I continue to be Tracy MacKinacmakan's agent, and this story is mine. Please, fair use, don't post elsewhere, and most importantly, do not sell.

I'd like to give a big TYK to Nora Charles, my beta-reader. Naturally, any usage errors that remain are my own.

Send me comments and critique, trivia, and other lovely non-material gestures.

Warning: This is rated for mature audiences due to implied violence, strong language and mature themes. Includes monogamy. Contains spoilers for Antipodes.

All the Queen's Men

Ray sat in his car contemplating the trim Craftsman house, in one of the older residential Chicago neighborhoods. He was torn between pulling away and springing up onto the porch and ringing the doorbell like a maniac. *Which doorbell?* He snorted at the thought, looking at the two street numbers, each by their respective screen door and mailbox. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, he walked up to invite his friends out to dinner.

When he was greeted by a shirtless Fraser, Ray tried to make a quick get away. "Hello. It's Ray. Come in, Ray." Once he was out of the front hall, he saw his other friend, who just started smiling and shaking his red-maned head. *Her head. His?* The important thing, was not clueing the Mountie onto the assumption he'd made.

"This better be a social call, Detective."

"Thought you two might like to grab some dinner." He noticed the briefest exchange of glances.

"I'll get changed." Benton headed upstairs.

"What do you think?" Tracy pointed around the eclectic living room. It seemed to Ray vaguely Japanese, or maybe Middle Eastern, with the low brocaded davenport holding court in the sparsely furnished but far from austere space.

"Furniture boycott? Just kidding, it looks good. I see the trim finally arrived. How's the kitchen, last time I was here it was still a mess."

Tracy led Ray on a micro-tour, back through a nearly empty wood-paneled dining room. "We're not 100 percent done, but the rest can wait. As for the kitchen, look yourself."

"Wow." He was impressed. Plenty of workspace, storage, and escape routes. "Plan on cooking for an army?"

"Ray, that's just silly. Though I'll admit, it does seem a little, large." Fraser walked in behind them.

"I don't intend on doing a kitchen remodel. Better to do things right from the start."

"Gentlemen, can we save this at least until the car? Thank you."

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Ray mused as he drove, about how strange it was to have a man as his best friend's wife. Or was that his best friend secretly had a woman as his husband? After two years, Ray still didn't have it entirely straight. *Face it, Vecchio, this, you don't understand; you just accept it.* "So, what's it like being married and in the same time zone?"

"It has its advantages." It took Ray two beats to realize Benny, and not Tracy, had spoken. Ray could see in the rearview mirror Tracy's wry smile and twinkle at the comment. Not a trace of red could be found on the Mountie's cheeks. "Tracy, did I mention the Inspector wishes to see you at the trade reception?" *Oh, oh.* Ray was glad there was a parking space close at hand.

After they ordered, well, after Fraser ordered--the staff responded much better to Cantonese, Ray decided to throw himself into the breech. "The Dragonlady checking up on you?"

"Ray, you know he doesn't like you calling his superior officer that."

"Okay, okay. Is Inspector Thatcher snooping again?"

"It hardly constitutes snooping. She just finds it odd my wife never attends formal functions. I did mention she was out of town."

"For the past few years. I wonder why she's curious... Let's see, you barely went on vacation, still lived in your old apartment"

"Were dropped off and picked up by a certain cop. Still had lots of spare time to work on his cases." Tracy looked directly at Ray.

"Oh dear." They both turned to the scarlet Canadian. "You don't think. I mean, she wouldn't. Would she?"

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They were heading back to the house after their meal when the call came through, resulting in Ray pulling an interesting direction change, and speeding to the crime scene. Tracy shot a violet questioning glance. "They've found a body."

Tracy couldn't take waiting in the car, so instead hung around outside of it, carefully moving keys into a front pocket before leaning against the front fender. *Detective, don't you drag him into this.* Of course, he doesn't know Benton is going north for six months. They'd barely had that much time together after the exhibit tour. *Can't believe Dief guilted me out of the tail of my last chocolate fish.* They'd already sent the wolf north to go through quarantine and acclimatize.

"What's the story?" Ray was speaking to an officer.

"Victim is male, beaten to death by the looks of it. No identification, or clothing."

Ray made his way over to the sheet shrouded corpse. "Benny, find anything?"

"He was dumped here. Other than that, no. Ray, I wouldn't do that."

Ray had started to take a look at the victim, stopping at Fraser's comment. He looked over at his friend.

"I wish I hadn't."

He'd wait for the report.

"According to the officer, this is John Doe number five. Tall, beaten and dumped. Haven't been able to identify the others so far."

"Five? Why haven't I heard about this before?" Five, that's, even for Chicago. Five. Ray stalked off to get some answers. "This is the fifth?" Ray was boiling when he learned that three of the bodies had been found in separate precincts.

"Detective, who is that over by your car? He was by your car." Ray spotted Tracy moving over towards the body.

"Professor!" Ray jogged over. "He's with me and the Mountie." Making sure the uniform had moved out of earshot, he started on Tracy. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Collecting the Constable, except he walked off. What's going on?"

Ray wasn't too sure about that; Fraser usually was much more together. "Victim was beaten to death and dumped naked. He wasn't the first. Have four others unclaimed in the morgue--Professor!" The coroner's wagon had finally arrived, and Tracy was badgering rubber gloves off one of the men as they prepared to take the body in. He held back when he saw Tracy was only looking at the victim's hands and feet. *Must be some reason for that.* Tracy snapped off the gloves and waved the body away. "What was that about?"

"Not until you've got the forensic's reports on the other four."

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He didn't like it one bit; his unofficial partner of the last five years was going green on him, while the strictly non-cop Kiwi was acting like Quincy. First thing was to make sure this was his case, and read through the files. Tracy was right about that. *Welsh is going to love this, pulling from three other precincts.* Sprinting ahead, after everyone was out of the Riv, he sauntered into the Bullpen. Just the person he needed before disturbing the old man.

"Elaine. They just picked up a body, yes that's the one. There are supposed to be four others- could you pull up the file numbers, and thumbnail descriptions? Thank you." He even managed to get comfortable at his desk before his friends arrived.

*I knew I should have left ten minutes ago. No, Elaine, stay long enough that Vecchio comes back.* She started the search, noticing the sound of two others approaching. "Hello, Fraser." That was a given, even if he hadn't been around as much in the last few months. *Who else, though?* Elaine looked up from the terminal. "Professor! I thought you were back in New Zealand!"

"I'm back in Chicago now. Dinner with either of these gents just isn't complete without coming down to the station."

"Ray, your stuff will be coming off the printer in a moment. I've set the computer to shut down in fifteen. Goodnight. Would you walk me to my car?" The last was directed to Tracy.

"Certainly."

"Fraser, spill it. What was the problem with the body? Between that guy hunting Frobisher and hungry polar bears, I thought you'd pretty much seen it all."

"I'd say he was beaten for several days."

*Shit. Three guesses and none of them pretty.* "Give me a physical description of the victim- his report won't be ready until morning."

"Approximately 180 centimeters, around 75 kilograms. Caucasian."

*What was so damned interesting about his hands and feet?* Ray grabbed the pages from the printer, looking them over. "Looks like we do have a pattern. Same general height and weight, same m.o. I'll run you and Tracy home after I talk to Welsh." Ray headed towards the office, not even wondering where Tracy had gone.

"Sir, I need these files. They're part of a case I'm working."

The lieutenant looked over the papers, and back at Vecchio. "As of when? I'll pull it for the precinct, but you may have to fight for it, with" He looked at the file numbers again. "With Huey. John Doe number two. Go home detective. Tip off in the morning." *Ray, get a life. Even Red has one.* Welsh didn't try to understand just what sort; it wasn't his business and that's how he liked it.

"Okay guys, let's roll. Where's Tracy?" Fraser looked around, and got a worried look in his eyes. Both men started out at a run, only to nearly bowl over Tracy coming back in. They tried to play it cool, failing miserably. Tracy gave each of them the once over, seeing which would crack first.

"Ready to go? Elaine wasn't parked that far away. Or did the" Tracy nodded back to the office. "Take a bite out of you?"

"Come on, I'll drop you two home." Outside, Ray started back up. "He's got to call the other precincts and get the files transferred over here, since two of the five were found on our turf. Fraser, think Huey could pull it away? I mean, you don't think he's already ahead, do you?" Tracy called shotgun, so Benton got into the back. "Benny?" *We deal with it in our own way. I talk and he gets quiet.* His real question was how to get his other friend away from the case. *We're cops. She isn't. That simple.*

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"Are you going to talk about it? Ben. Something's wrong and we aren't going to bed until you let me know. Fine, I'll guess then. He was raped. Or it looked that way. Ray told me he was beaten to death. Was he killed or did he die? Both? You won't know for sure until the autopsy is complete. What part are you reacting to?"

