The Red Serge Scare	  The Red Serge Scare by Drum Queen

 Author's webpage: http://gURLpages.com/nolabel/drum.queen/index.html

 Author's disclaimer: All caracters are copywright Alliance.

  

 THE RED SERGE SCARE 

 Diefenbaker grabbed the bag of orange and black streamers in his mouth
and trotted over to the ladder that Jack Huey was standing on. Huey
spotted him, climbed down and took the bag. "Thanks Dief." He climbed back
up and began to tape them to the wall. "You guys really get festive with
Halloween," Ray Vecchio pointed out to Huey and his partner, Thomas Dewey.
"You like it more than Christmas." "Oh, I've always loved Halloween," Huey
said, as he taped the streamers. "It's always fueled the child in me. It
gives me a chance to dress up in a costume and be someone that I'm not,
even if it's just for one night. It stirs the imagination." Dewey taped a
picture of a witch onto the wall. "I was always in it for  the candy."
"Gee" Huey said sarcasticly, "you're really sentimental." "I've always
liked Halloween myself," Benton Fraser said. "Every year  

 in Alert, I would get together with my friends and tell ghost stories by
the fireplace. No matter what, I could tell the best stories. Of course,
since my grandparents were librarians, it wasn't hard to find a good ghost
story." Ray shook his head. "I think Halloween is creepy."  "Creepy?" Huey
gasped. "It's awesome." "Halloween is when all the freaks come out to
play," Ray reminded. "You  

 never hear about freaks coming out to play on Easter Sunday or on
Thanksgiving.  It's always Halloween." "Ray, where's your sense of fun?"
Dewey asked. Fraser scratched his eyebrow with his thumb. "Well, I can
understand  

 how you feel, Ray. All Hallow's Eve is the day when the spirits of the
dead supposedly come back to the earth. The costumes that have been
traditionally worn were used to scare away the spirits and ghosts. Often
the costumes nowadays are used not to scare ghosts, but for wrongdoing."
Suddenly, a scream was heard on the other side of the room. Francesca
Vecchio-Turnbull slid her chair away from her desk in fright. Her face was
white, and she looked like she had seen a ghost herself. "Frannie, what's
wrong?" Ray ran over to her desk. "Are you hurt?" "In the...the top
drawer," she managed to studder out. 

 Ray looked in the top drawer. To his surprise, there was a worm-eaten,
disembodied hand inside, reaching out toward him. A single cobweb
stretched  between the thumb and index finger. "GROSS!" Ray exclaimed.
Just then, Huey and Dewey bursted out laughing. They gave each other  

 a high five. "You fell for it!" Dewey chuckled. "I can't believe that you
two fell for it!" "Did I mention," Huey said, "that I also love pulling
pranks on Halloween?" "You little finks!" Francesca said, standing up and
facing them. "I could have had a heart attack, and all you can do is laugh
at me." "That's enough," boomed the voice of Harding Welsh. He walked over
to the desk and looked at Huey and Dewey. "Detectives, what is going on
here? I want an explination." "It was just a little Halloween joke, sir,"
Huey explained. "No harm was done." "HA!" Francesca spat. "That's a
laugh." 

 "Francesca, sit," Welsh demanded. She did obediently, and he returned his
glare to the detectives. "I don't want any more pranks from you two,
understand." "Yes, sir," they said in unison.  "I'm not going to any
Halloween party," Ray insisted, as he drove to the Canadian Consolate.
"Ray, it is merely a chance to enjoy yourself.	

