MANY THINGS

The door to Apartment 3J closed quietly as Ray re-entered the room. Fraser had fallen asleep again. This time his dark head lay on his crossed arms resting on the kitchen table. He slept peacefully and Ray hated to disturb his friend, but he had no choice.

Dief raised his head and regarded the cop reproachfully.

"Sorry Dief." Ray apologised ruefully and shook his friend's shoulder.

Fraser mumbled, wriggled his shoulders and snored softly.

Ray shook harder.

"Sarah!" muttered the Mountie petulantly. "Stop that."

"Sarah?" Ray shrugged, well at least it hadn't been "Victoria".

The sudden shrill tone of his mobile phone split the air.

"Whaa!" Fraser's head was off the table instantly. Good thing thought Ray, there was still plenty of iced water available for raising the Mountie.

"Vecchio here." Ray listened intently.

"Ma, look I'm sorry but I'm kinda tied up with things here..." A look of alarm spread across his face.

"Ya mean she's never come back? No way would be miss out meetin' up with Agnes. I mean they go way back and she only gets to see her once a year..Don't worry ma, I know where she was goin'...Yeah sure I'll keep in touch. Ciao Ma."

"Francesca?" guessed Fraser, looking a lot more in touch with his usual version of reality.

"Yeah. Looks like she's missing. Last I knew looked like she was gonna talk to Welsh 'bout me. Gotta get down there and check it out. Geez little sisters, who'd have 'em!" Ray was worried and angry. He did not need this, not after his little discussion with the FBI agents. Damn, he still had to tell Fraser. *That* he was not looking forward to - at all.

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

Ray fiddled with his car keys, tossing them up and down fretfully as the Mountie looked for an outdoor jacket.

"C'mon Frasier. What's takin' ya so long? Your Armani at the cleaners? Geez it must be *so* difficult to choose with your *extensive* wardrobe."

Fraser appeared a moment later clutching his favourite leather jacket.

"Look Ray!" He sounded distraught.

Ray looked and rolled his eyes.

"Interesting design Benny. I thought ya preferred wolves, still - cute kitten, love the pink bow."

"Someone's been interfering with my clothes." complained the Mountie.

"Yeah well if ya won't get locks..."

"Hey Benny what about your uniform?"

"No!" Fraser turned white and rushed back to check.

A loud keening wail issued from the Mountie's walkin closet.

"Oh dear." said Ray, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Oh!" mouthed Ray looking at Fraser.

"Benny!"

"Both of them Ray. Look - both of them!" Fraser held up both his uniform jackets and shook them at his friend.

Sure enough both jackets were now festooned with carefully glued sequins, baubles and beads forming the by now inevitable pattern of a playful pink-bowed kitten.

"There's kinda a cat motif running through all this ain't there Benny?" observed Ray thoughtfully. "Do ya think it's got anything to do with *that* cat?"

With a start Fraser dropped the jackets and looked rounded hauntedly.

"You can see it?"

"Nah. Can you?"

The Mountie looked cautiously round the room and frowned.

"Why no." He sounded puzzled and somewhat worried. He strode forward, checking every nook and cranny of his apartment.

"Nothing." said Fraser running his fingers through his pelt. While he had hated the constant visitations by kitty, her sudden disappearance sent shivers down his spine. She was surely not done with her haunting? Fraser knew in his bones that this was definitely *not* the case.

"Frasier." began Ray impatiently. "My sister? Look I need ta talk to Welsh but first I think we should check home and see if there's anythin' there. Besides I definitely need ta change."

Ray was not keen on having a close encounter with his boss just yet. Perhaps, just maybe Frannie had left some clue at home. Anyway he needed a shower and a change of clothes. Better to turn up looking his usual immaculate self, and the odour of Fraser's recent "upheaval" hung like a miasma around him or so his ever sensitive nostrils were telling him.

"Uh certainly Ray. I believe the weather's not too cold, I'll just take my sweater if you'll just hang on a..." But Ray had already made tracks, large, impatient, Vecchio-sized tracks.

Fraser shrugged and pursued his friend, pausing only to enquire of his wolf if he would care to join their little Frannie hunt. Diefenbaker yawned hugely and decided more napping was the order of the day. <So no thank you on that and shut the door quietly as you go.>

"Humph. Typical." said the Mountie slamming the door forcefully allowing his frustration to show as it usually did, mainly to his lupine companion.

"Humph. Typical." muttered Dief. "No consideration."

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

Outside Ray sat impatiently revving the engine, drumming his long fingers on the steering wheel. Where was Fraser? Sure, he was quick enough when it came to bag snatching, one yell and out that window leaping across rooftops like some SuperMountie.

"Finally! What took ya so long, ya get lost on the second floor, that kink in the stairs finally get to ya?"

"Sorry Ray." apologised the Mountie obviously out of breath. "I forgot this."

"And what, do I dare ask, is *that*?" asked Ray.

