fox | return to Due South: season 2 episode 11 "We Are the Eggmen"

We Are The Eggmen
air date February 29, 1996

Scene 1

Fraser and Diefenbaker are in the woods by moonlight.

FRASER: All right, that's it. Just crouch. Just watch. All right, now. [Diefenbaker takes off running. Fraser runs after him.] All right, great. Close the gap. Pick up your pace. Charge! [He catches up to Diefenbaker, who has caught and captured a candy wrapper.] Oh, Diefenbaker. Do I have to remind you that you are a carnivore? That you are genetically predisposed to hunt? Or have you forgotten that? [Diefenbaker whufs.] It's hopeless. I should never have taken you out of your element and brought you to the city. You've gone soft. No, there's only one thing to do, and that's to mail you back to the Yukon, where you belong. [Diefenbaker whimpers.] Ahh, now. A few elementary drills doesn't sound so bad, does it? All right, let's go. [He starts walking again. Diefenbaker grumbles.] Ah, ah. Watch your language. Now. Pick up the scent again. Start to stalk. That's it. Pick up your pace. Not too fast. All right. That's it. All right, now measure your charge. [Fraser falls into an open hole in the road. Diefenbaker sniffs at the edge. Fraser stands up quickly.] If you even so much as contemplate laughing, my friend, I swear, I will crate you up so quickly that — [He sees headlights coming from down the road. He climbs out of the hole and waves his arms. The driver—in a delivery truck—finally sees him and swerves to avoid hitting him, then hits a patch of ice and bottoms out on a guardrail. Fraser runs over to make sure the guy is okay. The driver's side door won't open.] Sir! Sir, are you all right? [He runs around to the back of the truck. The side is labeled "Buxley's Eggs." Fraser opens the back of the truck; flats and flats of eggs tumble out. Fraser starts to climb into the truck. Lots more eggs are still in there.] Excuse me, sir, it's Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I — are you all right?
DRIVER (BUXLEY, PROBABLY): Yeah, I'm okay, thank you. [sees the wreckage] Oh my god, what did you do to my eggs?!
FRASER: I, I'm very sorry about your eggs, sir, but you were headed for an open trench.
BUXLEY, PROBABLY: You son of a —
FRASER: You see, you were headed for an open trench.
BUXLEY, PROBABLY: What am I gonna do now?!
FRASER: I think we can probably salvage some of them.
BUXLEY, PROBABLY: Hey, you did enough already. Get out of here.
FRASER: Well, perhaps I should go call someone for —
BUXLEY, PROBABLY: Get out of here!

He starts the truck; Fraser hops out. Buxley drives off. Eggs keep falling out of the back of his truck. Diefenbaker is licking up broken eggs off the road.

I'd have said Diefenbaker was an omnivore, but I'll allow carnivore if we're going to insist he's a wolf rather than a dog.

It's sort of sweet and sort of unhinged that Fraser takes Diefenbaker out for practice and drills (and gives him instructions in complete sentences rather than single-word commands, although what do I know from dog training).

Credits roll.

Paul Gross
David Marciano
Beau Starr
Tony Craig
Catherine Bruhier

(plus Lincoln the dog)

Ramona Milano, Camilla Scott, Louis del Grande, Alan Peterson

Scene 2

Fraser and Diefenbaker trot up the consulate stairs. Fraser finds a note on his door and goes to knock on Thatcher's door after he reads it.

THATCHER: Come in. [She stands up as he enters.] Constable Fraser, this is Linus Prince.
FRASER: Ah, pleased to meet you.
PRINCE: Same here.
THATCHER: He's a lawyer.
PRINCE: For Mr. Lyndon Buxley. The man whose life you ruined?
FRASER: Excuse me?
THATCHER: Something about eggs.
PRINCE: Your actions caused my client to lose a contract that was vital to his business. And since the accident, he's suffered severe trauma and emotional distress.
FRASER: Oh. Well, I'm, I'm — I'm very sorry to hear that. If there's anything I can do to help, I —
PRINCE: Oh, there most definitely is, Constable. You can provide restitution.
THATCHER: He's suing us. The complaint cites you, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and the Government of Canada for loss of income, bodily harm, and mental anguish as a result of your wanton behavior.
FRASER: Well, I — [clears his throat] — I'm not sure that the word wanton is what you're looking for —
THATCHER: Fraser.
FRASER: Sir, I was trying to prevent a serious accident. Your client was heading for an open trench.
PRINCE: How much did you have to drink that night?
FRASER: I beg your pardon?
PRINCE: There was no open trench. You forced him off the road.
FRASER: Yes, there was an open trench, Mr. Prince. I fell into it. While I was hunting with my wolf.
THATCHER: How much exactly are you looking for, Mr. Prince?
PRINCE: Ten million dollars. You have my number. And you'll want to call soon. The longer you wait, the higher the price. [He lawyers off.]
THATCHER: Don't say it. You were only trying to help.
FRASER: Well, yes, actually.
THATCHER: Dismissed. [She picks up the phone.] Get me legal affairs in Ottawa. [to Fraser] Fraser, one more thing? If you ever get the urge to help me? Do me a favor. Resist it.
FRASER: [nods] Understood.
THATCHER: [back on the phone] Yes, this is Inspector Thatcher in Chicago.

Some nice reaction work in this scene from both Fraser and Thatcher. In particular, I draw your attention to Fraser realizing as the words are coming out of his mouth that "While I was hunting with my wolf" is a ridiculous thing to say.

Thatcher's makeup is a much more appropriate shade today.

Scene 3

Fraser is at the 27th precinct with Vecchio.

VECCHIO: Welcome to America, Benny. The land of litigation. You know you can sue your barber for giving you a bad haircut?
FRASER: But the man was in trouble, Ray.
VECCHIO: Well, that's what you get for being a good Samaritan. You say you were helping the guy, and he says you were interfering.
FRASER: I didn't do anything wrong.
VECCHIO: Well, it doesn't matter. In this country, the guy who brings the suit doesn't have to pay the costs. Nine times out of ten, they hire a slippery lawyer, and it's cheaper to settle than fight back.
FRASER: But of course that won't happen in this case, because as soon as we can clear up the misunderstanding about the open trench —
VECCHIO: Look, I just want you to be prepared. If it comes down to your word against his in a Chicago courtroom, the money's going to be on the hometown boy.
FRASER: Well, the cover was off that trench, Ray.
VECCHIO: Now, we prove it, you're off the hook, but if we can't, don't take it personally. Come on. We got forty-five minutes.
FRANCESCA: Hey. You guys want a sandwich?
VECCHIO: My sister's new business. She's taken over the whole kitchen at home.
FRANCESCA: Well, you know. It keeps me busy. Gets me out. I'm kind of a people person, you know? You hungry, Benton?
FRASER: As a matter of fact, I am. How much do I owe you?
FRANCESCA: Anh. Nada. You get the good-looking eligible bachelor discount.
FRASER: Thank you kindly.
VECCHIO: You got prosciutto?
FRANCESCA: Yeah, six bucks.
VECCHIO: Six bucks?
FRANCESCA: What? You're my brother. And besides, even if you weren't, you're not my type.
VECCHIO: Ah, then you're out of luck, 'cause I only got five. And besides, I ran out of toothpaste this morning.
FRANCESCA: You and your system. [to Fraser] He thinks if he runs out of a personal care product it means he'll win the lottery.
VECCHIO: All right, make fun of me now.
FRANCESCA: All right, buy me a five while you're at it, okay? [She hands him five bucks.]
VECCHIO: Yeah, but it's gonna cost ya. [She rolls her eyes and hands him a prosciutto sandwich.] Thanks. C'mon. [He goes, but Francesca stops Fraser before he can follow him.]
FRANCESCA: He's my brother. I have to put up with him. What are you thinking?

Of course the many fans in this part of the internet are sure they know exactly what Fraser is thinking, but NEVER MIND.

"In this country, the guy who brings the suit doesn't have to pay the costs" is not entirely correct, is it? The guy who wins the suit doesn't have to pay the costs, usually, I believe. But it does cost money to bring the suit in the first place, and of course it costs money to defend yourself against it, which is why it is often cheaper for everyone to settle. Grr.

