Being Neighbourly
 BEING NEIGHBOURLY
Created by the camel committee (Clara Duong, Kim Wedow ,
Karen Courtney, Laurie Jacobs,	Kim Hamilton, Thorfinn Tait, & Brian
Casey) 

BEING NEIGHBOURLY:  Part A

	The night was pitch black and filled with the usual sounds of
anonymous cars driving by.  Dogs barked and there were countless noises
which filled the silences which threatened to erupt at any moment. 
	Ben lay back in bed - or what served as his bed.  He lay on his
bedroll on the ground, Dief was stretched out on the bed and was fast
asleep, although he was ready to leap to attention at the slightest
signal.

	Ben stared at the ceiling, heard people shouting in the street,
doors slamming, querulous voices and he smiled to himself as he remembered
how Ray had done his damnedest to discourage him from moving into the
neighbourhood.

	He was fast friends with all of his neighbours now, they no longer
slammed doors in his faces and their warmth and care helped to alleviate
the hollow ache inside him.

	He sighed a little.  He missed home, missed the purity of the
snow, missed how blue the sky could look when there was nothing around
but a man and his thoughts.  Now he lay in the darkness with his memories
and his homesickness.
	He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

	"Goddamnit!"

	Ben opened his eyes drowsily as he heard the sound of a woman's
voice down the hall.  It was an angry voice, seething with irritation
and annoyance.

	He rose, pulling on his jeans.	Dief jumped to his feet, wagging
his tail expectantly and Ben crossed to the door and opened it, looking
out curiously.

	There was a young woman making her way awkwardly up the stairs,
attempting to carry a large, heavy box full of junk.  Awkwardly, because
she had a marked limp which marred her walk.  She was slight and
delicate-looking in her faded jeans and disreputable sweat-shirt and
the box seemed almost as heavy as she was.

	He hurried forward immediately.  "Can I help you with that ma'am?"
he asked courteously, reaching out automatically to take the heavy box
from her.
	"No." she said curtly,"I don't need your help."

	Her voice was hostile, but it was a clear voice and would have
been rather pleasant had it not been for the anger marring its tones.
	He looked into her dark eyes and found no warmth.

	"It looks a little heavy," he began easily and she pushed past
him 
	"I don't need your help, savvy?"

	He watched for a moment as she struggled to open the door of
3K with a key.	Then he reached out and took the box from her, ignoring
her fearsome glare.

	"It looks like we'll be neighbours," he said cheerfully, and
she turned and looked around at him fulminatingly.

	"It's too early in the morning for this," she muttered,"Is that
a Canadian accent I hear?" she demanded rather ungraciously.
	"Yes ma'am, at your service."

	She rolled her eyes, grabbed her box and slammed the door. 
	"ThankYOU, ma'am," he said to the door and went back to his room,
not sure whether to be amused or otherwise.

	Marie-Claire massaged her leg, groaning a little.  It hurt like
the devil and she felt a little guilty at having been so snappy with
the helpful stranger, but at seven in the morning, she hated meeting
cheerful Pollyanna types.

	Through her haze of pain she vaguely remembered he'd been very
tall and well-built - very militaristic.  She scowled.	She didn't like
guys who looked like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths.  She didn't
trust them at all, especially when they called you 'ma'am'.

	"Damn," she muttered and dismissed him from her mind.  She was
becoming a sour old maid with sharp, snappish ways.  She made herself
a cup of industrial strength coffee and let the caffeine thrum through
her already edgy body.

	His blue eyes had reminded her uneasily of someone else and as
she drank the coffee, her hands trembled.

	"So you've got a new neighbour - what's he like?" Ray demanded
as they ate lunch at a very greasy diner.

	Usually it was Ray who conducted a neurotic monologue with Ben
commenting laconically from time to time when appealed to or disagreeing
when it was necessary.
	Occasionally Ben would interrupt to interject an erudite
observation to me conversation whether it be the Latin origins of a
particular
word, or the political context of a particular remark.	It drove Ray
crazy, he hadn't the benefit of such a well-rounded education and he
couldn't believe Ben could actually quote the classics - and why the
hell he'd feel the need to.

	"SHE's....very.....aloof." Bens said into his hotdog.  "She
slammed
the door in my face." he said, his eyes faintly puzzled.

	Probably because women usually fell at his feet, Ray thought
sourly.  He'd seen the way even the most hardened police woman	turned
to mush around Fraser, saw the way they cooed over him and doted on his
clean cut good looks and old-fashioned charm and manners.

	Some of the remarks that the two of them had overheard made Ben
turn brick-red and Ray gag.

	"You make me sick, Benny, nauseous.  I want to puke when I see
you." Ray exclaimed and Ben looked up from his food.

	"I'm sorry you feel that way." Ben said politely.  His hat was
on the chair beside him and he ate neatly, as always, to avoid soiling
his immaculate uniform.

	That was another thing that annoyed Ray.  It just wasn't fair
that Ben looked like a GQ model.  He was tall, straight and had a certain
quiet panache.	He could even wear that goddamned stupid-looking mountie
uniform and still pull the chicks.

	Any other guy would have been a social disaster, but Ben stood
as tall and proud as if he was wearing Hugo Boss or Ralph Lauren instead
of idiotic pants and a jacket as red as a fire-engine.

	"You expect every woman who meets you to fall at your feet -
but why?  You don't take advantage of it, NO, it's just that good ol'
Canadian homestead charm!  What's the point, dammit?  It's wasted!  I'll
bet you haven't been laid since you got here!"

	Ben looked a little taken aback at this unwarranted
diatribe,"Well,
I haven't been here that long, Ray, and I have been rather busy...."
he began and Ray swore, running a hand through his already thinning hair.

	"Shit!	How the hell do they reproduce up in Canada, anyhow?"

	Ben was secretly pleased that Ray was yelling at him again. 
It had been hard to return to normal....it had been uncomfortable when
Ray, overcome with guilt, had treated him as though he was breakable.
He studied his orange juice.

	"I suppose you think you're gorgeous or something.  Jesus, that
goddamned outfit you wear should be a turn off and a half!"

	"Could you please pass the pepper, Ray," Ben asked politely.

	"Don't they know you're just a Canadian hick??" he demanded.
"You even drive a dog sled for Pete's sake!"

	"I thought you enjoyed the experience," Ben said with a hint
of reproach in his blue eyes and Ray smiled despite himself, he could
always depend on Ben to play the straightman to his wild, energetic
enthusiasms.
Both of them often wondered what on earth they'd do without the other.

	Ben's eyed opened.  He could hear the sound of an uneven step
coming up the stairs.  Obviously his surly new neighbour had returned.
It was five in the morning.

	The door of her apartment opened and closed and he listened to
the sounds of her movements.  It was a strange time to be returning home,
eh thought, and he lay awake as he heard the unlikely sound of Mozart
playing gently through the walls.

	It was oddly soothing for such an acerbic woman.  He closed his
eyes and let the music soak into him.  It was almost ethereal, restful
and a pleasant lassitude filled his veins.

	It drifted into a sobbing violin solo, haunting, high...it made
him think of Home.

	"Ray, what's the matter with you - you haven't been yourself
all day?" Ben asked, looking mildly concerned in the midst of his own
abstractions.  He had been thinking about his mysterious new neighbour
all day.  All his famed powers of deduction and intuition couldn't help
him solve this perplexing enigma.

	Ray glowered at him,"You still obsessing about that babe next
door, Benny?"

	"I never said she was a babe," Ben said with great dignity,"I
would never dream of referring to a fellow human being in such a
derogatory
and demeaning fashion."

	"Oh, she's a dog is she?" Ray inquired sympathetically and
Diefenbaker
growled menacingly.

	"Shut up, you still owe me an eclair,"	Ray told the wolf who
sniffed and covered his eyes with his paws.
	He returned his attention momentarily to his friend's
predicament,"Look, why don't you just ask her what her name is?"
	"She keeps slamming her door in my face." Ray shrugged,

	"Now you know how the rest of the world live, Benny.  You could
always do your boy scout deduction trick - read her mailbox."
	"She hasn't put her name on it yet."
	"Winnebago (sp??)." Ray said absently, hypnotically.
	"I beg your pardon?" Ben inquired, baffled.

	Ray shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, he looked very
troubled.

	"If her name's Winnebago I'll be very disturbed." he said
inexplicably.

	Ben considered what appeared to be a non sequitur with great
seriousness.

	"Ray, is there any reason why her name WOULD be winnebago?" 
	"Benny - do you believe in dreams?"

	Ben cleared his throat,"Well, among the Inuit I do believe that
there are certain....."

	"Every night," Ray began in a rapturous tone,"I have this great
dream....this gorgeous babe with blonde hair and big eyes....you know
she's really stunning...like that actress what's her name and she
says.....'Raymondo...."
	He drifted off into her own little private world.

	Dief made a sound of inquiry, echoed in a less canine form by
Ben. 
	Ray shook himself again,"Yeah, so I've got this recurring
dream....and
then for the past week.....it just disappeared."
	"Ray...what's this got to do with anything?"

	Ray looked at him witheringly,"The winnebago....my dream's
vanished....poof!
gone!  Now every night, I dream about this winnebago." 
	Ben frowned,"Um...."

	"What do you suppose it means Benny?  I'm afraid to go to sleep!
All I see is this winnebago.....do you suppose I'm developing one of
those weird kinky fetishes?  Don't you Canadians get them when you've
been locked up in the snow too long?"

	"I've never had a fantasy about a Winnebago, Ray." Ben said
apologetically.

	Ray paced the floor restlessly.  "Maybe it's got something to
do with HER."
	"Who, Ray?" Ben asked, thoroughly confused.
	"The dog who lives next door to you."
	"Ray, I told you, I never said that she was a dog."

	"Damn, what does it mean?  I've never even owned a winnebago!"

       "Perhaps Ray..." Fraser offered as Ray cut him off in mid-stride.

	"What am I thinking. I'm a cop." pounding his head with his hand.
"We have resources civilians and Mounties don't have", Ray said beaming.
"I'll have Ms. Winnebago's REAL name by the time you go home."
	"But Ray, that's illegal", Fraser objected.

	"Ah, it would be for you -- but you see I'm investigating a case."

	"A case?"  Benny asked quizzically.

	"Yep.  Disturbing the peace.  Well, it will be as soon as you
report it.  Let's go."

	Ray turned and started to leave -- Fraser quickly caught up with
him, with Dief following right behind.

	"You want me to report her for disturbing the peace so that you
can find out her name?"

	Ray stopped abruptly in his tracks, spun around looking deeply
hurt.  "Benny, I'm hurt that you'd think that I was doing this for ME.
Don't you want to know who is waking you up in the wee hours and slamming
doors in your face?"

	"She'll eventually have to put her name on the mailbox Ray--I
can wait." 
       "AH-HA!!" Ray erupted into jubilant, satisfied laughter, thoughts
of the Winnebago momentarily banished.	"So there is a spark of interest
in the everso cool Mountie heart -- besides, what if she has a P.O. Box?"

	"Of course I'm interested" interjected Fraser.	"She's a neighbour
and it's important to know who your neighbours are in case of an
emergency...."

	"Don't give me that Benny -- you're, you know -- INTERESTED!
Let's go!" 
	"But Ray..."

	The alleyway behind the apartment block was dank and unused.
People threw their garbage their without a thought for the local
environment.  It spilled out of the bags, covering the ground with rotten
food, old wrappers and dented beer cans.

	The notion of recycling hadn't yet made its appearance in the
neighbourhood and the stench was enough to make passers-by quite giddy
from the fumes on a balmy day.

	Several cats ambled through the garbage aimlessly, picking their
way gracefully and sinuously, their paws padding through the filth as
if they were walking on a crushed silk blanket.

	Their eyes studied the refuse narrowly, sniffing out potential
meals and they leapt from bag to bag, bin to bin in their search for
hidden benefits.

	The most scruffy of the cats was a large, ratty looking character
with half an ear, one eye and a tattered coat which he wore as proudly
as a king's mantle.  He was proud of his status as a homeless cat, it
elevated him among the overbred peerage Siamese whom he occasionally
encountered on his lone rambles.

	He knew the garbage to avoid, he knew the sounds that gave away
the dangers of the street.  He looked with contemptuous pity at the
younger,
thinner cats who pawed through bags, spilling the contents onto the cold
ground.

	It wasn't a good place for cats, but he had survived..... 
	He watched from his position on the fence as the shadows
approached
the young Toms and then slunk away into the shadows when he heard the
piteous cries which were muffled by the sack which covered them.

       "For God's sake!  Some of us are trying to get some sleep in here!"
Marie-Claire bellowed as she buried her head beneath her pillow.
	She could hear someone muttering outside her door and in
desperation she jumped to her feet, falling to the ground immediately
in a crumpled heap as her leg gave way.

	Her mouth thinned, whitening around the edges as she thought
longingly of the painkillers in her bag.  Resolutely, she dragged herself
to her feet and  limped across the room, throwing the door open.

	Crouched in front of her neighbour's door was a young black boy,
in his early teens with a baseball cap on backwards - at the tag still
on it. He was grabbing the handle of the door and rattling it.	He was
obviously making an attempt at breaking in.

	"The inexplicabilities of street fashion aside - what do you
think you're doing?" she inquired calmly, running her fingers through
her tangled hair and trying to settle her thoughts.  She had been at
her new place only a few days and already she was beginning to wonder
whether she had made the right decision.

	Admittedly the place was closer to the station, but she had never
liked rats....call it pathetic, but their revolting twitching whiskers
and beady eyes always made her shudder.

	She had chased five out of her room - or perhaps it was the same
rat coming back for more.  She wasn't knowledgable enough to identify
it. 
	The boy smiled ingenuously, his white teeth brilliant and
welcoming,

	"I'm here to take Dief for a walk." he told her.  "Frazier [heh
heh!] didn't tell me that the door was stuck again!"

	"Do you really expect me to believe that?  Hmm? you're not
breaking
in?" she inquired severely, amused at his brazen-faced lie.

	"I'm serious,"	the boy said indignantly.  "I'm Willie!  And
Dief's waiting for me...." He lowered his voice and said confidingly,"He's
a good wolf, but who knows what might happen when he's been shut up all
day." 
	"A wolf?" Marie-Claire demanded, intrigued despite herself. 
	"Named Diefenbaker - a	Canadian prime minister."

	"I'm well aware of that fact." she said flatly, the amusement
fading out of her eyes momentarily.  She went to stand beside the boy
and rattled the door experimentally.
	"You mean he doesn't lock his door?" MC demanded.

	"His lock got stolen ages ago -- the door gets stuck when the
weather is dry."

	"OK," MC said practically and even though she knew it would hurt
like hell, she wound up and kicked the door in.

    Under Willie's critical but admiring eyes, the door flew open and
he gave a low whistle.	"Wow!  Are you a kung fu expert or something?"

	"Not really." she said, turning white from the agonising pain
which shot up her leg.	"Damn I'm an idiot - WHY do I do stuff like that?"
she muttered to herself and gritted her teeth.

