Late that evening, back in sweet home Maggody...

Arly's elderly police car had proven tougher than anyone would have credited;though neither the front or the back passenger side doors would close completely and the right rear fender sounded like a troop of hyperactive rattlesnakes, the car was able to limp back to town. The weather cooperated, too, waiting until everyone was safe in the confines of the Maggody city limits before letting loose with a short but enthusiastic monsoon, turning the thick red dust into slick red goo in no time.

The cops and the Buchanons had driven to Flamingo Bar and Grill upon first entering town, where they were fed, fussed over (and fussed at by Ruby Bee) and reassured. Kevin and Dahlia eventually left for Kevin's parents' house, where Eileen and Earl (one anxious, one annoyed) waited. Ray and Fraser, reluctantly tearing themselves away from Ruby Bee's version of lunch (smothered pork chops, green bean casserole, corn on the cob, cornbread and a choice of either apple orpecan pies), retrieved their rental car and went to conduct their interviews. Diefenbaker declined to accompany them, deciding instead to stay with his new goddess, Ruby Bee.

Fraser and Vecchio found themselves in for a long afternoon. Their first stop was the county jail in Farberville and the Bolt brothers. A TV news crew, having followed everything over a scanner, had camped out in front of Sheriff Dorfer's office. Upon learning that two out of town law enforcement officers, one of them a Mountie, were expected to interview the prisoners, the ladies and gentlemen of the electronic press happily continued their version of a stake out. When Fraser and Vecchio appeared, Dorfer happily directed the television talent to the out of town cops and then ran like a pot-bellied squirrel. It took some doing, but eventually the two visiting cops were able to extricate themselves and conduct their interviews in peace.

Back in Maggody, the two big city professionals spent more than three hours with the Buchanons. It only took about twenty or so minutes to gain the salient facts concerning Kevin's and Dahlia's role in the weapons operation. The rest of the time was occupied by learning more than they needed (or wanted) about Kevin, Dahlia, Earl and Eileen, possible names for Baby Buchanon, kinship with the Bolt brothers, kinship with various other Buchanons, stories about Marjorie and Raz... Ray eventually rescued them both by randomly quoting several unimportant but official sounding bits from the Illinois Criminal Code, Fraser helpfully clouding the waters further by adding the official R.C.M.P. specifications for purchase of lanyards. They slipped only a little in the red mud running for their rental car.

It was eleven o'clock that evening before the two men returned to the quiet Maggody P.D. They found Arly there, looking freshly scrubbed and smug, an amused look on her face as she watched them collapse onto the uncomfortable chairs. She was seated, chair back against the wall, her feet propped on her desk, twirling her set of handcuffs around one finger. Beside her feet was a pile of neatly typed reports, all featuring the name "Bolt" prominently. Diefenbaker, curled up in a corner, acknowledged their return by opening one eye before returning back to sleep.

Arly, looking up at the stained ceiling, informed them, "You missed Raz and Marjorie. Some people are just so unlucky. Marjorie informed me through Raz to give you both her love. Y'all give my love to the Bolts?" She stopped playing with the cuffs and, removing her feet from the desk, sat her chair on the floor with a thump.

"Yeah," Ray told her. "They expressed their appreciation of your fair town in no uncertain terms, colorfully and in detail. There was a camera crew from some TV station at the jail, to whom those same sentiments were expressed, we were told, but after editing out all the colorful details, there won't be much footage."

"Saw it," Arly said. "Didn't see much of the Bolts, but you two were certainly colorful enough. I'd take my hat off to you, if I hadn't gotten rid of it a long time ago."

Fraser, rubbing an eyebrow with his thumb, said, contritely, "Oh, dear." He had abandoned the orange cap and resumed his Stetson before leaving on the interviews.

"Oh, dear Lord," Ray groaned as realization set in. "I totally forgot about this stupid stuff." He stripped the orange hunter's vest and cap off as if they were contaminated dead rats, dropping them on the floor with audible disgust. Dief stretched, nose to tail, walked over and curled upon them, resuming his nap. The detective rubbed his scalp and said, relieved, "At least no one at home'll see it."

Arly looked at him in wonder. "Do you mean to tell me that a big ol' city like Chicago doesn't have a TV station that can get satellite feed from a network affiliate?" Her conscience started twittering at her for experiencing such glee at the horrified expression on the detective's face but was successfully quashed. Turning her attention to more serious matters, Arly asked, "Exactly how did Kevin and Dahlia get to be mixed up in this? I mean, besides being unlucky enough to be themselves for one thing, and related to the Bolts for another?"

"Apparently," Fraser told her over his friend's muttered groans and curses, "it seems that Kevin was actually placing the labels on the crates then sending them to Chicago via the Farberville post office. Ernie Bolt informed us that Bert paid Kevin five dollars for each crate posted. Evidently Kevin truly believed that they were... just crates of artworks." The Mountie's voice indicated that he had some trouble with that last bit.

"I am amazed," Arly said dryly.

"I'm shocked," commented Ray, who'd left off his whining for the moment.

"You're shocked that I'm amazed?" Arly asked.

"I'm shocked that he," Ray said, jerking his head in the Mountie's direction, "a man who'd loan a total stranger that he'd met in an airport a hundred bucks, wouldn't believe that someone would fall for such a scam."

"Now, Ray," Fraser reproved his friend, "the fact that I find, given a chance, people tend to be honest more often than not does not preclude me from harboring some suspicions about people. After all, Lord knows, I am a police officer."

"That's not the point, Benny," Ray argued.

Fraser looked puzzled. "Then what is the point?"

"I don't know what the point is," Ray said peevishly. "What's the point of any of this?" he said, hands in the air. Then, to Arly, "What's the point of your bein' amazed? After all, you live here."

