Okay, you can blame this one on the heat; I've gone troppo. And also Elaine, who's been telling me off for being slack, and wouldn't let me go bushwalking unless I posted something. There's no real plot or anything (that would be way too much to expect from me!) I just like writing dialogue for Ray hassling Thatcher.
The title is one of my classic "she can't come up with titles" titles. Coffee is consumed, and Thatcher does take her job a little too seriously.
Please, no otters - they'd die in this heat!
Nik
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Inspector Thatcher stood by the window as Superintendent Dell slowly circumnavigated her office. He made a minute adjustment to the portrait of the Queen, paused to smile in fond reminiscence at a photo of himself and Meg at one of her awards ceremonies, and finally turned back to her.
"You've done well, Meg," he told her in a voice of quiet approval. "Did I ever tell you that?"
"Yes, you did, sir. Thank you."
"I always knew you'd go far." He leaned against her desk and glanced around. "Liaison officer... that surprised me, I admit, but from what I hear, you're doing a commendable job."
"Thank you, sir. I did learn a great deal from you."
He grinned at her. "I always like to take credit for the successful ones. Ah, Meg, I would have liked a daughter like you."
Moved, momentarily at a loss for words, Meg could only manage another thank-you before the superintendent began to speak again, expansively.
"Never had time for a family," he told her regretfully. "Don't you make that mistake. You're not seeing anyone, I hear."
"I... uh..." She was a little startled. "Uh... no, sir."
"You should, you know. Now, I was talking to that rather strange young officer - Turnbull? Is that his name? He was telling me you liked one of the Mounties here, Fraser, I think."
In slowly dawning horror, Meg demanded, "He told you that?"
"Yes, he did. Oh, he said you hadn't said anything, but that it's obvious from the way you look at him. Constable Turnbull says he's an upstanding young man, a fine policeman decorated for field work..."
Someone tried, and failed, to stifle a laugh, and Thatcher's head snapped around to see a highly amused Ray Vecchio standing in the open doorway. Behind him, his face crimson, was Constable Fraser. At her murderous look, the constable hastily reminded her that she had wanted to speak to them.
"Yeah." Vecchio grinned at her. "I think you wanted to yell at us."
"Wait outside," she ordered coldly. "I'll be with you in a moment."
Fraser, blushing furiously, backed out at once, but Ray was enjoying himself and took his time leaving. The superintendent began speaking again, almost immediately, and before the door closed, they caught, "...and apparently he likes you, too, Meg..."
Thatcher eventually emerged from her office, her face flaming but furious. "I don't have time to talk to you now. Superintendent Dell would like to see your precinct now, if possible, Detective. He has requested that you accompany them, Constable."
"Yes, ma'am."
"No problem, Inspector," Ray told her easily, then gave her a wicked grin. "You should blush more often; red suits you."
Both Mounties reacted instantly, heads whipping around to stare first at each other and then the detective, and then averting their eyes, uncomfortable and embarrassed. Ray cracked up; it was turning out to be a great day.
"That's enough, Detective," Meg snapped at him, giving him a quelling glare. He had to admit that it was impressive, a very intimidating sight. No wonder Benny wasn't getting anywhere with her.
"...and you, Constable," she was saying, turning to Fraser, who wore his customary look of naive confusion.
"Ma'am?"
"I don't want to hear anything from you, Constable."
Now the confusion took on an aggrieved note. "Ma'am, if you think that I..."
"Nothing. I don't want to hear you say anything. No outraged innocence, no 'ma'am, I would never', nothing. Understood?"
Fraser opened his mouth to say something, and caught the dangerous glint in her eyes.
"Yes, Constable?"
He looked at her, considering, and changed his mind. "Understood, ma'am."
"Good," she said in sweet sarcasm. "Now, on your way to the car to take the superintendent to the 27th, could you send Constable Turnbull to me? And if you could, in the process please convey to him the impression that this is going to be the single worst meeting in his life, and that he should painfully injure himself now to save me time later."
Fraser tilted his head to one side, giving her the quizzical look he did so well. "Ma'am?"
She sighed impatiently. "No, I suppose you can't. Not in your nature."
"Don't worry, I'll help," Ray offered magnanimously, grinning at her as Fraser fled down the stairs. "You know, Inspector, you wouldn't be the first brunette to swoon under the smouldering gaze of Constable Fraser."
"Go to hell, Vecchio," she snarled at him, and got to listen to his laughter ringing through the consulate as he followed his friend.
