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return to due South: season 3 episode 1 "Burning Down the House"
Burning Down the House
air date September 14, 1997
Scene 1
Woods. Mountains. River. Caption: The Northwest Territories. Canada. A man is running through the woods. He looks back over his shoulder and keeps running. Someone is watching through a spyglass. After a moment he collapses the spyglass; it is Fraser, looking a bit scruffy. He turns and speaks to someone on his left.
FRASER: Go.
Diefenbaker runs off after the man. Fraser follows him. The man crashes into a tree and keeps running. Diefenbaker barks and keeps chasing. The man tumbles over a fallen trunk and keeps running. He slides down a hill toward a river. Fraser is chasing him nimbly. The man reaches the river. Diefenbaker is barking and chasing. Fraser is running. The man comes to a rowboat and tugs it into the water. Fraser sees him from a prominent rock and runs off to intercept him downstream. The man is rowing. Fraser jumps off a cliff and lands bang in the stern part of the man's rowboat, his feet punching right through the hull and coming to rest on the river bottom.
MAN: What is wrong with you? Why don't you just leave this thing alone?
FRASER: It's not in my nature.
MAN: [pulls out a handgun, points it at Fraser] Get your feet off the bottom.
FRASER: I don't think you want me to do that.
MAN: Pick your feet up!
FRASER: As you wish. [He picks his feet up and holds onto the gunwales of the boat as it begins to drift downstream again.] Ready?
MAN: What? [He looks downstream. They are approaching a waterfall.] Oh, no. No, no, no!
They jump free as they go over, which is good because the boat breaks up when it hits the bottom of the waterfall. Diefenbaker is watching from a rock on the riverbank. He sees Fraser's hat floating by. After a moment Fraser stands up under it, hauling the man ashore by his shirt.
FRASER: Maybe next time, you'll think twice.
That river was moving pretty fast; how did the rowboat not just knock Fraser's feet out from under him when he landed through it?
This is a new Diefenbaker. Looks wolfier than the old one, for my money.
Scene 2
Fraser and Diefenbaker are in a boss's office.
BOSS: Let me just go over the details and see if I have them in order here. You were in pursuit of this individual for over six and a half days over roughly, oh, seventeen hundred kilometers of deep wilderness, in pursuit of an individual you suspected was guilty of —
FRASER: Littering, sir.
BOSS: Ah. I was hoping I had read that incorrectly. Because, you see, in, in the course of the pursuit of this litterbug, you effectively destroyed three river boats, two light aircraft, four ATV, and one punt.
FRASER: The punt was purely accidental, sir.
BOSS: As they so often are, aren't they? Ah, tell me, Constable, was there something in the nature of this man's litter that would justify the destruction of over seven hundred and thirty-three thousand dollars' worth of private property?
FRASER: Yes, sir. Volume.
BOSS: Volume?
FRASER: And content.
BOSS: What kind of volume and content are we talking about?
FRASER: Well, at first it seemed to be domestic. A, a village dumping ground. But there was a telltale odor, sir, one that I'm sure that you would recognize. Like chicken parts.
BOSS: Farts?
FRASER: Parts. Closer inspection revealed it to be the banned chemical known as DES, or diethylstilbestrol . . . [Time is passing; the light through the boss's window is shifting.] They were bringing the drums in on cruise ships through the deep port at Skagway, then hauling them over the White Pass with the intent of dumping . . . [More time is passing. It is late in the afternoon now.] The local inhabitants, in an expression of their deep appreciation of the RCMP, recommended that you, sir, be bestowed with the title of Honorary Tribal Elder.
The boss smiles. There is a knock at the door and a young person comes in draped with mobile telecommunications equipment.
YOUNG PERSON: Constable Fraser, there's a call for you. From Chicago.
So this scene is obviously meant as a callback to the first time we met Fraser, when he was called on the carpet for risking his life and the Mounties' reputation to catch a guy who'd been "overfishing" to the tune of 4.5 tons by exploding ordinance and harvesting whole riverfuls of salmon with a backhoe. Fraser nor his relationship with usual RCMP methods have not changed, and here's a new boss-type person who apparently didn't get a memo about what to expect when Fraser was on his turf.
A punt, in this context, is a flat-bottomed boat propelled by pushing along the river bottom with a pole. Why such a vessel would have been involved in Fraser's pursuit of this "litterbug" is anybody's guess; they're used in shallow, slow-moving rivers and other calm waterways, which what we saw in scene 1 was not, but on the other hand, 1700 km is more than a thousand miles, so who knows. A thousand miles of wilderness could have had Fraser ranging over pretty much the whole Yukon and NWT (which in 1997 still included what is now Nunavut) west of the Hudson Bay.