"I'm amazed," she replied, "for two reasons. One, that Kevin had enough sense to do something so... complicated. Two, that there was someone on earth who knew Kevin but was dumb enough to expect that Kevin would have sense enough to do something so complicated. And Bert and Ernie knew him; they've known him for years. The Bolts used to come around a lot when they were kids and visit; that is, until they burned down a barn once and their mom decided it wasn't such a good idea to bring them back."

"Nothin' like good old fashioned family values," Ray said, shaking his head. Then, casually, "You wanna get a beer or something when you're off-duty?" He stretched his shoulders then began rubbing at his wrists.

"Sure," Arly said, unpinning the badge from her shirt. "I am now officially off-duty." Observing Ray, whose actions had turned to full-scale scratching, she asked, "You OK?"

"Think I caught some weird tree fungus or somethin'," Ray groused, now rubbing at his waistline. "Let me catch a quick shower and there's nothing a brew or two won't put right."

"You cannot catch a tree fungus, Ray," Ben said patiently.

"I been in the woods, there are trees there, and I itch," his friend returned. "Tree fungus."

"I am afraid the constable is right," Arly said, leaning forward and propping on her elbows. "'Course, there are a lot of pine trees here, and where you have pine trees you have pine needles."

"I thought we'd already established that," Ray said irritably, still rubbing.

"Where you have lots of pine needles,"Arly continued as if not hearing Ray's statement, "you usually have lots of ticks. And redbugs; those nasty little critters love tight, constricted areas... like around waistbands and cuffs." One hand came down to drum lightly on the desk, the other, splayed, still supported Arly's chin. She didn't bat an eye as Ray ran yelling from the police station.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the reverberation of the slammed door.

Arly left her chair and went to the exit. Before she left she turned and, her expression unreadable, said, "I do believe that you can never have enough nice, hot showers." With that, she left, closing the door carefully behind her.

Fraser frowned, then, enlightenment hitting, looked at Diefenbaker. "Oh, dear." Then he absently-mindedly scratched at his waist, and winced.

Next day, in the friendly skies...

"Look, I said I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right, Ray."

"I mean, you had a key. You could have just checked, ya know."

"But, Ray.."

"Don't give me that."

"Give you what, Ray?"

"You know perfectly well what. That look. That damn big-eyed Mountie look."

"I don't mean to."

"Yeah, right." Ray frowned and looked at his friend through narrowed eyes. "Why am I apologizing, anyways? I didn't tell you to stay outside for three hours, scratching at the door."

"That," Benny told him, "was Diefenbaker. I was too busy scratching myself."

"Well," Ray said reasonably, "why didn't you use your elbow or something to knock on the door? Even though I was asleep, I'd have heard. Or you could have just use the damn key."

"Ray," Benny said, blushing."I didn't think you'd be. . . alone."

"Benny, Benny, Benny," Ray tsked mournfully,

"Well, Ray," Benny said, "when she left and said. . . I mean, the way she said...after all, anyone would have. . ." his voice trailed off.

"Benny, Benny, Benny."

"Ray?"

"What, Benny?"

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Not at all, Benny."

"I mean, Ray, you could be being extremely sarcastic now."

"Would I do that to you, Benny?"

"Yes, Ray, you would."

"Then why are you asking?"

"Never mind, Ray."

"Well, OK, then."

"OK."

The next day, back at the 27th...

Lieutenant Welsh looked carefully at the two men standing in front of his desk. "Are you quite sure you've left nothing out?"

"It's all there in the report, sir," Ray assured him.

"Constable?" Welsh asked the Mountie.

"I can think of nothing of substance to add to Detective Vecchio's account, Leftenant," Fraser said. "Of course, I can furnish you with a copy of the report which I have given Inspector Thatcher."

Welsh again surveyed the two. "So, leave, already. Let me read this," he said, waving the rather bulky file, "in peace."

"Of course, sir."

"Yes, Leftenant."

The two made their exits without undue haste, but certainly did not linger, either. Ray saw Elaine approaching the lieutenant's office, a fax in hand. Turning to his friend, he asked, "Lunch, Benny?"

"A good idea, Ray." Fraser had also observed the Civilian Aid's approach and what she carried. "I think now would be a good time."

"I agree, Benny. Yo, Elaine!"

"What, Vecchio? Oh, hi, Fraser."

"Good afternoon, Elaine."

"Look, Elaine, if the Lieutenant should look for us -- not that he has any reason to, mind -- but if he should, Benny and I've gone on to lunch. OK?"

"Sure, Ray. 'Bye, Fraser."

"Later, Elaine."

"Thank you kindly, Elaine."

Elaine watched as the two made their way out the squadroom. She looked at the paper in her hand, raised one eyebrow, gave the two men another few seconds head start, then knocked upon Lieutenant Welsh's office door. "This just came in from Arkansas, Lieutenant," she said, handing him the fax. Welsh reached for the paper without any comment. Elaine siezed the opportunity and beat a retreat of her own.

Her timing was excellent. "What the hell is this?" Elaine could hear the lieutenant through the open office door. "Fifteen hundred dollars to repair a 1968 police cruiser?! A thousand dollars for causing psychological pain and suffering to a... a pedigreed American Landrace sow? For a... a thousand bucks for a pig's pain and suffering?!"

Elaine checked; Fraser and Vecchio had disappeared around the corner, Diefenbaker only seconds behind.

Silence, broken only by repeated thunks from Welsh's office.

I don't even want to know, Elaine thought to herself.

Huey, walking outside Welsh's office at that moment, paused... but not too long. The detective walked over to Elaine and asked, "Weren't Vecchio and Fraser just in there with the Lieutenant?"

"Yeah...?"

"Guess that's why Welsh's beating his head against his desk."

The end.

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