1947Chicago, Fraser out of jail
"Fraser!"
Benton Fraser stood up. "Here."
"You're out of here." The door swung open, and the prison guard led the way out of the holding cells. A familiar figure waited beside the prisoner property office.
"Detective Vecchio. Thank you for dropping the charges."
"You never were charged. Just held for questioning."
"But you questioned me yesterday."
"We like to hold on to murder suspects once we've got them. It's easy to misplace people in Chicago. You never do that in the Yukon?"
"Ah. Well, we did occasionally let people sleep in the cells if there were no other accommodations available. But generally we left the doors unlocked."
"Can't do that in the city. They'd steal the furniture."
Fraser thought that over for a moment. "But the bunks are bolted down."
Vecchio waited while Fraser retrieved his belongings from the clerk behind the grill. The detective watched without comment while Fraser dusted his Stetson, stowed a surprisingly small number of Canadian bills in the headband, refilled his pockets, and slid the wicked hunting knife back into its boot sheath. After Fraser signed for his belongings, Vecchio said, "Let me give you a ride home."
"That isn't necessary."
"I think it is. Come on, my car's this way. Once we checked out your story, we realized that you couldn't have done it. Orsini was dead even before you got to the house. You couldn't have gotten there in time to kill him."
"I believe I mentioned that during questioning," Fraser said. "Why didn't you believe me?"
"It's five miles, give or take, from the Consulate to Orsini's house. You said you walked."
"Yes. I did walk."
"Yeah, well, you're the only guy in Chicago that would've walked. Anyone else would take a taxi or ride the El."
"Ah, I see. But I haven't scouted out the Elevated Railway yet."
"Lucky for you, enough people remembered seeing you along the route that we could verify your story." Vecchio stopped by a striking green car.
"Isn't she a beaut?" Vecchio said, staring at his own car. "1932 Buick WHATTHEF*CKIFORGOT The MODEL AND JPG DAMMIT. Special paint job."
Once in the car, Fraser asked, "Since you've decided that I cannot be the murderer, who is the likeliest suspect?"
"I can't tell you that! You're still a suspect, just not a very likely one."
"Ah. I see. Well then, have you made any progress on finding the man who killed my father?"
"Nope. I've been spending all my time dealing with Orsini."
"But my case was given to you first."
"Listen, Fraser, I hate to break it to you, but an Alderman murdered on the Gold Coast yesterday beats a dead Mountie killed in the Yukon a week ago."
Vecchio turned left on the one-way street Fraser indicated.
"Where's this consulate?" Vecchio asked.
"That would be the building with the maple leaf flag above the door, and the RCMP officer on guard duty in front."
Vecchio stopped the squad car in front of the building on their left. "Right. The Mountie's a dead giveaway." He called, past Fraser, to the guard, "Hey buddy, is that your dog? We got leash laws in Chicago."
The man guarding the doorway didn't move. Fraser opened the door, replying, "I don't believe leash laws apply, in this case, since he isn't a dog-"
The silver-haired animal loped towards them, leaped past Fraser into the car, and started sniffing Vecchio.
"Hey! Get him off!"
"-but an artic wolf."
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