Fun fact: Just north of the White Pass, under the W in that map, our villains would have found themselves in Fraser, YT.Anyway, DES is diethylstilbestrol, a synthetic estrogen that turned out to be extremely dangerous and is no longer generally available (though Uncle Wiki doesn't say it's banned), and rotting chicken is one of the worst smells I know.
Scene 3
Diefenbaker is sitting at the bottom of a telephone pole. He barks up the thing; Fraser has climbed up in a harness arrangement to take a call at the top.
FRASER: Hello, Ray?
VECCHIO: Hey, Benny, how's the vacation going?
FRASER: It's everything a Mountie could ask for, Ray. Lots of fresh air, plenty of exercise. How are things in Chicago?
VECCHIO: Ah, you know, Benny, Chicago's Chicago. Listen, I'm just calling to let you know that I may not be there at the train to pick you up.
FRASER: Well, that's no hardship, Ray. I have legs. I can walk.
VECCHIO: I know you have legs, Benny. That's not the point. I'm just calling to let you know that you may be on your own for a while. [He is packing his desk into a duffel bag.]
FRASER: Is something wrong?
VECCHIO: No. Why would anything be wrong? I'm just calling to let you know that I'd like to be there to pick you up but if I can't be there, it's not because I didn't want to be. It's because something came up.
FRASER: You sure everything's all right?
VECCHIO: Look, Benny, I, I don't know if they have a similar thing up there in Canada, but down here in America we have this thing called friendship. And this is something that a friend would do. Like, for example, if one friend calls another friend, and he's supposed to meet him at a certain time and a certain place, and he can't be there, he usually calls him to let him know.
FRASER: So everything is all right, then.
VECCHIO: [sighs] Yeah, Benny. [He sits down.] Everything is all right.
FRASER: Well, that's good to hear, Ray.
VECCHIO: It's good to hear your voice. [He is sad.] Listen, um, I want you to have a safe trip. And I will be in touch.
FRASER: All right, Ray.
VECCHIO: You understand that, uh, I will be in touch?
FRASER: As a friend?
VECCHIO: Yeah, Benny. As a friend.
He hangs up the phone, puffs air through his cheeks, and looks sadly around the empty squad room. Then he puts one more family photo in his bag, gets up, and walks out, giving a wave to Welsh, who is leaning in his office door watching him go.
So . . . something is up with Vecchio, then. (And with the whole precinct, right? Why is it dark and vacant like this? Aren't police stations normally staffed more or less around the clock?) Something Welsh knows about but that Vecchio can't tell Fraser, or at least can't tell him over the phone. 🤔
Credits roll.
Paul Gross
Callum Keith Rennie
Beau Starr
Camilla Scott
Tony Craig | Tom Melissis
Catherine Bruhier
and Gordon Pinsent as Fraser Sr.
(plus Draco the dog)
David Marciano, Ramona Milano, Dean McDermott, George Bloomfield, Neil Dainard, Diane Douglass, Vito Rezza
Okay so well. The credits are Quite Different, aren't they? For one thing, the music has been punched up a bit, with some extra percussion and a couple of waily electric guitar licks. For another thing, all the series regulars have these kind of scrolling head shots moving past their in-episode clip sequences, which doesn't suck but is a little dizzying. Camilla Scott as Thatcher and Gordon Pinsent as Bob Fraser have been promoted to series regular from their extremely recurring guest roles. Tony Craig as Huey has a new partner, evidently, and is sharing billing with the guy. And, most importantly, Marciano is out of the opening credits and listed here as first among guest performances, which one imagines viewers who had been tuning in after 15 months without their show must have met with a collective ?!!?. (Who the hell, they must have asked, is Callum Keith Rennie?)
Scene 4
Various Chicago street scenes eventually zero in on Diefenbaker sitting down in an alley and grumbling at Fraser.
FRASER: Oh, for God's sake. I think I've provided ample explanation. Ray was otherwise engaged, and taxi policy precludes the transportation of wolves. Come on. Aside from which, we're almost home. At the end of the alley, turn right, cross the street, climb the stairs, and we'll be as snug as bugs . . . in a fire.
Fraser's apartment building is surrounded with police cars and fire trucks; its windows are blackened.