I didn't get how "besides" made sense in this conversation Vecchio and Francesca are having, because how does his running out of toothpaste and thus being destined to win the lottery have anything to do with being able to afford one of Francesca's sandwiches? Only I think he means, "I've only got five bucks and even if I had six I need to buy a lottery ticket instead of a sandwich." Sigh. Lottery tickets. Once in the bluest of moons, Himself and I buy a couple dollars' worth of Powerball tickets. It improves our odds of winning the Powerball from nonexistent to actually nil, if you follow my math (because if we don't buy the tickets, we're not even in it, it's a divide-by-zero error). The few hours of entertainment we get from contemplating what we'd do with our winnings are worth the price (cheaper than a ~~movie~~ single episode of a streaming TV show). Crucially, though, we don't actually expect that we will win, and we never spend money we don't have. (And if we do happen to win five or ten bucks on a scratch-off, we don't turn around and buy more lottery tickets with it.) But then, neither of us has a gambling problem.

Scene 4

An old green car is driving up a country lane. It is not the Riviera; whatever it is, Buxley, Probably (Buxely, In Fact) is driving it. He sees a couple of guys waiting for him as he gets out.

BUXLEY, IN FACT: Sneed, what are you doing here, man?
SNEED: It's time to pay the piper, Lyndon. If you're lucky, Mr. Marshack here might make an offer on this dump. [The other guy, Presumably Marshack, walks past them toward the house.] If you're very lucky, it just might just cover your marker.
BUXLEY: Hey, hey, come on, hey. You cannot take this farm away.
SNEED: Oh?
BUXLEY: No. I, I'm, I, I just need a little more time, okay? I'm onto something.
SNEED: Dang. You clowns always think it's — it's about time. It's not about time.
BUXLEY: Look, man, I'm about to make a really, really big score.
SNEED: Big score?
BUXLEY: I swear to God.
SNEED: Hundred grand?
BUXLEY: Hundred grand is peanuts. I, I, I'm suing the Canadian government.
SNEED: That's original. That's original.
BUXLEY: Look, lawyer says it's a slam dunk. Going to settle for five, uh, million, so I'm going to pay you back maybe ten, fifteen, twenty times what I owe you.
SNEED: Lyndon, Lyndon. Party's over. You better hope and pray I find a buyer for this place, or your future ain't going to be worth what the chickens leave behind. [Presumably Marshack is coming out of the house with an egg carton in his hands.]
BUXLEY: Hey, hey, hey, you can't take that. Uh, excuse me, sir, you can't take that.
PRESUMABLY MARSHACK: So you breed these yourself? Interesting.
BUXLEY: Ah, you can't take those. Those are my eggs, man.
SNEED: Mr. Marshack can take anything he wants. Now, you pay your dime, you take your ride, you hear me, Lyndon?
BUXLEY: Those are my eggs.

Sneed and Marshack drive away in a big truck. Buxley watches them go.

So it sounds like Mr. Buxley does, unlike my husband and myself, have a gambling problem. For sure he owes this Sneed fellow a pile of money, which he doesn't have, and he's about to lose his farm as collateral; I conclude it's a gambling issue rather than a straight-up predatory loan issue because "you pay your dime, you take your ride" to me means "you shouldn't have played the game if you weren't prepared to lose".

Scene 5

Vecchio and Fraser are on the country road where Fraser fell in the hole. Vecchio is scratching off lottery tickets on the top of the Riviera. Fraser is taking pictures of the steel plate covering the hole.

VECCHIO: Come on, come on! — nothing.
FRASER: Now, this plate has obviously been replaced.
VECCHIO: Yeah, no kidding. It's under construction. They move it every day. You know, I don't know why I buy these things. I never win.
FRASER: Look at these scrape marks, Ray. They appear to be fresh.
VECCHIO: You're going to have a hard time convincing a judge between the time you ran the guy off the road and the time the cops showed up that an emergency road crew came out here and did road repairs. [He scratches off another lottery ticket.] Come on, come on. I'm squeezing like a — ugh, you know, this is nothing but a tax on the poor.
FRASER: These plates were lifted in by a machine, whereas this plate was levered in with some difficulty. Probably with a crowbar.
VECCHIO: So what are you saying? There's some guy running around at four o'clock in the morning replacing wayward trench covers? I don't think so, Benny. If you ask me, I'd say settle. There's no shame in settling. It happens all the time.
FRASER: I think I'm going to go and talk to him. It's only a couple of miles. I can walk from here, and you have to get back anyway.
VECCHIO: Talk to who?
FRASER: The eggman.
VECCHIO: The eggman? He's the enemy. The only explanation he's looking for is going to come in large denominations. He's probably gonna have to chase you — [He scratches off his last ticket.] I won twenty-five thousand dollars!

It is a tax on the gullible or optimistic, not on the poor, because poor people don't have to buy lottery tickets the way they have to e.g. buy small amounts of food at high markups rather than buying large amounts in bulk, or the way they have to take a whole hour to get to their job ten minutes away because they can't afford a car and there isn't a direct bus route. That's a poor tax. But good for Vecchio; after he pays the actual taxes on that $25k, he'll probably take home about six months' pay. Not bad for a ten-dollar investment.

Scene 6

Buxley is speaking to a couple of chickens, which are clucking as they walk on chicken treadmills.

BUXLEY: Hey, hey, I know. It is not your problem. Nobody's blaming you. I'm blaming myself. I'm assuming full responsibility. Yeah, hey, you don't have to tell me I'm a compulsive gambler. I know I'm a compulsive gambler. I'm assuming total responsibility, but what I'm trying to explain to you is that we have got something going now, sweetheart, that cannot miss, okay? It is not a long shot. No, no, no, no, no. It's gonna put us on the map, kids. No more worries, nothing, okay? Yes, I'm promising. All right? [Out the window, he sees Fraser coming up the driveway and taking pictures.] Oh, now, this — that son of a — [He grabs a rifle and heads outside.] The hell is he doing here?
FRASER: Ah, Mr. Buxley!

Fraser waves. Buxley fires. Fraser dives behind the corner of the house.

BUXLEY: Yes?
FRASER: Mr. Buxley, might I suggest that you hold your fire. Uh, if not for my sake, at least for the sake of your French Houdans.
BUXLEY: How do you know I got French Houdans?
FRASER: Oh, I, I'd recognize those voices anywhere. You see, as it turns out, I'm not entirely unfamiliar with poultry. My — my grandfather bred fowl. When we lived in Yathkiat Flats. In his spare time, of course. Well, and in Yathkiat Flats, there was — there was a surfeit of spare time. As a m— [He chuckles.] — as a matter of fact, I remember one occasion when, when he actually tried to introduce a pair of Andalusians to a flock of Brahmas, and you — [really laughing now] — well, you can imagine the results.
BUXLEY: What do you want?
FRASER: Well, I'd like to have a word with you. May I?

Buxley lowers his rifle and goes inside.

I can't find Yathkiat Flats or anything like it (Yavkiat, Yakyat, etc.) in the googles or any freely available databases of Canadian place names, so for the first time, I can't update my map. 😢 Let's talk about chickens instead. The Houdan is a French crested bird with five toes; it lays smallish white eggs, apparently somewhere around one gross per year. The Andalusian (and its eggs, also white) are a little bigger. The Brahma is a much larger chicken laying large brown eggs. I don't know why trying to have Andalusians in your Brahma flock should be hilarious. . . . This was also not a productive topic for annotation.

Scene 7

Fraser is in Buxley's house, sniffing things.