"He looked a lot like Ray."

*Christ.* "Either sit, or follow me into the kitchen." Tracy strode off to start tea, trailed by the Constable. *You had to look at the body. Ray, he doesn't look, you, you do.* Tracy spun around. "You got to him first? Kept Ray from taking a look?"

"I wished I hadn't, except..."

"Then he would have." Ben sat at the counter, watching Tracy fill the kettle and put it on the stove. "He'll see it eventually, if he gets the case." Tracy pulled out the tea pot, tin and ball. "Maybe he'll work up to it at least; what does he know so far?"

"Weight and height. That the beating occurred over several days. I didn't go into the details."

"I take it that that was before he talked to Lt. Welsh? He knows this case isn't simple homicide. He wants this one bad; it's a good arrest for his career, getting this off the streets." Tracy could see Fraser roll it around his mind, as she filled the tea ball. "I also know there's more that has both of you rattled. You didn't know where I was, or how long I'd been gone." Fraser just stared back. "I have those same fears when you two are out working. That you might get in over your head. I don't expect you to stop and I won't be dictated to by fear." Tracy waited for it to sink in. "Look, everything in life is a risk. The secret is taking the right ones for the right reasons." The kettle whistled.

"Living with honor and not dying needlessly? I can accept that." He caught Tracy's left hand in his right, rubbing the wedding band with his thumb. "Elaine wanted to talk with you?"

Tracy handed over a cup of tea. "And make sure Ray didn't keep her any later. I think Elaine wondered what had come of me, after your little spectacle. Wanted a chance to see the pieces; she seems happy enough with the picture they make. Yes, I'm pretty sure she knows we're a set, not that she said anything." Tracy smiled over the tipped cup. "Figure the rest will see things as they wish them to be?"

"As much as it matters. No one has brought the subject up, other than the Leftenant to Ray. Just to make sure there wouldn't be a 'repeat performance' and that he had no prior knowledge of the occurrence."

"After we finish our tea, what do you say to a shower?"

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"I'm going to say this once. Vecchio, it's yours. But, Detective Huey gets part of it. This isn't a competition between you two; I want the perp or perps caught, and I mean last week. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." "Understood." They filed out as they were shooed from the office. Jack decided to bide his time before wrangling with Ray for his piece of the case. No reason to start borrowing trouble early.

Ray pored over the files; it was a real piece of work, all right. The morgue photos were bad enough. *We'll need reconstructed pictures to get a preliminary I.D. on the victims.* The physical evidence wasn't going to lead them to the killer(s), though it would more than confirm when they had the right suspects. They needed some clue on where these men met their deaths, or at the very least where they had been last seen. *How did they end up in whatever sicko's dungeon?* Not one of them was a weakling, that was for sure. All at least six feet tall, the lightest 155 lbs.

"I take it you got the case?" Fraser stood next to his usual chair, in his dress reds, Stetson in the crook of his arm.

"Yeah, but Huey has partial dibs. You ready for lunch? Good, let's go." He snagged his coat with one hand, scooping up the files in the other. Together, they headed out. "Think you can eat and look these over? I just need one lead and we can nail this up tight."

"You two need a lift?" Professor MacKinacmakan called from a red Volvo stationwagon pulled in just ahead of the Riv. "It is lunchtime, right?" The Detective looked at the Constable, at the Professor and back again.

"Sure. Why lose a good parking spot?" He opened the front door, leaving Fraser with the back seat. "When did you get this jalopy?"

"Just the other week. I so love parents buying new cars; this was the previous handme down one of the students had. Where to men?"

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They were mostly done with their sandwiches, Fraser having scanned the files while Ray and Tracy kept up some light banter during the meal.

"What was it with the feet and hands? Cause I'm not seeing it."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Ray."

"Can you show me the right part of last night's report?" Vecchio flipped to it after some hesitation. The Constable looked on with a look between consternation and confusion. Tracy read though the appropriate section. "They missed it entirely. Have them go over all of them again, with special attention to the metatarsals and the fingernails."

"You looked at the victim?" Benton whispered in disbelief.

"Start telling me something." Ray leaned in.

"Number five was a queen. Did they find any extraneous hair samples?" Fraser ran through the file while Vecchio motioned for elaboration. "His feet exhibited classic damage from high-heels. Frequent, long -term wearing of say, five to seven inch heels."

"Yes, they did." He handed the file to Ray pointing to the right place.

"What about the hair?"

"If it's long enough, I'd say it's from his wig. The nails were ridged from the application of salon nails."

Ray knew from his sister that those didn't run cheap. "Are you seeing the long hairs in the other files?"

"Yes for these two. I'm uncertain about the others."

"It's a start." *Damn it, can't anyone do their job.* "Better have some words with the coroner." *Might have never been noticed.*

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"I'm Detective Vecchio, and these files are incomplete. Who do I talk with to get a recount?" He shook the folders as part of his histrionics.

"That would be me." She came up behind him from the office. "You seem pretty sure of yourself. Taking up medicine in your spare time?"

"Another's field observation. John Five had deformation of the metatarsals and damage to the fingernails. Not in the report. Need to know if any or all of the other victims show the same."

*I'll humor you. Won't get you out of here otherwise.* She pulled out one of the drawers, snapping on a glove and pulled back the sheet to examine a foot. Grabbing the right file she double checked. "I'll have to get back to you. Think that officer wants a change in vocation?" *Someone will be.*

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"Elaine, I'll be needing cleaned up pictures of these men. When that's ready, there'll be some alterations to make. How long do you think that will take?" Instead of waiting for an answer, he sailed over to Huey's desk. "Welsh said we had to share, so here it goes. I'm getting some proper pictures of the victims made up, so you can find out if anyone recognizes them. Is that okay with you? Good." Ray crossed back to his desk to look at some other cases. Then it occurred to him to make a call. "Vecchio. Would you be able to provide a list of likely places to look? Call me at the station. Thank you."

It was well into evening before the forensic addenda and the pictures were ready. Ray was looking over the reports, to find a magazine dropping onto his desk. "What's this?" He looked up to see Tracy.

"That's the directory; I will need it back so don't mark it up. What did they find?"

"Yep for all five. Listen, could you help Elaine finish the pictures? I've highlighted the sections you'll need." He turned his attention to the guide, trying not to look too hopeful. He was rewarded by seeing the files picked up and the broad shouldered shape head over to Elaine's desk.

*Detective, you owe me big time.* "Hello, Elaine. I'm the guest image consultant for Ray's John Does. Could you show me the five cleaned up?"

"Gotten his claws into you too? Here they are, best we can figure. Image consultant?"

"Complete makeovers for the lot of them. Let's start with hair, and then work out cosmetics. What does that program have in the way of party hair? Something in the way of a simple upsweep."

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"Sir, I have made arrangements with both the florists and caterers for the reception. Here is the time schedule for set up."

"Thank you, Constable. Is this the usual musician service?"

"No, they were completely booked. Constable Turnbull is conducting a security check. Anything else, sir?"

"Your wife will be joining us, this time? Or is she out of town again?"

"No, she is back in Chicago. Sir?"

"Yes, Constable?"

"What are the protocols? I thought I was on security detail."

"It is a social function, Constable, not guard duty. I trust your wife will not monopolize your time. Formal decorum per usual. Dismissed."

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"How are the pictures coming?" Ray was trying to peer over Elaine and Tracy, but they were huddled a bit too tightly around the screen.

"Vecchio, this is guesswork. If you've been moonlighting for Cosmo, join us. Otherwise, wait at your desk. Isn't this shadow too dark?"

"It's supposed to be heavy- try tinting it up. What style of lips would you say? File doesn't give me any help. Ray, coffee. Extra sugar. I think the nose should be minimized some, try to hide that part there."

"Vecchio, in my office, now!" Welsh stalked back to his desk, while Ray tried to figure out what was the problem now.

"Is the Professor giving fashion advice in my precinct?"

"He is assisting in providing us lifelike pictures of our victims, sir."

"Just what is the nature of the expertise he is lending?"

"He is helping Elaine reconstitute the men's makeup based on the updated forensic reports and academic knowledge of a cultural subgroup."