 It isn't meant to suggest that you should believe in ghosts." "What would
I dress up as, huh? A fairy princess?"	Fraser shook his head. "Of course
not. That's just silly, Ray." "Well, what will you dress up ask?" Ray
asked. "I'm not quite sure yet, myself." "See? Even you don't know what do
dress up as." "Well," Fraser pointed out, "we haven't had much time to
think about it. We just got invited today." Ray rolled his eyes. "Not only
did Huey  

 and Dewey decide to plan a stupid party and invite everyone at the
station, they're inviting Jessie Henderson." He groaned at the thought of
seeing the thirteen year old at the party. "Ray," Benton reminded, "I am
her mentor, and Halloween is on a Saturday, the day that I mentor her.
They  thought that it was only fair." "Yeah, yeah." Ray stopped his
Riviera at the Consolate. "See ya, Benny." "I'll see you tomorrow, Ray."
Fraser	

 headed up the steps of the Consolate. "Hello, Constable Fraser," said
Renfield Turnbull, who sat at his desk in the fron halllway of the
Consolate. "How was your day at the police station?" "It was fine, thank
you." He pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "You and Francesca have
been invited to a Halloween party at the Consolate." He handed the
invitation to Turnbull. "Oh goody!" he said. "Do we get to wear costumes?"
 "Yes." "Life is good," Turnbull sighed. "What are you dressing up as?"
Fraser frowned. "I'm not quite sure." "I have ideas for both of us."
Turnbull smiled. "What are they?"  

 Fraser wore a black suit. His eyes were covered with black sunglasses. A
cord led up to a small radio headphone in his ear. He was a secret agent.
"You look great, Constable Fraser," Turnbull said. He was dressed as a
gangster. "Now I've got 'Secret Agent Man' running through my head,"
Francesca, who was dressed as a cat, complained. Ray slowly looked around
the corner, and them came into the squad room. He was decked from head to
toe in Fraser's mountie uniform. "I cannot believe that you made me do
this," he moaned. "I'm very sorry Ray."  "You are not! Do you know how
much this tunic itches?" "Well, if you had found a real costume," Jessie
Henderson reminded, "you wouldn't have to dress like this." "Did I ask
you, army girl?" Welsh stood by the punch bowl, wearing a devil costume.
"I haven't dressed  

 up for thirty-six years," he told Inspector Meg Thatcher, a witch. "I
feel so uncomfortable. "I know. I feel out of place myself." She ran her
fingers through her brown hair, which now had green streaks in it.  "I
haven't dyed my hair since high school." "You dyed your hair?" "It was for
a school play; I had to have red hair." Dewey, wrapped in bandages like a
mummy, laid out the plates with the  

 pieces of cake; Huey, the magician, was at the CD player putting in the
first disc, Michael Jackson's "Thriller". After about half an hour of
dancing and eating, the music stopped, and Huey flipped the lightswitch
down. The room was dark except for a single flashlight. "Alright you 
guys," he said wickedly, "it's time for the games." "Oh no," Ray moaned.
"All right!" Jessie cheered. "Everybody sit in a circle," Dewey explained.
"We're going to do a story.  

 I'll start, and then I'll pass the flashlight to someone else. They have
to continue the story." "You go ahead without me," Francesca suggested. "I
have to go powder my nose." She picked up her purse and went to the
bathroom. "All right," Dewey said after everyone sat down. "Many years
ago, a police station much like this one sat empty, except for one lone
cop finishing up his paperwork. He had lost track of time, and it was near
midnight when the cop finished. He picked up his coat and was about to
leave when he heard a noise..." 

 "The mysterious voice whispered throughout the morgue, 'Come closer, come
closer.' The cop didn't know why, but he couldn't stop following the
voice." Fraser looked around the circle. He was the fifth person to tell
the story. "The cop reached over the body on the table and took  the
shroud in his hand. Suddenly--" "AHHHHHHHH!" Everyone gasped at the sound
of Turnbull's scream. They looked at the  

 mountie, who was white as a sheet. "Sp-sp-spider!" he studdered, pointing
at the bug on the floor. Welsh groaned, stood up, and stepped on the
spider. "Are you happy now?" "Where's Francesca?" Turnbull asked. 

