And if I hadn't been in my apartment
to witness the supposed accident, Trygsted *would* have gotten away with
murder."

"Yeah, you have a point."  Ray squinted at Ben with sudden suspicion.
"Wait a minute.  Are you trying to weasel out of your next appointment
already?"

Ben looked wounded.  "Ray!"

"Come *on*, Benny.  You're going to tell *me* I don't know weaseling
when I see it?"

 Ben said stiffly, "I've never weaseled out of *anything* in my entire
life." 

"Well, you better not be starting now.  Because Dr. Healy told me to
make sure you keep your follow-up appointment next week."

"Next week?"

"Yep.  That's only a temporary crown you have now.  You get the real
one later.  Let's go -- our work here is done."  Laughing, Ray got in
his car. Ben and Dief followed, Ben trying desperately to think of ways
to get out of the appointment that could not, under any circumstances,
be mistaken for weaseling.

***********************************
Thanks for the title to Barbara Staton! (Before you ask, it's a reference
to "The Thomas Crown Affair" with Steve McQueen.)