*At least it isn't Red.* "Keep in mind he is a civilian, and not a member of any law enforcement agency, foreign or domestic." *And if anyone starts yakking, I'm hanging it on you.* "Don't you have some work to do, detective?" Welsh turned his attention back to his desk.

"You got those pictures for me yet?" Detective Huey was hanging his coat back up. "Is that the Professor?" He headed over to Elaine's desk. "Tracy, it is you - back in Chicago so soon? Thought you'd be back home."

"Hi, Jack. No, I seem be the precinct's newest adjunct - who's still waiting for his coffee." The last was directed at Ray. "Seriously, I'm teaching at the university. I made the mistake of having dinner with a certain detective - what took you so long - and got dragooned into service. Elaine, run through the pictures. Anything you think we should change?"

"This one's hair; doesn't really do anything for him."

"Try restyling it, same hair form though. Did you ever get the hang of that trick shot I showed you? I think that's as good as it gets; might as well print them. Ray, get your glossies. Nice seeing you again. Don't let Ray make you stay too late, Elaine. Good night." Tracy grabbed the jacket, looking at the clock. *Did he have to work late, or is he wondering where I am?*

Ray looked over the pictures as they came off the printer. "Huey, these are the victims; he's number 2. Here's a reference work to figure out where to canvass - don't lose or damage it, it's borrowed." Ray turned back to Elaine. "Thank you." He gave her a little upper arm squeeze. "Get out here, you work too much." He bounced over to his coat and out of the Bullpen before she could reply.

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"Have you been home long?" Tracy asked, walking in via the kitchen. "I was dropping something off at the station and found myself playing beauty consultant."

"Just got in a moment ago. About the reception..."

"I know; I've got to pick up a dress. You'll do my makeup? It's black

tie." Tracy had crossed the space to Fraser, and planted a deep kiss on his lips. "You better change out of your uniform if we plan on having dinner. Really, it's quite cruel, how dashing you look in your serge. Off with you" Tracy gave him a good pat in the rear. "I'll see what I can start up. Before I change my mind."

By the time he came back down, more casually dressed, Tracy had put a meatloaf and a nail of potatoes in the oven. "You get to figure out the vegetables; dinner should be ready in about thirty five minutes. Are you wearing my clothes?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure half the time. Do you mind?" He lay a kiss into Tracy's shoulder.

"You getting into my clothes? Not as a rule. Just don't wear my highland outfits." Tracy turned around. "If I need something, I'll just reclaim it. Keep blushing and supper will burn." Tracy got up and quickly ran a hand across Benton's chest, tipping the collar back to look at the label. "Your shirt. Too bad; I'll have to borrow it sometime. Speaking of clothes, you don't mind if I wear some of your's when I go shopping?

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Detective Huey was not happy. He'd spent the night running through the guide, planning his rounds. *Vecchio knew; he set me up and I let him do it.* Most of the places he'd have to wait until evening to check. He hoped that he'd get the IDs done before that. *All I need, an expense report of drag revues.* He looked at his list. Might as well start at the beauty salon.

"Nadine, we have a tall, dark and handsome who wants to show you some pictures. I'm new in town, name is Janice. Don't suppose you'd like to show me around?" Jack was very uncomfortable with the way the cinnamon-skinned red-head was smiling at him, and skimming around his personal space with extremely long plum nails. "Can't blame a girl for trying. Nadine will be right with you." Janice turned expertly on the perilous heels, and sashayed off.

Nadine was a more... rounded figure, with a massive pile of raven black hair. "What sort of pictures do you have for me? If they're of you, I'm sure they're good."

"Do you recognize any of these people?" Huey tried to keep as much of the pages between his own and Nadine's hand.

"I've seen this one around, but I don't know her. They aren't wanted, are they? Let me look at the others. Bad make-up look, baby." Nadine shook her head and turned to the next one. "This one, this is Francine. She is real classy; find you crying your eyes out, she'd fix your make-up instead of chasing after your date. You know where she is?"

"Do you know the other two?"

"I don't think so. This one almost looks familiar, but she'd never wear her hair like that. Jacquel wouldn't be caught dead looking like that."

"Who knows Jacquel the best? Could you tell me how to contact Francine's next of kin?"

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As much as Huey didn't want to canvass, he would have preferred it to the way he spent the bulk of the day. Escorting people down to the morgue, to look on the battered remains of friends. Taking statements from the grieving. He didn't know which was worse; the ones that cried all over him, or those that somehow held it together. *No, the worst was overhearing the fight, when they couldn't release the body.* Jack was just thankful he wouldn't have to call the 'family', if they could still be called that, if even half of what was shouted was true.

"Ray, we've identified these three. Number five was known as Francine, three Jacquel, and the first was Lauren. Their legal names are in the files; I'm having records run." He turned over to Elaine's desk. "These two, how sure are we with their looks?"

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Ray was getting fidgety; three days, and not enough progress. *If the bodies hadn't been dumped at a precinct juncture...* No, thinking like that was no good; the scenes were too cluttered to find much, not even a good tread-mark. *We have three I.D.s. How can we make that work?* Ray pored over the statements, marking up an area map, while consulting the directory Tracy had brought round. *There. Right there. How do we narrow that down? We spook the creep, he'll find a new sewer.*

"Get in. I know; we can run over to your place. I just need a moment of your time." Ray waited impatiently as the bells rang the end of his friend's shift. Fraser came over, and then opened the door to slide in, seeing the look on Ray's face. "How's the trade delegation going?" Ray eased the large car into traffic.

"I won't be able to help you the next two days. I am completely scheduled, with the reception, tours, meetings, and luncheons. What do you need?"

Ray felt even more like an ass. "We've gotten three out of the five IDed. Huey's still trying on the other two, but not having much luck. Have a probable area of where they disappeared, but it's too big to check without tipping them off. You two don't have plans? I'll spring for the take-out." *Tracy, I'm real sorry about this.*

They had gone over most of the new material, before Tracy stormed in. Ray couldn't understand the tirade, and he seriously considered trying to slip out to the Riv. "Detective. I'd like to report a crime." He noticed the shopping bags, just before he wondered why Benny wasn't reacting. "Robbery, endangerment, and obstruction. You" Tracy pointed at the Constable. "get to make supper. I'll be back down in awhile."

"Tracy doesn't like shopping?" Ray thought about the store names. *Oh. Dress for the reception, and shoes.* "What was that stream of invective?"

"Maori. Hope no one was left bleeding. Forty five minutes with the punching bag, short shower--you'd better have dinner waiting though."

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"How does anyone stand it? Ray, you aren't borrowing him tonight." Tracy sat at the table. "New restaurant? I guess I won't look an Italian bearing gifts in the mouth. Gotten any names yet?"

"Three. These. Huey got copies of actual photos of the victims. Not doing too well with the others. Elaine tried producing new pictures for them; maybe someone will recognize them. So, any ideas about limiting the search?"

"If they were originally attacked outside, it would have been out of the way, somewhere they could be boxed in. Inside, anywhere is possible."

"Not really. Can we assume they weren't taken at the same time? If so, I'd find it highly unlikely any of these places were their last destinations. These, they would have had to be lured into. That leaves you with these. Show me the pictures of the two John Does." Tracy looked, then handed them to Benton.

Ray tried to figure out what Tracy was seeing, but was coming up blank. "Why not these? No, these two were alive after this one was found."

"Say it was five suburban housewives. It is possible they might all go to a roadhouse, on a whim together. It would be very unlikely for five housewives to show up separately at the same roadhouse over a short span of time. This is a country and western, this is more manly man turf, while this is a gentleman's club. Similar for these others. Then there is an assortment of shops; isn't this Mr. Wang's other location?"

"This is his cousin's dry cleaning. This is the repair shop Carlos opened."

"Okay, I get the idea. Number of spots they would be out of place in, warehouses, and the free enterprise zone. That cuts it down a lot. Will you be teaching a seminar-- I think the coroner has some staff she'd like retrained. Or have play shinty."

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Inspector Margaret Thatcher surveyed the ballroom. *I don't see either Constable Fraser or his wife.* She had granted him a respite from his duties in order to freshen up and pick up his wife; she wasn't entirely sure why he would need so much time. *I hardly expect that would be the reason.* Anyone else, she would have assumed it, and not granted so much time. *You're getting soft.* No, he would be back exactly when he said he would; maybe that's it, he was allowing for her running late.

]--------------------[

"Am I done yet? Nice as the view is, I wasn't primped and primed this much for the wedding." Tracy was sitting wearing her foundation garments, with a boxer clad Fraser playing make-up mistress.