* * * * *
If anyone had warned Ray that he was doomed to spend the greater part of the day in the company of the Dragon Lady's RCMP mentor, he would have taken the Riv and driven to Florida to visit his garrulous, very Italian aunt out of preference. And yet, he reflected as he watched Fraser and the inspector visibly flinching whenever the superintendent opened his mouth to speak, he wouldn't have missed this day for the world.
They were seated in a coffee shop, Fraser, Thatcher, Superintendent Dell and Ray, and the superintendent was expanding on a theme that was obviously of great interest to him: Thatcher and Fraser getting together. It had dominated the tour through the precinct and had been the sole topic of conversation since their coffee had arrived.
"I know a lot of married couples in the force," he was assuring them, stirring too much sugar into his cup. "It's not the insurmountable problem you two are making it out to be."
Fraser blinked, wide-eyed, and the expression on Thatcher's face was priceless. A little desperately, she reminded the superintendent, "Actually, sir, I don't believe I've ever mentioned it. At all."
"No, I know." He sighed heavily; pure melodrama, Ray recognised with inward glee. "I wish you'd confided in me, Meg. Especially now that I've come to know Ben, here. He's a fine choice."
"I haven't 'chosen' him, sir," the inspector told him through gritted teeth.
He nodded wisely, understanding. "It must be hard for you both. He can't make the first move, no matter how much he wants to. And yet, if you do, there's that whole sexual harassment thing to worry about." His thoughful gaze fell, seemingly casually, on Ray, who thought he saw a sparkle in the older man's eyes.
"I agree, sir, it is a dilemma." Ray nodded earnestly, and they both turned to study the Mounties. "But what can one do?"
"One can put a sock in it, Detective," Thatcher snarled at him with a glare like a ray-gun blast.
"Oh, Meg, don't take your frustration out on the detective here."
"Frustration?! Sir..."
But Superintendent Dell had turned back to his new accomplice and they were lamenting again. "If only they could set aside the whole hierarchy of the force and just be themselves for a moment..."
"If they could just sit down and talk..."
"Maybe a date? Coffee?"
"Oh, they tried that, sir."
"And?"
Ray shook his head mournfully. "Nothing seems to have come of it. There was the incident with the train..."
This time, Dell shook his head. "A reaction to stress. Only makes it harder later on."
"Ray, please..."
"Sir..."
They turned to look at them again. "We only have your interests in mind..."
"All right." Meg dropped the spoon she had clenched in her fist. "I haven't known you my entire career for nothing. If I agree to talk to him, will you give this up?"
Ray and Dell exchanged worried looks. "Is this the right attitude for her to take?"
"No, really." Fraser leapt in to help his superior officer, and himself. "We'll talk. We will."
"About your relationship," the superintendent added the rider with a knowing grin at his protege. She stiffened, but kept her head held high.
"Of course. What else?" She pushed away her coffee and stood, snapping, "Come on, Constable, I haven't got all night." She stalked off, not waiting to see if he followed.
"Don't stand for that, Benny," Ray advised his friend. "You gotta show her who's boss."
"Well, actually, Ray, if you think about it, she is."
"Oh, yeah. She is." He looked suggestively after the inspector. "And such an attractive one, too."
"Constable!" Thatcher called sharply from the door.
"On my way, ma'am."
"Have fun, Benny!" Ray grinned at him.
Fraser stared back, opening and shutting his mouth, uncomfortable, and finally said, "I'll see you later, Ray. Superintendent."
Dell and Ray watched the two Mounties leave, and Ray turned to the superintendent. "You know, sir, you really are an inspiration to me."
"Well, they don't give out this insignia in cereal boxes, Detective. Come on, Turnbull tells me Meg's got a fine bottle of Scotch stashed away in the consulate somewhere."
"Do you think anything's going to happen?"
"What, with those two?" Dell laughed as they got up to pay the bill. "She'll probably tell him to forget we ever had this discussion. I just like to stir her every so often. She takes things a little too seriously. If you want the truth, I just made up the bit about Ben. I had no idea I was right."
Ray eyed him thoughtfully. "You realise she's got Turnbull on sentry duty until the next century, and that he's also doing talks for the local primary schools?"
"Does that bother you?"
The detective thought about it for the tiniest fraction of a second. "No." He held the door open for the superintendent and they stepped out on to the street. Directly across the road, standing beside a car with consulate plates, a dark-haired couple were passing a set of keys back and forth, indecisive. Ray and Dell looked at them, and then each other.
"The Scotch?"
"The consulate," Ray agreed, and they headed for the Riv.
Nicola Heiser
Nicola Heiser died on 24th October 1997, and is greatly missed by her friends and fans of her writing.