FRASER: This is your, ah, research station?
BUXLEY: Yeah.
FRASER: High nitrogen content.
BUXLEY: That's for the shells.
FRASER: Spices are, um, coriander, ginseng root, myrrh, and . . . I can't place the other two.
BUXLEY: That's 'cause it's a secret.
FRASER: Ah. And this would be, uh . . .
BUXLEY: That's your treadmill. See, the way I look at it, you put a chicken in a little tiny cage and never give him no exercise, that's no good. This way, they get in shape, they're gonna perform maybe two, three, four, five years past the average.
FRASER: These two are remarkable.
BUXLEY: That's Adam and Eve. Took me twenty-five years to produce these two.
FRASER: And these are their eggs?
BUXLEY: That's the eggs.
FRASER: May I?
BUXLEY: Go ahead. [Fraser strikes his tuning fork on the table and has a listen to a brown egg. He looks at Buxley, who smiles knowingly.] Hey?
FRASER: That is a fine egg.
BUXLEY: Those eggers are going to put me on the map, my boy.
FRASER: But in the meantime, business is slow.
BUXLEY: Yeah, a little slower now, thanks to the incident we had.
FRASER: You think this lawsuit is your way out?
BUXLEY: Yeah, well, it's nothing personal. Just exercising my litiginous rights, so to speak.
FRASER: Mr. Buxley, if they discover it was you that covered that open trench, then you will be liable to the criminal charge of fraud.
BUXLEY: Yeah, but since I didn't do that, I don't have anything to worry about, do I? You know, I think this is all very nice, but I think maybe this conversation is concluded now. I think the next time I see you, we ought to be in court.
FRASER: Very well.
BUXLEY: Take your eggs.
FRASER: Ah, thank you.
BUXLEY: God bless you.

So these are brown eggs, and as we learned, the Houdin lays white eggs; not sure what other kinds of chickens Buxley has to have got these brown ones. Also, surely Adam is not relevant all of the time, because most of the eggs ought to be unfertilized, no? (Not all of them, or else how are you going to raise the next generation of layers. But.)

Buxley is right that he and Fraser should probably not be conferring, as they're parties on separate sides of a lawsuit. But Fraser is right that a criminal charge is a very different matter than a civil suit. So. (And then Buxley sends him away with a dozen eggs, which is charming.)

Scene 8

Francesca is handcuffed to a bench at the 27th precinct.

VECCHIO: Well, well, well, if it isn't Miss Jane Paul Getty, Miss Captain of Industry, the Duchess of —
FRANCESCA: All right, Ray, enough. Just pay my fine, willya?
VECCHIO: Not so fast. As a responsible and concerned police officer, I just want to make sure you've learned your lesson.
FRANCESCA: How was I supposed to know that I needed a vendor's permit to sell at the Merc?
VECCHIO: Just a wild idea, Frannie, maybe you should have asked someone?
FRASER: Uh, Ray, did you get that information?
VECCHIO: Look, there were no road crews, and that open trench must have been a figment of your imagination.
FRASER: I fell into it, Ray.
VECCHIO: Well, then, you fell into a figment.
FRANCESCA: [to Fraser, who has noticed her sitting there] Ah, this is just a simple misunderstanding over a permit. Could you please tell my brother to pay my fine and let me get out of here, please?
FRASER: Well, that should be simple enough, Ray, after your good fortune today. [Vecchio swats him to be quiet.]
FRANCESCA: Good fortune?
VECCHIO: Fraser? [They step a few feet away.]
FRANCESCA: Hello? What good fortune?
VECCHIO: No good fortune. Just sit there. Fraser, this is not a good time to be telling Frannie about the lottery ticket.
FRASER: Well, why isn't it, Ray? She won half the money.
VECCHIO: No, Frannie did not win any of the money. I won all of the money.
FRASER: Well, Ray, I don't think that's true, strictly speaking. I mean, while it is true that you scratched off all of the tickets, Francesca bought half of the tickets, therefore, technically, she should be entitled to half of the money, isn't that right?
VECCHIO: No. Her tickets did not win and mine did. End of story.
FRASER: Ah.
VECCHIO: What do you mean "Ah"? Frannie did not win. Are we clear on this?
FRASER: If you say so, yes.
VECCHIO: What? Have you been taking guilt lessons from my mother?
FRASER: Not that I recall.
VECCHIO: All right then. Case closed, okay? And not another word of this to Frannie, all right? I'll tell her when the time is right.
FRASER: Ah.
VECCHIO: Will you stop with the "Ah"?
FRASER: All right, all right. Ray, should we, uh —
VECCHIO: Nah, let her sit there and consider her crime. [He walks away.]
FRASER: I'm terribly sorry, Francesca.

First things first: Fraser is right and Ray is wrong and that's all there is to that.

So. He called her "Jane Paul Getty," because J. Paul Getty was an industrialist who was for a while the richest man in the world. The Merc is the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, that is, the stock market, that is, a major downtown office building, and Francesca should probably have expected that she needed a permit to sell food in public; even pushing a cart around the police department was probably risky. But "maybe ask someone" is bad post-hoc advice to someone who didn't even know there was a question that needed asking. (Yes, I have just described Francesca as the Fourth Child at a Passover seder, the One Who Does Not Know How To Ask.)

Fraser need not have taken guilt lessons from Vecchio's mother to be laying guilt on him now; his passive-aggressiveness has been well documented and commented on by Vecchio before. I don't know why Catholics think they have a monopoly on guilt. Ditto Jews, for that matter, or why someone who's half Catholic and half Jewish thinks that's somehow twice the amount of guilt as someone who is not the child of a mixed marriage. By me, that's .5 guilt on the Catholic side and .5 guilt on the Jewish side and that adds up to 1.0 guilt, same as everyone else. If you really want to eat your heart out, you don't want guilt and guilt; you want what I've got, which is half Jewish and half Puritan: guilt and shame.

Scene 9

A man in a suit is reading a report in Thatcher's office.

SUIT: So much detail after such a long flight. This Fraser has opened a big mess for us.
THATCHER: Can we mitigate the damage?
SUIT: Nothing is beyond repair in the right hands. [He puts the report down and follows her as she walks around the office.] You know, the office hasn't been the same without you, Maggie. Ottawa misses you.
THATCHER: Coffee?
SUIT: Ah — splendid. [She starts to pour out.] I've cleared my schedule to handle this case myself, you know. [She hands him a spoon.] And a chance to see my protégée — how could I pass that up? Thank you.

Diefenbaker barks.

THATCHER: Fraser! [Fraser comes in.] Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP counsel Henri Cloutier.
SUIT (CLOUTIER): [shakes Fraser's hand] I've heard much about you, Fraser. Your heroics are going to cost us a lot of money. [hands him a form]
FRASER: What is this, if I may?
CLOUTIER: Oh, a simple form accepting responsibility for having caused the accident.
FRASER: But I, I —
CLOUTIER: I have already done the ground work with Mr. Buxley's lawyer. He and I feel certain that a settlement can be reached.
FRASER: Well, with all due respect, sir, it would be wrong for me to sign this.
CLOUTIER: Inspector Thatcher and I have dinner plans. Why don't you take the evening to consider the repercussions of your position. [Fraser nods and turns to go.]
THATCHER: Ben. [Fraser turns back.] I'm, ah, sorry about dinner. I won't be too late.
FRASER: Too late for what?
THATCHER: Too late — for dinner. [He cocks his head and is about to ask a question.] Dismissed. [Fraser knits his brow. Thatcher does a very communicative half-glare, half-smile. Fraser nods and leaves the office, confused. Cloutier isn't sure what just happened.] Shall we?

Inspector Thatcher's given name is Margaret. I just can't. I'm so tired.

Okay but so. It's a nice bit of performance from Camilla Scott, this scene, in which she makes it clear that she's not comfortable with this Cloutier fellow. He literally follows her around her desk; she keeps the coffee pot between herself and him; she was not aware they had dinner plans until he said so. So she tries to pretend she has a relationship with Fraser—we know she doesn't, but Cloutier doesn't know that, so her hope is evidently that he will back off because he thinks he's trespassing on another man's turf. (UGH. It is absolutely realistic that he would think this—the fact that a woman is not interested in a man's attention is not enough reason for the man to leave her alone, but the "fact" that she has some sort of commitment to another man is—and it wasn't any less gross in 1996 than it is now.) Unfortunately, Fraser doesn't pick up what she's laying down, and they apparently haven't had a chance to establish any type of code word for this sort of situation. I'm also a little uncomfortable with the degree to which she is almost treating Fraser the way it's obviously not okay Cloutier is treating her. The whole situation is icky.