     The throb in her leg was momentarily numbed as she stared at the
magnificent wolf which bounded through the door and jumped into Willie's
arms.

	"He is beautiful," she murmured, an odd note in her voice as
the wolf turned his attention to her and regarded her suspiciously.
	"He's deaf." Willie said expansively.

	"Diefenbaker, I'm honoured to make your acquaintance.....I'm
Marie-Claire."
	"Huh?" Willie demanded,"What kind of name is that?"

	She smiled,"You can call me MC if your French isn't up to it."

	Willie pulled on Dief's ears reflectively,"We're going for a
walk - you can come, too if you get your ass in gear."

	Marie-Claire shrugged,"Give me a moment -"  Willie followed MC
to her apartment & entered right behind.
	"Man this place is a pit." Willie observed.

	"Ah yes, but I call it home." MC countered sarcastically. 
	"You know I think you could use some expert help in fixing this
place up."Willie said as dollar signs flashed in his eyes.
	"Expert help, huh?"
	"Yeah, and I'm the expert" Willie boasted.

	"That's O.K. I think I'll manage." MC dejectedly replied as she
sat down & put on her shoes.

	"Hey, I'm serious. I helped Fraser & his place is all squared
away." Willie proudly declared.

	"Looks a little sparse to me. Besides, I'll just bet you did
it out the goodness of your heart."
	"Well...I..." Willie stuttered.

	"Uh-huh.How much did he pay you?" MC inquired triumphantly. 
	"I don't know." he answered in an embarrassed tone.

	"You don't know how much you were paid?" she asked incredulously.

	"No. It was Frasers' pink money & nobody would take it. But that's
O.K. 'cause Fraser's cool & I'd done it anyway-even if he didn't pay
me" 
	Willie beamed as Dief made an impatient sound.

	"He paid you in Canadian money? Unbelievable." MC said, shaking
her head as she finished tying her shoes."O.K., I'm ready. Let's hit
the road." 
	"I have to warn ya," Willie cautioned. "It's really Dief who's
in charge when we go out & sometimes it's kinda an adventure."

	"I think I'll be able to keep up." MC assured him - she who had
no idea what she was in for.  As Willie opened the door, Dief took off
out of the apartment & hurtled down the hall as if he were a wolf on
a mission. 
    Willie glanced over his shoulder with a wicked grin,"Hey, suit
yourself."

BEING NEIGHBOURLY:  PART B

	Dief reached the hallway door long before Willie & Marie-Claire
had even made it down the stairs but found his progress to the outside
world blocked by of all things a closed door.

	Frustrated, he first pawed at it in hopes of it opening,that
had worked on more than one occasion but not this time.  He then tried
barking - NOPE.

	Admitting defeat,for the moment, he sat down and waited for the
cavalry to arrive. The tell tale signs of rescue came seconds later as
he felt 2 sets of foot steps coming down the stairs. Willie rounded the
corner at light-speed followed by Marie-Claire who was lagging a little
behind. 
	"HEY HEY Dief," Willie said half laughing"you must not be feeling
yourself today. You let a little thing like a door stop ya." Making a
half growl half barking sound Dief let it be known he did not appreciate
this bit of scarasm.

	Marie-Claire had caught up to the duo by this point rubbing her
leg and wondering what she had set herself up for. She approached Dief,
knelt down in front of him and cupped his muzzle between her hands.

	"Dief, listen, I would really like to go on a walk with you-not
a track and field event.  So here's the deal.  If you want me to go with
you and Willie you're gonna have to slow down the pace. O.K.. It's up
to you." 
	Marie-Claire opened the door slowly waiting for Dief to go
charging
out. He slowly stood up, walked out the door then turned and waited until
a stunned Willie and Marie-Claire followed.

	"Damn! Dief usually doesn't listen very well to anyone except
Fraser, and that's not even all the time. How did you do that?" an amazed
Willie asked.

	"I gave him a choice"replied Marie-Claire not totally believing
it herself.

	As they proceeded down the street towards the park Willie started
the third degree. Firing question after question at Marie-Claire. 
	"Do you work?  Why are you home during the day?.  Can I come
to the radio station and watch?"

	Marie-Claire answered these questions as quickly as Willie could
ask them. When the questions turned personal though,MC turned the tables
and began her own barrage of questioning.

	"Are you going to be a reporter when you grow up?,Why aren't
you home doing your homework? and"How did you get hooked up with Constable
Fraser?"

	Willie spouted his entire life story sans his somewhat less than
legal exploits that landed him in Frasers' company. Marie-Claire, being
the seasoned journalist that she was noticed his avoidance of the question
regarding the origins of his relationship with the mountie and made a
mental note to explore this later.

	By the time they reached the park  Marie-Claires' leg was killing
her.  She swore to herself that she would start working out to gain more
stamina, then started scoping out the park in search of a bench.  At
this point Dief was a little antsy.  Trotting was not his long-suit,
he needed to RUN.

Willie sensed this and asked Marie-Claire "Do you think you could tell
Dief it's OK to run now.  He likes to chase the birds and squirrels for
a while.  Then we get a snack and go home."

	"Are you sure he isn't going to run away or eat a bird or
squirrel?"
asked MC as visions of this unpleasant sight danced in her mind.

	"Come on.  We do thsi all the time.  Trust me."  Willie beamed.

	"Trust you, huh?"  Marie-Claire asked somewhat doubtfully.  "If
you're wrong- you're on your own- understand?"	Willy nodded.

	Marie-Claire looked at Dief and said, "Go ahead and terrorize
the wildlife, but stay within eye-shot, OK?"  Dief gave an affirmative
groan and took off.

	 He ran around as happy as a clam in high tide for about half
an hour then returned to the bench and sat down as if to say he was ready
to go.	Marie-Claire and Willie were having a nice chat about music.
She was actually getting an education on hip-hop rap.  Though she would
never admit this to Willie, he suspected and was surprised that she seemed
truly interested in what he had to say.  MC had won her ally.

	"I guess it's snack time."  MC said as she stood.  "Where to?
I could use something myself."

	"Nielsens.  Mr.N always has stuff for us.  Although Dief gets
more than I do.  Mr. N says it's because he's a growing wolf."
	MC looked at Dief and said to herself, "I hope not."

	They made it to Neilsens in short order and true to form Mr.
Nielsen was more than generous with his daily rations to Willie and Dief
and after a proper introduction and some minor flirtations MC received
an eclair that would make her cholesterol count move up a few points.

	Marie Claire checked her watch and wondered at how time always
flew.  She knew she would never get enough sleep before she had to go
into the station.  Oh well, she lamented, it wouldn't be the first time.

	"Is there a grocery store nearby Willie?  I need to get a few
things."  she asked.

	"Yeah, it's on the way.  You haven't met Dave or Bob yet?" Willie
asked with a sly grin.
	"No, who are Dave and Bob?" Marie-Claire asked.

	"Well, it's kinda hard to explain but Dave and Bob are sorta
the same guy."	Willie feebly replied.
	"How can Dave AND Bob be the same person Willie?"

	"It's something to do with the rain.  When it rains he's Bob
and you really don't want to get him riled, but if it's nice, he's Dave
and he's real nice.  It's something Fraser called weather sensitive or
something.  I don't know.  I just know we all go into the store to see
which one he is so we know what kinda day it's gonna be."

	MC just stood there looking at Willie and wondered about the
neighborhood she had chosen to live in and shook her head.  A mountie
with a wolf, a baker who was contributing to the delinquency of everyones'
arteries, a grocer who was "weather sensitive" and rats so big they should
help pay the rent.  She thought to herself, "if I can just get a handle
on it, there just might be a book in all of this."

	"OK Willie, let's go meet this Dave or Bob, or whoever he is
today. I have to get home and get some sleep."

	"It'll be Dave today - no rain."  Willie stated confidently as
they made their way to the store.

	In the store Marie-Claire couldn't help but stare at Dave/Bob
wondering if Willie was just feeding her a line.  He seemed like a regular
guy.  Dave noticed her staring and began to wonder if something was wrong.

	"Excuse me Miss, but is everything alright?" Dave inquired. 
An embarrassed MC replied,
	"Oh, yes, umm, I umm was looking for the umm cereal."
	"Aisle 3." Dave instructed.

	"Thank you." MC said and headed for aisle 3 feeling pretty stupid,
mainly because she hated cereal and now felt obligated to buy a box.
She picked the closest box - Captain Crunch - and headed for the
dairy/produce
section to get what she originally came in for.  At the checkout counter
Dave introduced himself.

	"I don't think we've met.  I'm Dave.  Are you new to the
neighborhood?"

	"Yes, I've just moved in.  I'm Marie-Claire. Nice to meet you."

	 "Captain Crunch. You like that kiddie stuff, huh?"  Dave observed
brightly.

	"Oh, that's just a umm, snack."  MC absently replied.  As Dave
was ringing up her total she noticed a very large brass barometer hanging
behind the counter next to the matching clock.	They seemed out of place
in the little gray toned, flourescent lit store.  She noticed that Dave
tended to glance in that direction quite often.  Was he looking at the
clock or....

	"Your total is $23.10." Dave informed her.  But MC was busy trying
to figure out if there was any connection between the barometer and the
Dave/Bob story and didn't hear him.

	"Marie-Claire, are you ok?  You seem a little distracted?" 
	"Sorry.  Sleep deprivation I guess.  I work nights and	sometimes
I don't get enough sleep, like today.  How much do I owe?"  MC said as
she shot a look at Willie and Dief who were waiting by the door for her.

	"23.10."  Dave reiterated.  MC handed ove rthe cash, thanked
Dave and picked up her bags and headed for the door.  Once outside MC
said to Willy,	      "He seems like a nice man."

	"Yeah, cause he's Dave.  Wait till it rains."  Willie warned.

	"Willie, I don't know when to take you seriously." MC said as
they headed home.

"Look!	As a landlord you owe your tenants certain obligations."

	Fraser looked up from the newspaper he was reading.  Dief was
curled up under the window, his tail thumping up and down.  For some
peculiar reason, the usually ravenous wolf had completely lost his
appetite.

	Ben might have been worried if the wolf had appeared listless,
but Dief seemed cheerful enough, even if he did lift his muzzle most
aristocratically at the meal Ben has prepared so painstakingly.

	"Have you been having snacks between meals and ruining your
appetite?"
Ben demanded of his companion who snorted and gave a rather doggy grin
which was a little below his usual dignity.

	The angry voice coming through the door from the hallway had
distracted him from the very interesting editorial about the US's use
of Intellectual Property rights in the Uruguay Round as the sign of a
flailing nation attempting to reassert its hegemonic status.

	He had followed the Uruguay Round Outcomes with much interest.

	He opened the door and saw his new neighbour standing nose to
nose with Argyle the scruffy landlord with his lank hair, vacuous
expression
and snuffly features.

	He still didn't know her name.	She hadn't put her name on her
mailbox.  She'd been there two weeks now and they occasionally passed
each other in the corridor but she never acknowledged his presence. 
She came home at unearthly hours of the morning, he'd heard music sifting
through from her room.....an eclectic mix.  Anything from Christine Lavin
to Ella Fitzgerald and once the Rankin Family which had made him think
about Canada.
	"May I offer my assistance?" he requested courteously.
	"No!" both of them said, turning to him simultaneously.

	"I already told you, the rent only covers...." the landlord began
to whine.

	"You told me that the rent didn't cover utilities -- so I paid
extra -- I almost froze my butt off that first night....there was no
electricity."
	"I connected it for you, didn't I?"

	"Only after I threatened to sue you." she bit back, an accent
creeping into her voice with her anger.  "And what about those syringes
I found in the cupboard?"

	"OK, OK, so the place used to be a hang out for crackheads and
smack dealers....they paid good rent...." he said defensively,"Then the
mountie put them out of business."

	"Trade in illicit narcotics is a crime." Fraser said implacably.

	"You didn't bother to tidy up -- what if I'd stabbed myself?"
Marie-Claire demanded.

	She looked tired, Ben thought as he studied her pale face.  The
dark auburn hair was pulled back tightly from her face and there were
shadows under her dark green eyes which hinted at lack of sleep or
restless
nights.

	She was five foot six, of medium build, but somehow there was
an air of fragility about her which made her seem much slighter and more
delicate.  An impression immediately dispelled when she grabbed the
landlord
by the collar and jerked him onto his toes,

	"OK, I'm giving you one last warning - either get those rats
out of my place, or I'm calling in the exterminators and slapping you
with the bill."

	"Hey, hey!  Isn't this assault or something?  Arrest her!" the
landlord said accusingly to Ben.

	"You seem to forget, sir, that I am not a policeman here in the
United States.	This is not actually my jurisdiction.  Perhaps back in
the Yukon where I am an actively serving member of the police force,
I might have powers to exercise, but here  I find myself as an ordinary
citizen." 
	The landlord was still dangling on tip-toe.  "OK, OK, I'll get
rid of the rats.  What's the problem?  Don't you like rats?"

	"I don't like rodents....especially of the homo sapien kind,"
she said and released him.
	"Umm, excuse me Miss....." Ben said stepping forward.

	"Bird, Big Bird." she said and limped back into her room and
slammed the door shut.

	A muffled squawk was heard from the interior and the door was
flung open and a huge, healthy rat with gleaming fur came scuttling out
of 3K in a drunken fashion, weaving in somewhat erratic circles as it
stumbled left, right, evaded Ben's feet and hurtled down the hall.  It's
progress was followed closely by a grubby looking sneaker.

	Ben bent over gingerly picked up the sneaker.  He handed it back
to its owner who took it from him,
	"Thanks." the door slammed shut in his face.
	He sighed.

	Fraser breathed deeply of the polluted air, filling his lungs
with the carcinogenic fumes and exhaled again as he strode to work.

	"Good morning Steve," he greeted the young Croatian boy who was
looking decidedly upset.  "Is something the matter?" he asked, stopping
by the boy with the spiky hair and pale gold ear ring gleaming in his
left ear lobe.
	"Lost my cat." the boy said laconically.
	"Was he registered?"
	"She.  No, she wasn't registered.  Da says he's probably
dead......squashed by a car or something."

	"Cats often have a habit of straying away, perhaps she'll return
soon." 
	"Na, Megadeath never got lost.	She was tough." He slouched beside
Ben, tucking his hands into his slouch jeans and chewed on his lip, trying
not to look upset.

	"Guys at school said she probably got poisoned....one kid's dog
got poisoned and its guts were eaten from the inside out."  The expression
on Steve's face was an odd mixture of distress and morbid fascination.

	"I promise I'll keep a look out." Ben said and Steve shrugged,

	"Maybe I'll get an axolotl this time." he said and walked away.
Two mysteries, he thought to himself as he headed towards work, his gaze
steady.  Diefenbaker's strange lack of appetite, and now Steve's cat.
Perhaps he could post notices around the neighbourhood......

	Marie-Claire put a few quarters into the machine and waited,
feeling the floor thrum beneath her feet as her laundry whirred around
rhythmically.

	A woman she had passed several times in the past few weeks entered
the laundry carrying a heavy load of laundry.  She was was a petite woman
with cropped dark brown hair and very steady eyes.