"Done." Making sure he didn't have any stray makeup on his hands, he started putting on his fresh uniform. "I've only done my own, and not for such a formal event." He looked over at Tracy as she pulled on her dress. "Let me get the zipper. Oh, dear, look at the time."

]---------------------[

*Exactly on schedule, to the dot.* What Thatcher didn't know, was the Constable and his wife would have been late, except Tracy drove, clipping every light and showing no mercy to the other cars. Getting there with just enough spare time for Tracy to slip the heels back on. The Inspector moved onto her next concern, while Fraser checked in with the other officers.

Once the evening was under way, Margaret decided it was time to meet Mrs. Fraser. *I don't even know her first name.* She scanned the room, finally able to pick out the right Constable. *That's a pair you can't miss.* Somehow she had imagined Fraser's wife, well, smaller. As it was, she stood several inches taller than her husband, in rather short heels. Her blue gown, reminiscent of an earlier age, highlighted the breadth of her tan shoulders.

"Evening, Sir. This is my wife." The Constable then took his leave of the two women, ostensibly to make a security round.

"Inspector Thatcher." Tracy slipped out a hand, remembering at the last moment to turn it slightly.

"Mrs. Fraser." Margaret met the semi-offered hand, to find a strong grip in reply to her own firm shake. "Pleasure to finally meet you. I understand you travel a lot. Work related?"

"Antiquarian. I was living on the East Coast."

*What is that accent?* "You're originally from somewhere else?"

"I grew up near Eketahuna." Tracy was enjoying this; though she didn't expect Fraser would approve. *But he's not here.*

*Where the hell is that?* "I'm not familiar with the name, is that in the Northwest Territories?"

"North Island. Te Ika a Maui. No, I'm not Canadian. Aotearoa is about as far distant as you can get."

*I'm going to have to look it up.* "So how did you and the Constable get together?" *An advanced training seminar in conundrum, perhaps?*

"We shared an elevator. I understand there is a very interesting story involving 48 unconscious Mounties, explosives and a runaway train. I'd so love to hear it." *Parry that!*

"Maybe some other time." The Inspector departed, soundly routed. *Somehow, he found the one person more vexing than himself, and took her to wife. I hope it isn't genetic.* The mere notion scared her deeply.

---------------------------{-}--------------------{-}---------------------{-}----------------------------

Finally, after two days, Ray had exhausted the exterior search. The answers would have to come from inside. He walked over to Huey's desk. "How's your part going?" Maybe he'd found something to break this open.

"Nothing new. The three we have names for, I think we've got as good of an account of their whereabouts without finding the place they were taken. Talking about a six hour window; that's pretty tight. Number four, people recognize, but nobody knows. Best guess is she, he, moved here a little while ago. I'm still trying to pin down from where; might take months before a missing person report is made, if ever. Number two, even with the new picture, isn't coming to anyone's mind."

"We're going to have to do this the hard way. Let's look at it for another hour and then plan strategy. For all we know, they were taken in different places. I don't want them moving on." Ray noticed Fraser, in his brown uniform, talking to Elaine. "Didn't expect to see you today."

"Hello, Ray. I'm trying to locate a Canadian tourist; his mother got worried when he didn't call. Unfortunately, the picture she sent was a little old. Thought Elaine could help." He turned back to Elaine. "She said he was growing a beard the last time he visited, but wasn't sure if he kept it when he returned to Toronto." Fraser went to bring Elaine something from the vending machine, while the computer aged the high school photo.

"Ray, come over here!" Elaine was adamant. "Right now." When he had finally crossed to her desk, she pointed to the printed picture.

"Has to be. Can you pull the cleaned up picture of Doe #2?" Ray watched as she brought up the right file and then did some further manipulations. "Benny! What do you know about this tourist?"

"His mother lives in Alberta, but he works in Toronto. He told her he needed a short vacation, before the holidays pinned him to work."

"Take a look at the screen. I'm sorry to say, we've already found your missing person.

---------------------------{-}--------------------{-}---------------------{-}----------------------------

Tracy came in the back door with two bags of groceries. Once the door was locked back up, Tracy started unloading the food, calling out. "Thought we could do with a regular meal for a change. You have a couple of choices." Putting away some of the items, Tracy thought it was odd Ben hadn't come into the kitchen yet. He couldn't be at the Consulate; he was ending up with overtime as it was . *Ray Vecchio, if you have shanghaied him...* Tracy looked over at the answering machine, seeing the message light. "Maybe he had to run an errand." Hitting the playback button, Tracy put more of the food away.

"I'm at the station. One was a Canadian. I may be back a little late. Bye." Throwing the rest of the perishables into the fridge, Tracy tore back out.

---------------------------{-}--------------------{-}---------------------{-}----------------------------

Elaine wasn't sure how she had gotten this involved in the case. But then she had IDed one of the victims. *They need a sounding board, and I've been elected.* "Sounds like undercover work to me." Everyone was focused on her. "You weren't planning on flashing pictures at bartenders?" From the looks she was getting, she knew it had crossed their minds. She locked her gaze on Huey and Vecchio. "Detectives. Ha!"

"She has a point, Ray. As it is, they may move on or take more care in disposing of the bodies. Their false sense of superiority is our only advantage."

]----------------------[

As the initial shock of the message wore off, Tracy started thinking about how to explain the abrupt appearance of the Professor at the precinct. *Now who is overreacting? This was part of the bargain, marrying a man in law enforcement.* Tracy noticed the Riv parked in front of the station as the Volvo neared. Taking that as a sign they were still inside, Tracy parked a little distance away, ambling forth and leisurely taking the stairs.

Tracy decided to hang back at the entrance to the Bullpen, feeling foolish, but not enough so to go home. *You know way too much about this case.* It was really the first case since the wedding that Tracy was around for, beyond a few small things while they were working on the house. After the fact accounts really weren't the same.

]-----------------------[

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Ray couldn't believe the way the discussion was going. He could accept the undercover part. But this, this was insane. "We are not live bait. No discussion."

"I wasn't suggesting you should. You'll be my back-up."

Ray couldn't believe this. *You are married! You have a life!* "Fraser, no live bait. Not you, none. Jack, you make sure he stays put. I've got to get some air. There's got to be another solution." Ray strode off.

"Tracy." *Shit, Fraser.* Ray pulled Tracy down the hall. "What brings you to our fair precinct?" Ray keyed back into serious mode. "How much of that did you hear?"

"I thought I was overreacting." Tracy paused. "You know, he leaves a message that he might be late for supper, but I rush over here." Tracy looked Ray in the eye. "He would leave the same message if he were picking up dry cleaning or infiltrating a terrorist cell." How dare he was implied.

*What can I say?* Ray knew that Benny very well might do just that. *All you do is make them worry extra, not less.* Right now was not the moment to explain that to his friend. "Can you wait here for ten minutes? Then come in as our guest expert." Ray started to go back in. "He's rusty on this having a life." Ray glided back into the fray. "Look. We are talking about someone who has been able to kill five grown men, who presumably knew where they were. You may be able to survive in the frozen wastes, the backwoods, or even West Rancine, but you would be going in blind. Remember the advantage of surprise? He, or they, have it. Home game, and we are the visiting team."

Tracy worked at getting calm, to be able to see the goal and path with no distractions. It worked for rugby, for pool, for fencing; it would have to do for saving Mountie bacon. *Show time.*

"Someone wanted an anthropologist in the house? Evening."

Jack wasn't sure what to make of it all. More than two and a half years ago, the precinct had witnessed a passionate kiss between a uniformed Mountie and a respected professor. On Valentine's Day. Six months after the professor left Chicago, the Constable turns up married. Mostly, he leaned to it having been staged. Both men were as straight as could be, and neither before nor since had he seen anything between them to suggest the contrary. Tracy would have signed-on just for the practical joke appeal alone. Jack was less certain about Fraser; he could have been severely reprimanded for breech of decorum, not to mention suffer from any later fall-out at the station. Maybe he was convinced it would convey an important message, one worthy of some sacrifice. *He'd take a bullet for principles.*

"Professor, have a seat. We've decided that we are going to have to do some undercover work with the beaten queen case, and would like some input." Ray hoped he wasn't laying the formality on too thick.

"Fraser thinks he should go in as bait; Vecchio thinks no one should. Myself, I think we need numbers for an advantage." Huey really didn't want to go in at all, certainly not in drag. But if someone was, they were going to have plenty of back-up.

"Jack, you're right. What sort of manpower resources do you have? I think a four man team would be optimal; any more would draw too much attention. Two go in drag, two as escorts."