Scene 10

Later that evening, Thatcher arrives at Fraser's building. She is surprised and probably a little alarmed by what she sees, hears, and smells before she heads up the stairs, trying not to touch anything. Fraser is in his apartment, ironing his shorts. There is a knock; he goes to answer it, and as soon as he opens the door, Thatcher rushes in and closes it behind her.

FRASER: Inspector.
THATCHER: Nice neighborhood, Fraser.
FRASER: Thank you.
THATCHER: [looks around at his apartment] You live like this?
FRASER: Yes.
THATCHER: Anyway, um — about what I said earlier in my office today. Ah, you see, I, I called Ottawa — which, ah, given the particular circumstances — ah, circumstances which I hold you entirely responsible for — [He nods vigorously.] — anyway, um, I just didn't expect that he would be the one to be assigned. You see, I, um, spent eight months, ah, working for him, and in the course of that eight months . . . [They sit down at his table.] I'm sorry, um, if, if I made it seem today like we — I'm sorry for the ruse. It's just that there have been occasions in my career where I have found it necessary to, um . . .
FRASER: Deflect?
THATCHER: Yes. . . . There have been occasions in my career where I have found it necessary to deflect the attention of male superiors. And if I made it awkward or uncomfortable for you today, I want to apologize.
FRASER: There's no need to apologize. I, I understand.
THATCHER: Thank you. Now — [She clears her throat.] — why are you being so stubborn about this?
FRASER: About what?
THATCHER: The settlement. Why won't you sign it? [She sets the papers down in front of him.]
FRASER: Well, if I could explain —
THATCHER: Fraser. There will be no skin off your nose. The Canadian government won't bat an eyelash. All you have to do is sign it. Then you'll have the eggman out of your hair, I'll have Cloutier out of mine.
FRASER: I can't.
THATCHER: Why not? Just give me one good reason why not.

The performance showing Thatcher's horror at Fraser's building is good (and her asking, incredulously, "You live like this?" is a nice callback to Mark Smithbauer asking exactly that), but the rest of the scene kind of knocks my socks off. It's a handsome apology that she makes for putting him on the spot, making it awkward and uncomfortable—exactly what I was complaining about in the last scene—but my god, the absolute agonies she goes through trying to explain her history with Cloutier in the first place.

I believe that in fact, what Thatcher has occasionally had to do was permit the attention of male superiors. I believe she slept with either Cloutier or someone like him, because she felt like she had to, and she has dealt ever since with a great deal of self-directed rage and shame over it (neither of which she deserves, of course). I believe she has never told anyone, because blowing a whistle on Cloutier (or whomever) for sexual harassment would inevitably harm her reputation more than his. (That's because of the nature of sexual harassment cases, but she probably also knows a thing or two about how the RCMP treats whistleblowers in general.) I believe she is desperately grateful to Fraser for hearing the pause where she was trying to bring herself to use a verb (thus making what happened to her real) and filling the silence with "deflect;" I believe she grabs onto "deflect" like a lifeline. I base these beliefs on the length of the pause after she says "Yes" and the look on her face during that pause.

I admit this interpretation relies on implicit performance choices rather than entirely on explicit text, but I don't think it's at all far-fetched, and I'll stand by it. It's not a huge step from there to either or both of two further things:
Thatcher specifically asked for the transfer to Chicago to get away from Cloutier.
Fraser really believes "deflect" was the word Thatcher was reaching for, bless him.
I am less convinced of the second thing than I am of the first; Fraser gives good clueless when he has a mind to but he's not actually in fact ignorant, is he. He could have believed she was going for "deflect" and not getting there; but I think it's more likely that he's a lot more tuned in to what's up and how much Thatcher (in this case) doesn't want to talk about it, so he gives her that verbal escape hatch on purpose. (Is it? Does he? I'm coming back now to where there isn't really a reading of "Bird in the Hand" where he understood that Vecchio was offering to give him a gun and look the other way while he shot Gerrard and was only pretending not to. So do I have to conclude that he was just supplying the word "deflect" because he thought she was having trouble remembering it?, and abandon the idea that what he actually meant but would never say out loud was "We don't actually have to talk about this until you're ready"? Help me, someone.)

Of course from there it's fair to wonder why even though Fraser knows he didn't do anything wrong, he won't sign the settlement as a favor to her.

Scene 11

Fraser turns an omelet out of his frying pan onto his tin camp plate and serves it to Inspector Thatcher. Diefenbaker watches her take a bite.

THATCHER: Mm. It's delicious.
FRASER: It's naturally low in cholesterol, too. This is no ordinary farmer. I mean, the quality of this egg suggests he's something of an artist.
THATCHER: Oh, now I get it. In spite of the fact that he's filed a lawsuit against you, you believe you can show him the error of his ways, appeal to his conscience, and save his soul for the pure pursuit of his God-given talent. [Fraser is about to respond to this.] One day. One day to prove whatever it is you're trying to prove.
FRASER: One day as in . . . ?
THATCHER: Twenty-four hours. That's it. And then you sign.
FRASER: . . . as in one day.

She hasn't known Fraser long, but she's got his number, that's for sure.

How can Fraser know that this egg is lower in cholesterol than other eggs? What sort of lab analysis has he been able to do in the past, I don't know, 12 hours to determine this?

Scene 12

Somewhere else, Marshack is eating scrambled eggs.

MARSHACK: [nods] Man makes a good egg. No doubt about it.
SNEED: A gold mine for someone who can get this to the mass market. Could be you, boss.
MARSHACK: I'm sold. Get him to sign over everything.
SNEED: No problem. [He heads off to go do whatever he's going to do. Marshack keeps eating his eggs.]
MARSHACK: Nice color.

I was impressed when I first saw pasteurized raw eggs. So who knows, maybe Buxley is farming eggs that are enough better than ordinary eggs that people will pay extra for them.

Scene 13

Buxley is looking at feathers under a microscope and talking to his chickens. Music cue: "All Praise Be to Thee" by the Bahá'í Chorale (to the tune of Mozart's "Ave Verum," K. 618). (This is playing in the background; the scene is not a montage.)

RECORD: ♫ All praise be to thee, source of all glory ♫
BUXLEY: Uh-oh. I think we got a little hormonal imbalance here, baby. I think we're gonna stop with the Mozart and go back to the Shostakovich, 'cause it's gonna lower your estrogen, okay? [The chicken clucks.] We'll think of something, okay? Maybe Stéphane Grappelli. [Sneed comes in and knocks the needle off the record.] Hey, how you, how you doing, Sneed?
SNEED: Mr. Marshack has assumed your debt, and he wants his restitution. You have no choice.
BUXLEY: Yeah, well, uh, I, I, I'm sorry, you can't do this to me.
SNEED: [shoves him against the wall] All you have to do is sign and you're free and clear. I even brought you a pen.
BUXLEY: Uh, you don't understand, Sneed, this is all I got, okay? I really appreciate this, uh — it's a very nice pen. What is it, a Montblanc?
SNEED: Come here. You hold him. [Another guy comes in and takes hold of Buxley.]
BUXLEY: You wouldn't.
SNEED: [He has grabbed a chicken and is holding a gun to its head.] You want to try me?
BUXLEY: Ah, come on, you couldn't!
SNEED: You're a weird one, Buxley. I've seen guys go down for their families, for their girlfriends, even their dogs. But chickens? [He laughs.] This is a first.
BUXLEY: Just give me the thing. I'll sign it, okay? Come on, come on, I'll sign it, give me the thing. Just leave the chickens alone.

When it comes to classical music I'm pretty conservative. Mozart's "Ave Verum" is of course an explicitly Christian text (Hail, true Body, born of the Virgin Mary, Who truly suffered, sacrificed on the cross for humanity, from Whose pierced side the Blood flowed; be for us a pre-taste in death's trial), which is not my religion, but I feel like that's the text he set to that music, and shoving new text in there is pretty bold. (I also always bristle when I'm expected to sing a descant on the Ode to Joy, because I feel like if Beethoven had wanted one he'd have written it himself.) But here we are. The full text is "All praise be to thee/ Source of all glory/ Source of glory and majesty/ Source of glory/ And of majesty/ Of glory and majesty/ From all eternity thou didst rule creation/ And thou wilt continue forevermore/ There is none other God but thee,/ None other God but thee, all praise/ To thee, the source of all glory/ And majesty." I can't help it: Even if you find the meditation by the Bahá'u'lláh inspiring, it is shoehorned into the musical setting in a way that I simply do not think is beautiful.