	She looked to be in her late twenties and there was a very
no-nonsense
manner about her and she was dressed conservatively, but very stylishly
in designer jeans and a deep emerald green sweater with a fine, subtle
pattern.

	She looked very trim, very fit and energetic and despite her
lack of inches, she carried the heavy load easily and set it down
smoothly.

	Marie-Claire smiled at her in greeting and said aloud,"Are you
a nurse?" 
	She found herself staring down into a pair of eyes which in this
light appeared to be green, although when the woman smiled, they deepened
to hazel.

	"Yes I am, how did you know?" the woman asked in a clear, friendly
voice.

	"Something about the way you lift and put things down - and your
hands." 
	The woman looked down at her hands and laughed ruefully,"Ah,
washerwoman's hands."

	Her hands were square and very capable-looking; they were hands
accustomed to hard work.

	"Not at all - but they're good strong hands." Marie-Claire told
her. 
	The woman stuck out her small, but very strong hand, "Pleased
to meet you, I'm Elena Curran."

	Marie-Claire automatically shook her hand.  "Marie-Claire
Dempsey."
she responded.

	"I've passed you a few times," the woman said calmly,"And wondered
who you were.  The Nguyens have mentioned you and so have some of the
other occupants of the building. I don't actually live here myself."
	Elena began loading the laundry into the machine.

	Marie-Claire didn't know what was expected of her from this
extraordinary
little women so she said nothing, only eyed the load of washing curiously.
Elena continued,

	"I'm a public health nurse, working on a NIH - that's the National
Institute of Health grant at the neighbourhood clinic.	I make home visits
to my clients in the neighbourhood as well as my work at the clinic -
I'm just popping by out of hours to see how Mrs Nguyen's been.	I know
she's been a little stressed lately and it's not good considering that
the baby's going to be born soon - I find out that the laundry hasn't
been done for week!

	It turns out her husband's too busy, and old Mrs Nguyen is
bed-ridden,
poor thing. It was all I could do to get Mrs Nguyen to stop working at
the restaurant let alone stay off her feet."
	"I see." Marie-Claire said.
	Elena's shrewd eyes studied Marie-Claire's deliberately
unexpressive face, took in the shadows in the girl's eyes and spoke again,

	"How long have you had that limp, Marie-Claire?  This is a medical
query not a personal one," she said when she saw Marie-Claire's face
close over.

	The machines whirred loudly in the background as the two woman
talked. 
	"A little over sixteen months."
	"Have you ever undergone any physical therapy?"

	"I haven't had the time - I have to pay the bills somehow." she
was infinitely annoyed to be justifying herself to a perfect stranger,
even a friendly person such as Elena.

	"I thought so," Elena said shaking her head,"The limp doesn't
have to be so pronounced, you know."

	"Tell me something, Elena, but is everyone in this neighbourhood
a good samaritan?" Marie-Claire demanded a little waspishly and Elena
laughed, genuinely amused, her generous mouth pulling into a delighted
grin,

	"Ahhh, I see you've met our favourite mountie.	You don't like
him?" 
	"I have no opinion on him."

	Elena shrugged,"He's a beautiful human being -turned this place
around.  I've never met a man with such an innate sense of fairness and
duty.....I see him as a semi-tragic figure."

	"Tragic?  Comic is the word in that preposterous uniform of his."

	The smile played around Elena's lips,"Everyone has a story,
Marie-Claire
- a past which shapes the person we are today.	Whether you like that
person or not, it's usually best not to pass judgment until you have
discovered that story.	All I'm saying is that someone like Benton doesn't
just appear.....something has shaped him, tempered him into the person
he is today.  I always assume that perhaps he has suffered a great
hurt...."
she smiled in embarrassment,"I know, despite my unromantic exterior,
I must confess I'm a romantic at heart, in fact my weirdest fantasy
is....oh
never mind that.

	About Benton, he's introduced me to a great many of my patients
- and I often request his company when I'm afraid that I might meet with
a difficult reception from the homes I visit."

	"Obviously we have a new saint among us." Marie-Claire said
ironically.
She had heard how wonderful this famous mountie was from virtually
everyone
in the neighbourhood and was beginning to feel decidedly out of sorts.

	"Oh he's definitely mortal like the rest of us," Elena said
soberly,
the smile fading from her eyes.  Without the smile, it was possible to
notice the fine tracery of lines around her expressive eyes, and the
glints of silver in her cropped hair.

	Her face was young and old at the same time and it was clear
that despite her optimism, the woman had not had an easy life.

	"He has feelings...he can be hurt, I never forget that...." her
voice faded away a little and then she smiled again,"Here I am
gossipping."
She laughed at herself, smiled serenely at the young woman with the
defiant
green eyes and the sulky mouth.

	Marie-Claire began to reload her washing into her basket to carry
outside.

	Elena spoke again,"Life's never easy for any of us.  When I was
a little girl my mother had a favourite poem she would read us by Edgar
Lee Masters about Lucinda Matlock and the last part always sticks in
my head -I keep it with me like a talisman:

'At 96 I had lived enough, that is all,
And passed to a sweet repose.
What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness,
Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?...."

	She didn't have the chance to finish because Marie-Claire
interrupted
curtly,"Yes, I know this 'Degenerate sons and daughters, Life is too
strong for you - It takes life to love Life.'"
	"I didn't mean to offend you, Marie-Claire."

	"That's all right," Marie-Claire said with difficulty, picking
up her basket.	"It was nice to meet you."

	She walked from the laundry.  Poetry-quoting nurses, deaf wolves,
non-delinquent street kids, tragic mounties.....she felt like she was
in a Fellini movie, all that was missing was a midget and a maniacal
clown. 

BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART C

	"I told Jim that he should back off with the gym rubbish." Harold
said irritably, glaring at the phone.  "The man should accept he's forty
- not a gym jock anymore."

	The room was crowded, papers falling from Hal's desk onto the
ground.  There was a mug of coffee on his desk.  Legend had it that that
very same cup had been placed there ten years ago when he had taken over
as manager of AIR105.

	The contents had long-ago congealed and were covered with a fine
layer of dust, ash and rapidly multiplying micro-organisms.  Sometimes
when he was in the midst of a tirade, he would pick up the mug as if
to take a swallow from it.  Staff always watched wistfully....the cup
was at his lips....but at the last minute he always set it down and they
would sigh regretfully.  Maybe next time.

	 "What seems to be the problem?" Marie-Claire asked inquiringly
as she looked up from her notes.  She sat in the "newsroom" across the
corridor.  It consisted of a tiny box with bars in the windows, half
a dozen empty mugs on the sill and two chairs and a table over which
she was draped.

	"I don't like the preachy bit at the end," she told Susan Power,
one of her colleagues who shrugged and scrubbed out the little quote
from the Bible.  It had seemed appropriate at the time.

	Harold threw himself into a chair and glowered impressively.
The door to his office opened onto the door to the newsroom.  His door
was always open,

	"I'm always in touch with my people!  Available!  Accessible!"
he would declaim at his monthly meetings which he held once a year or
after he was inspired by a motivational theme on Oprah or Donehue.

	"What do you think?  There is our hero at the gym, pumping iron,
a pretty girl walks past and he immediately piles the weights on and
starts showing off."

	"Ouch, you mean he's pulled something?" Marie-Claire asked
sympathetically,
tossing aside various articles until she found the one she was looking
for.  She pulled the clip from her hair, re-fastened it, this time more
tightly.

	She often wondered whether it was possible to be allergic to
your own hair.

	She rather liked Jim Alderman, he was good-natured and cheerful.

	"He's in the O.R. with a hernia." Harold said sourly.

	"I can feel a shift swap coming on," Susan muttered, making
herself
scarce and Harold glowered,

	"Ungrateful cow - I trained her....raised her from when she was
nothing......."

	"You make her sound like a dog or a prize horse," Marie-Claire
said dryly, cutting him off.  If allowed to continue, he would have given
the same speech they all received - a play in which Harold was cast as
the wronged mentor Obi-Wan-Kenobi while all of his disobedient pupils
turned to the Dark Side.

	Harold smiled seraphically,"Plans for the evening, MC?" he asked
her and she sighed.

	"Harold, I covered for Jody last week - you know I hate doing
that bright and perky routine."

	"I'll say," Harold said shaking his head,"You talked about
Nietzche,
the Realpolitik and Kierkegaard - thoroughly depressed the hell out of
the listeners.	One guy called up threatening to commit suicide after
you read out that passage about men being brutish, solitary and short."

	"The LIFE of man is brutish, solitary and short in a state of
nature," she corrected automatically, and that guy threatens to commit
suicide even during Mavis's Household Hints Hour."
	"As I was saying......"
	"And I hate the playlist, Hal - Michael Bolton, Phil
Collins......Elton John....Mariah bloody Carey..."

	Harold winced, he still remembered the barrage of protests the
station had received after the listeners had heard Marie-Claire muttering
after the Michael Bolton song,'How am I supposed to live without you?'
-- "Don't bother - drop dead, see if I care?"

	The only reason he kept her on was because she was good at her
job. She was punctual, her writing was never flabby, her voice was clear
and precise.....she was a good newsreader.  Breakfast radio was definitely
not her scene.	He certainly wouldn't repeat that experiment twice in
a row. 
	"Oh yeah, and then there's always the staple Joshua Kadison,
and hell, if we get bored, I can always play "The Rose" and we can all
cry together." Marie-Claire continued.

	"I get the point, MC.  And you know damned well that the playlist
is the way it is is because those singers are the top sellers - we play
what people want to hear."

	"That's right," Marie-Claire declaimed dramatically,"The best
of the seventies, eighties and nineties.....a dozen songs in all, why
has musical history been so arid?"

	"I'm not going to argue with you, MC."	His left eyeball began
twitching erratically as he glared at her.  It was a weird habit and
always fascinated Marie-Claire who wondered whether it would ever pop
out of the socket and how it managed to wobble without making the other
eyeball wobble.

	He refuse to get it surgically corrected, muttering something
about the sacred temple of his optical orb.

	"Stop looking at my eye!" he bellowed and she looked at him
repentantly,
he wasn't a bad employer even if his favourite singer was Michael Bolton.
He was a definite improvement over some of her employers in the past.
	"You're covering for Jim until further notice."

	"Hal - I'm here from four in the afternoon - slaving away over
the news I might add.....I don't get home until the wee small hours of
the morning....I can't possible take on hsi shift as well."
	'I'm taking you off news for now, Susan can handle it."

	"I am NOT doing Jim's lonely hearts show."  Jim, despite being
fortyish, paunchy, jowley and homely looking had the sexy, exciting young
voice of a twenty-year old stud.

	"Baby, are you lonesome tonight...." she purred in a creditable
imitation of Jim at his worst,"If I could touch your cheek....you'd not
be lonely no more....call now, tell Jim all your probs....." she said
huskily. 
	Hal drummed his fingers on the table.  He could never figure
out why drumming one's fingers on the table was considered a sign of
deep thought.  He could never quite establish whether he was supposed
to drum from left to right, or vice versa.  In the end he gave up and
just tapped his fingers on the wood.

	"You get a free rein, MC.  That's what you're angling for, isn't
it?" he challenged, his dark eyes gleaming.

	She smiled faintly,"I can say anything I want?	Play anything
I want?" 
	"Within reason," he temporised,"Ten to two am may not be the
most family listening time - but we don't want to offend any of those
insomniac oldies."
	Marie-Claire put her pen down, pursing her lips.
	"Is this a good time to ask you for a raise?"
	"Get out of here Dempsey."
	She sighed.

Ray collected Fraser from the front of the Consulate.  "It was very kind
of your mother to invite me to dinner, Ray."

	Ray scowled as his mobile phone rang.  "Yeah mom, I know!  I've
got the eggplant....but Jesus, do I have to?  You know it gives me
gas....ahhh
FIFI???"

	At the Check It Out Corner Convenience Late Store Ray and Fraser
wandered around the aisles in search of the elusive eggplant.  Dave waved
hi in an amiable fashion.

	"Obviously it won't be raining	in the next few days." Fraser
commented. 
	"Knock it off, Fraser, you don't believe that oldwive's tale
do you?  The guy's a kook - he's got a personality disorder.  He should
be locked up or at least doped on prozac."

	"He's harmless, Ray, and there have been many instances in history
of humans who are weather sensitive, why my own grandfather's left toe
would always ache when a storm was imminent.  And it's also a popular
misconception that Prozac is an anti-psychotic medication.  Actually
its a serotonin reuptake inhibitor anti-depressant, so it would do nothing
for psychotic ideation."

	"Yeah right, the guy's just watched Sybil too many times." Ray
said emphatically.
	"Ray,....that's her." Ben said in an undertone.
	"Who, my mom?" Ray demanded, looking around in a panic.
	"No....my neighbour!"
	"The dog....Ms Winnebago...."
	"She's not a dog, Ray." Ben said reproachfully.

	Ray shrugged, "If you'd just done as I told you and reported
her like I said....you'd know her name, past, marital status....."

	The two of them peered around the pet food aisle, their eyes
intent on the young woman standing by the dairy products cooler.    She
was picking up various containers of what appeared to be cream, shaking
it slightly, listening intently, a frown on her brows as she put it down
and then picked up the next one.
	"What do you suppose she's doing?" Ben asked, mystified.

	Ray was more blase about it, "I hardly think you're in the
position
to judge, Benny, someone who puts diseased horse meat on his face is
not in the position to knock a girl because she likes listening to cream.
She's probably listening to see what kind of grass the cow ate....or
whether the cow had any relatives...."
	"Ray, I hardly think....."

	But Ray was enjoying himself, "No hell, maybe she wants to find
out the cow's favourite TV shows....you know, like Burke's Law....Jake
and the Fatman."

	"Ray...." Ben said evenly, "You know just as well as I do, that
that's impossible."
	"Why is that impossible?" Ray wanted to know.
	"No one watches Jake and the Fatman."
	"Even in Canada?" Ray demanded.
	"Even in Canada."

	"Well whadya know?" Ray said cheerfully, "We have something in
common after all."

	He studied her narrowly, taking in the faded jeans, oversized
man's shirt and loosely tied back hair.
	"She's not a dog, Benny."
	"I told you."

	"But she's also no babe......" Ray said with the air of  a
connoisseur.

	If it had been anyone else apart from Ben, he would have looked
annoyed.  As it was, he looked patient.  "Ray, you know how I don't like
it when you use such blatantly discriminatory terms. I find them
unilluminating, unhelpful and more than a little offensive"

	"But she is kinda cute.....in a non-babe way," Ray mused, "Not
my type....but I'm always here for my pals," he said and strolled forward.

	Marie-Claire was picking up the final container of cream and
shaking it discreetly when a dark-haired man with a broad smile approached
her.

	He wore a garishly coloured shirt which billowed around his narrow
frame.	His baggy trousers fell around very polished shoes and he had
a chunky gold chain around his neck.  He reminded her of a rather benign
looking frog.

	The smile was irresistible, though, it invited one to smile in
agreement, even though one had no idea what he might be smiling about.