"Think Lt. Welsh could get some help from the other precincts?" Elaine contributed.

"Okay, that would put you two, and then two others on the team. No offense, Jack, but I think you might draw too much attention. Ray, you will be a queen. Constable, you can as well. Main requirements for the escorts is being good back up, and at least vaguely attractive."

"Why can't I be back up?" Ray asked, a little too piteously.

*What are my day shift detectives still doing here?* "Evening, Professor, Constable. Vecchio, Huey, my office." They followed in his wake.

"Elaine, our lovely ladies will need gowns, wigs, and shoes. Have you ever wanted to be a beautician's assistant?"

"Vecchio, what is the Professor doing here tonight?" *If he's following Red... Blood pressure, neither of them are your men.*

"Actually, sir, he has been giving us some pretty good advice."

"We'll be needing some assistance, two other officers for an undercover assignment. Fraser and I will be needing some back up."

"Take Huey. I can't spare anyone else."

"Sir, I have been doing the canvassing; people know I'm a cop."

Ray explained the operation, and the idea of letting the other precincts have a piece of the action. He also tried to provide some perimeters for the two other members of the foursome, alluding to the Chinatown fiasco.

---------------------------{-}--------------------{-}---------------------{-}---------------------------- Proving that luck be a lady, Elaine recalled that a truckload of counterfeit designerwear had been seized and was still waiting in one of the police warehouses for various parties to dispose of as they saw fit. Tracy outlined some general ideas for what they wanted to achieve, but Elaine had full discretion with pulling the actual selections.

"Wigs. What do you think of tight red-black curls for the Detective, a Mediterranean spitfire mane? The Constable, I think we should do as a blonde. Can you choose an appropriate shade?" Tracy double-checked that Elaine could make sure they had a full range of the appropriate cosmetic palettes on hand for the next evening. "I'll pick up a few other odds and ends and brief the gentlemen on some things they'll need. You'll be on hand to assist in the transformation?"

"They couldn't stop me." Elaine understood this was deadly serious, yet a corner of her mind found Ray having to wear a dress very entertaining. *Not everyday I get paid to pick out clothes. Much less for Vecchio.* Yes, revenge was very sweet, very sweet indeed.

When Tracy was sure no one could overhear, she spoke to Fraser and Ray. "While you drive him home, he can give you the basics for your 'ground work' materials as it were. I'll conduct the following lecture. Pick up some take-out, too." The Professor then went out to the stationwagon and drove home.

Once the two friends settled in the Buick, Benton gave the basic run through of the required undergarments. Ray was not amused.

---------------------------{-}--------------------{-}---------------------{-}----------------------------

Ray couldn't believe he was doing this. *I'm shopping for a corset.* He was glad he'd convinced Tracy to pick up his 'two new friends', though he suspected that it was more because Fraser would be needing a more... expansive pair that Tracy humored him. *How can she be so calm, as a man buying breasts?* Right, he had nearly forgot about the girdle. "How did this become my life?" At least some of the other instructions weren't so bad, like remembering to bring his shaver, and not putting on any cologne before coming in.

Tracy fitted in the various rounds of shopping between classes. The run through the beauty supply was no problem; sans jacket, just another hair dresser in Chicago. *Nails, polish, glue, that and that. Eyelashes, Ray will need eyelashes. Couple of styling combs. Cleanser, and moisturizer. I'm so glad I don't have to do this for work. Don't forget that.* Picking up the falsies, just another props-man at work. Shopping for the cologne, was an amusing interlude. "One needs to be exotic and spicy. The other, vanilla, but not too sweet, more earnest and outdoorsy." The expression on the sales associate was so classic, as the idea he was another cur with a woman for either taste, competed with the instinct for a commission sale. It was running Fraser's little errand that was awkward. *Yes, buy your husband a corset. Have the matron stare a hole right through you.* At least, it was just a matter of picking one in a bigger cup size, everything written on a card.

Elaine wished she could have captured on film the look Ray had when he was handed the bottle of Neet. *Just wait 'til it starts growing back.* The thought made her chuckle a moment. *He'll be prickly for a week.* Tracy had set up camp like a general, in an observation room near the locker room, bringing in a screen for modesty's sake. This certainly was a man who was all tacks when it came to makeup. Elaine couldn't believe the speed with which they had the salon nails on, painted and dry. Brickish-brown dragonlady's for Vecchio, and shorter, slightly more chaste palest peach and white nails for Benton. Tracy decided that they'd go with the green dress for the detective, not being so glitzy, and keeping more of him covered. Elaine noticed it also displayed one of Ray's best features, which fortunately he couldn't see. Fraser was fitted up with a sparkly, short skirted champagne dress with a mock bolero jacket bodice treatment. Draping the dresses with smocks, Tracy directed Elaine through the makeup itself.

*This is damn strange.* It wasn't the makeup, really, but this was a level of sophistication Elaine rarely used on herself. When Fraser had gone undercover at the girls' school, other than some corrective tricks, his makeup was pretty average. It wasn't exactly normal to see the upright Canadian dressed as a woman, but 'Ms. Fraser' was... prim. What they were doing tonight was highly sexualized. Dark lip liner and smoldering eyes cast Ray as sultry, even with his tightly shorn hair. The nearly neutral palette of faint pink and pale peach on Fraser was anything but demure, conveying calculated precision.

"Can you show me the wigs now? Oh, very nice. Work Ray's up, but keep the ends free. Yes, that's the sort of thing I mean. I'll help you get it on him. Constable, should we leave yours as is, or would you prefer something else?" Tracy stood back, to see if anything needed another touch. "Beautiful. Elaine, the jewelry." Tracy claimed the men's personal effects, handing them to Elaine for safe keeping. Selecting the right pieces took some time, Ray complaining all the while about the earrings. "Trust me. Clips would be worse; screwbacks are adjustable. Not to mention more... suitable."

Benton was confused, very confused. While he knew Tracy was known to lead him to assume things that weren't strictly true, applying makeup had been baldly stated as something he would have to handle. Yet here they were, he was at a loss for the right verb, with the surety of a walrus hunt. He wanted to ask about it but Elaine was present; frankly, it was a little private to discuss in front of Ray. "Aren't these shoes? That is, they are shoes, but aren't they, well?" What could he say about them, they were barely there, but what was was really, really there.

"That's the look. The size elevens the Detective has on are about as big as women's pumps come. He only fits them because he has narrow feet." Tracy looked at the two men. "Ladies, time to practice walking. Elaine, you stay here, I'll take them into the neighboring interrogation room." Tracy offered shoulders and arms for the two to hang onto, while Elaine opened the door, directing the clog of officers away from the needed spot of hall.

*Terrific. Everyone is here.* They certainly were, and they were making the expected comments. A few of the women wolf whistled, and called out cheesy pick up lines. Ray overheard guys ribbing each other about their sorry dating lives. The tongue in cheek compliments. *Don't volley back. You've got a job to do.* Not to mention it was damn hard staying upright, and if he launched he'd have to let go. *I can't talk, I've got my hands full.* How true that was gave him a resigned smile.

Tracy directed them to move the hands currently resting on broad shoulders, down to the elbows, and let go with their other hands. Slowly, they made the circuit of the room, Fraser only slightly more steady on his taller heels than Ray. "Don't fight the shoes. Pick the heels up more; hips, you have to use your hips. Ray, do your sister's walk. Try calming it down, nice. Tart it up now, not frantic, but sassy. Fraser, can you do Bacall? Any forties star will do. Right. Just twitch that up a hair. Perfect. Both of you, bring your hands down into mine, and try to balance on your own." They continued to walk in circles. "Constable, could you continue walking around on you own, I have to give the Detective a quick dancing lesson. Right hand in my left, left on right shoulder. Right foot back, very nice Ray. A couple of turns, just lean into my right hand. Don't anticipate." Tracy stopped after a little longer. "Constable, your turn."

Elaine sat watching the floor show. *Someone has to keep the others out of here, but the view shouldn't go to waste.* It reminded her of someone giving skating lessons, the way Tracy gradually encouraged them to depend on him less, until, they were fine on their own. When they started walking, Elaine thought of preteen slumber parties, when the girls would imitate various personalities. Soon, the two men weren't imitating, but doing 'their' walks. *That's Ray, life of the party, trying to get to the action first.* Just like he came into the Bullpen, or ran onto the scene. *That's our Mountie, perfect posture, clipped and controlled.* Elaine continued to watch.

