This last time at Second City.
Pt.2


A new morning of hard work starts...
Ray is a detective for the Chicago PD. He’s a very busy guy.

At the police headquarters, this morning there’s quite a bit of confusion, there are some agents running around and he clearly noticed some MD’s coming and going, if they’re not doctors, they’re probably nurses.
Ray, alarmed by those white coats, rushes in, takes off his trench coat and quickly checks the papers on his desk, it seems there’s nothing related to that in there.
"Elaine, what’s going on?" -  he calls her, his voice is veiled in concern.

"Oh nothing so special Ray, somebody just stole a car and Welsh really wants to see you, Hurry! He’s looking for you for more than two hours..." - she says.
Elanie, his link to the archive, is writing some documents with a typewriter and follows him with his eyes, quite curious. The fact in itself was just trivial, but the concern of Welsh and the doctors makes it quite important.
Every busy detective, as busy as Ray, must always be familiar with an agent working in the archive. It is a rule that he imposed on himself to not waste time in doing too many searches in those big databases and archives personally.
Those thick gray computer are still too slow for his tastes.

When he enters the chief’s office, with Welsh there are two other police officers, unknown to him, and a nurse.
Welsh, his boss. Every detective so busy must have a head bore as a boss.
Welsh turns his attention again to those people from Ray:
"Well this is the detective who dealt with the case of Boe, three years ago, Ray Vecchio" - says the chief with a serious tone.


One of the two policemen looked at him sternly.
"Um ...Vecchio, do you remember Alfred Boe, the man who you arrested and imprisoned?" - Ray looks at him with a deep wrinkle on his forehead.
"Sure, he was a notorious drug dealer in Chicago, he was quite known back then... Why?" - The question is partly rhetorical, he already fears what might be the answer.

"He just escaped. He found the help of another drug dealer, a murderer as well, a fellow named Nilsen. It is suspected that the latter is Canadian, they got a car by a guy named John Suoper, a drug addict, probably one of their customers, presumably in exchange for heroin. Actually, once they got the car, the two shot him instead of the giving him the drugs, fortunately for us, the shot wasn’t deadly.
Now Suoper is in hospital. It is critical, however, we expect that it will still speak "- says Welsh watching at the white coats expecting confirmation, but these are not entirely convinced of his claim.

Ray immediately gives for granted the fact that he should interrogate this Suoper junkie. For better or for worse,he have to know everything there is to know about this Nilsen and see what interest would have for Boe, to be linked to him and where the two were going to drive with the stolen car.

He departs immediately from Welsh office, Elaine approaches his desk with his neck stretched, thirsting for information and gossip:
"A car theft, Elaine, just like you said, just like they told you!" - Ray blurts out to the curious woman.
There’s more, but he can keep it for himself.
Then he continues:
"Find me everything you can about the last years of Alfred Boe and John Suoper. Boe was locked in jail, but he may have found contacts in the outside. And let me know if they have traced the stolen car... "- Ray orders are accurate.
He knows how to work seriously, when he wants.
"What Car, Ray?" - She says, recalling the seriousness required of him.

Ray, however, looks away from Elaine, as distracted by something else that is happening.
"The car is a Chrysl ..." - his voice slows to a stop, then continues, but is diverted by a low female voice, from another desk.
"... A black 1990 Chrysler, Illinois, license plate A5N48T" - says the voice. A conversation held nearby by other people, about the same vehicle.
It’s that cheap-flight attendant lady again, Alexandra, who is describing the same car this Suoper junkie had stolen.
"Could you repeat that? I got distracted! Is that a Ford?"  asks a male voice, not at all interested in the description so basic.
"No agent, is not a Ford. It’s a Chrysler: Charlie, Hotel, Romeo, Yankee, Sier ..." - the voice of Alexandra seems almost a boring melody. She keeps calm, however lowering it a little more.
First in that office and now in his: she seems relatively equipped with patience, even when it was such tedious bureaucracy.
"It is a Chrysler, I get it, I'm not deaf! And the plate?" - Says the agent with impatience.
"Illinois A5N48T" - replies the woman, apparently still calm.
"A moment Miss, wait. Yes! Hello... hello... Oh Jake, I'm working just now..." - the agent just seems distracted and the call doesn’t seem all that important.
Alexandra looks down resigned, and again starts her strange game of glances, which she seemed to do in the other office too, a few hours before. She snorts, or blows a little air from her mouth, as if she snorted and then looks at the agent with vague impatience. The agent hangs up slowly, staring at her.
"We were saying? The plate?" - he asks bored.
"Gregon, by now she would already have made a goddamn’ tattoo of the plate on your forearm!"  Ray yells by the other desk, he heard everything, and the license plate number of that car is the same that he holds in his hand, written in a piece of paper and reads it loud .
"Illinois A-5-N-4-8-T"  shouts the man, impatiently, slamming the paper on the wood. Alexandra stands up and looks at him surprised:
"Mr. Ray! You're Here? Are you a policeman?"  asks her, turning almost suddenly.
"Detective Vecchio, nice to meet you ..." - he says, offering his hand.
Alexandra smiles, claps her heels and outlines a formality quite common:
"Alexandra Danielle Turner from the .."  she stops strangely "Oh, leave it! Very pleased."  exclaims taking his hand.