 Thatcher frowned. "She has been gone for a long time, hasn't she?" "I
want my Francesca!" Turnbull cried, putting his head on Jessie's shoulder.
"Don't you think you're being a little possessive?" Huey asked.  Fraser
stood up and walked to the doorway. taking the flashlight with him. "If
Francesca is in trouble, we have to go help her." Turnbull  

 stood up. "I'm going with you. Aren't you coming Ray? She is your
sister." "No way. I'm staying here. She's probably playing a joke on us."
He looked at Fraser. "Can you at least turn on the lights for us?" he
asked, scratching his arm. "You're the one with the flashlight, after
all." Fraser reached over and hit the lightswitch. Nothing happeded. He
hit it a couple more times. The lights didn't come back on. "Great." Ray
shook his head. He turned to Huey and Dewey. "If this is another one of
your pranks..." "It isn't, I swear!" Huey insisted. 

 "Sure." Ray stood up. "I might as well go. I have a bone to pick with her
about this prank." "Hey, you aren't leaving me here!" Jessie exclaimed,
standing up. "Nothing like a good adventure to stir the adreanoline, 
that's what I always say." Thatcher shook her head. "Jessie, you will go
to the farthest lengths to tag along with Fraser, won't you?" Jessie  

 turned around. "The guy's inspired me," she admitted. "If I was Canadian,
I'd want to be a mountie, too." She spun back around and headed for the
door. 

 "Francesca, where are you?" Turnbull cried. "Please, don't be dead." "I
highly doubt that she is dead, Turnbull," Fraser reassured.  "Yeah, then
where is she?" Ray asked. "Well..." "Fraser, where is my sister?" He
grabbed Fraser by the shoulders. "This	

 is not going to end up like some sort of slasher movie, you understand?"
"Vecchio, calm down." Welsh came down the hallway and stopped where the
others were standing. Behind him were Huey, Dewey, and Thatcher. "What are
you doing here?" Jessie asked. 

 "We're scared of the dark," Dewey admitted. "Have yound her yet?" "We've
looked all over except for the basement." Fraser began to walk toward the
stairs. "She must be down here. I smell perfume, I think it's Chanel."
"That's Francesca's perfume!" Turnbull ran downstairs. "FRANCESCA!" They
followed the smell of Chanel to the morgue. The door was locked, so Ray
and Fraser kicked it down. "Francesca!" Thatcher called. "Are you in
here?" 

 "Frannie!" Dewey ran to the closet and threw open the door. "Are you
hiding? We're coming." "Where did you get that line?" Welsh asked. "That
sounds like a chick thing to say." "HEY!" Thatcher and Jessie said at the
same time.  "Sorry." Fraser looked at the counter where a single body lay.
"Shouldn't that be in the freezer?" "Guess Mort is a sloppy mortician,"
Ray suggested. "Well, the least we could do is put it...him, her...in the
freezer." Fraser walked over to the counter. "Are nuts?" Ray asked.
"Fraser, that  

 is a body that was once alive and is now dead. You do not mess with those
unless you are payed to do so." "Ray, give me a hand with this." Fraser
lifted the head. Then he stopped. "I wonder who it is," he said aloud. He
pulled away the blanket. The body sat up. It was an ugly face, mutilated
in every way. The scalp had been sliced, the skin had been scratched, and
the browline had been bruised. The body let out a low moan. "AAAHHHH!"
Huey and Dewey screamed and hid behind Welsh. "It's gonna eat us!" Dewey
claimed. Just then, Welsh began to chuckle. Then the body joined him, and
soon everyone in the room was laughing as Francesca pulled off her bloody
mask. "You fell for it!" Ray laughed. "I can't believe you fell  for it!"
"It was a joke?" Huey said, stunned. "Duh!" Jessie moaned. "We were all in
on it, too. Even the story we  

 were telling was part of it." Dewey fumed. "I am so going to hurt you
people." 

 Ray stepped in between the partners and put an arm around each of them.
"I told you, Halloween is when the freaks come out to play." "I can think
of one in particular," Huey replied.