The music, anyway, is one of Mozart's (1756–1791) final compositions, and it's quite serene and lovely. The music of Shostakovich (1906–1975) is, as you might expect, quite different—no wonder Buxley thinks a chicken might respond differently. (I'm thinking now about Fraser's childhood pastor's two favorite films being It's a Wonderful Life and The Passion of Joan of Arc.) Stéphane Grappelli (1908–1997) was a jazz violinist, a different style yet. The idea that he'll find something for the chickens to listen to, whether it's Classical or modern or jazzy, is pretty funny.

Montblanc is a brand of very expensive pens; they apparently also do watches and other jewelry and luxury items. And why would you hold a gun to a chicken's head? You'll blow your own hand off if you shoot it. Can't you just (threaten to) wring its neck?

Scene 14

Fraser and Vecchio are observing the reopening of the trench on the country road.

VECCHIO: Well, I did what any gentleman would do, all right? I scratched the tickets her five dollars bought first. Besides, possession is nine-tenths of the law, anyway.
FRASER: Well, possession affords one a prima facie argument for the retaining of the asset, but declaration of ownership, Ray, still would require a higher court.
VECCHIO: Yeah, well, not in the Vecchio household. [The steel plate is lifted away; Fraser hops down into the trench.] Do you think I'd be getting a cut if she was holding the winning ticket? Not a chance.
FRASER: [He has found something.] Huh.
VECCHIO: A feather? Well, that certainly screams conspiracy to me, Benny.
FRASER: Well, you notice the healthy sheen, Ray, and the yellow coloration of the tip? This feather could only come from one chicken.
VECCHIO: So let's go get him.

Vecchio's protest that he is treating Francesca exactly as she'd treat him if the shoe were on the other foot is the first point he's made that has any weight to it. Thinking people everywhere will agree that absent a specific agreement that this ticket is yours and that ticket is mine, when you buy lottery tickets with pooled money, each person who contributed is entitled to a share of the tickets equal to the percent of the purchase price they contributed. If Francesca gave Vecchio five bucks and he bought ten dollars' worth of tickets, every one of those tickets is half his and half hers. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law" (a notion Vecchio has brought up before) is probably true—he's got the lottery ticket, so it's fair to assume it's his—but irrelevant, because he doesn't have the winnings yet, which is what they're arguing about. (Fraser's use of "prima facie" is exactly the same, only in Latin. It means "at first glance.")

Scene 15

Fraser and Vecchio have arrived at Buxley's farm.

VECCHIO: You sure you want that wolf running around with all these chickens?
FRASER: Well, as long as they aren't in possession of any Milk Duds, they should be fine, Ray.
VECCHIO: He hasn't kicked that junk food habit yet?
FRASER: Well, you know, they say that it's harder than heroin.
SNEED: Good afternoon. Something I can help you with?
VECCHIO: Yeah, where's the chicken man?
SNEED: Mr. Buxley no longer lives here. Is there anything that I can help you with?
FRASER: Are you in any way connected to Mr. Buxley?
SNEED: [shows them the paper Buxley signed] I'm the new proprietor of this establishment.
VECCHIO: Well, that makes sense. Why hang around this dump when you think you're going to be cashing in on ten million bucks?
FRASER: Well, he seemed very dedicated, Ray.
SNEED: [puts the paper back in his pocket] What's this about?
VECCHIO: Fraud. [hands him a warrant and goes inside] And these are exhibits A and B. [He picks up a box, and he and Fraser confiscate Adam and Eve the chickens.]
SNEED: Hey, hey, wait a second, these are my chickens. What's the deal here?
VECCHIO: These chickens are involved in a high-profile crime perpetrated by Lyndon Buxley. All the paperwork's in order. If you got a complaint, take it up with Judge DeLuca.
FRASER: Excuse me. [takes the chickens outside] I promise you, sir, I will personally care for your fowl. You have nothing to be concerned about.
SNEED: Yeah, when do I get 'em back?
VECCHIO: When the case is closed.

Fraser loads the chickens into the back seat of the Riviera; Buxley is hiding behind a corner of the barn and watching them drive away.

The glamorous life of a TV star, am I right? Live chickens. Honestly. (Also, Milk Duds again!)

Scene 16

Vecchio parks the car on a city street.

VECCHIO: I'll be right back. I'm just going to go cash my lottery ticket. [Fraser follows him.] Why are you following me?
FRASER: Well, I'm not following you, exactly, Ray. I'm walking alongside you.
VECCHIO: You're not going to leave me alone on this, are you?
FRASER: On what?
VECCHIO: Look, Fraser, this isn't about she said this and I said that, okay? This is bigger than just who anted up.
FRASER: Ah. You mean on the issue of who's entitled to the money.
VECCHIO: This is payback time, Fraser. This is for the time she ratted me out for smoking a cigar in the basement with Dave Vacanti, for the time she told Paula Scriffignano that I was a junior, and for the time she didn't show up at the Academy for my graduation because she had to go see Donny Osmond at the Beacon, okay? This isn't my victory, Fraser, this is cosmic justice.
FRASER: Ah. I see.
VECCHIO: No, you don't. I don't even know why I try. [They hear glass break and look back down the street; Buxley is running away from the car.] Hey! [They run back to the car. Buxley is driving away down the alley.] Ah, Buxley. He smashed my window.
FRASER: The chickens are gone.
VECCHIO: Who cares about the chickens? He smashed my window.
FRASER: Well, the chickens are gone, Ray.
VECCHIO: Oh, good riddance to the chickens. I didn't like them anyways. [He pats the car.] Ah, it's okay baby, it's not personal. The guy just had a deep desire to get to his chickens.
FRASER: Well, the chickens were his life, Ray. It's understandable he'd go to great lengths to retrieve them.
VECCHIO: There's no excuse for one man to damage another man's fine vintage automobile over a couple of oven roasters. [Fraser is looking at the paper that was lining the chicken box.] Ah, that's disgusting. What are you doing?
FRASER: Well, he's written something on this. Look. Raptors plus three, Timberwolves minus two, Kings, Clippers plus eight.
VECCHIO: Yeah, those are basketball teams, and this is a betting sheet. You see, those are the teams he thinks are going to win, and that's the point spread. Yeah, but this guy's a chump. Who would take the Clippers, even with points?
FRASER: Well, perhaps a man who's more efficient at farming than he is at gambling. [Vecchio starts the car.] Where are we going?
VECCHIO: I'm going to visit a family friend.

Point-spread betting is so goofy. In this case, as I understand it, the bets are that the Raptors will either win outright or lose by less than three; that the Timberwolves will win by two or more; that the Kings will win; and that the Clippers will either win outright or lose by less than eight, the last of which Vecchio thinks is a lousy bet because the Clippers are doomed to lose by a mile (which: fair).

Scene 17

At the Cicero Dairy Corporation (serving the Chicago area since 1965), Marshack is bouncing a rubber ball on his desk.

MARSHACK: What do you mean, the cops took the chickens? Those are the birds that lay the golden eggs. Without them, all I got is a couple of broken-down buildings and a worthless piece of land.
SNEED: Yeah. I didn't know. I'm sorry.
MARSHACK: Sorry don't cut it. I made a deal for Buxley's farm and everything on it. Without the chickens, all bets are off. Now get out of here. [He throws some papers at Sneed.] Fix it.

I guess Sneed means he didn't know Buxley was going to get nailed for fraud.

Scene 18

Buxley is in a cruddy downtown building. He looks through the blinds as the el goes by, frustrated by the noise. The chickens are standing on a table, morose.