	A suave opening remark had been on his lips, but it died as he
stared into her very dark green eyes.  Those witch's eyes could see into
a man's soul and he had a horrible suspicion that she knew that he had
been guilty of dumping his trash in his neighbour's trashcan to save
having to take out the trash himself the day before.
	"Hello," he said cheerfully.  "Stereo broken?"

	Marie-Claire looked down at the cream she was holding in her
hand and laughed.

	"Actually....I know it sounds a bit silly...but I've bought this
really delicious blackberry and apple pie from Nielson's......and I wanted
to buy that really thick cream....you know the stuff which has the
consistency
of plaster of Paris?"

	"I know the one," Ray said sagely, "Shaking's the way to go -
but you can't just do it delicately." he told her.

	"Really?" she demanded, in fascination.  He nodded emphatically.

	"Let's be practical. I'm an expert at this, my ma sends me on
errands all the time." he told her with an air of confidentiality. 
	"Is she a good cook?" Marie-Claire asked.
	"The best."

	"My mum was a horrible cook," Marie-Claire said with a reminiscent
laugh.	They both stared at the shelf.
	"So, what have we got?" he demanded.

	She read the different names aloud, "Double Cream, Thickened
Cream, Double Thick Cream, Light Double Thick Cream, Thickened Double
Light cream, Double Dollop Thick Cream, Double Thickened Reduced Cream
and Aunt Mary McGregor's Creamy Cream."

	"Exactly - how's a guy to tell?  You don't do it by listening...."
he reached out, grabbed one and shook it once in his hand, "You see?
You can feel the cream moving."

	He handed it to her and she shook it once, nodding judiciously.
"That's not the right one, then."

	They shook a few more, "Aha!" Ray exclaimed in glee, making
everyone
in the store turn around and stare at him except Dave who was busy
debating
the merits of home delivery with a customer.

	"You see - this one doesn't move at all.....solid as plaster
of paris," he said exultantly.

	She took the container from him, smiling at him.  It was a
brilliant
smile, he noted immediately and smoothed away the gravity from her young
face.  It was also a smile which discouraged flirtation but encouraged
a warm friendliness instead.

	Her dark eyes were actually a very dark, deep shade of green,
thickly lashed and intelligent and set below strongly-marked brows. 
	Her chin was pointed, her hair a rich dark auburn and her skin
pale and creamy.  When she smiled, a dimple appeared in her left cheek
which gave her smile a peculiarly lop-sided charm.  There was nothing
beautiful about this face, her jaw looked stubborn, her eyes were too
clear and willful, but there was a wealth of charm and intelligence and
he grinned at her.

	"The name's Raymond Vecchio," he said extending his hand. 
	"Marie-Claire Dempsey, pleased to meet you," she said pleasantly,
shaking his hand in a firm grip.

	Her eyes flickered momentarily to the pet food aisle where the
brim of a large hat was protruding from around the corner.

	"Is he listening for caribou or just eavesdropping?" she queried
dryly. 
	Ray cleared his throat, "Ahh, he's just communing with the Puppy
Chomps.....makes him feel at one with nature."

	'I see." Marie-Claire said wisely, her smile tugging irresistibly
at the corners of her full-mouth.
	"Perhaps you'd like to meet him....." Ray suggested.

	"No thanks, red gives me severe urticaria." she said flippantly.
"It was nice to meet you.  I'd better be going."

	She walked to the checkout and Ray returned to where Ben was
standing beside the cat litter and hissed,	  "Urticaria?"
	"Hives." Ben said helpfully.

	"You had a dozen opportunities to come out and introduce yourself!
There are no doors around here!  The worst she could have done was stick
a salami in your face - and it's not as if that would be unbearable in
the light of what else you've stuck in your face.  His voice altered
momentarily, "You didn't tell me she was lame."
	"She's not lame...she has a limp."

	"Pretty bad limp, but she seems like a nice girl," he said
judiciously.
"Can you tag the accent?"
	"She's Canadian."

	"How do you know that?	I couldn't tell." Ray said as they walked
to the checkout, aubergine in hand.
	"Good evening, Dave." Ben said pleasantly.

	"'evenin', Fraser." Dave said cheerfully, "What can I do you
for tonight?" he asked.

	"Just the eggplant." Ray said putting the vegetable down on the
counter.  The three of them watched as the counter hesitated and then
propelled the vegetable slowly and inexorably to the spot in front of
Dave. 
	"She said 'mum'." Ben said aloud.

	"So?  That doesn't mean anything - lots of people say mum.  Her
accent didn't sound like anything familiar."
	"It's a very neutral accent," Ben agreed.

	"I noticed that, too," Dave said conversationally, "It could
be as a result of moving around a lot as a child.  I've noticed that
people who speak a lot of languages, or studied at those international
schools - tend to have less distinguishable accents.  In fact, my friend
Bob tells me the same thing."
	Ray couldn't restrain himself, "Dave, you ARE Bob."

	Dave looked tolerantly at Ray before grinning at Fraser, "You're
friend's a real comedian, isn't he?"

	Ben said nothing but as the two walked outside, Ray threw up
his hands, careful not to relinquish his firm grip on the aubergine,
"I'll bet you regret not letting me take her in, now." Ray said jokingly.
	"With a name like Marie-Claire.....perhaps she's a
French-Canadian," he mused.  "But then wouldn't she have said maman....or
mama?"

	"Should we plan for an exodus.....two Canadians in your slum
building....anymore and we could have a ghetto on our hands.  Come on,
we've got the eggplant....let's go and get your wolf."

	It was 2:30am a restless night in the city. Planes seemed to
be flying lower than usual, wailing sirens could be heard in the distance
almost continuously, and a never ending parade of vehicles seemed to
be going by on the street below.

	All of this & more were being incorporated into Fraser's' dreams.
These sounds & a not so subconscious longing for his beloved Yukon,
transformed
his dreams into something that resembled film-noir.

	A loud crash & an ear splitting screech or was it a scream, awoke
Fraser rudely out of his sleep. He laid there with his heart racing,
not knowing if this was real or part of his wistful dreams. Ears straining
for anything out of the ordinary, he waited in the dark.

	There it was again. It was more like a screech but this time
it sounded muffled. He sprang up, ran to the window & scanned the alley
below. Two people could be seen struggling with....in the darkness he
couldn't quite make out what it was. He raised the window which always
made the awful wood on warped wood sound. This alerted the people below
who immediately looked in his direction.

	"Excuse me. "Fraser called out. He did not understand what was
shouted back as he proceeded out unhesitatingly on to his fire escape
and began climbing down to investigate, with Dief bringing up the rear.

	The smaller of the 2 figures started to run away ,as the larger
one yelled something else Ben did not understand. Then he too ran away.

	By the time Ben & Dief reached the ground they had vanished.
Fraser proceeded to the end of the alley to see what he could find, but
they were long gone & besides, he wasn't exactly dressed for a foot race.
Then he heard Dief growling & barking. He turned to see the wolf pacing
around very agitated and fixated on something between 2 dumpsters.

	Fraser double-timed it to Dief.  Cautiously he approached the
spot which held Dief's attention. Looking down he saw a black canvas
bag, almost invisible in the dim alley light. As he approached the bag
it moved & then moved again as if alive.

	Fraser reached for the bag & very gently opened it - when a large
cat jumped out. The cat hit the ground, took one look at Dief & jumped
with startling accuracy into Fraser's arms. Not expecting this, Fraser
stood there holding the cat dumb-founded.

	"What the hell is going on out here?" a familiar female voice
from the shadows demanded.  "I'm getting pretty tired of being awoken
in..." the voice trailed off as she approached Fraser & Dief.  "It's
you again!  Don't you ever sleep?" Marie-Claire inquired.

	"Well yes, actually I was asleep when..." an embarrassed Fraser
began, but Marie-Claire cut him off before he could finish.

	"I don't think I've ever seen a Mountie in his PJ's in an alley
with a cat stuck to his chest before.  Do you do this often or are you
perhaps sleepwalking?"
	"Sleepwalking? No I heard..."
	Marie-Claire moved closer to Fraser to pet the cat.

	"I'll bet this kitty knows the REAL story.  May I?" Marie-Claire
asked as she reached out to take the cat.

	"Certainly" replied Fraser handing the cat to Marie-Claire. The
cat seemed to take to Marie-Claire immediately.  "You seem to have made
a friend." Fraser observed.

	"Do you know who he belongs to?" Marie-Claire asked as she stroked
the cats ear.

	"No I think he's a stray.  In fact someone had put him in this
bag." said Ben holding up the black bag.
	"Who would do that and why?"

	"I don't know.	They ran away before I could find out." Fraser
explained.

	"So what are you going to do with him?" Marie-Claire demanded.

	"The cat?" he questioned.
	 Marie-Claire shot him a look, "Yes, the cat!"

	 "I hadn't really thought about it.  He's a stray.  Perhaps I
should take him to a shelter."

	 Marie-Claire's voice went up at least an octave.  "A SHELTER!
ARE YOU NUTS? If he isn't claimed or adopted in a week it's adios and
off to the great litter box in the sky.  NO! NOT A SHELTER.  Why don't
you take him--you found him."

	"Me? Umm, I don't think he would approve of Diefenbaker."  he
temporized.

	They both looked at Dief, who had this odd glint in his eyes.

	"No, perhaps you're right."  Marie-Claire agreed.

	"May I suggest perhaps that you give him a home.  I believe you
mentioned to the landlord something about having rats.	Historically,
cats are a very good rat deterrent." Fraser said brightly, with the air
of having thought of something quite brilliant.

	"You know Mountie, you might have just hit upon a good idea."
Marie-Claire declared as she turned and headed back towards the fire
escape.  She looked back to see both him and Dief just looking at her.
"Are you guys coming or are you going to camp there all night?"

BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART D

     Morning came early after such a late night.  As Fraser dressed for
work, he attempted to discuss with Diefenbaker the occurrences the night
before.  Adjusting his lanyard in the mirror, he said "...and did you
notice last night our new neighbor was friendlier?  I told you, 'you
can attract more flies with honey than vinegar'.  It just took some time
before she felt comfortable enough to talk with us, but by being polite
we demonstrated that we would be accepting when she decided to talk with
us." 
    Diefenbaker responded with a half-growl/half-whine that seemed to
indicate disbelief on his part.

    "Well, think what you like"  he said.  "Willie will be by again after
school today.  I've noticed that your appetite in the evenings has really
decreased.  You two aren't stopping for fast food again are you?"  Fraser
put on his hat and opened the door to leave.  "Try to save some room
for dinner tonight, all right?	Bye."

    As Fraser shut his door , and he thought about stopping by to see
how the new cat was settling in next door.

    While Fraser contemplated knocking, inside the apartment Marie-Claire
was becoming slowly aware of an annoying high pitched loud noise by her
right ear.  Then suddenly she felt something cold and wet touch her cheek.
She opened her eyes to discover a cat hovering over her, staring intently.
Oh, God, the cat she remembered.  She must have forgotten to close her
bedroom door when she got back last night, she thought.
       "Meoooooow"  wailed the cat impatiently.

      "What?" she cried irritably.  This was a miserable way to awaken
she thought.  She glanced over at the clock.  It read 7:06.  "Hey, kitty!
I work nights, so I get to sleep in.  I'm not getting up."  She closed
her eyes to go back to sleep.

      Before she could drift off again she felt something cold and wet
pressing on her cheek again.  "Ok, ok.	Let me see if I can find something
for you to eat."

     As she sat up in bed she noticed a lump at the foot of the bed that
hadn't been there when she went to bed.  "AAAck"  she shrieked.  Then
she paused.   The rat wasn't moving very fast.	Actually she noticed
he wasn't moving at all.  The cat hopped off the bed and stood next to
the rat and meowed loudly.  "Well, I guess I'll have to keep you now
that you've made yourself indispensable.  Let's see what else we can
find you for
breakfast."

     As she trekked into the kitchen, there was a knock on the door.
Who could be here at this ungodly hour of the morning she thought?  She
opened her door to find Fraser standing in her doorway beaming.  "So
how's the new cat working out?" he inquired cheerfully.

    Marie-Claire responded with a quick slam of the door.  God, the nerve
of some people she thought, doesn't he know how early it is?  Marie-Claire
chuckled to herself as she had an evil thought.  She went into the kitchen
for a plastic bag.

    Fraser meanwhile was still standing in the doorway trying to figure
out this new turn of events.  Based on last night, this was not the
reception
he had anticipated.  As he pondered what he might of said to offend her,
the door opened again and Marie-Claire handed him a plastic bag with
a suspicious looking lump in it and then she slammed the door again.
As he walked away to dispose of her gift, he thought he heard soft
laughter
coming from behind her door.

As Ray drove them down to the station, he noticed that Fraser was quieter
than usual.  "So, Benny, what's the matter, cat got your tongue?" he
quipped trying to get a rise out of Fraser.

      Fraser looked up quickly.  He hadn't realized how lost in his own
thoughts he had been.  "I'm sorry Ray, I was just thinking about," he
paused.  "about"  he paused again.
      "About what?"  Ray said impatiently.

     "About last night and Ms. Dempsey"  he said with an air of
puzzlement.

      "OOOh"  Ray said excitedly.  "You got something going on with your
new neighbor now?  Benny, I'm surprised."

      "No, no" Fraser corrected quickly.  "Late last night there was
a noise in the alley and there were two people arguing, but by the time
I got there they were gone, and all that was left was the bag."

     "Ah, I can see why you're upset - Late night Littering - Your
neighborhood
is really going downhill now Fraser"  Ray joked.  "So how's your neighbor
involved?"

     "She came out to see what was going on as well.  And she was actually
quite polite and pleasant when she took the cat."

     "Wait, a minute, what cat?"  Ray inquired.  Ray was getting the
feeling that he was missing key parts of the story, which was something
quite unusual for Fraser to do.  Something must really be bothering him
he thought.
     "The cat that was in the bag of course."  Fraser answered.

     "Of course."  Ray said while throwing his hands in the air.  This
story seemed to be going nowhere fast.

	"And who let the cat OUT of the bag?" he demanded and then decided
it was time to get the facts and stop waiting for Fraser to bring them
up he decided.	Facts about the neighbor for example.  "So she's not
slamming doors anymore huh?"  Ray somewhat dejectedly spoke.  He should
have known it was only a matter of time before this new woman was throwing
herself at the Mountie like all the others.
     "Yes, well no."
     "Which is it Fraser?"  Ray impatiently inquired.

      "Well last night, Ms. Dempsey was quite pleasant to speak with
and she took the cat graciously, however this morning when I stopped
by to check on how she and the new cat were doing, she slammed the door
in my face.

	And then she opened it to give me the dead rat.  And then she
slammed it again.  I don't understand why there was such a change in
her behavior this morning from last night." Fraser sounded understandably
bewildered.

       "A dead RAT?"  Ray chuckled.  The more he heard about Marie-Claire
the more he liked her.	That lady had spunk.  "Benny, the reason why
she didn't slam a door in your face last night was because there wasn't
a door available in the middle of the alley."