Fraser turned in his seat surprised at his friend's lack of knowledge.

"Why surely..?"

"Frasier..." The Mountie made a moue and switched to information overload.

"Well Ray. This is a mandolin.."

"Oh come on Fraser, even *I* know what a mandolin looks like and that aint' it."

"Ah you would be thinking of the musical instrument."

"Yeah, and it don't look like ya could pluck anything with that." Ray reached over.

"Yeouch!" Blood streamed freely from a cut in his finger.

"It's very sharp Ray."

"Now he tells me!" Ray sucked on his finger vigorously.

"What the hell is it Frasier, an instrument of torture?"

"No Ray, it's used in cooking, mainly eastern cooking, japanese for example. It's for slicing very thinly. Umm Do you want a plaster Ray?"

"Have you got a plaster Frasier?"

"No Ray."

"So why?...Never mind, never mind. I'll just quietly bleed to death, not ta mention gettin' blood all over the wheel. <long suffering sigh> What's that?"

"A handkerchief Ray."

"Hmm. It's clean I suppose." Ray considered the gleaming white handkerchief suspiciously.

Fraser's eyes widened.

"Of course." he said, quite hurt by the implication.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Silence ensued while Ray wound the handkerchief in a complicated pattern round his injured finger. He had the sneaking suspicion he had just trodden on Fraser's finer feelings again. Geez but the Mountie was moody these days.

"Oh Fr..uh Benny, why the mandolin?"

"I borrowed it from your mother and I would like to return it." The Mountie stared straight ahead at the oncoming traffic.

<Hum, definitely in a mood then.>

"So Benny" asked Ray as he swung the Riv into the driveway "Whaddya need that mandolin thing for anyways?" The question had been gnawing at him throughout the relatively short drive home.

"Uh like did ya need it for somethin' special, or *someone* special?" he hinted.

"If you must know Ray, I borrowed it to slice some specimens for my new microscope." Dief had been "persuaded" to part with some of "his" savings for the "joint" purchase.

Ray wrinkled his nose. "Specimens? Just what sort of *specimens* are we talkin' about here Frasier? Nah don't tell me I probably don't wanna know."

"As I recall you were quite appreciative when I was able to prove Mrs Peele had psoriasis."

"You used ma's slicer for *that*! Ewww Benny! You are *not* givin' that back. No way! I'll buy her a new one."

"I sterilised it thoroughly Ray."

"Gimmee."

"Now Ray." Understanding your small child mode.

"Frasier. No arguments. Give me that skin slicer."

"Very well, if you insist."

"I do."

Fraser held out the implement which Ray took very, very gingerly.

"Right." said Ray opening the car door and moving quickly to the Vecchio garbage can..

"There!" He said with no little satisfaction as he slammed the lid down.

"Raymondo?" It was his mother standing anxiously on the doorstep.

"Any news?"

"Uh no ma. I thought we'd better check by here first." Ray gave his mother a quick hug.

"Mrs Vecchio." Fraser bowed slightly and automatically tilted an invisible stetson to Ray's mother.

"Benton." Ma Vecchio welcomed her favourite Mountie.

"Ma you don't mind if Benny takes a look round Frannie' room while I take a quick shower?" asked Ray to the horror of the Mountie. The idea of entering Francesca's inner sanctum was unsettling to say the least. Who knew *what* he might come across?

Mrs Vecchio looked dubious, but relented, after all it was necessary and it was Benton.

"OK caro.."

"Great." Ray dashed into the house making for a welcome shower.

Fraser stood rooted to the spot, quite thunderstruck at the prospect. Ma put her hand on his back and gently guided him into the house.

"I understand Benton. Francesca, she's a little intimidating no?"

<I'll say!>

"Uh well I suppose..."

"It's alright, you just go up - second door on the left, you can't miss it. I'll make you a nice cup of tea, your favourite - camomile."

Fleeting longing thoughts for something stronger whisked through Fraser's brain despite his recent unpleasant experience.

<Oh dear.> He put his hand on his chest firmly and encouraged himself by quoting Mountie regulations every step of the way up the stairs. He could hear Ray singing something loudly in mangled Italian/American as he showered.

Francesca's room was a poem in pink, an homage to the colour and all its subtle or not so subtle nuances. Fraser blinked, temporarily blinded by sensory overload.

"Oh my." he said as he re-opened his eyes and Francesca's very own Mountie montage swam into focus. Where and how had she obtained all those pictures? Especially *that* one. Oh dear, she knew about his tattoo now. Fraser's cheeks assumed hues far closer to his serge uniform than the strongest pink in Frannie's boudoir.

Where to start? Fraser crossed his fingers and went to the cosmetics strewn dressing table. A small ticket stuck into the mirror frame caught his eye. What *would* Francesca be doing with a ...

"Find anything Benny?" Ray stood in the doorway peering cautiously in. He had showered and dressed in record time but still managed to look his usual immaculate self.