BUXLEY: I know, I know. I hate the city, too. Come on, let's forget about it, okay? You just gotta eat your food. [The chickens start clucking.] I know, I know, I know, you're used to the best of food. I gave it to you all your life. Baby, I'm sorry, okay? Come on, you force yourself to eat it because it's nutritious, okay? You don't have to like it. All right. All right, sweetheart. Evie, Daddy's gonna get you your real food, okay? Now, you take care of Evie, okay, Adam? I don't know how I'm gonna do it, but I'm gonna get your real food.

"Eat it because it's nutritious, you don't have to like it" = what we say to our five-year-old most days as we plead for him to eat something more than cinnamon toast

Scene 19

Vecchio parks the car, and he and Fraser get out and cross the street to a barber shop.

VECCHIO: My old man used to come here all the time. He'd tell my mother we were going to the park, but we'd always end up here. Though I never once saw him cut his hair.
FRASER: You didn't like to see his hair being cut?
VECCHIO: No, this is Burt Block's place. He's a bookie. He's been around forever. Knows this town inside and out.

They go inside. Three guys are sitting in chairs having their hair cut. The barber at the center chair, presumably Block, is talking to his customer.

PRESUMABLY BLOCK: So he says "Don't be ridiculous, that canary can't sing. The mouse is a ventriloquist." Ha ha!
VECCHIO: Hey, Burt, how you doing?
BLOCK: [takes his cigar out of his mouth, surprised] Ray? Ray Vecchio, is that you?
VECCHIO: No, it's my ghost. Of course it's me, Burt. How you doing? I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine. Burt, Benny. Benny, Burt. [Block and Fraser shake hands.]
FRASER: Pleased to meet you.
BLOCK: [practically pinching Vecchio's cheeks] Hee hee, you look nice! Heh heh. [to Fraser] He used to be the softest kid I ever known. His old man'd be listening to the radio, screamin' for those nags to run faster, and little Ray'd be there in the corner, stuffin' his face with crullers, all chubby and bloated —
VECCHIO: Burt. Burt, I think that's a little more information than my friend needs to know.
BLOCK: Heh! What can I do you for, boys?
FRASER: Ah, we have misplaced some extremely important chickens, and we believe that information about whoever it is that laid these bets might help us locate them.
BLOCK: [can't quite believe Fraser is for real] Chickens.
FRASER: Chickens.
VECCHIO: Yeah, the guy's name is Lyndon Buxley. We got a hunch that maybe he's a swisher on somebody's book. Maybe make a few calls for us?
BLOCK: I don't have to, Ray. A loser like Buxley, his story gets out. He got his line up over a hundred large with a fella. But everything worked out okay.
VECCHIO: Where's a guy like him get a hundred grand?
BLOCK: He didn't! His bookie wound up selling his marker to some guy. Bookie got his money, life goes on.
FRASER: Thank you kindly for your help.
BLOCK: Hey, mucho gusto.
VECCHIO: Thanks a lot, Burt.
BLOCK: [as they are going] Nice coat.
VECCHIO: [at the door] Uh, listen, ah, one more thing. Did my old man ever win? Even once?
BLOCK: Ray! That would have spoiled his fun! Ah hah hah hah!
VECCHIO: [smiling] Thanks again, Burt.

Mucho gusto is Spanish for (approximately) "my pleasure," and do I believe Vecchio's pop would have gone to a barber who wasn't Italian? I do not. I also don't know what "a swisher on somebody's book" means, though it's clearly to do with gambling. I do like the idea of little Ray Vecchio using his pop's betting time to eat crullers and do nothing else. Heh.

Scene 20

Thatcher is at a restaurant table with Cloutier, who is pouring wine.

THATCHER: I don't know if this is the ideal place to talk business. It's a little dark.
CLOUTIER: I can see everything I need to.
THATCHER: I spoke to Constable Fraser. I think he might be ready to come around.
CLOUTIER: Constable Fraser. I must admit, I'm a little surprised by your relationship with him.
THATCHER: Yes, well, we both know I like to keep my personal life personal.
CLOUTIER: Don't underestimate your potential, Meg. Remember your ambition. You've done well so far. You could do even better with the right connections. With a friend to help pave the way.
THATCHER: [looks away] Fraser!
FRASER: [hurrying across the dining room] Ah. Inspector. I thought it important to inform you that there's been an emergency.
THATCHER: Emergency?
FRASER: Yes. With your car.
THATCHER: What about it?
FRASER: [hadn't thought that far ahead; looks at the candle on the table] It's on fire.
CLOUTIER: Oh, please.
FRASER: No, it is. It's burning away. All of the other cars feel threatened.
CLOUTIER: You're making this up.
FRASER: Yes, I am. [Thatcher stands up.]
CLOUTIER: Where do you think you're going?
THATCHER: With him.
CLOUTIER: Ah, perhaps I didn't make myself clear —
THATCHER: No, Henri, you made yourself perfectly clear. Now let me make myself clear. I'm sick of your innuendoes. I didn't join the RCMP to get chased around a desk. I'm going with Constable Fraser. You do what you want about that. [She leaves.]
FRASER: [to Cloutier] Sorry to have interrupted your dinner. [catching up with Thatcher] Ah, Inspector, I'm sorry about the ruse, but I believe I've determined the cause of the accident the other night, and I think that Lyndon Buxley will reconsider his legal action. [to the host as they leave the restaurant] Thank you kindly.

Okay so maybe Thatcher managed to avoid sleeping with Cloutier specifically, but based on that earlier scene I continue to believe she felt coerced into sleeping with someone senior to herself. Good for her for deciding she'd had enough, though! . . . A little less good for Fraser for not thinking his ruse all the way through before he began it, though.

Scene 21

Buxley is sneaking around his house to get his special chicken feed. Just as he's leaving, a light turns on, and Fraser and Thatcher are there looking sternly at him.

BUXLEY: What are you doing here?
FRASER: I assumed you wouldn't want to feed Adam and Eve anything but the best.
BUXLEY: Well, do me a favor, okay? Just leave me alone, all right? Until I sue you.
FRASER: I'd rather help you, if I may.
BUXLEY: What are you, crazy? I'm suing you for ten million dollars and you want to help me? Why?
THATCHER: That's what I wanted to know.
BUXLEY: Who is this woman?
FRASER: This is my superior officer, Inspector Margaret Thatcher. Lyndon, I know the kind of trouble you're in. I know that you needed money to pay off your bookie. That's why you sold your farm in the first place, that's why you set up that hole in the road, and that's why you tried to sue me.
THATCHER: He set up the hole?
FRASER: Yes. He planned to drive into it and then blame it on Cook County, but when I interfered with his plan, it provided him an opportunity to sue an entire government. And that's why he went back and covered up the trench.
THATCHER: You should be ashamed of yourself.
BUXLEY: Yeah, I know. If you'll excuse me, I gotta go feed my chickens, okay? [He goes out.]
THATCHER: That's it? After all that, we're gonna let him go?
FRASER: I don't see what else we can do.
THATCHER: Interfere! You always interfere.

From outside, they hear Buxley arguing with Sneed. Fraser moves toward the door.

BUXLEY: No!
SNEED: Yes! I'm taking you to see Mr. Marshack. [They start to drive off.]
THATCHER: What are you doing?
FRASER: Interfering. [He hurries and climbs in the back of Sneed's truck. Thatcher runs to catch up and join him.]
THATCHER: Where's he taking us?
FRASER: I wouldn't want to hazard a guess, ma'am. Do you happen to have your cellular phone with you? [She does.] May I have your permission to — ?
THATCHER: Permission granted.
FRASER: Thank you. [He dials some numbers but does not connect the call.]
THATCHER: What are you waiting for?
FRASER: Well, I don't want my hesitation to appear unduly procedural, ma'am. It's just that I'm not sure which cellular provider you use, and since we're likely on a transponder boundary line, there will undoubtedly be a nominal expense occuring — nominal, I say, but —
THATCHER: Just do it!
FRASER: Uh, yes.
VECCHIO: [answers his phone] Vecchio.
THATCHER: Hurry up, the battery's running low.
FRASER: Ray, it's Fraser. Buxley has been kidnapped — [The phone beeps twice.] — Inspector Thatcher and are I stowed away aboard the kidnapper's vehicle.
VECCHIO: So where are you?
FRASER: We're in a truck.
VECCHIO: Well, where's the truck?
FRASER: It's on a road, Ray.
THATCHER: Hurry up!
VECCHIO: What?
FRASER: Apparently the battery is running low. [The phone beeps two more times.]
VECCHIO: All right, look, give me a license plate number.
FRASER: Ah — yes. I only saw it for a split second — [The phone beeps twice more.] — but it is Illinois plate five-zero-six-nine — [The phone beeps three more times and goes dead.] Oh, dear.
VECCHIO: Hello? Hello? Elaine! [She clears her throat; she's right behind him.] Oh. Could you get me a, uh, license plate number on a truck? Five-zero-six-nine?
ELAINE: That's it? There could be hundreds of matches.
VECCHIO: Yeah, well, that's all we got.