       At Ray's comment, Fraser looked crestfallen.  Why does he care
what this lady thinks Ray wondered.  Ray answered his own mind's question.
Because he cares, because he ALWAYS cares.  Ray felt badly about his
remark and tried to turn the conversation to something lighter.  "So,
what's the cat's name?"
      "I don't know."  Fraser replied and then he laughed.

       Ray joined in the laughter and said "Oh, no not this again!" 
"So how do you propose we find out"  he said with a smile.

	The dog sniffed aimlessly at the various trees and garbage cans,
fascinated by the multitude of smells.

	The moon was caught up in the branches of one of the trees in
the park and gave a faintly unearthy glow which made it feel as if the
whole world was midnight.

	The litter on the freshly cut grass blew here and there as the
invisible hand of the breeze ruffled the ground.

	The dog's ears pricked up sharply and it sniffed the air, aware
of an unfamiliar scent in the air.  Its eyes scanned the darkness.

	It could hear the sound of animals complaining, cats mewling
and dogs barking, yet the sound was muffled.

	Very curiously it pottered around the corner, guided by sound
and scent.  The little dog encountered the Cat with his majestic bearing
and tattered ear.  The two studied each other warily and there was a
hint of warning in the cat's gleaming eyes.  The sound of the protesting
animals came closer and the dog hesitated, not sure if to run and
humiliate
itself before the dignified feline or to stay and risk the consequences
of the unknown.

	It was a showdown of wills and the cat's stood perfectly still,
staring implacbly into the interloper's puzzled eyes.

	Eventually the little dog made a low bark and ran away into the
darkness.  There was a brief moment of triumph for the Neighbourhood
Cat with his tattered ear and battered appearance.  He tasted the victory,
knowing full well it was to be a brief moment of pleasure which would
soon turn to ashes.

	He knew what his pride had cost him as a bag was pulled over
his head and he was enshrouded in terrifying, suffocating blackness.

	"Haven't we got enough for tonight?" a voice demanded nervously.

	"We never have enough." another man retorted angrily,"Quit being
so jumpy, Doug, you're getting on my nerves.  You almost let that cat
get away."

	"He wasn't going anywhere," the first voice said defensively,"It
was like he was waiting for us to get him."

	"You're getting paranoid - they're just animals."  He swore
briefly
as one of the Alsatians he had bagged bit him.	He kicked the dog, hearing
it yelp in agony with a smile of cruel satisfaction.  "That's right,
be a nasty boy - all the better." he said putting the bag in the back
of the truck.

	The truck drove away into the darkness and the Neighbourhood
Cat was jostled around in his prison of shadows and curled tighter,
cursing
his pride.

	Marie-Claire was walking by herself towards Dave's Check It Out
Late Convenience Store wishing not for the first time that she was one
of those organised people who had a shopping list prepared, rather than
having to duck back and forth to collect items she hadn't remembered
the last time.

	She walked through the doors and stared at the man standing behind
the counter.  At first glance, she had thought that it was someone else,
but looked again, and saw that it was Dave.  He still looked blond and
thin, but now he had a bandanna tied around his head, his jaw was stubbled
and he wore a khaki green shirt tucked into faded blue jeans.

	A studded belt was around his waist and he was scowling menacingly
at everyone, including Marie-Claire.

	"Who are you?" he demanded rudely.  Before she could answer he
spoke again. "You must be Marie-Claire," Dave/Bob said roughly, his voice
harsh and altered.  His eyes squinted at her.  "Dave's told me about
you." He said gruffly, nodding with his version of friendliness.

	"Umm, yes.....I'm Marie-Claire," she said hesitantly.  "And you
must be...Bob?" she wondered aloud, unable to believe that she was playing
along with him.  She tried to remember her highschool psychology and
whether she had ever learned anything about whether it was safe to humour
an imbalanced individual.

	She found her hand being seized in a strong grip and pumped up
and down energetically,"That I am, and you're a sweet young thing for
all your funny walk.  Dave says that you've been hanging out with that
kid Willie, and Constable Fraser's dog."

	"Wolf." Marie-Claire corrected, glad to be able to talk about
something which was anchored to reality.  "Dief's a wolf."
	Bob nodded judiciously,"What do you want?"

	Marie-Claire blinked at him, thinking in terms of metaphysical
desires and aspirations, long-term goals and ambitions.  Then she realised
he was referring to her shopping.

	"Oh.....I was trying to bake a cake," she said with a tentative
smile,"And I'd beaten the eggs, but I've got no flour."

	Bob walked with her as she went to get the flour and regaled
her with stories about his grand and glorious past in the merchant
marines.

	"Constable Fraser!" Bob called out with something akin to
affection
in his rough voice.  "It's been a while."
	"That it has," Ben said, shaking hands politely with the
shopkeeper.  "It's good to see you Sergeant Bailey.  Good evening Ms
Dempsey," he said courteously to Marie-Claire who nodded coolly.
	"I was wondering whether you'd seen this animal?"
	He held up a photograph of Steve's cat Megadeath.
	Bob squinted at it.  "Can't say as I have."

	"What about this one?" Ben asked, holding up a picture of a
rottweiler
cross.
	"Nope.	Sorry." Bob said apologetically.  Ben sighed.

	"There's been a spate of disappearances in the neighbourhood.
They vanish without a trace.  It's very perplexing.  I've checked the
local pound, pet stores and gone door to door.	No one's seen or heard
anything." 
	"Is this why you were standing in your pyjamas in the alley the
other night?" Marie-Claire inquired against her will.

	Ben turned to her and nodded,"That is correct.	Unusual sounds
awoke me from my sleep.  Unfortunately my arrival caused the unidentified
persons to vanish into the night, leaving behind no trace except for
your cat, and the bag - which I'm currently having analysed by the lab."

	Bob closed one eye reflectively, rubbed his stubbled jaw and
said,"This reminds me of when I was in Bangkok, missing animals -  they
turned up again mysteriously in the restaurant next door." he said and
Marie-Claire looked extremely displeased,
	"I hope you won't go around repeating that tale, Bob."

	Bob shrugged,"War is hell.  Constable Fraser, did I ever tell
you about the time when I was stranded with my men in the middle of
a........."
His voice trailed away as the two men walked back towards the counter
and Marie-Claire was left alone.

	Before she could step outside there was a deafeaningly loud clap
of thunder, the heavens opened and the rain pelted down.

	Her jaw dropped incredulously and she turned and looked over
at Bob who was engaged in deep conversation with Fraser.

	"Do you have an umbrella, Ms Dempsey?" Fraser inquired of her
and she shook her head, still looking outside where the rain was bucketing
down in thick sheets.

	"The weather report said it would be a beautiful fine day." she
said to Bob who shook his head and scowled menacingly,

	"Weather reports?  You believe those liars?  They're tricksters
- all of them.	Government-employed meteorologists - it's a conspiracy!
Pulling the wool over the eyes of the masses, mark my words, the CIA's
behind......" she tuned out his words as she sighed and walked over to
the aisle which sold umbrellas.

	She picked a neat little black umbrella and paid for her
purchases,
stepping outside and sighing a little.

	Fraser was standing beside her with his own umbrella aloft,
effectively
protecting his immaculate uniform from the rain.

	She didn't want to ask, but found that she just had to ask,"How
did you know he was Bob today, mountie?"

	"This morning, on my way to work, I encountered Mr Nielsen's
youngest daughter Gretchen who informed me that she had seen Bob taking
out the garbage."  He omitted to mention that Gretchen had also fluttered
her long lashes at him in a way he found most disconcerting.

	Marie-Claire shook her head,"This place cannot be real." she
stepped off the curb awkwardly, sinking up to her ankles in water.  She
grimaced and continued to walk through the water.

	"Ms Dempsey, would you allow me to carry you groceries for......."

	"Maybe it's a publicity stunt?" Marie-Claire thought aloud,"Small
store - needs a gimmick, what better than a shop-keeper with a
dual-personality.....but then.....advertising would be less of an effort."
she thought, her brow puckering as she sloshed unheedingly through the
thick puddles.

	The umbrella was useless, she decided, folding it up and just
letting the rain sluice over her as she walked down the street back to
her apartment.
	"Ms Dempsey - you're getting wet." Fraser pointed out.

	Marie-Claire turned around, the rain had plastered her hair to
her head and her clothes were absolutely soaked.  She was grinning
broadly,
it was the first time Fraser had seen her look so happy and she shook
her head,   "You mounties are so observant." she commented and walked
away humming 'Singing in the Rain' beneath her breath.
	Fraser decided that he would never understand women.

	"Make sure you get out of those wet clothes!  You wouldn't want
to catch a chill!" he called out after her.

	She turned around, her face still alight with laughter and
delight,"I
love the rain, actually." she told him and walked away. 

	"What have we here?" Fraser asked with interest when he and Ray
walked through the door and found Wille and Dief staring at cake slices
on the table.
	Ray reached out for a piece.
	"No, no, no NO!!!!!" Willie called out.
	Ray dropped the slice of cake in shock.
	"What is WITH you, kid?" Ray demanded in exasperation.

	"Marie-Claire made it." Willie said in tones of considerable
horror.  Dief barked in agreement.

	"Come now, Willie, I'm sure that Ms Dempsey's cooking is perfectly
fine.  You must be exaggerating."  Ben picked up a piece and despite
Willie and Dief's combined warning, he took a bite and chewed.
	A very peculiar expression crossed his face.
	He looked around desperately for the garbage bin.
	"Spit it into your hat." Ray advised helpfully.

	Ben crossed to the garbage and spat it out, wiping his mouth
with his handkerchief and returned to the table, looking slightly
perturbed.
"You were right Willie."

	"Now I'm REALLY curious." Ray  said and took a bite despite the
expressions of horror from the other three occupants in the room. 
	They watched in fascination as Ray choked, turned a very peculiar
colour, gagged and spat the cake into his hand.
	"Benny."
	"Yes Ray?"
	"You know how you told me she gave you a dead rat?"
	"Yes Ray."
	"I know how it died."
	"I don't think so Ray."
	"She must really hate you, Benny." Ray remarked.
	"What makes you say that?" Ben asked.

	"She's trying to poison you.  Why else would she give you this
cake?" 
	Willie looked guilty,"Actually, she gave it to Dief and me -
she made the cake for us.  I couldn't say no.  It would hurt her
feelings."

	Ben nodded,"Quite right, you can never insult someone's cooking.
It would be an unpardonable social solecism."

	"Maybe I'll arrest her for manufacturing prohibited substances."
Ray joked.

	The four of them stood around the table staring at the cake.
"What are we going to do with it,  Fraser?  Dief almost died when he
ate it." 
	"So did I." Ben agreed, as he frowned over the problem.
	"Rat poison?" Ray suggested.
	"You're being rude, Ray."
	"Hey, you tasted it."
	Willie headed for the door.

	"Willie - you left your cake behind." Fraser pointed out. 
	"That was the whole intention, Fraser." Willie told him.
	"The kid's smart." Ray said approvingly.

	"See you tomorrow Fraser." Willie said and the door closed behind
him. 
	"What am I going to do with it, Ray?" Ben asked, staring down
at the revolting cake.
	"I don't know, Benny, I don't know."

	While Ben and Ray debated what to do with the cake without
inadvertantly
breaching world environmental guidelines for the disposal of toxic waste,
Marie-Claire tossed her wet clothes into the basket. It was really raining
cats and dogs out there, she thought. Why hadn't she paid more attention
at the convenience store? Maybe those rumors about Dave and Bob were
true.  She resolved to pay closer attention in the future. 
      As she precariously balanced the basket on one hip while locking
the door with her free hand, she heard a familiar voice behind her ask

	"Can I help you with that ma'am?".

	"No!" she quickly stated.  As she turned to go down the stairs,
she irritably noticed her mountie neighbor still looked as fresh as a
spring day in his dress uniform, not at all touched by the seeming monsoon
outside.  Marie-Claire hurriedly brushed past him and headed off towards
the laundry room.

      As Marie-Claire entered the laundry room, she saw a familiar figure
perched on top of one of the washers.  "Hi Elena!"  she called out. 
"Did you get caught in the rain as well?"

      "No, I saw Bob this morning and put my umbrella back in my backpack.
Though with the way its been raining, a rainsuit and hip waders would
have probably worked better." Elena replied.   "How are you doing today,
Marie-Claire?" the nurse inquired.

      "Except for leaving all my laundry outside to air dry this
afternoon?
Just wonderful." she stated sarcastically.

      As Marie-Claire moved forward to put her clothes in the dryer,
she noticed something in Elena's lap.  "What's that?" she wondered out
loud. 
	"It's a baby quilt for Mrs. Nyugen.  It's a Celtic Knot appliqu
pattern.  I keep telling her that she's got to carry this baby full term
or else she doesn't get the quilt."
     "How is she doing?"

     "She's doing quite well, all things considered.  She's still pretty
stressed out about that awful graffiti spray painted on their door last
weekend."  Elena shook her head and lowered her hands.	"Some people
can be so hateful!"  she said with a strong southern drawl.

     "I hadn't heard anything about that.  I've been working some crazy
hours recently.  What happened?"  Marie-Claire asked.

     "Well sometime Saturday night, someone spraypainted their door with
messages about them eating dogs and cats.  And it looked like they
splashed
red paint on their doorway.   And on the wall across from their apartment,
someone wrote  'Good Morning Vietnam, Go back while you still can!'"

     "How awful!" she responded, "Do the police know who did it?" 
     "If they do, they're not saying"  Elena replied testily.  "I'm sorry,
I'm not angry with you."  she apologized.   "I just can't imagine having
to live in fear like they do.	Today it's just words on a wall.  What
will tomorrow bring?"

     There was a silence as both women pondered the Nyugen's situation.
The buzzer of the dryer interrupted their thoughts and the silence. 
     Elena walked over to the dryer and drew out one of the towels. 
"Looks like they're done" she exclaimed.  "With as much laundry as I
seem to be doing, perhaps I should quit my day job and go professional"
she joked with Marie-Claire.

    "You know, I come here pretty often.  I could just throw the Nguyen's
laundry in with mine and save you a trip over here."

     "That's very sweet of you, Marie-Claire, I'll mention it to Mrs.
Nguyen?"  Elena said with a smile.

     The petite nurse began to fold the clothes and towels on the washing
machine next to Marie-Claire.  As she finished, she turned to Marie-Claire
and said "A friend of mine, Mike, a physical therapist, is coming over
to the clinic tomorrow to demonstrate proper body mechanics for our home
health aides.	I was wondering if you would like to stop by around lunch
time.  Mike may have a few suggestions for you for your leg."

    "I'll think about it,"  she said out loud while thinking; sure, when
hell freezes over.
    "Ok, I'll catch you later."

BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART E

	A thick cloud of smoke hung in the remains of what was passing
for air.   This, combined with the smell of stale beer served to drive
out any remaining oxygen in the small warehouse.

	Darkness was the order of the day, windows boarded up so that
no one could see out, or in.  For the group of men gathered around a
small fenced in pen at the heart of the building, conditions were perfect.

