Your disclaimer here--we know by now who belongs to Alliance and who came from my tired little brain. Please don't sue. Please don't reprint without permission. Thank you kindly.
Rated PG--a few mild swear words and potentially out-of-character behavior.
Revenge might be a dish best served cold, but Ray felt the desire for it rip white-hot through him. He would see that it didn't happen again. He would stop him, and he would do it with a bit of flare, a little flash.
Fraser would be a problem, he acknowledged, making the right turn and smoothly entering the Riv into traffic. Ray drove to the precinct building, preoccupied with his plan. Yeah, Fraser might be a problem.
Red, he mused. Fraser sometimes seemed to lack the passion the color could sometimes indicate. Sure, the other man could summon it for some things: truth, freedom, injustice. Well, Ray could summon it too, and if he had his way Benny would be unable to argue that Ray hadn't managed to get a little justice. Ray could live with silent reproach, the occasional disapproving frown, and Fraser's oblique references to working within the boundaries of the law. He could even live with his friend's outright lectures, and it would be worth it.
The trick would be to get around Fraser. End runs around the Mountie were never easy, but Ray could manage it--with a little help. Using Frannie might be might be dirty pool, but she could run interference with the best of them. Of course , she didn't see this as running interference; she saw it as a golden opportunity. Ray squashed a slightly guilty twinge. He could have Benny breathing down his neck, or he could have his sister breathing on the Mountie. He had an unpleasant image of his sister attacking his best friend, and he ignored it, concentrated on his plan and temporarily fed his anger. He didn't need to be sidetracked, not now.
Timing would be essential, and he knew that even the best laid plans often went wrong. One little miscalculation, one wrong word, and it would all be over. Then he'd have to listen to lectures from Welsh and from Fraser. In all likelihood, he would have to anyway, but he wanted the satisfaction of seeing James Crandell lose something he loved and doted on.
As he walked to his desk, he avoided eye contact with Elaine. He hated how she could read him, and she'd run to Fraser if she got even the slightest hint of what he intended to do. He looked long and hard at Guardino's still-empty desk as he passed it. Another bit of revenge he'd been cheated of. This time it wouldn't happen. He ignored Huey. When he reached his own desk, he threw himself into his chair and hunched forward over his desk.
He began drawing items from his coat pockets, fingering them in much the same way his mother fingered her rosary. With careful precision, Ray aligned them on his blotter and ran through the inventory. Matches, whiskey flask filled with kerosene, cast pewter statue of the city's historic water tower, Gina's damned china cow. a hot time in the old town. If Mrs. O'Leary only knew, he mused. They were all there, and that was all that mattered.
Secreting them in his pockets once more, Ray looked at the stack of phone messages on his desk. He fished out the one he was looking for. The rest could wait. Now all he had to do was watch for Frannie and hope Fraser was punctual as usual.
Frannie teetered in right on schedule, and Fraser was just behind her. If his sister didn't overact, Fraser would feel compelled to do the polite thing. Right on cue, Frannie's left shoe lost its five-inch heel. Ray was still to angry to laugh at the domino effect created by his sister lurching back and to the side into Huey who fell against Fraser who went backwards over Diefenbaker and landed on Elaine who was felled by the Mountie. Frannie grimaced at Ray a moment before deciding she'd broken her leg or something equally dire when she saw Benny staring down into Elaine's eyes as he sprawled across her and gently apologized before inquiring about her possible injuries. Frannie's wails and moans set the next step in motion.
Ray shoved away from his desk and knelt beside his sister. "You know, if you wore normal-people shoes, these things wouldn't happen," he snapped at her. "Fraser could have crushed Elaine."
A glint flared and caught fire in Frannie's eyes, and Ray knew he was going to pay for that one. "I've broken my leg and all you care about is whether or not Elaine got crushed," she shot back. "Some brother you are."
"Yeah, right," Ray muttered. "Can you stand up?" he demanded. He knew she could. She'd been practicing the "accident" for two days, but if she was going to take Fraser off his hands, it had to look real.
"Of course I can't stand up!" she spat. "I broke my leg!"
"At worst you twisted your ankle," he said. "Get up, Frannie."
She made a production of it. She pulled against him, and Ray struggled to lift her. He must be getting a little out of shape because Frannie couldn't weigh more than one-five sopping wet--if that much. Of course she was resisting with all her might while managing somehow to make it look like she was helping him. He owed *her* for that. With one final wrench, he lifted her off the floor. At the last minute, though, her hand slipped from his, and she slammed into Fraser's chest.
The Mountie staggered back a step, and Dief gave a disgruntled whine when Fraser nearly backed over him again. "Ray!" she snapped. Turning and looking up at Benny, she put on what Ray assumed was a pained expression. Personally, he thought it looked like a cross between a lovesick moose and Diefenbaker eyeing the donut counter. "Since my brother obviously doesn't think I'm hurt," she cajoled, "do you think you could take me to the hospital?"
Elaine snorted and walked away. Huey shook his head and crossed to his own desk. Ray just hoped Benny would bite. Hard enough to draw blood would be good, he thought.
"Well, Francesca, as I don't drive--"
Frannie wouldn't let him finish. She moaned and managed to slide her body down Fraser's, and Ray's blood boiled as her brief skirt hiked to a nearly indecent level. Dull color ran underneath Fraser's skin, and Ray resisted the urge to frog-march his sister to the nearest broom closet and lecture her yet again about guys and the proper behavior of good girls.