As she noticed something that did not have any sense to her, Alexandra stops that hint of a military salute to a more normal handshake.
"Well, you see, yesterday night somebody stole my... My car..."- she says, interrupted and not exactly restful.
"Ah Ah! Now I understand the tram and the rain..."  says Ray.
"You should really have had to accept that lift, then!"  Scolds the man with satisfaction.

"Come with me, I have some questions for you... About that car and the person who stole it ... "- he says while is still trying to invite her to his desk and leave that of his absent-minded colleague.

"I'm sorry Vecchio, you can’t. Miss. Turner has failed to tell you that she herself is an officer in leave. She belongs to the Ontario Provincial Police, she cannot release unregistered interviews freely outside of Canada. She is covered by diplomatic immunity. You know , Ray? "- Gregon responds with the same ways that shortly before, Ray had used on him.

Alexandra looks at that agent, before so distracted, but now so attentive in bringing about the temperament of Ray, with a gaze of angry amazement. It looks like she really didn’t want to tell..

However, Ray does not seem troubled by these claims, he also remains almost completely indifferent, rather satisfied, he shrugs his shoulders and smiles.
"And what I do I care? Then hurry! Finish this report about the car quickly and I'll take her to the on Canadian soil, if she’s there that is to be questioned..." - says happily.
***

At the Consulate that day, business is, more or less, as usual.

Inspector Thatcher went out, perhaps she’s not even came back.

The young, steering guard column, Constable Turnbull, stays put, as a statue, despite the weather.

The Constable  has recently returned to make sure that the inspector has not left anything unattended.

But he can see nothing but degenerative void, he is also trying to get out of it, completely unnoticed.
Not much to do at the Consulate, today.
He walks forward, turning back, often cautiously, his boots on the carpet of red wool make a soft, quiet, and padded noise, it's easy for someone like him to be stealthy and make little noise, but it is certainly more difficult not to pass unnoticed, wearing that uniform.

Ray gets there quite fast, push the breaks loudly, slams the car door with a fair noise, dashing through the stairs, without knocking or ringing, without stopping in front of the column, he runs on the steps and opens the door immediately.
There, he bumps into Ben, turned back again, trying to get out at almost the same moment, without making too much attention to what was happening in front of him.

"Oh Fraser, I was looking for you! I need you for a job..." - says Ray fast and rushed away again, as if he was talking to a long time friend.
Fraser, is a man perhaps Ray’s age, maybe a few years older, however, he doesn’t look as old as him, on contrary he seems much younger.
Ray, usually, shows all his springs and maybe a few more, but Ben has the gift of having a face eternally young. In his thirties, exceeded by a while now, but never a white hair and always a good patch of hair on his head.
He is slightly shorter than Ray and the build is more robust than his, but the red official uniform, which he wears almost by day and by night, makes him thinner and makes him seem taller.
He looks like a tin soldier: perfect symbol of a state of cold and desolate plains, tundra, lichens, cold, icy lakes, water and snow, wolves and bears, Inuit legends and maple syrup.