	The men themselves were an interesting group.  Several books
had been written about men such as these, most notably "A Case History
of the Criminal Mind".	Each one made an effort to be both part of the
proceedings and yet anonymous in the shadows.  All had money.  Great
wads of cash in hand, wallet, or pocket.  Each had come to part with
a small amount in hopes of making a larger one.  All of them spoke in
low whispers, casting their chances against how much they could afford
to lose.  And likewise, all were prepared to run like a pack of roaches
the moment after the light comes on.

	Abruptly a hush fell over them as a short, sweaty faced man
approached
the ring.  The light of a single, bare bulb shone on his thinning hair.

	"Gentlemen," an oily voice escaped his thin lips, "Please conclude
your wagering.	The next bout begins in..."a glance at a cheap pocket
watch,"...two minutes."

	At this the other men in the room began to separate and take
up positions from which to watch the fight.  The old pros not needing
to finish betting, the new ones too ashamed to do so.

	Two medium sized cages were rolled out onto the floor next to
the ring.  Everyone could see the two animals kept within.  Once both
fine examples of their species, the two dogs had been half starved and
beaten to make them ferocious.	They fought and scratched to be released
anytime anyone came for a closer look.	Hatred had been introduced. 
Hatred for man, hatred for the other, and hatred for themselves.

	The openings of the cages were placed against similar openings
in the fence surrounding the ring.  Ropes were run through pulleys and
attached to hooks above the doors of the cages.

	"Gentleman, it is time."  Oily Voice again.  "Stop your bets,
please."  He waited a moment for silence to fall, then, when all was
quiet, he quickly stepped aside and gave a nod to the two men at each
rope. 
	A swift downward pull brought the doors of both cages up and
released the animals into the ring.  They stood transfixed in their cages,
unwilling to trust to their apparent release.  Then the Black Lab on
the left cautiously came forward.  Soon he was followed by the German
Shepherd on the far side.  Both sniffed the air and stood eyeing their
surroundings and each other.

	Something landed with a wet slap in the center of the ring.
Immediately
their attention was fixed on the first food either had seen in a week.
It was a the limb body of a dead stray cat which had been captured in
the streets.  A quick sniff and both dogs were at it in seconds.  The
desired effect was achieved and they were quickly attacking each other
in an effort to gain possession.

	It ended quickly.  The Shepherds more powerful jaws locked onto
the Labs throat and held.  No amount of clawing and scratching would
help.  The Lab quickly lost the ability to even  whimper over its fate
as its throat was torn out.  Yet the Shepherd still hung on until, at
last, he was covered in blood and the Lab lay dead at his feet.  The
Shepherd licked its lips and began a gruesome feast.
	And money changed hands.

The tiny terrier quivered with fright, its heart pounding
frantically as it cowered in the corner.  It could taste fear in the
air, taste it and smell the savagery which pervaded the entire room.

	One moment he had been wandering through the garbage of the
streets,
the next moment he had found himself in a strange environment surrounded
by other dogs and cats.  There was panic in the air, similar to the panic
at a slaughteryard or the pound when the executions were taking place.
Animals always knew when they were going to die.

	The barking was getting closer and the dog's large eyes glanced
around frantically, his muzzle twitching as he looked in vain for an
escape route.

	The lame cat cowered against him, the two of them shrinking back
in fear.

	"Go on!  there they are!" one of the men called out as he let
the leash on one of the vicious dogs go slack.

	The pack made a sound of exultation and dove at the small,
helpless
cat who trembled.

	Within seconds, the little animal was torn to pieces, its hot,
rusty blood further enraging the savage dogs who demanded more.

	The tiny terrier despite its scratches and injuries managed to
creep away while the dogs were savaging their prey.

	Mrs. Gonzalez was frantically searching for her son Pedro Carlos
Gonzalez III.  Pedro II was adamant that his son be named after him as
he was named after his father.	The only problem was Pedro II disappeared
shortly after the birth of his son leaving Mrs. G. to wonder why was
it so important for him to have a namesake in the first place.

	Pedro III or Pete as he liked to be called was 14 and absolutely
crazy about animals.  He would spend hours at Lincoln Park Zoo walking
around, talking to the keepers and drawing the animals.  He would joke
that because they lived so far from the zoo it took him a bus, an El,
2 cabs and a helicopter drop to get him there.

	On this particular day though, Pete was 3 hours late getting
home from school and Mrs. G was in a panic.  He had been late before
but never like this.  Hence, she searched every square inch of the route
he took to and from school.  No one had seen him after he had left for
the day.  It would be dark soon, Mrs G. thought anxiously. "I must find
him before dark."  she said to herself.

	Pete had left school on time. Another uneventful day.  It was
a long and boring walk home and Pete had discovered that if he took a
short cut through the alleys he could save himself about 10 minutes.
The downside of this was that if his mom ever discovered that he was
using the alleys she would kill him.  He took the chance anyway - she
was at work how could she possibly find him out?

	As he progressed down the alley lost in thought, he suddenly
realised that while ambling along in his own private world, he had managed
to wander into an unfamiliar area.  He glanced around curiously, not
particularly concerned at his predicament, regarding it as something
of an adventure which would lift the day above the humdrum.

	The place was rundown, deserted with cracks in the old buildings.
Suddenly, he heard a cry or whimper.  Pete stopped immediately, the sound
of an animal in need always made him alert and he listened closely. 
It was coming from an abandoned building just a few metres away.  Pete
approached the building and pushed open the door. The whimpering was
definitely coming from inside.

	"Great." said Pete to himself. He made the usual noises people
made when they wanted an animal to come but to no avail.  Reluctantly
he took a few steps inside.  It was much darker than he imagined it would
be during the day and it smelled peculiar and a prickle of discomfort
shivered across his skin.

	The whimpering was much louder now and seemed to be coming from
the direction of the staircase located to his right.

	"That's not too far,"  Pete thought to himself. So he headed
in the direction of the sound.	As he approached the staircase the crying
became more intense almost a panic and his heart pounded.

	He looked under the stairs and what he saw gave him a start.
At first Pete couldn't tell if it was a cat or a dog. The animal was
dirty and bleeding. It was missing clumps of fur from various parts of
its body. 
	Pete moved in closer talking in a low voice in the vain hope
of calming the poor animal.  As he got closer it tried to disappear into
the wall trying to get away from Pete.	At this distance Pete could tell
it was a small dog.  Seeing that his presence was not helping he decided
to withdraw and see if he could find someone to help.

	As he turned to go he heard voices coming from somewhere above
him. Then a door opened and he could hear the voices very clearly.

	"Get someone to find out where that noise is coming from and
make it stop. OK.? We don't need someone wandering in here snooping
around."
Pete didn't waste any time looking for a spot to hide. He knew that
whoever
belonged to that voice would not understand that he only wanted to help
the dog.

	He glanced around and saw a stack of barrels.  "Perfect" he said
to himself and made tracks.  above. A man came out of the office and
started down the stairs.  The light from the office had the effect of
a spot light on the staircase and the area directly below.   In this
light Pete could see that the man had a gun in his hand.  As the man
reached midpoint on the stairs the little dog darted from his hiding
place and made a bee-line for the door that Pete had left open.

	"Hey! What the..." the man yelled as he now ran down the remaining
stairs and headed towards the open door. Pete's racing heart fell to
his feet - or felt as if it did.  For a panicked moment, he feared that
the man would pursue the little dog; but to his momentary relief he did
not. Instead he spun around and stood very still peering into the
darkness.

	It was at this moment  Pete realised his mistake and the gravity
of the situation.  The man was no longer after the dog, now he was hunting
an uninvited guest - Pete.  He held his breath and wished that his heart
would not beat quite so loud.  Waiting in the shadows Pete promised God
in a fervent fashion a grocery list of things he would do and not do
if HE would just get him out of this predicament alive.

	"Jack! Get down here!" the man yelled.	A figure appeared on
the stairs a moment later,

	"Yeah, what? Lost your doggie?" he demanded sarcastically. 
	"Get down here!" the man with the gun demanded angrily.  Jack
proceeded down the stairs and towards the door in a leisurely fashion.

	"What's the matter Denny?" Jack asked.
	"Who brought the supplies in today Jack?"

	"I did Denny. You let me in, remember?"  Jack told Denny in an
insolent manner.

	"That's right." Denny said in a condescending tone which oozed
menace. "So Jack, that means YOU were the last one in-correct?"

	Fear began to creep into Jack's previously flippant voice as
he answered,

	"Yeah-I guess so." his voice quavered slightly, no longer so
calm. 
	Without warning, Denny grabbed Jack by the jacket and shook him,
"Good. Then you can tell me why this door is open."

	"I-I-I don't know" Jack stammered, all his bravado well and truly
vanished.

	With this, Denny shook Jack even harder. "YOU DON'T KNOW? I DON'T
WANT-I DON'T KNOW!"

	"OK, OK - I had my hands full and I kicked it shut. I meant to
come back and bolt it. I guess I forgot.   I'm sorry." Jack rambled
nervously.
"It won't happen again."

	Denny glared at Jack "I want you to search this place and make
sure nobody got in. UNDERSTAND!"  Jack nodded obediently.  "You know
Jack, if the cops find this place you're goin' back to jail. This is
a definite violation of your parole. Remember jail Jack? The boys would
be very glad to see you again."

	"Y-Yes Denny, I understand." quavered Jack, a nervous twitch
in his jaw making its presence known.  Denny released him contemptuously.

	"Start with the pens and be sure they're all locked down.
Tonight's
the big night. A LOT of money is riding on those dogs.	OK, that terrier
that got loose after its fight yesterday, not only lived through the
damned night but beat - feet or should I say paws, out of YOUR open door.
I'm gonna go and find him and practice my very own version of euthanasia
before someone finds him and starts wondering how he got so chewed up.
Get Ralph down here to watch the door. I'll be right back.  I doubt he
made it very far in his condition." With that Denny headed out the door.
Jack called Ralph and then went upstairs to carry-out Dennys' orders.

	Pete sat as still as he could. Trying to comprehend all he had
heard and hoping he could find a way out before anyone discovered he
was there. Pete checked his watch "damn" he was already more than a half
and hour late and it didn't look like he was going anywhere anytime soon
either. Twenty mins. later Denny returned in an even worse mood than
when he left. His hunting trip was unsuccessful. "At least one of us
got a way." Pete thought.  As Denny bolted the door,
that anyone came early and that the spectators would start arriving in
about an hour.

	"Great! another hour with no chance of escape. Mom is gonna KILL
ME! If these guy don't do it first"  Pete thought as a chill ran through
his body.

	The time passed with agonising slowness but eventually people
started to show up.  Disreputable men with faces only mothers could love
- and even then only at a great distance.

	Ralph and another man who was built like one a WWF wrestler,
let the visitors in one by one after they had frisked them and confiscated
anything that could be used as a weapon and issued a claim check of some
sort to each person.

	Despite being a boy of the television age, Pete had never seen
so many guns and knives in all of his young life in such a short period
of time.  By 7:00pm the unwashed assemblage had proceeded upstairs and
the door was bolted.

	It was dark outside and he was in no doubt that his poor mother
would think that he was probably dead.

	"Well," he thought "I will be once I get home."  Pete made a
decision to wait a little longer to ensure the coast was clear before
making a break for it.	As he waited he could hear the men laughing and
shouting and he could smell the acrid smell of cigarettes and cigars.

	Suddenly there was a great deal of cheering from rough throats
and clapping from callused hands. It sounded as though an announcement
of some sort was being made.  Pete had been on the verge of making a
run for it when he heard the most frightening sound he had ever heard.

	It was the sound of wild animals - growls, snarls, yelps and
what sounded like high pitched screams echoed throughout the building
in an eerie and pitiful fashion.   It was only then that Pete realised
that the men were having the dogs he heard them talking about earlier,
fight each other. 
	He felt sickened beyond belief.  He knew with a grim certainty
that he had to make a break for it now while a fight was going on and
all the noise would muffle the sound of the bolts on the door being drawn
back. 
	Pete made his move.  The bolts were rusty and he had a hard time
pulling them back.  It didn't help that he was in a panic. After what
seemed an eternity, the last of the bolts slid back and he was able to
open the door.

	Once outside, he ran as fast as he could out of the alley and
to the main street.  With tears streaming down his face he ran as fast
as he could towards his home, losing his way several times so blinded
was he by panic and tears.

	Once he paused and looked around anxiously, certain that he was
being followed.  "Who is it?" he demanded nervously and he stared in
astonishment as he saw the little terrier limp out from behind a garbage
can and look at him with large, panicked eyes.

	Glancing around frantically, Pete hastily scooped the wounded
animal up into his arms and started to run again.

	Two blocks from his house he stopped to catch his ragged breath
and that was when he saw his alarmed mother.  She stopped and stared
at him as if she was seeing a ghost. Then ran to him and engulfed him
in the best hug he could remember.

	"Be care of the dog mom." he said breathlessly as the little
terrier made a faint sound of protest.

	Both were crying as they walked the last 2 blocks home.  Once
at home Pete told his mother everything that he had witnessed, the little
dog shivering on the rug as it made a feeble attempt to lap at some milk.

	Mrs Gonzales' reaction was unexpected.	She was calm but quietly
furious.  Not angry at Pete (as he had been certain she would be) but
angry at what the world was coming to.
	"You will have to report this to the police, Pete."

	This did not make him a happy camper.  All he could think of
was one of those shows on TV where the friends of the bad guys come to
wreak havoc on the unfortunate informer and his family for the rest of
his very short life.

	His mom understood.   She suggested that perhaps that nice Mountie
that lived in the neighbourhood might be able to help.	Pete reluctantly
agreed to that as he stroked the terrier's matted fur with a tender hand.

BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART F

	Marie-Claire walked up the stairs to Mrs Nguyen's room, her leg
aching and she wondered how the woman managed the rather tortuous stairs
at all.

	She knocked on the door firmly, waiting until she heard an
accented
voice ask shyly. "Yes?	Who is it?"

	"My name's Marie-Claire, Elena normally does your laundry and
I said that I might be able to give you a hand." she said through the
door. She heard the unbolting of doors and Marie-Claire saw that Mrs
Nguyen was a tiny, delicate woman with a great swollen belly.

	She had long black hair pulled back in a loose pony-tail and
she looked tired and very drained.   "This is very kind of you," Mrs
Nguyen said haltingly,

	"The nice man in the red - he say he can help me......but....."
she lowered her voice and said in a slightly appalled voice,"he is a
man.  It would be very embarrassing to have him washing our underwear."

	Marie-Claire's lips twitched but she didn't laugh, because Mrs
Nguyen sounded so very serious.  The thought of the very proper mountie
hanging up pantyhose and brassieres to dry made her want to dissolve
into hysterical laughter though.
	"I quite understand," she said soothingly.

	"Would you like a cup of tea?' Mrs Nguyen asked in her soft voice
and Marie-Claire smiled,

	"That would be wonderful - as long as you allow me to make it,"
she said using her most charming and persuasive smile.	Before Mrs Nguyen
quite knew what was happening to her, she was sitting down in a chair
with her feet up and a cup of tea in her hands.