There was something, maybe it was the pitch of the shoes, but something, a little naughty was showing. *Cock of the walk.* No, that's silly. Elaine knew she was kidding herself, it was there, a little extra strut to Fraser's step. *Have we not been seeing the real man?* She watched more intently. *I wouldn't have thought Ray would take to being led so fast.* That he was a good dancer wasn't surprising, it was in his walk, and she figured he got plenty of practice at family weddings. The Constable, she'd always assumed he could dance, but she was stunned by how well. It took her a moment to realize he wasn't given any instructions, had no first step gear shifts, like Ray had. *The heels. This is about the heels, keeping balanced in heels I would fall off.* Elaine watched the two men dance a complicated combination of turns, thinking that the Constable needed a more flowing dress. Like a dream, it was over. *Girl, you have been through the looking glass.*

"I've got to go wash my hands. Ray, can you introduce him to club dancing? And give him Ice Maiden lessons? You'll be using Catholic school girl defense moves." With that, Tracy headed to the men's room. While in one of the stalls, the professor overheard two unfamiliar voices. *The escorts.* By this time, Tracy knew the voice of just about every officer, cleaning man, and regular deliveryman that came while she was at the station. It was the key to avoid having any need to look towards the other wall. Generally, Tracy tried not to listen in on conversations in the john. However, these two were quite loud. What they were saying made Tracy have a deep desire to bash their skulls into the urinals. *Wait until they've gone.* Finally, they were, and Tracy washed up, and exited in haste.

"Lt. Welsh, can I have a word with you?" It really wasn't a question, Tracy's voice barely held from rage.

Welsh could see a look in the Professor's eyes, fire and steel, that was rarely directed at him. Whatever was going to be said, they'd have it out in private. He pushed open an unused room, more of a clerk's cubby really, and followed the other man in. "Professor."

"Those men are not going in." Welsh sputtered, and Tracy snapped him shut. "The backup, they aren't going in. They are completely unsuitable." Welsh looked back, surprised and unconvinced. "I have reason to believe they might endanger Ray and Ben." Tracy saw the look fishing for the basis of the assertion. "I heard them make statements in the lavatory."

"Officers make jokes in these situations."

"I appreciate that, sir. It burns off steam, and strengthens group cohesion. What I heard was no laughing matter, however."

Welsh wasn't convinced. *You are just oversensitive.*

"'If the slut was a woman, I'd have a piece of that.' 'Maybe one of them wants a piece of you.' I refuse to even repeat the other comments."

*You have pegged him wrong.* Harding knew, in the other man's shoes, he'd have struck them instead. "You'd better tell me what else."

"That the dead men had just gotten what they asked for and what they deserved. There was some question as to why your Detective and the Constable would demean themselves in this fashion, if it wasn't personal. That nancies can't enforce the law. They used other words but that's the size of it."

*No, you would have struck them, period.* "Then they'll have to forgo backup." *Backup like that, who needs criminals.*

"They aren't going in alone." Tracy could see that riled the old man. "I've gotten them ready, I'm responsible for them. Don't you feel that way, when you send them out?"

"There is no one else."

"Then I'll go."

Welsh lost it right then and there, iterating Tracy wasn't a cop, that it was too dangerous, and so forth.

"If it is too dangerous for me, it is too dangerous without me."

---------------------------{-}--------------------{-}---------------------{-}----------------------------

*Tracy, you are completely mad.* "Elaine, bring me one of the other escort suits." Tracy stormed in. "See if anyone has some cologne, Stetson, that sort." Elaine decided whatever was happening, now wasn't the time to ask questions. She exited. Tracy meanwhile flipped the red mane forward and started brushing, running in some mousse. Elaine returned, suit in hand, saying they were still hunting for the cologne. "Thank you kindly. Help them with this." Tracy handed over the bag with two bottles. As soon as Elaine was out, Tracy stripped and put on the well-cut rip-off designer suit. Tracy managed to catch a look at Elaine perfuming Ray, while Fraser applied his own.

Tracy exited, striking a pose for the few people who were milling

around. Assured that the look was dead on, Tracy entered the interrogation room. "How do I look?"

"Deadly. I've heard dressed-to-kill, you are the picture." Elaine was glad she'd brought down a camera to take photos of the boys. She started to slip out to get ready, but was stopped by Tracy pushing a ring into her hand for safe keeping. Then she was off.

Tracy got between the two men, taking each by the waist. "There's been a slight change in plan. Your escorts came up sick." They went through a check-list of sorts. Once everyone was in role, they exited, letting Elaine get some pictures, before walking out. Tracy decided to give Elaine another kodak moment, grabbing a cheek in each hand. Putting them back up, they went outside and were met by a woman dressed as a chauffeur, beside a nice sedan. Inside, Tracy explained. "This is our fourth member, anything happens, she'll come in."

---------------------------{-}--------------------{-}---------------------{-}----------------------------

Elaine looked around the observation room, and started cleaning up. Gathering the makeup back into the kits, straightening the professor's hastily discarded clothes. *Where can I put their clothes?* About the only place Elaine could think of was Ray's car, down in the ramp. *I leave the keys with anyone, I'll never hear the end of it.* She guessed she'd just have hold on to everything else until tomorrow. *Inventory. Ray's keys, watch, wallet, and crucifix.* Elaine figured he had left his gun and holster with Welsh. *Fraser's wallet, watch, house keys and wedding band.* Elaine was a little curious; she knew Ray had attended the ceremony, but they never heard anything more than it was a very private service. There were a few people who thought the Mountie had simply decided wearing a ring would discourage random women accosting him. *Too much like lying. Maybe there is an inscription.* She looked inside the plain gold band.

*Not so plain after all.* The interior was a complicated pattern of interlacing and knots. *Custom bands must not be regulation.* She thought about it, deciding the ring matched the man. Uniform on the outside, unique on the inside. She turned to what else she had. *Tracy must have his keys and wallet. He'll be able to drop the others off and get into his place. Ring.* Right, he'd handed that over at the last moment. *Guess everyone is getting married.* Elaine wondered when that had happened. But it might explain why he was in Chicago; relocating from New York or D.C. wouldn't be as big of a stretch as moving to New Zealand. She wondered if his would have an inscription. *More knotwork. Strange it's on the inside. Maybe it's a cultural thing.* She decided to compare the two rings, careful not to confuse them. *Same pattern. No, matching patterns. Raised boundaries on one, incised on the other.* What were the odds? Elaine tried to think of the bands she'd seen in this style, and it seemed to be a matter of taste, not tradition, as to the particular design. *If I didn't know better...*

*It is. A his and his set. Elaine, you are so blind.* At the time, she had thought the kiss was a stunt, maybe the condition of some charitable donation. Or that had been what Fraser was told. *He called you, and made sure you had a camera. So he'd have pictures. Just like Tracy asked for pictures when they were cuffed at the gay pub.* It was only the most romantic occurrence Elaine had ever witnessed. *And you were oblivious.*

---------------------------{-}--------------------{-}---------------------{-}----------------------------

Ray was not happy. *Nothing, absolutely nothing.* "This was pointless. All we accomplished was nearly twisting my ankles and tearing my ears off. Not to mention the groping mitts; I'm sure I have pinch marks."

"Actually, Ray we did accomplish something."

"Pray tell, what?"

"Besides picking up an assortment of fashion tips and how to get makeup stains out of various fabrics, which can be very tricky, we have ascertained to what degree the news of the murders has spread."

"Ray, did you really think one night of undercover would close this case?" Tracy stopped walking and looked at the drooping detective.

"Let's say I wouldn't have been disappointed." His inner cop screamed it might take weeks. "I just want to get out of this stuff, take a shower, and go to sleep." He turned on the lights in the observation room. And struck still.

*Oh dear.* "Ray, you aren't going to like this. I'm afraid Elaine must've had to clean up in here. Surely she's been home for hours, and given how possessive you are of your car, I doubt she has left the keys with anyone." Fraser followed after Ray to his desk.

"I am not going to my house dressed, I am not ringing the doorbell in the middle of the night like this!" Ray was really getting into full explosion mode, unhindered and perhaps even enhanced by the high heels and long nails. The unexpected floorshow had a rapt audience.

"I'll put you up for the night. Come on, I'll give both of you a ride home." *If the neighbors are up, they're really going to wonder why I've got two such formally dressed women with me.*

]------------------[

"Ray, you can sleep in my office, I think that couch is more comfortable. Set things on the desk blotter. Oh, I better get your lashes off." Tracy got one and then the other pulled away. "You chip your nails, Frannie gets to take you to the manicurist. Here's a bottle of cleanser to get the makeup off. There's towels in the closet, and I'll bring down some stuff to fix up the couch."