"Yes, Ray?"  says Ben surprised, still trying to getting away, and perhaps he was the excuse he was looking for.
"You should interview a person for me ... Here!" says Ray seriously enough. Certainly does not appear willing to waste any time.
"Mh?" - Ben is concerned. That dream of getting away from the Consulate before his boss, inspector Thatcher, could come back and put him in some tedious and embarrassing task, it is immediately broken.
"It's part of your Police... Or something. She says that I can not even talk to her off the record because it’s illegal ... Are you all just so dutiful in your Country?" - Says Ray trying to explain the situation better.

Ben too agrees, as he thinks this as a necessary formality. With half a sigh answers quickly: "All right. Let's go to my office".
He leaves, ready to pick up a cassette player, a few mugs and a jug of black coffee.


Ray nods to Alexandra, still in the car, telling her to get out.
She follows him surely, her steps are regular, she’s not looking around, as if she always knew that place. She sits neatly on one of the office chairs and stands in attention as  Fraser enters  with the recorder for the interrogation.
Ray doesn’t take an eye off her.
"Do you mind if we record this interrogation, ma’am?" - Ben asks, staring at the recorder. He is also ready to ask the help of Ray if necessary.
"No sir," - she says, almost without looking herself.

"Why you didn’t say to be a policeman, before?"  asks Ray to her with a sigh.
"Ray, you really must excuse me immensely ... I thought I should report it to you, but I found it unnecessary at that time ..."  Alexandra shakes his head, saddened by something.

"I’m the Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Initially came to Chicago on the trail ..."  Ben begins to talk, disturbed by something in her face.
Ray can continue the speech he is telling as if he had heard it at least a hundred times: "... the murderers of his father then left for reasons that you're not here to explain... And now is a correspondent for the consulate... Bla, bla, bla... Okay, let's move on!” he shuts nervously.

Ben and Ray are longtime friends and collaborators . Their friendship seems to go on back several years. It’s understood by a lot of things and probably his way of restricting his speech is proof of how the two are in such confidence.

They’re two real and determined friends. Two guys who aren’t afraid of looking pathetic showing it openly to others, but only to express loyalty and thrust to each other. A thrust missing among other people. That common sense lacking among men.
They are grown-ups, but their trustworthy behaviour, reminds her the one of two boys.
For some reasons, she recalls something from her past, when she herself believed in a true friendship like theirs: she, her brother Steve and a long missing friend of theirs. She stares only a few seconds at the eyes of the mountie, of a blue lighter than hers and the brown dark hair, a profile technically impeccable.
In comparison they do not seem to relatives, but there is something in common between each other..
There is something other than nationality, that gets them closer.

Alexandra looks at Fraser quite surprised and smiles recollecting his presentation, his voice and his regular steps on the wool carpet:
"My name Alexandra Danielle Turner. Ontario Provincial Police” she gestures a complete wave this time, clicking her heels. Then stops, mechanically, waiting for questions.
But it looks having question to make herself.

Ray is a smart guy, but Ben is the charming one..
Looking at that that presentation, Ray seems to have no doubts: this woman is like the others.
She too couldn’t resist him.
No, she looks at him in a different way: her eyes are squinted, caught in a sort of re-enactment expression and the mouth is slightly open, as to say something, the index finger is slightly pointed toward him. Looks like she recalls something.
Ben also seems to remember something, by looking at her more attentively.
Ray is a smart guy.
Evoking the memory of how irritating is, listening to Francesca talking about his charming friend so often, as often as that she doesn’t speak of anything but him when Ben is around, or when he moves away, the action of interrupting their weird staring is just instinctive.
Better to stop them before it’s too late and her brain is already melted by his staring, speechless charm, you never know.

"So, we are here to talk about what happened last night. As you noted yourself, Alexandra, the car you declared stolen, is involved in a process and escaping of a drug dealer here in U.S. This seems working with a Canadian. Could you please report your information about this? "- With those words, Ray has almost surpassed himself and his rather than formal courtesy, never revealed before.

Alexandra stretches her neck as she seems to get these words of his, a shot a little too far for his reach. She looks like she is ready to ask how he managed to say that “please” so naturally. She follows him with her eyes, he’s nervously wandering around, never quiet or still. Then, facing towards Ben, almost motionless, but the twitch of an eye, and she says:
"Chicago Police, ey?"
"We are associates for no coincidence." answers the mountie, also following Ray’s steps, expressionless.
Between the two seems to have been born an instant agreement.
Too much sudden, actually, to not seem to be already established before.