	"And your mother, would she like a cup of tea, too?" Marie-Claire
asked.	Mrs Nguyen nodded, momentarily enjoying the luxury of sitting
back and relaxing.  Marie-Claire carried the cup of tea into one of the
tiny bedrooms.	An old woman with a face like a baked apple looked up
at her with bright, dark eyes and she smiled,

	"Would you like some tea?" she asked indicating the cup she held.
The old woman looked at her and a smile creased her face.  Marie-Claire
assisted the very light woman into a sitting position and gave her the
tea. 

	She returned to see Mrs Nguyen kneading her temples distractedly.
The room was very neat and tidy, in one corner was a little shrine with
incense sticks burning.  Occasionally she heard the hum of mantras at
night and had assumed that they had been at prayer.

	The monotonous chanting and rhythmic sounds were an intriguingly
exotic contribution to the sounds of the morning and night.

	A window was broken and she saw that paper had been taped over
it and she sat down next to Mrs Nguyen and asked gently,"Elena says you've
been having problems."

	"It is nothing." Mrs Nguyen said stubbornly, not wanting to appear
even weaker in front of a stranger and Marie-Claire who understood the
meaning of pride nodded.  She went to get the laundry, grinning at the
rather jolly budda who was beaming at her from the ledge.

	"I won't be long," she said,"Do you prefer to use the dryer to
dry your clothes, or do you prefer a line?"

	"Dave delivered some groceries this morning." Mrs Nguyen said
as if that answered everything.

	"Err, so I assume that means - the line?" Marie-Claire clarified
and Mrs Nguyen nodded,

	"Will not rain." she said confidently and Marie-Claire tried
not to look sceptical as she left the room carrying the laundry. On the
way down she encountered Mrs Trapp, a rather obnoxious woman with a finger
she used to point.  For such a stubby, fat little finger it managed to
carry a great deal of emphasis about it.

	"Someone ought to do something about those people." she said
aggressively as Marie-Claire approached her.  Marie-Claire set down the
basket of laundry for a moment and straightened, a faintly militant gleam
in her green eyes.

	"Oh?" she asked coolly.  "And what people might these be?" she
queried.  The sausage-like finger waved in her face again,

	"Those people, barbarians all of them!" Mrs Trapp told her.
"Chanting
all day long, burning things.....those sneaky, slanted eyes....! They
should go back to their own country." Mrs Trapp announced with the air
of someone who believed that she was saying something for the very first
time.

	"You must be commended on your very generous and broad-minded
outlook, Mrs Trapp." Marie-Claire said with a great deal of sweetness.

	Mrs Trapp narrowed her beady eyes, the finger waved in
Marie-Claire's face again,"It's bleeding hearts that you that will make
this great nation of ours get polluted."

	"Sieg Heil." Marie-Claire murmured sotto voce and was about to
make a very provocative remark when a polite voice murmured,

	"Actually, cultural diversity is more of a plus than a minus.
There can be nothing more remarkable than seeing many difference cultures
living together in harmony and learning from each other."	 Mrs
Trapp's face changed with alacrity as the tall uniformed mountie
approached
them. 
	"Hello Benton," she cooed,"You must come around for some of my
fudge brownies soon, my daughter Flossie would love to have you come
around.  Why not tonight?"

	An expression remarkably like panic flickered over Ben's usually
impassive features.   "Thank you kindly, ma'am, but I'm afraid that I
have already promised Miss Dempsey here that I would assist her with
her laundry."

	A choked sound escaped Marie-Claire's throat but she said nothing.
Benton looked relieved at her silence.	Mrs Trapp waved her finger around
in front of Marie-Claire's expressionless face again, an edge in her
voice,"A big girl like you should be able to do her own washing."

	"Well, I never can separate the whites from the coloured without
guidance," Marie-Claire murmered,"Laundry's requires such a delicate
balance, you know."

	Mrs Trapp looked down at Diefenbaker and patted him on the head
as if he was a poodle.	 "Nice doggy," she cooed and Dief showed his
teeth menacingly,allowing a growl to escape his throat. Mrs Trapp's smile
slipped slightly. "Oh well, I'll see you soon," she said patting her
blue curls with an air of flirtatiousness.  "I just love a man in
uniform,"
she said before she waddled away in her purple, floral dress.

	"Wimp." Marie-Claire murmured as she prepared to pick up her
laundry.  He was too fast for her this time and picked up the laundry
and strode downstairs with it.

	"Are you referring perchance to my words to Mrs Trapp perhaps?"
Ben asked cautiously.

	"You turned down a cosy evening with Flossie and the brownies.
I didn't know Mounties were allowed to lie." she murmured as she made
her way down the stairs, avoiding the handrail.  It gave her the most
incredibly painful electric shocks and it drove her crazy.

	"Well, the way I see it, it wasn't precisely a lie," he explained.
"I'm curious to know why you didn't disabuse her of the notion
immediately."

	He had met Flossie Trapp once before.  She was as decisive as
her surname and had clung to him with the stubborn tenacity of a limpet.
It had taken him days to wash off the scent of Lulu perfume and the food
she had plied him with had made even his cast-iron stomach rebel.

	"I wouldn't wish that old battle-axe even on you, mountie." she
told him and was playing with Dief as they headed to the laundry. Dief
was as sprightly as a puppy and the two of them had obviously played
on many occasions in the past.

	"How is your new household addition fairing, if I might be
permitted
to ask?" he asked politely.

	"Did you want to help me dispose of more dead rats?" Marie-Claire
inquired with arched brows.

	"Well, not exactly, I was just making polite conversation." he
said ingenuously.

	She took the basket from him, set it down next to the machine,
wincing at the shock she got from the metal and then turned. "Are you
aware that the Nguyens are being harassed?"

	"Yes, I apprehended two of the culprits only yesterday, two young
boys with a can of spraypaint."

	"And their window has been broken."  she said accusingly. 
	"I'm aware of that that, I'm currently negotiating with the
perpetrator
to ensure that he pays for the damage.	Cats and dogs are going missing
in this neighbourhood, though."

	Marie-Claire's eyes narrowed dangerously and he added hastily,"Not
of course, that there is any connection between their disappearance and
ahh....ummmm."

	Marie-Claire pushed him out the door of the laundry, noting
absently
that she didn't get a shock from contact.  She patted Dief one last time.

	"Miss Dempsey, please allow me to expl...."	   The door
slammed
in his face.

	Fraser stared at the closed door.  "You know Dief, I'm beginning
to think that our neighbour has something against me." Dief barked in
agreement with a decided lack of sympathy in his voice.

	Ben and Willie were walking along together in the park.  "I aced
my Math test." Willie said proudly and Ben nodded approvingly,	    
"Is this the same Math test in which you tried to lead a strike?"  he
inquired. 

	"Hey Fraser!  You're the one who told me about the International
Charter for Human Rights."

	"Somehow, I don't think that a Math test can quite be considered
a contravention of the charter, Willie." Ben said a little apologetically.

	Willie's lower lip stuck out,"That's what MC said."
	"MC?" Ben asked curiously.

	"Your neighbour," Willie said impatiently,"Don't you even know
her name."
	"I am only slightly acquainted with Miss Dempsey."

	"Dief's mad about her.	She's crazy about him, too." Willie said
as the wolf panted up to them after having hurtled wildly around the
park in pursuit of imaginary prey.

	"From that remark, I may surmise that they're well-acquainted?"

	"She comes out walking with us everyday, MC's cool.  She even
plays a bitta Snoop Doggy Dog for me, but she reminds me that I should
be in bed." Willie said with a grin.

	"Snoop Doggy Dog?" Ben asked, looking confused and Dief made
a sound of disgust.  Willie looked equally disgusted,

	"Man, don't you know anything, Fraser?	I'll bet you've never
even heard of NWA or Ice Cube."

	Fraser cleared his throat,"I confess that the names are not
familiar
to me."

	"Music, Fraser - it's music.  Rap, hip hop - that kinda thing."

	"Ah, now I see.  This is the music which has its origins in the
ghettoes and often expresses anger and notions of black empowerment,
am I right?"

	Willie grinned,"I'll bet you've never heard the 'Cop Killer'
song." 
	"Well no, I admit that I have not, although I have heard the
Eric Clapton song 'I shot the sheriff'.  I'm more partial to Puccini,
myself. Occasionally a little Mozart and Beethoven - if I'm feeling
contemplative
the Chopin nocturnes are always very soothing."

	Willie looked frankly disgusted.  "Man, you're as bad as MC,
she likes all that fancy stuff as well.  Good thing she likes other stuff,
too, though. She says her boss lets her play all kinds of music as long
as she keeps the ratings up."

	"I'm afraid you've lost me again." Ben said apologetically. 
	"She's a DJ, Ben - she works the late shift - on AIR 105." Willie
said with an air of pride,"She says that when I'm on vacation, I can
go in one night and help her out."

	"Oh.  So that's what she does." Ben said with the air of someone
who has solved a great mystery.  "She always comes in late."

	"Yeah, she sleeps late, too.  She helped me break into your place,
you
know." Willie said looking wicked and Ben looked astonished.	    "She
broke into my apartment?" Ben asked curiously,"My lock is broken." 
	"The door was stuck." Willie explained, "MC kicked it in for
me." 
	"And Dief didn't do anything?" he looked at his wolf
disapprovingly
and Dief made a sound as if to say -'what did you expect?  I like her
- did you really want me to eat her?'

	"No of course not," Ben asserted to himself,"Such an act of
violence
would have been quite unacceptable, however a warning might have been
appropriate."
	Dief snorted and ran off again.

	"Mr Nguyen?" Marie-Claire inquired as they all stood in the hall,
queuing for the bathroom.

	"Yes - you must be Miss Dempsey." the slender, softly-spoken
man said.

	"That's right, it's Marie-Claire actually.  How is your wife
today?" 
	"She is better, the baby has been causing her to sleep badly,
though." he said, looking a little worried.

	Marie-Claire played with her soap,"Has the window been fixed
yet?" 
	"Oh yes, the man with the big hat brought around the boy who
did it- he has promised to pay us."

	"That's great." Marie-Claire said with pleasure.  Moving down
a few steps when a damp bather emerged from the steamy bathroom.    
At this rate she'd never get a shower tonight.	She sighed and decided
she'd shower when she got back from work that night.

	Ben lay back in bed, the radio on and playing softly.  It was
tuned to AIR105.

	He had been listening the previous night when she had been reading
aloud from her favourite metaphysical poets, interspersing her reading
with incongruous selections of music which ranged from Loreena McKennit
to Bon Jovi and Pearl Jam.

	"It's late, I've had too much coffee and I'm really wired," he
heard his bad-tempered neighbour's voice murmur.

	Without its bad-tempered edge, it was a very pleasant voice.
Unusual, with a hint of a lilt in it at moments.  It was a shame she
didn't speak like that all the time.

	"According to a......reliable source.....there will be rain
tomorrow
so put your umbrellas in your bags folks.  In tribute to my overdose
on caffeine, here's Ella with 'Black Coffee'."	    The music drifted
through the room as Ella's torchy voice made coffee and cigarettes a
somewhat sensual vice rather than the unhealthy, bad habits they were.

	After the song, she returned and began a rather droll monologue.
"'Little Women' and 'Good Wives' - great books.  But I know like you
all know that they contain one of the worst crimes of the century.  I
don't know about you all, but I think it's a great travesty of justice
that Jo and Laurie didn't get married.

	Let's face it - they were made for each other.	In 'Little Women'
-the relationship was ideal, they had a meeting of minds.  Their spirited
temperaments were suited to each other.  Don't give me any of this rubbish
about being their incompatible - it's clear that the two of them were
the ideal couple.  Tell me what you think."

	Ben listened for the next couple of hours as she played music
and handled a spirited talk-back session with a great deal of flair and
good humour.

	A university professor called up to expostulate that Louisa May
Alcott was a 'great woman' who had skilfully been able to weave a tale
and find a character like Professor Bhaer who was compatible to Jo's
fiery ways.  He accused Marie-Claire of sacrilege and so forth and rather
than cutting him off, she allowed him to ramble on until he had said
his piece. 
	She added further fuel to the fire by adding that she thought
that Amy was
a blonde-headed simp with no function other than to be decorative.
Outraged
calls flooded in and she listened patiently to all the replies. 

	"OK, the lines for the 'I loved Laurie' phone poll are still
open,"she announced later into the evening.  "I've got a copy of Louisa
May Alcott's diary here.  I wonder whether you were aware that Miss Alcott
was a feminist? She was annoyed that  so many girls were writing to her
demanding to know who all the little women married.

	There's a rather pithy statement in here about her irritation
with everyone's assumption that it was the inevitable destiny of every
woman to be caught up in the coils of matrimony. She then went on to
say that she had intended Jo to remain a spinster, but that the barrage
of mail made that impossible.  Thus, in a spirit of perversity, she
married
him to the oddest, funniest little old German professor that she could
find."

	Marie-Claire paused,"My theory is that she had originally intended
the two of them to be married, but that the nagging made her marry them
to other
people."

	The "I Loved Laurie" poll results were announced at the close
of the evening and she concluded the evening somewhat inexplicably with
Barry Mannilow's 'Bandstand Boogie'.

	The alley-way was dark as usual and Marie-Claire decided that
she was going to have to go and force Argyle into installing some lighting
in the area.	She pondered how she would go about intimidating the
oily landlord.

	She pulled her canvas bag higher onto her shoulder when she heard
the sound of shouting and crying. A rock was thrown through a window
and a woman's voice rose hysterically.

	Marie-Claire broke into an awkward run, heading up the stairs
to see her neighbour running up the stairs, dressed in jeans and a hastily
pulled on shirt.
	       "What's happening?" she demanded.

	       "I think the Nguyen's are getting harassed again." Ben
called over his shoulder as he took the stairs three at a time.

	Mrs Nguyen was crying hysterically and Mr Nguyen was frantically
trying to
calm her down as well as tend to old Mrs Nguyen who had suffered a cut
to her forehead.

	       There were rocks in the room and the smell of burning
cloth. Ben smothered the flames from the homemade fire bomb, his observant
gaze missing nothing, noting that burning cloth had been wrapped around
the stones before they were hurled into the room.

	"She's going into labour." Ben announced as Mrs Nguyen crumpled
into his arms.
	"I'll call an ambulance." Marie-Claire told him.

	"Not enough time, probably" he said curtly.  He turned to Dief
who was waiting by the door.  "Go get Elena, Dief." he ordered and the
wolf vanished with alacrity.

	Marie-Claire was looking a little green.  "The baby's coming
NOW?" 
	"Yes." Ben said lifting the sobbing woman into his arms and
carrying
her to the bed.

	"Boiling water and shoe laces, right?" Marie-Claire said to
herself,"That's
what they always want in the movies....."

	Marie-Claire stood in the doorway petrified realising exactly
how Prissy had felt in Gone with the wind when she had confessed to a
furious Scarlett O'Hara,  "I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies
speech" 

************
	"Go to Mr. Mustafi's and call 911, Miss Dempsey."

	"I thought you said that they wouldn't get here in time." 
	"I said there MAY not be time and even if they arrive after the
birth we still might need them in case there are any complications."
Ben said calmly. 
	"No, no, please don't go." Mrs Nguyen pleaded.