Sure that Ray was in the shower, Tracy entered the office to set the linens and blankets on the leather reclining couch. *Handcuffs. He managed to carry his handcuffs?* Frankly, that he hadn't tried keeping the gun he wore on his leg was more surprising. *Let's hope he had the key hidden somewhere else.* That subject would have to be broached, but Tracy started to form a wicked idea. *I'll just borrow these.* Careful to pick up the key, Tracy exited with the handcuffs, and went upstairs.

---------------------------{-}--------------------{-}---------------------{-}----------------------------

"We have a little problem." Fraser was standing in the bedroom, clad in undershirt, boxers and socks. The effect was slightly marred by the peach and white nails.

"It won't be so little if you don't finish getting dressed, though I'm not sure problem is the right word." Tracy was giving Benton a very salacious appraisal from the bed. It took only a moment for the red bloom to swallow his face.

"My uniform. My other one is at the drycleaners, and the one I was wearing yesterday..." Tracy got out of bed, and padded over.

"Then it'll have to be the brown one. Seriously, do you think the Inspector is going to put you on sentry with those?"

"Oh, dear. I don't think she's going to like this."

"Let me help you, it may be a bit difficult with the buttons and zipper." Tracy played butler, toying with the Mountie just a tad. *You'd never be able to deal with the jodhpurs' buttons with those. I don't think I like the idea of Turnbull having to assist.* Once that was finished, Tracy put on a dressing gown and followed downstairs for breakfast.

"Benny!" Typical, it was so typical. Desiring his shower so bad, he'd forgotten about a little matter of clothes. Which meant he'd slept the night in a towel, which still was the only stitch he had besides his jockeys. "I can't come out there so you better come back here."

Tracy realized that Ray was probably wearing a towel, or two, and he certainly wasn't going to put the dress on. "He's going to need some clothes." *He's going to love his options.* While Fraser's wardrobe had expanded beyond flannel, it was very much in the outdoorsman run. Similarly, Tracy's selections ran either athletic or academic; rugbies and twills or somewhat flamboyant separates. To top it off, anything was going to hang on Ray like he was a kid brother wearing handme downs. "You'd better talk to him."

"Finally, thought I was going to have to come out there wrapped in a blanket. At least Tracy made sure you have blinds and curtains." Ray was talking with one hand, the other making sure his towel didn't slip. It was not a very natural grip because of the dragonlady nails.

"You need to borrow some clothes."

"Damn right I do. I'm going to have to wait until everyone is out of the house, before I can slip in and grab some things. I really don't want to discuss this with Ma."

"What should I bring down?"

It dawned on Ray. "Geesus, let me guess, either I'll look like I'm going fishing or will be teaching Symbolic Meanings of Post-Modern Architecture?" *Can't I know any normal people?* "Something that won't completely embarrass me. Because these are more than enough." Ray flashed the offending nails.

Benton resisted the urge to mention that he was discomfited by his own situation. "Follow me. Tracy's having breakfast, so you can choose yourself." He started off, and Ray followed in frustration.

*Somehow, I didn't picture it like this.* Ray had presumed they were still sleeping on the futon, which wasn't one of those cheap foam filled jobs, but a dense springless mattress; a major leap from the hard bunk his friend was used to. This however, was a bed. "Is that wrought iron?"

"Yes. You wanted clothes. Over here, are mine. Here, more professional wear. These drawers, sports stuff. I'll warn you, you may want to stay away from small buttons. I've got to hurry now. See you

this evening."

Eventually, Ray managed to pull together an ensemble that looked okay. Dark jeans, that hung pretty loose, green picot jersey over a tee and a wool blazer. Shoes were going to be a problem. "Hell, getting socks on is a problem." Trying to put that off, he looked at the decor.

Blue. The walls were very blue, like a bright sky. There was the bed. *Where did they pick that up?* It was a four-poster with curtain rails, and barred head and foot boards. Currently, it just had some twists of fabric softening it up. He thought it must creak like hell; the closest ones he'd seen to it in the stores always seemed like they'd fall to pieces. He pushed at it. *Solid. Must be built better.* The floor was partially covered with several thick carpets. Wing chair. Dressing mirror. His stomach rumbled. "Eat, then figure out footwear."

"Was wondering when you'd show up. Cereal's is in the cabinet. I've got to get my shower in and get dressed. If you want something else, that's fine too." Tracy left.

Ray looked at the cereal. *Cheerios, three different granolas, shredded wheat, corn flakes, raisin bran.* Ray decided to look in the fridge. About the best he was going to do was reheat a baked potato and nuke a grilled cheese sandwich. He also grabbed a pear out of the crisper.

Before Tracy went up to the shower, she slipped the cuffs and key back onto the desk blotter. Upstairs it was a little obvious Ray had been left to his own devices. *Good thing I put those in my robe pocket.* They really didn't need Ray knowing such things. After a quick shower, Tracy threw on some clothes, pretty casual today, but put on some good cologne. *I'd better bring down some socks and shoes for Ray.*

"Have you people ever heard about tastes good? Shredded wheat?"

"That's his. Usually he puts some of the granola in with it though. I take it socks were too hard to manage? I'll help you out but you breathe a word, I'll send the Pope one of Elaine's photos."

"Constable, you have guard duty today." The Inspector caught something out of the corner of her eye. "Show me your hands." *Acrylic nails. With swirlies.* This was much worse than the eyeshadow and perfume. She arched an eyebrow. "Not only are you not in your dress reds, but you are improperly groomed. Explain now."

"I'm working undercover." He noticed the 'the cop is abusing him again' look. "It is official Canadian business. A tourist was murdered." She seemed only slightly convinced. "He was reported missing, and I located him in the morgue. The case is currently open."

*You don't want to know about the swirlies.* Curious, she resisted the temptation to ask. It was always trouble when she asked; the answers always raised additional questions. "Why was I not informed of this earlier?"

"Sir, you weren't in yesterday, and had left the office the previous day before I could report."

"Turnbull will cover your guard duty. I trust you can still perform your other functions. Dismissed."

It took awhile, but eventually Benton got the trick of typing and filing with the nails. This was not the case with Ray.

"Vecchio, you'll never get out of the secretarial pool that way. No one wants a temperamental wife." One of the female officers was in fine spirits. Ray on the other hand was ready to blow yet another gasket, and he'd only been in an hour.

"Just be glad you don't have that old typewriter; you'd have snapped a few nails already." Part of Elaine wanted to josh Ray around, but somehow it didn't seem right. Last night she had realized that he wasn't completely the curmudgeonly cynic she had thought him to be. Even more so; he had, after all, mellowed since Fraser showed up. Now she knew somewhere under that abrasive exterior was a gooey sentimentalist in addition to a concerned cop. *He just needs to find someone that appreciates that.*

Welsh was having to reconsider some things. He thought he didn't care what his people did after hours, as long as it didn't affect their work. Somehow, despite every evidence to the contrary, he had decided that Red being gay was a problem. He had tried to convince himself he was concerned about how his officers would react. *That is a legitimate concern.* Last night proved some had very serious problems. He was damn glad it wasn't any of his crew; he still had to figure out how to bring it to their Lt.'s attention. *Their attitude could get themselves, or more importantly, someone else injured or killed.* Or a criminal remain free. *Clearly, I thought less of Red.* He knew he'd thought the Professor was following him around. No, Tracy was a resource for this case, and it couldn't be easy for him. These ones never were for anyone. *You were quick to judge the Professor. Think he was thin-skinned.* He'd underestimated him. Still, even with Welsh probably pushing every button in the book, he'd stayed in control, while proving he could handle himself. *Damn it, if you had even a handful of cops like him you'd be luckier than hell to have them.*

And what had brought all of this on? *They kissed in the squad room on St. Valentine's Day.* It wasn't a grope-fest. It wasn't a daily occurrence. He'd seen officers spouses and dates much more... demonstrative in his Bullpen over the years. *Once. They don't even hold hands, and I've seen dating cops do that on duty.* The best he could tell, which was hard for how discreet they were, they considered themselves married. *If Red thinks that, that's more married than a lot of legal unions.* Welsh was sure that the Constable was a man of principle. The Professor was staunch. *They trusted my squad a lot more than I did. That trust was paid in full.* Welsh thought about that. In front of their peers, they had made a statement that could have been received harshly. Not one snide quip was ever made. *If it had been paid in full though, we'd have been happy for them.* Instead, they are circumspect, and we don't pry. *Maybe I should still be concerned how my people react. But it's not Fraser and Tracy's problem, and it never was.*

"Vecchio, I'd like to see you in my office." Ray was very scared. The Lt. shouting from his door, no problem. But actually coming to his desk to say those words? He got up and followed, hoping he didn't look too much like a dead man walking. "Please sit down. I have a question to ask, and if I'm out of line, tell me."