Ray stops and looks at them. He noticed very well, now, that there is something similar between the two, but can not focus on yet what it is.
Alexandra answers the question of Ray, after a long silence.
"I'm on the trail of a drug dealer who calls himself Nilsen, who is escaped from Ottawa last year: he killed my brother. Although it would not be be my responsibility nor jurisdiction, I did some research, took a leave of absence from the service and came to Chicago as a free citizen. Knowing that in the last six months he was living here. " Says her fast and short it with a heavy sigh.

That woman, her name, a brother, both policemen, now in pursuit of a drug dealer: in Fraser's head, at that moment, everything seems to fit. Those clothes, the uniform and the past years have secretly hid the truth just for a few seconds, but now it bursts more evident than ever.
Ben sighed with a slight moan, but without no longer hesitation says:
"S-Steve? Steve died? Oh no ..."  can only say by, looking down.

“Steve?” shouts Ray in full surprise. That was the name Ben called him when they were in the woods, long ago, was he for real? Was he another friend of his?

Alexandra, without saying anything, holds out a comforting hug to him. He responds to the hug by gently stroking her head and her hair that slide over her shoulders in large clumps.
Ray looks kind of lost, remembering his struggle in the woods by carrying him and not much more of a moment, long ago, when Steve was just a loony talk, not a dead person.
The tape cassette runs with a constant noise like a hissing sound, while the three remain in silence.

"Do you know each other?"  says Ray, breaking his embarrassment.
At these words, Alexandra turns away from his hug to return to the Ray’s attention and leaving Ben in a sad, confused expression.
"I suppose so, Ray." He says sternly.
Alexandra still has tears in her eyes.
"I can not believe he's using my car to run away!"  She clenches her fists and maybe remembers when, the year before, his brother was about to handcuff Nilsen in Ottawa.
With a sudden change of happenings, he took her brother, held him prisoner with them for a few hours and then shut a bullet in his head with a revolver.
While watching Ray and Fraser, she feels again that sudden pain felt then, shakes her head, wipes her eyes in that cute way that Ray remembers from some hours ago, and then grasps her own hands with each other, nervously.

"We need to talk to the junkie. The first one who stole the car last night: that Suoper. If we find Boe, we will soon also find Nilsen, they fled together. I wonder how he didn’t manage to hit good this time. How did he miss the shot and let him live ... " says Alexandra rising again her impetus, towards the two.
At that moment, it is not his brother's death his greatest pain, but Nilsen’s mockery.
It finds kinda weird at first that Alexandra knows already that much about his case but for these things, Ray does not need explanation.
He knows both the junkie and Boe from Welsh, and now Alexandra has already explained how Boe and Nilsen are working together.
Further explanations are unnecessary for him: it's time to take action.

The three jump up the Riv, to load also the inseparable Dief who was waiting near the guard, taking care, however, to remain dry.
They rush quickly to the hospital.

Dief is a wolf, at least half wolf is also deaf. However can read lips.

It is estimated that eighty percent of Mounties are in possess a wolf.
Or at least purports to be.
Benton is part of this majority.
Alexandra, however, who lives in the southern part of the Country, belongs to the remaining fifteen percent: those who own a ground tortoise.

She sits in the front seat, next to Ray. Long time no see and they shut their mouths a immediately. At first he has no kind of judgment towards them and their behaviour.
The fact that she seems to know Ben better, and that they’re joined together by a mutual pain has no big influence on his judgement.
Considering that he never mentioned her before, and they’re both Canadian, that silence means that they might also be quite mad at eachother.
It’s not much of a deal for him though: for what it worth, it could be a positive sign for once.
If Ben’s good friends are always a stinking trouble, maybe the bad ones are quite good instead.

Ray is just doing his job and seems really interested in this case of junkies, apparently futile for ordinary people, but so important to their lives.

A hand caresses Alexandra’s shoulder and she turned towards it suddenly:
"To not be afraid of Ray, Al, he is a good friend and a good cop ..."  says Ben, while she try to withdraw herself by his reach.

Ray, averting his eyes from the road clearly, he turns back to Ben:
"Al?! Are you two already so close?"  Asks tinged with a particular envy. Ray has always aspired a bit to the charm of Ben, this is not the first time he gets so close to a woman in a matter of minutes.