Illinois is more than 55,000 square miles. If they had the license number of the truck, they could go to the address where it was registered, but expecting it and its stowaway (or captive) passengers to be there seems optimistic.

How does Thatcher let her phone battery get that low?!

Scene 22

Sneed's truck rolls up at Cicero Dairy Corporation, and he hustles Buxley into the building. Fraser hops down from the back of the truck and gallantly helps Thatcher down as well. Buxley is in the dairy office.

BUXLEY: What do you want from me?
MARSHACK: I just want what you owe me, chicken man.
BUXLEY: You already got my farm. That's — I don't have anything else.
MARSHACK: I want your research, Lyndon, not your livestock.
BUXLEY: I don't know what you're talking about.
MARSHACK: Well, you kidnapped two of your most valuable birds. I want 'em back. Think you could do that for me? Huh?
BUXLEY: I don't think so.
MARSHACK: Hmm.
BUXLEY: Never.
MARSHACK: Never say never, Lyndon. [A thug comes over and is probably about to start beating Buxley, but a monitor starts beeping; Fraser and Thatcher are visible in the chicken run.]
SNEED: Mr. Marshack, we got trouble.
MARSHACK: Deal with it, boys.
SNEED: Pleasure.

Sneed and the thug leave the office and head for the catwalks Fraser and Thatcher were seen on. Marshack is still looming over Buxley.

SNEED: This way! [Fraser and Thatcher are creeping around a different bit of the pens.] They're down here!

Fraser and Thatcher duck through a door and pull it closed. Sneed sneers at them through the window and turns some dials. Heat lamps turn on; they are in the incubator.

FRASER: Oh, dear.

Fraser really does not have especially good luck with industrial animal agriculture, does he?

Scene 23

Fraser and Thatcher are getting warm.

THATCHER: We're going to burn up in here.
FRASER: I think that's unlikely, ma'am. This would appear to be a late model Acheson type incubator with a maximum output of fifty degrees Celsius, or one hundred twenty degrees Fahrenheit.
THATCHER: So we're safe, then.
FRASER: Oh, yes, yes. Well, that is, until the carbon dioxide we exhale combines with the sulfuric acids, the ammonia, and the nitrous oxide, which, without proper ventilation, is a common hazard of incubators of this type.
THATCHER: And then?
FRASER: And then we die.
THATCHER: Any chance of getting that door open?
FRASER: [thumps on the door, has a listen] I don't think so. It would appear to be double reinforced steel with an Etek electronic lock.
THATCHER: Which means?
FRASER: Which means they bought an extraordinarily good door.
THATCHER: Why?
FRASER: Perhaps they foresaw this exact situation.
THATCHER: Perhaps they were just trying to prevent the chicks from escaping.
FRASER: Perhaps.

I think the ammonia and N2O are from the waste of the adult chickens, which wouldn't build up in the egg hatchery? But I guess the point is that without ventilation everything builds up everywhere.

I couldn't find any details on "Etek" or "Etech" or "E-tech" or any such brand name for the electronic lock; that name is too close to generic to be meaningful. Meanwhile, it is not clear why Fraser has switched from calling Thatcher "sir" back to calling her "ma'am."

Scene 24

Back at the station, Francesca is still mad at Vecchio.

FRANCESCA: How come you told everyone else in the world that ticket won, except me?
VECCHIO: Uh, it slipped my mind.
FRANCESCA: Twenty-five thousand dollars slipped your mind?
VECCHIO: Look, if I had thought about it, I woulda told you, but I didn't think about it, okay?
FRANCESCA: That money is half mine, you know.
VECCHIO: Look, no, it is not. Now will you leave me alone? I got seven hundred license plate numbers I gotta go through here?
FRANCESCA: Don't wriggle out of this, Ray.
VECCHIO: Look, you ask anybody, all right? They'll tell you it's my money. You ask anybody.
FRANCESCA: Okay. Let's do that, then. Huey? What do you think?
HUEY: Even-steven. It was your money.
FRANCESCA: Mm-hmm. Elaine? How 'bout it?
ELAINE: Ray, pay the woman her money.
FRANCESCA: Yeah. The rest of you. How many of you think I deserve half the winnings? Come on, let's see some hands. [Everyone in the squad room raises their hand.]
VECCHIO: Oh, thank you for your support. It's still mine.
FRANCESCA: You're such a rat.
VECCHIO: All right, this has got to be the one. Elaine, get me an address on the Cicero Dairy, and then radio me in my car. [He heads out.]
FRANCESCA: Will you stop walking away from me?
VECCHIO: I'm walking. Don't you see me walking? And pretty soon, I'm gonna be driving.
FRANCESCA: Well, then, I'm coming with you.
VECCHIO: Oh, no, you're not.
FRANCESCA: So try and stop me.

UGH. Are we supposed to be with Vecchio here? Because he's one of our heroes and Francesca is his annoying kid sister? Because I am one hundred percent on her side, and so (obviously) is everyone else in the show, even Huey, whom Vecchio gives no crap for saying "even-steven."

Scene 25

In the incubator, Fraser is doing something electronic. He and Thatcher are both sweating like they're in a sauna.

FRASER: I think I found the contact points for the release mechanism.
THATCHER: If we ever do get out of here, I'm going to need to find a new career.
FRASER: Well, I hope I haven't been in any way responsible for that, ma'am.
THATCHER: No. It's not your fault. That was something I should have done a long time ago. We're Mounties. We're supposed to have ideals. Of course, if we're dead Mounties, our ideals won't mean much, will they?
FRASER: Huh.
THATCHER: Something?
FRASER: Well, I think it's possible to bypass the release mechanism, but I'll need a piece of wire about seven centimeters in length.
THATCHER: Seven centimeters?
FRASER: Yes, seven centimeters. [He looks around to see what he can use as a wire.]
THATCHER: Take off your tunic.
FRASER: I beg your pardon?
THATCHER: Take off your tunic, Constable. That's an order. [Fraser takes off his tunic, which takes a wee while: Unbuttons an epaulette, unbuckles two belts, unbuttons the front of the damn thing, then shrugs it off and hands it to Thatcher. She pulls a hairpin out of the collar.] Seven centimeters.
FRASER: Good thinking, ma'am. [He unbends the wire, pokes it at the panel, and seizes up and starts to shake.]
THATCHER: Fraser?!
FRASER: [cools it] Just joking.

He gets back to work. She smiles, amused and a little impressed.

I'm pretty sure this is the first prank we've seen from Fraser; is it only the second bit of evidence whatsoever that he has any sense of humor at all?

Scene 26

Sneed and the thug have suspended Buxley over a vat of something.

SNEED: Could have done it the easy way, Lyndon.
BUXLEY: I love my chickens.
SNEED: It's not too late.
BUXLEY: No!
SNEED: [He signals at the thug, who flips a switch. Buxley is lowered toward the vat.] I'm asking you one more time, Buxley. Where are the chickens? You starting to remember where you left those chickens?
BUXLEY: Suck an egg!

Buxley goes under.

It is a vat of (uncooked, of course) scrambled eggs. It's as if the next thing the guy was going to be dunked in was bread crumbs.

Scene 27

Fraser is still trying to hot-wire the door lock.