"Sir?"

"Are either the Constable or the Professor married to other people?"

What brought this on? "No, sir."

"That's all. Thank you for your time." He watched as Vecchio got up and left, shutting the door uncertainly. *I didn't ask, he didn't tell. I'll have to extend congratulations. After this case is over.*

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They had several more nights of undercover without spotting any further leads. Fear that either he had moved on or was still at work but better disguising his activities was setting in; they hoped that the lack of another victim's body just signaled he was lying low, or having more difficulty with finding his prey. Each of them was frustrated with the way this was dragging out; they really wanted to get back to their lives.

Benton barely heard the attack; wouldn't have at all except he was coming back from the restroom, and someone had propped open a service door to have a cigarette. He caught Tracy's attention, standing over at the bar, and then headed out. Tracy surged onto the dance floor to claim Ray and led out the back. The professor was trying hard to follow the Constable without tipping off who he was trailing, while still directing Ray. Finally thinking, Tracy handed a cell phone over to him, so he could call in the cavalry. Fraser was having to take a lot more care in tracking, as he couldn't very well leap from roof top to roof top in his heels. Even some of the fire escapes were tricky to manage. The three were playing team tag, trying to surround the target or at least get one of them close enough to pin him in place for the others to arrive.

Ray wound up with the potential number 6; he was out cold, and someone had to make sure the perp didn't double back. Eventually, Ray was relieved, and was back in the chase. Fraser had gotten blind ended up on a roof and was having to make it down on the wrong side of the building. The other officers, uncertain of where the action was, moved slowly, hoping they'd close the net. Tracy spotted their man, and thinking either Ray or Fraser was much closer, went after him.

Tracy's thought was to keep an eye on him, until someone else could apprehend him. However, the creep knew the terrain better, and managed to come up behind, trying to tackle the red-head. What he forgot, was a person in men's shoes has a very different center of gravity than one on seven inch heels. He sprang, Tracy spun partially out of the way, tipping him forward, banging some trash cans in the process.

Ray had met up with Fraser, who'd made it down and back around the building. Realizing that meant neither of them was shadowing Tracy, they hurried to locate where the professor was. They tore down the alley when they heard a clang.

The perp had gotten back up, and was lunging around, trying to get past Tracy. Not wearing a mask, he could be IDed if he didn't handle this one way or another. Thinking a choke hold was the best option, he tried ramming from the side. His face was met by a forward traveling elbow. This stunned him enough for Tracy to aim a knee to the groin, bowling him over but not causing him to fall down. Fraser by this point had found the right area, and the two tried to move into position. Tracy was increasing distance from the creep. If he actually landed something, he might get an advantage and possibly a shield. Noting the sound of approaching steps, Tracy kept eyes focused on the opponent, trying to located where the others were. Circling the other direction, Tracy tried to position the target for Ray or Fraser. Or anyone else. The squad cars had to have arrived by now, but the professor had no idea where they might be.

Ray didn't like this one bit. *I'm gunless. Tracy is waltzing with the nutcase. Hell if I know where anyone else is. He pulled the cell phone out of his 'natural pocket', and described where they were to pull in the reinforcements.

Fraser did not like this one whit. If he was in his boots, he could have gone up the ladder, along the roof, jumped the alley, made his way across that roof and jumped down on the other side of their criminal. Instead, he was going to have to take the direct approach, and hope the perp was kept busy until he could come up with something else.

Welsh by this time was on the scene, directing people around, getting them into the various alleys and paths so they could get a proper pincer movement.

Tracy was really getting tired of this. It had been ages since the last brawl, and a bar fight wasn't usually so serious. Not that you couldn't get hurt, but there was hurt and there was hurt. This would be the latter, if not more. The other guy was thinking he'd really made a mistake starting this tango, instead of cutting his losses when he had the chance. He needed to finish this soon, or it was over anyway. He flew forward, Tracy blocking him in the neck and sweeping him in the leg. Down, but not out. The professor pulled back, leery of being pulled down too. Grappling, he'd have a distinct advantage.

Fraser was now at the end of the alley, and behind the suspect. He saw he'd been dropped, but was getting back up. Tracy was too close to rush in; spooked, he might catch her off guard. He wondered where Ray was.

Ray wasn't too sure. He'd thought this led the right way, but now was concerned it might dead end before he got to the creep. He'd have gone up to the roof were it not for the pumps. He called again, hoping they could guide him through the maze.

Welsh now was aware Ray wasn't as close as he'd thought. No one had run into either Red or the Prof. One or the other was with their creep; they could hear that much. With luck, maybe they both were.

The perp was getting worked up. It was only a matter of time now; if he grabbed this cop, maybe he'd make the others second-guess him a way out. He could see the blonde; he needed to finish the redhead before they both took him on.

Tracy could tell this man wasn't much of a fighter. Either he cold-cocked those men or got them by surprise. Afterwards, he'd have had them chained. That meant Tracy might just have an advantage, but needed to keep him moving and reacting.

Ray had finally gotten through, but he was much further down than he wanted. However, he could see Benny, Tracy and their target. He called in his location, telling them what was going on, and then went to close space.

Fraser saw that Tracy was keeping the man at a distance, making him expend energy and turning it back on him. Having never seen her actually fight, he was somewhat relieved she was playing this smart. Closing space, he sought to take the man by surprise.

Welsh had people moving in all around, and now some of them were close enough to see what was going down. The escort was keeping the suspect occupied while the others were coming from either side. What the others didn't know, was that that was the civilian dancing with the perp.

Tracy could hear Ray behind and see Fraser in front. Hoping Ray hadn't been spotted yet, Tracy worked to push the perp into a better position. Somehow, he must have figured out he was being had, because he tried a running tackle. Too close to move out of the way, Tracy stepped in with an uppercut, whipping his head back, and flipping the man over his center of gravity. Ray and Fraser both broke into a run and got him cuffed and headed them all towards the waiting squad cars.

While Ray went through the Miranda, Tracy started to slump a bit. By the time they got to the cars, it was hard to say if Fraser or Tracy was holding them up. Welsh herded the pair of them towards a place to sit, not knowing if either might be injured.

"I'm okay. Just a little ragged is all." Tracy noticed the hand was stinging a little. "Anyone got an ice pack? Seriously, it's just the adrenalin and all getting to me." *Fear after the fact.* As someone handed over a bag of quick cool, Tracy tried to reassure Fraser. Keep him from feeling he hadn't done his job.

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Welsh was going over the briefing in his mind. He'd handled the debriefing in stages, wanting to hear Tracy's account without Vecchio and Fraser present. He thought about the man's description of the chase, from Red getting his attention to landing the punch that gave Vecchio the chance to cuff the suspect. He had said he'd followed at a distance and somehow the man had gotten behind him. He had kept the man at arm's length, countering his rushes. *Followed. Not chased. Kept at a distance, not tried to subdue.* Clearly, the Professor's intention had been to keep the suspect in sight, so one of the other two, or maybe another officer, could apprehend him. *Very sensible.* He wasn't out playing hero. *Good. With Red, that could be fatal.* Harding thought maybe, with the Professor around, the Constable just might avoid fatal lapses of judgment.

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"Thank G-d!" Ray was luxuriating in freedom from the dragonlady nails, after Tracy removed the last one. "Why do people come up with things like that?"

"Actually, Ray, because we can. Humans modify and adorn the body because we need meaning. Same reason as your Armani suits."

"You can hardly compare my clothes with those."

"Sure I can. But you'd have to sit in on my symbolic anthropology course." Tracy turned to Fraser. "I am really going to have to sit you down one of these days and get some Inuit examples."

"Benny doesn't tell you Inuit stories?" Ray couldn't believe that.

"Ray, we have been busy." He turned to Tracy. "I'll remind you to ask your questions in my letters. I've got to go in and cover Turnbull's guard duty." He gave a good-bye kiss, donned his Stetson and left.

"Letters?"

"He's going north for awhile. Advanced snow survival training; he's the instructor. Vecchio, you owe me several meals, so I suggest you head out to yon kitchen and fix something good." Tracy shooed him away, and set to catching up with journal reading.

The End.

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