Fraser moves away from the back of the front seat and turns his head on the rear window. Dief emits an understanding howl.
Alexandra looks back towards the half wolf and his impeccable friend sitting in the back seat, maybe she expected the man to be corrected by her friend, explaining what was going on, but Ben says nothing. Hang his arms and mentions a sorry gesture.
“Why you don’t tell him, Ben?” she adds bitterly
“Tell what, Al?” he asks embarrassed.
“That we’re not friends anymore, Ben!” she says natural, as something that could happen later in life and not be that special at all.
“Oh, what a pity... Did you stolen your friendship badge?” asks Ray.
“No, Ray. I think it is about the correspondence we held as she and Steve moved from the Yukon. I recall it stopped maybe fifteen or sixteen years ago” explains Ben mechanically.

"It's so strange finding you here in Chicago, in this uniform, Ben. This city doesn’t suit you." She says with a slight bitterness.
If only they were still friends, maybe Steve... Maybe... She thinks, she would tell him, but those words won’t come out of her mouth.

"Ey, not even your dress suits you!" He snaps weirdly. The two seem to be related in longing Steve, but not much more.

"How can you say that? She's so good with that... Thing..."  Ray tries to take the part of Alexandra.
Can not understand how a man so kind as Ben, should give in her own account, in such a critical time in his life, like the loss of a loved one.
Then, he does not remember ever having heard him belittle a woman before. Nor any woman, even those compliments could not be given, if only but looking really deep down.
Right, this Alexandra will not be the most fascinating woman and that dress is too simple for his likes, but there is no need to make such harsh comment.

However, Ben, before being a man is a mountie and does not let for sure any detail unattended. So with good precision, he remembers to his friend:
"Ray, if you've noticed, both the jacket and the skirt have the seams ripped. Moreover, the point of her shoes is dirty and ruined. As both the leather of the shoes, and the fabric of the dress, are not damaged by washing or by use, which would denote any kind of natural aging.
This is also due to the fact that Al, a long time ago, was not used to wear this kind of clothing, and I do not think she has learned how to wear them over the years. It is easier for her to ruin them.
From what I can see, then, I also think that Alexandra has ran after the car and remained attached to the roof for at least a mile ... She has the ... She has black dirt on her collar ... " says Ben while noticing that last spot, and tries to dust it off the shirt of the woman. Something that almost went unnoticed to Ray.

Alexandra waves him away again, pushing his hand as if it were an insect fallen by chance on her shoulder.

Another thing you can tell about detective Vecchio: he is familiar to roads and shortcuts, he knows the city getaways as the back of his hand. And this last mile in the traffic, it won’t be hard for him to drive. Unconventional, but not hard.
Thus, an expert on the wheel, he leaves the sight from the road for long stretches, without ever losing control.
Of course, when it comes to investigating those strange ways, Fraser is almost unbeatable and is a disgusting pleasure for him to know again if his dear friend with his strange details, guessed right or not. Smiles at Alexandra and asks her:
"Is he right again?"
"More or less so, Ray." She admits with a frown.
"I lived in the Yukon for many years and is not that I used to wear a dress or a uniform every day up there." she explains, revealing the bond that the two seemed to have.

"Steve and Ben went to school together, Steve was my older brother. Back then we were very close" Alexandra stops talking as remembers those moments many years ago. Some, in fact, seem to be perhaps too childish now or too embarrassing to be told openly.

"Me, Al and Steve used to go summer camping together: we started from Dawson to get near Aklavik. At first we were accompanied by our fathers, and last year we went alone."  Says Ben, remembering himself too, something he perhaps considers too immature to be told Ray.

"Oh yes I remember, that time we crossed the northern part of the Yukon to the mouth of the Mackenzie ... Just by walking"  sighs Alexandra smiling at those memories, as if they had been really nice.
For Ray, the idea of walking on foot so many miles, as a small kid or a grown up, in the cold, could seem as just painful.
"Ah ... you guys, instead of running around with your parents’ car, having secret parties, chasing girls, or wander about who to invite or not to the prom, used to cross the Yukon on foot?"  Asks Ray with false amazement.
"Um ... for us it was like that, Ray."  Ben explains.