THATCHER: Fraser, if this doesn't work and, ah, we don't make it out of here — as your commanding officer, I just wanted to say that — [He looks over his shoulder at her.] — as someone you work for — [He looks back at the lock.] — I just wanted to say that — [He looks at her again.] — as someone you work with — [He nods and looks back at the lock.] — I, I just wanted to tell you —
FRASER: [He looks at her.] I got it. [The lock opens.] You were saying?
THATCHER: Another time.

They are both very good-looking, and they're warm and sweaty and close together, and all I can see is Fraser realizing where she's beginning to go at the beginning of her stammering line and deciding he has to help her not have to say what she's about to say. Is that wrong of me? The way he tunes in before the first time he looks back at her, I mean, it just looks to me like he's thinking "Oh, no, don't." Except he's the one who asked her out for coffee. So maybe he's thinking "Oh, no, you don't have to." And then the way he says "I got it" before it's obvious that he means he got the lock open; he's giving her an out on purpose, right? He's not that completely clueless?

Scene 28

Buxley is hoisted up out of the egg wash.

BUXLEY: All right, all right, all right! I'll tell you, okay?
SNEED: That's better. [Buxley doesn't speak.] I don't got all day, Lyndon. Well? Well? Well?
BUXLEY: Let me catch my breath. No, I can't do it! I can't do it!
SNEED: Put him down.

The thug flips the switch again. Fraser and Thatcher are creeping through the eggery.

BUXLEY: No. You heartless pig!
SNEED: Too bad. You had your chance.
BUXLEY: You're going to leave my babies all alone!

Fraser and Thatcher run to where they hear the egg men's voices; they hide behind some barrels.

SNEED: Spelling it out. Put him down and leave him down.
BUXLEY: I love my chickens.
FRASER: We need some kind of diversion. Can you throw?
THATCHER: One-point-three ERA over thirty games.
FRASER: That's good. [He hands her an egg.] Hit the red button.

Fraser moves off to where he can ambush the egg men once they're distracted. Thatcher sidearms the egg and hits a red button marked "emergency." The thug is startled and pulls his gun.

SNEED: What's going on?

Thatcher throws another egg and hits the thug right in the face. Fraser leaps out and grabs the guy's gun, dodges a couple of punches, and punches the guy in the stomach and then in the eggy face. Sneed runs away. Fraser pushes the thug into the egg wash and presses the button to hoist Buxley out.

BUXLEY: Way to go, Mountie!

Francesca and Vecchio have arrived and are hurrying through racks of eggs.

FRANCESCA: What kind of man cheats his own sister, Ray?
VECCHIO: I didn't cheat you.
FRANCESCA: What'd you think you were going to do, start lighting cigars with hundred dollar bills and I wouldn't notice?
VECCHIO: I don't smoke.
FRANCESCA: That's not the issue. You're avoiding. Avoiding and stealing. What do you think Ma's gonna say?

They hear a gunshot. Francesca flinches and looks around. Vecchio draws his gun. In slow motion, the lottery ticket flies out of his pocket and falls into the pen with the chickens.

It's not important whether Thatcher pitched 30 complete games; surely she means over 270 innings, irrespective of how many games it took her to accumulate those innings. That 1.3 ERA means that in 270 innings she pitched, she allowed 39 runs (well, she pitched to 39 batters who scored runs, which is usually almost the same thing), which is indeed very good, though presumably she wasn't playing baseball but fast-pitch softball (in which 1.3 is still quite good but maybe wouldn't set records).

Chekov's Lottery Ticket is not in Vecchio's pocket anymore, and it looks like he's about to get some comeuppance.

Scene 29

Sneed is creeping around in a storage area, feeling apprehensive. He thinks he hears something and turns around and shoots at it. Thatcher throws an egg and hits him in the back of the head. He turns around to shoot at her but she dives out of the way. Fraser throws an egg and hits him in the back of the head. He turns around and shoots but Fraser jumps to safety. Sneed is backing around pallets of eggs shooting more or less at random in his paranoia. Eventually he backs into Vecchio's gun.

VECCHIO: Not so fast, pal. Unless you want to play chicken.
FRASER: [as he and Thatcher come out from behind a stack of eggs] Ray!
VECCHIO: Evening, Benny. Inspector.
FRASER: Well, it's very good of you to come. May I? [He takes Sneed's gun.]
VECCHIO: Ah, no problem. [He holsters his own gun and starts cuffing Sneed.] You know, I've been thinking, Benny. I can't take the guilt anymore. I'm gonna give half that money to Francesca.
FRANCESCA: [from somewhere else in the eggery] NO!
VECCHIO: Watch him! [He runs to help Francesca.]
FRASER: [steps up to finish tightening Sneed's handcuffs] Which came first, Mr. Sneed? The chicken or the egg?
VECCHIO: [from where he's helping Francesca] NO!
THATCHER: I'll watch him. You go.
FRASER: Thank you, ma'am. [to Sneed] I'll tell you later. [He runs to help Vecchio and Francesca.] Ray!

Both Vecchio and Francesca are looking sadly at the chicken pen. Vecchio looks up at Fraser, stricken. Fraser sees that the chickens have pecked the lottery ticket into illegibility. He nods knowingly and leaves them to their grief.

Yyyup.

Scene 30

Fraser and Vecchio are walking down the street; Vecchio is reading a newspaper article about Fraser.

VECCHIO: "For saving the life of egg farmer Lyndon Buxley and his prize hens; for protecting Canada against an opportunistic legal act." Sounds pretty good, Benny. Hey, who's this guy Henry Klow-teer?
FRASER: That's Henri Cloutier. He's with the Legal Affairs office in Ottawa.
VECCHIO: The guy gives you a commendation and you don't tell me about it? I gotta read about it here on page four?
FRASER: Well, Inspector Thatcher deserves all the credit as my commanding officer.
VECCHIO: Which brings me to another subject I'd like to talk about.
FRASER: Fire away.
VECCHIO: Women.
FRASER: Enough.
VECCHIO: [chuckles] No, I'm serious. You mean to tell me you haven't noticed that Inspector Thatcher is a good-looking woman?
FRASER: Well, that wouldn't be appropriate for me to comment on, Ray.
VECCHIO: So you do notice.
FRASER: I didn't say that.
VECCHIO: Ahh.
FRASER: Ah? What do you mean, "Ah"?
VECCHIO: Oh, nothing, just "Ah."
FRASER: No, you must mean something by "Ah."
VECCHIO: Well, I think this "Ah" thing is a pretty, pretty neat trick.
FRASER: Well, it's not a trick, Ray.
VECCHIO: Oh, like you didn't use it to get me to feel guilty about the lottery ticket.
FRASER: No, I didn't.
VECCHIO: Ah.
FRASER: Honestly. [Vecchio laughs.] What, you don't believe me?
VECCHIO: I didn't say that.
FRASER: Ahh.

Okay this sidewalk-walking "Ahh" stuff is vintage Fraser and Vecchio the way they used to be, and I miss it. The lottery ticket B plot of this episode was entirely unnecessary except to give Francesca more to do, which I guess is a valuable goal, so that's all right; in fact the egg farming A plot doesn't seem to have gone much of anywhere either, though, now that I think about it. They dunked the nameless thug and arrested Sneed for what? Assault, probably? Like that's good, but does it get Buxley his farm back? He does seem to have signed it over legitimately and Marshack owns it now. I don't see that issue having been resolved in any way. I guess that's not really Canada's problem, and Buxley probably did agree not to sue Fraser and Thatcher and all of Canada, which is why Cloutier has commended him? (A commendation? Really? You don't think Cloutier now has as much of a grudge against Fraser as he probably has against Thatcher? Or maybe he wants to heap praise on Fraser and ostentatiously not on Thatcher; isn't that usually how it goes when a senior dude is mad at a junior lady for rejecting his advances?)

I have no insight on the title. I still think the most interesting thing in the episode is Thatcher's unfortunate history and the gentlemanly way Fraser allows her to avoid talking explicitly about it.

Cumulative body count: 20
Red uniform: Going out to investigate the hole in the road and onwards (impounding the chickens, interrupting Thatcher's dinner "date," foiling the plot at the eggery)

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return to Due South: season 2 episode 11 "We Are the Eggmen"