"You see, Francesca--" Benny tried again, and, looking at the clock, Ray noted the strain in his voice. *Come on, come on*, Ray silently urged, and was rewarded by the shrill of his telephone.
He rushed to answer it. Frannie's arguments would soon be moot. He listened to his mother tell him she didn't know why she needed to call at precisely four twenty-seven, but she did it for him. She then asked if he would bring home a loaf of bread from Angelo's bakery before she hung up as he'd instructed her that morning.
Fraser looked like a death-row convict praying for the governor's call, but he didn't have a chance at a reprieve. "Benny, I wouldn't ask under normal circumstances," Ray began. He fought his impatience. "That was Moran. I have to go give my deposition now." He dangled the bribe then. "I'll fix Thatcher's speeding ticket if you'll get Frannie out of here before she actually breaks something." For a moment he thought Fraser would refuse, and he wondered what the reason would be: escaping Frannie or his belief in punishment for one's crimes. Fraser felt Thatcher should pay her fine, but she felt he should use his influence in the department to get her out of it.
"Thank you kindly, Ray," Fraser said after a moment, "but I'm certain your sister isn't hurt. She may have twisted her ankle when her heel came loose, but after examining her foot, I feel it safe to say she is unharmed. Of course it is possible she has a slight sprain, but since there is no swelling, I find it highly unlikely. I do remember once, though, when a young cadet in Alert caught the heel of his boot--"
"Can you get her home or not, Benny?" Ray cut in. His meticulously plotted time table was about to be knocked off schedule.
With all the enthusiasm of a man facing root canal without anesthetic, Fraser said, "I would be happy to see Francesca home."
Ray didn't wait. He nodded curtly and stalked from the precinct. He heard Dief grump and hoped he'd keep Fraser relatively safe from his Ray's predatory sister.
He tore away from the curb as soon as he could throw the Riv in gear, and then he ran a red light as it changed to keep from losing any more time. He had to be there at precisely four forty-seven. Any sooner and he'd never get inside, and any later and Crandell would be gone.
Pulling up to the office block with twenty seconds to spare, Ray raced from his car to the main entrance and managed to slip in while the security men began to shut down for the day. So far, so good. He bypassed the elevator in favor of the stairs and raced to the third floor. Pausing a moment at the stairwell door to catch his breath, he silently eased the door open.
After a squinting look into the empty hallway, Ray pulled the door open and strode along the thick carpet. Thank God Crandell didn't go in for executive suites on the top floor.
Crandell's secretary was gone, and Ray fingered the items in his pocket with a humorless smile as he crossed her office to Crandell's. He planned to enjoy this, and he hoped Crandell was there to make it all worthwhile.
His luck held. The other man stood at the window looking out, and Ray stepped silently inside. He quickly scanned the ceiling. His smile widened as he noted its pristine, unblemished whiteness. He scanned the walls for tell-tale red canisters, overjoyed to find none.
And there it was, in the corner of Crandell's office. A perfect scale model of the city of Chicago circa 1871, with one missing detail. Not for long, though, Ray acknowledged. He strode to the model, the other man's pride and joy and the product of innumerable hours of work, and said, "You know, Crandell. I hate inaccuracies."
The other man turned from the window. "Who are you and how the hell did you get in my office?" he bit out.
"The only thing you need to know," Ray replied, pulling out the pewter water tower Louise had given him before she disappeared from his life, "is that you aren't the only one who can destroy something precious."
"What are you talking about?"
"I know what you did," Ray snapped out. "I *saw* what you did." He planted the water tower where it belonged, a dull chunk of metal in a sea of balsa wood. "It was your car that ran over Gina Scarpelli. she's five, and she'll be lucky to reach six. You crushed her and her doll house when you jumped the curve in that yacht you call a car because you'd had a few too many with your lunch." He drew out the flask and removed the lid before scanning the model. "How many others have you injured driving drunk? Three? Must be convenient to be able to pay people to look the other way." When he found the correct location, he set it down. "Her uncle Luigi made her that doll house, just like you made these." He plunked the cow down next to the flask and pulled out the matches.
"What do you think you're doing?" Crandell demanded, picking up the telephone receiver on his desk.
Ray struck a match, moved the cow so that it kicked over the flask and dropped the match. Crandell slammed the phone back down and tried to stop him, but the other man was too late. The match hit the kerosene and Chicago began to burn.
Crandell screeched obscenities and futilely searched for a fire extinguisher. "You violate safety codes?" Ray asked, barely containing his gleeful satisfaction as he watched the fire consume the miniature city. For one moment it occurred to him that a major blaze could start in the office, but he decided to let Crandell deal with it.
"We've got the evidence," he bit out, "and we'll get you."
"Who are you?" the other man demanded.
Ray, in a moment he would later consider overkill, yanked out his badge and flashed it. "Chicago PD." He crossed to the door. "Gina Scarpelli's my cousin's kid." He let himself out of the office and retraced his steps.
On the ground floor, he told a startled security man, "There's a fire in Mr. Crandell's office," and strolled into the late afternoon sunshine. Sometimes revenge was best flaming hot.
END
Leigh A. Adams
adderlygirl@yahoo.com