	"Mr Nguyen," Ben said to Mr N who was busy trying to calm his
hysterical mother & his wife N down, but failing miserably due to his
own panic

	Ben turned towards MC.	"Ok, I'll go make the call.  I'll need
you  to stay here and assist her Marie-Claire."

	Marie-Claire turned an even deeper shade of green and was being
to feel a little lightheaded.  "Me?"  she inquired.  "I don't know
anything
about childbirth."  She looked over at Mrs. Nguyen worriedly.

	"You'll be fine and I'll only be gone for a few minutes." he
said to  MC.  He turned towards Mrs Nguyen.  "Have you tried some of
the visualization techniques that Elena showed you yet?"
       "No, not yet.  I'll try now"  Mrs. N. whispered back.

       "I will return shortly."  the Mountie replied.  "Remember to take
deep breaths.  Inhaling through the nose and exhaling slowly through
your lips."  Ben turned towards the door and then halted and faced MC.
"Please make sure she's taking slow deep breaths and that she doesn't
push yet."

	"Not a problem" MC muttered under her breath.  The longer Mrs.
N waited to have the baby the better,. she thought.  Her stomach felt
quesy just at the mention of "pushing".

BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART G

	 Ben walked quickly out the door down the hall to make the
necessary
calls.

	MC found herself alone with Mrs. N to practice deep breathing
and visualisation techniques which strangely enough relaxed her as well.

	"Deep breath, exhale," she muttered to herself.  "Hmm an epidural
would be nice," she thought to herself for a hysterical moment and then
turned back to Mrs N who was doubling over in another contraction. 
	"I like Benton......but he is a.......man...." Mrs N whispered
to Marie-Claire, clutching her hand convulsively.  "He should not be
here when I am having my baby." she said softly.

	"Mrs Nguyen, I understand how you feel." she said haltingly,
feeling a desperate desire to bolt madly for the door shrieking at the
top of her lungs.  Her stomach did another flip.

	She patted Mrs Nguyen's hand feebly,"Umm, I'll stay with
you.....but
you are going to need Constable Fraser's help if your baby comes before
the ambulance or Elena.

	"No, no......will be OK.....last time....took many hours before
the baby was ready to be born.

	"Really?" Marie-Claire asked lamely, gulping at the thought of
a long labour.

	To her overwhelming relief, Elena and Ben walked into the
apartment
at that point.

	Elena surveyed the chaotic room and Marie-Claire's queasy-looking
face calmly,

	"Fortunately I was changing an IV site on one of my other patients
only a few blocks away when Dief virtually dragged me out the door."
she said humorously.
	"Thank God you're here." Marie-Claire said in relief.
	Elena's professionalism snapped into place immediately.

	"What's she doing?" Marie-Claire asked Benton who was rolling
up his sleeves and beginning to scrub his hands and arms.

	"She is asking Mrs Nguyen questions to determine if its a false
labour." Ben told her knowledgably.
	"Does the pain better with walking?"
	"No."
	"Is the pain constant or does it go away?"
	"Now constant."
	"Where is it located?"
	Mrs Nguyen pointed to her lower abdomen.
	"How  long has pain been present?"

	"Not sure,  was feeling very uncomfortable before bed, but intense
pain only started about 1 hr ago."

	"Mrs. Nguyen, I'd like to go ahead and examine you to see how
far along in your labor you are.  May I?"  inquired the nurse.	

	 Mrs. N rapidly nodded her head and then glanced in the direction
of MC and Ben who were standing in the doorway.

	"Constable Fraser, Marie-Claire, would you mind waiting for us
in the kitchen?  Let me wash my hands Mrs. Nguyen and I'll be right back."
Elena then proceceeded to lead Ben and MC into the kitchen.  "I'll let
you know whether we're having a home birth or not as soon as I can" 
Elena said with a smile while drying her hands.

	As Elena finished her examination, she said to Mrs. N.	"I believe
that you have just started the 2nd phase of labor.  You are almost fully
dilated and labours tend to get shorter with each subsequent birth, so
this one may have progressed faster than your last.   I think that we'll
have just enough time to get you to the hospital before you give birth.
Let me go let MC and Ben know.	Don't forget - deep breaths & no pushing
yet."

	Meanwhile in the kitchen, Benton and Marie-Claire were sitting
at the Nguyen's kitchen table anxiously awaiting Elena's report.

	"Are you feeling all right, Miss Dempsey?" Ben asked Marie-Claire
who was swallowing hard.
	"Just peachy, mountie." Marie-Claire said flatly.

	  At that moment, Elena walked back into the kitchen.  "I'm glad
y'all were here & called me.  It looks like though she's just beginning
the second stage of labor, so we have some time before the birth." she
spoke with a faint Southern accent.

	"Second stage?	Is there anything we can do?" Marie-Claire asked
a little
nervously.

	"Someone should keep a lookout for the ambulance.  If it comes
soon, Mrs N can deliver at the hospital rather than in her bedroom."
	"Dief?" the wolf trotted obediently out the door.

	Elena looked over at Benton.  "Mrs. Nguyen said something about
a firebomb?" she inquired.

       "Yes, apparently there were several thrown into their apartment
tonight."  he replied.	He smiled and said "I was going to ask her about
them, but then it didn't seem like a good time."

	Elena laughed in reply.  "You're probably right.  The more relaxed
I can keep her the better off she'll be.  Have you talked to Mr. Nguyen
yet?" 
	"No, we were waiting to see if you would need assistants." he
said. 
	"Well, I think we have enough time.  If things begin to progress
a little faster, I'll be sure to let you know.	Let me go back and see
how she's doing.  Please let me know when the ambulance arrives."

	Ben stood up.  "I think I'll go find..." MC cut him off with
"Yes, I'll be ok.  You go talk to Mr. Nguyen and I'll check on the other
Mrs. Nguyen.  I'll just put some tea on."  she said.

	Ben started to question, but then thought the better of it and
shook his head with a frown.  How hard could making tea be?  He was sure
it couldn't turn out like that cake.  He walked out of the kitchen still
shaking his head at the memory of that so-called-cake.

       As Marie-Claire started the tea, she realized for the first time
that she was alone.  The Nguyen's couldn't be responsible for the missing
animals, she knew.  Now she had her opportunity to find proof.

       There was a sharp bark that prompted quick action from  the
occupants
of the apartment.   Diefenbaker stood in the doorway to the apartment
followed closely by 2 EMT's who were still breathing heavily after the
run up the stairs.  One of the EMT's turned to the other and said in
between breaths "Joe, how 'come people having babies never live on the
first floor?"  Joe just shook his head as he tried to catch his breath.
While the EMT's were catching their breath in the doorway, Elena came
quickly from the bedroom and began to give them report on Mrs. Nguyen's
condition. 

       Benton and Marie-Claire quickly joined the growing number of people
in the Nguyen's tiny living room.   Elena turned to Benton, and said
"Mr. Nguyen and I will ride with her to the hospital in the ambulance.
We'll call Mr. Mustafi to let you know as soon as the baby is born. 
Thank you again for your help."  Elena then followed the EMT's down the
stairs with Mr. Nguyen.
********

	"I'm glad you're here, Ray." Ben said when his friend arrived.

	"I don't know what you think I can do, Benny?  It sounds like
your normal slum neighbourhood attacks."

	"There are dogs and cats going missing around here.  At first
it was just strays, and then household pets started to go missing as
well." Ray looked at Ben incredulously.

	"Let me get this straight - you called me all the way over here
- on a Saturday night, away from my hot date, to tell me that you want
me to investigate missing cats and dogs?  Do I look like Trixie Beldon
to you, Benny?"

	"I think we have a serious crime our hands here, Ray." "Benny,
this is the United States, this is Chicago.  Maybe in the Yukon a missing
dog or cat is reason to call a state of emergency, but down here, a
kidnap,
a murder - now that's a serious crime."

	"Ray, I think that Constable Fraser's got a point." Marie-Claire
said as if it killed her to say it.  "People are accusing the Nguyens
of killing and eating the animals.  And that's impossible."
	"Why is that impossible?" Ray demanded.

	Ben answered first.  "Because they're buddhist, and they're also
vegetarian."

	Marie-Claire looked annoyed at having had the wind taken out
of her sails.

	"I also took the liberty of going through their garbage." Ben
announced.

	Marie-Claire exclaimed indignantly,"I already went through their
garbage!"

	Ben looked a bit taken aback.  Marie-Claire glared back at him.
Ray looked back and forth between then two of them,"Guys, guys -you two
obviously have a lot in common. So, did you go through the garbage at
the same time or different times?  Maybe it's a Canadian bonding thing,
you know, we have tupperware parties, you guys have garbage rifling
parties."

	"Who told you I was Canadian?" Marie-Claire demanded, bristling
in anger.

	"The mountie." Ray said with a grin.  Marie-Claire shot him an
expression of intense dislike.	"Anyone ever tell you talk too much,
Constable Fraser?"

	Ben was profoundly relieved that there was no door handy. "Garbage
Rifling - I see possibilities. Maybe a national holiday, bring your
friends,
the whole family can do it.  You didn't sniff it, too did you? Benny's
big on smelling things."
	"It's called olfactory analysis, Ray."
	"It's called Being Disgusting, Benny."

	"Could we get back on the topic here?" Marie-Claire demanded
impatiently.  "And lower your voices, Mrs Nguyen senior is asleep." 
	The three of them sat down at the kitchen table.  Marie-Claire
felt rumpled in her cardigan and jeans.  The mountie managed to look
immaculate even though he must have dressed in a hurry and in the dark.
	"There were no bones in the garbage, Ray."

       "Oh, do you really think that they would have dumped the cat bones
and the dog bones in the garbage?" Ray demanded.

	"There's no way they could have killed and eaten all the animals
that have gone missing."

	"What's your theory then?  After your wild horse chase, this'll
be a good one."
	"I was right in that instance, Ray."

	"He made ME go through garbage that time," Ray explained to
Marie-Claire
who was beginning to look diverted by the badinage between the two. 
"And don't forget the time we went through the garbage so that Fraser
could lick ketchup off iron bars. Yech."  He shuddered in remembrance
- it was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

	"Garbage always tells a story, Ray, I've told you that."  His
blue eyes were very serious as he spoke.  "I found cat food and dog food
cans in the garbage."
	"Aha!" Ray exclaimed,"You see?	They did do it!"

	"Constable Fraser, perhaps over in the Yukon you forgot this,
but PEOPLE also tell a story.  I asked the Nguyens about the cans and
they told me that they like to feed the stray animals - it's part of
their religion to be kind to poor dumb animals."

	Dief who had been watching intently, yelped reproachfully and
Marie-Claire laughed and apologised.  He licked her hand to demonstrate
his forgiveness.  "Thank you, Dief." she said hugging him.

	Ray sighed,"Okay, okay, I suppose you're going to give me the
speech about cultural stereotypes...."

	Ben spoke,"No, I was not.  In fact, dog is considered a delicacy
by many Vietnamese people.  It is also highly appreciated in certain
provinces of China, namely Guangdong in the South of China where it is
possible to buy....." he trailed off a little lamely at the very chilling
expression in Marie-Claire's eyes.  "But in this case, the fact that
they Nguyens are buddhist, clearly rules out any possibility that it
could have been them who ate the animals.

	Furthermore, it would be impossible to capture and slaughter
so many creatures and leave no trace whatsoever.  The smell and the
residue
would be very difficult to eradicate."

	"Furthermore," Marie-Claire interrupted,"Mrs Nguyen couldn't
even do her laundry let alone murder an animal!  Mrs Nguyen senior is
bedridden and Mr Nguyen's too busy running a restaurant to be able to
go around playing vigilante to a bunch of strays."

	"He runs a restaurant?" Ray demanded, sitting up, visions of
Cat Dim Sim and Fried Curried Dog dancing through his head.

	"It's a vegetarian restaurant, Ray, the fried rice is excellent,
I highly recommend it." Ben informed him.

	"I like the bean curd rolls better." Marie-Claire said under
her breath.
	"Too spicy." Ben disagreed.
	"If you can't take the heat....."

	"Guys, guys!" Ray interrupted again.  "We're left without a
suspect
then.  Who could be doing this?  I don't recognise the MO - not that
I'm a big expert on cat and dog napping anyway......hey!  this reminds
me of something else.....I remember something like this!  A big case
- all these puppy dogs were going missing.....and some sicko bitch was
making coats out of their skins......" Ray frowned in concentration,"Was
it a case?  Maybe it was a detective movie......god I hate it when you
forget things....." 

	Ben and Marie-Claire said nothing.  Both of them looked very
blank in the midst of Ray's reminiscences.   "Guys help me out here -
you know the one I mean?  And then they get rescued at the end.....?"

	Marie-Claire asked in a strangled voice,"Ray - do you mean '101
Dalmatians'?"

	"Yes!  Exactly!"  Ray exclaimed in heart-felt relief at having
finally remembered,"What was her name again?"
	"Cruella De Ville." Ben supplied helpfully.

	"It was a Disney movie." Marie-Claire pointed out, trying hard
not to laugh.

	Ray looked defensive.  "Hey, she could still provide a very useful
profile of a psychopath."
************************
Later that same evening...
 
	"I can't believe they called the baby Fraser." Ray said shaking
his head,"Just imagine this - for the rest of his life, this poor kid
will have people asking him what his first name is.  Fraser Nguyen -
he's never gonna to live it down."

	"Well if it had been a girl, they were going to call her Elena
- which is a nice name." Marie-Claire pointed out as she made coffee
in her kitchen.

	"At least it sounds like a first name.	The kid is not going
to thank you or his parents for giving him a name like that."

	Fraser had volunteered to make the coffee and she had turned
him down.  Fraser and Ray instead stood in the corner and winced in pain
as they saw the heaped tablespoons of instant coffee that Marie-Claire
spooned into the waiting mugs.

	Perceval eyed the visitors warily, eager to point out that he
was in charge.

	In  particular, each time Fraser attempted to take a seat,
Perceval
would spring gracefully up on to the destined sitting place and sit there
calmly licking his paws and giving a very contemptuous look at the
perplexed
mountie.

	Ray accepted the mug of fragrant coffee, took a sip and choked.

	"You could clean sinks with this stuff." He expostulated and
Marie-Claire sipped at hers,

	"This is pretty weak compared with what we drink at the station,
Ray." she pointed out mildly.

	Fraser was drinking his own mug of coffee gamely, not making
the same faces as Ray.	He could only be grateful that Marie-Claire didn't
offer them any biscuits or cake.

	"I think we need to get the lieutenant's permission to launch
an investigation, Ray." Ben pointed out.

	"He's going to laugh us out of the place.  Agh - what IS that?"
Ray demanded in revulsion, looking around in an attempt to locate the
atrocity. 
	"It's the Village People - don't you know it?" Marie-Claire
inquired
as the music played softly through the speakers.

	'