It's not the same building Fraser has been living in at all, but we're meant to understand that it is. All those establishing shots were apparently a Doylist way of saying to us "We're still in Chicago, honest! This is totally Chicago! Look at these el trains! In conclusion: Chicago." (h/t Cleolinda Jones on Troy (2004)) Because 15 months is a long time and we apparently don't have (or maybe even want) access to the same locations anymore. So here we are.
Scene 5
Fraser and Diefenbaker are looking around the charred wreckage of an apartment. Fraser turns over a burnt wall stud and comes up with Diefenbaker's bowl. He finds a broken perfume bottle, gives it a sniff, and puts it down. When he turns around, his father is there.
BOB FRASER: It's not an easy thing to lose a home.
FRASER: No.
BOB FRASER: Your mother and I had a cabin north of Clyde River. Burned right to the ground. A kerosene error. My fault. Your mother and I slept in an igloo for four months while I rebuilt it. The longest time we spent together.
FRASER: I didn't know that.
BOB FRASER: Well, you weren't born yet, son.
FRASER: Ah.
BOB FRASER: In fact, all that time spent in that igloo sort of started the ball rolling. Conceptionally speaking. But, ah, I wouldn't let this get to you. Something good might come from it. It did for me.
FRASER: You know, Dad, all the years you were alive, and now since you've been dead, you never — you never talked like this. You never told me.
BOB FRASER: I didn't tell you about Dirk McGurk? Oh, yeah, I, I chased that rat for years. He walked right up to the igloo. Didn't think there was a Mountie inside. Easiest arrest I ever made. [He pats Fraser on the back.] Buck up.
Fraser looks around the burnt-out apartment again. He is alone.
So Fraser's apartment was at the end of a hallway, rather than having neighbors on both sides, and it was on the third floor, which would probably not be safe to walk around on after a fire of this severity and he likely wouldn't even be allowed up there. But never mind: We've already covered how this is totally Fraser's apartment—in conclusion: 3J—just the way we were required to accept that the guy with latex prosthetics and hanging upside down in Back to the Future part II (1989) was in conclusion: Crispin Glover. [handwave] You don't need to see this set's identification. Move along.
The fact that Bob and Caroline Fraser never spent more than four months together while they were married is pretty depressing, although I'll grudgingly admit that "Something good may come from it. It did for me" is a nice father-son moment. But what the hell were they doing in (or in fact north of) Clyde River? I mean, why not, I guess, right?, these are people who apparently moved around quite a bit (and whose parents subsequently moved to Alert for reasons that are anybody's guess).
Scene 6
Fraser and Diefenbaker arrive at the 27th precinct. Diefenbaker whines.
FRASER: Dief. [He beckons him to come down a different corridor.] Shhh. We'll surprise him. [They come around a corner into the squad room.] Ray! [There is no one at Vecchio's desk. Fraser looks around the squad room and goes over to where Huey is interviewing someone.]
HUEY: What's the matter, Pops? Something died in your throat?
OLD MAN: Not yet.
FRASER: Detective Huey, have you seen Detective Vecchio?
HUEY: You mean Ray?
FRASER: Yes, Ray Vecchio, the detective.
HUEY: Uh, no. Lunch room, maybe.
FRASER: Ah. Thank you kindly. [He turns to go.] Oh, before I forget, I brought you a little something from the Territories. Genuine beluga whalebone.
HUEY: What is it?
OLD MAN: It's a sextant.
HUEY: What's a sextant?
FRASER: Oh, it's a very handy little device. Let's say, for instance, you were tracking a suspect. You can use this to triangulate your location.
OLD MAN: Sure, if you find yourself in a vast open territory with no distinguishing landmarks.
HUEY: I can see how this can come in real handy in Chicago, Fraser.
FRASER: I'm glad you like it. [He and Diefenbaker go to the lunch room.] Elaine!
ELAINE: Fraser, how was your vacation?
FRASER: Oh, very relaxing. You haven't seen Detective Vecchio, have you?
ELAINE: Uh, Ray Vecchio?
FRASER: Yes. The detective.
ELAINE: Ah, no. No. I haven't. He's probably at his desk.
FRASER: Ah. Well, allow me to give you this, ah, small gift from the Northwest Territories. [He hands her a leather band of some kind decorated with beads and bones and feathers.]
ELAINE: Oh, gee, uh, I don't know what to say.
FRASER: No need to say anything. Just enjoy it. [In the hallway, he runs into Welsh.] Ah, Lieutenant.
WELSH: Constable. You've returned. Upon reflection, I imagine that pleases me.
FRASER: Well, I hope so, sir. You haven't by any chance seen Detective Vecchio, have you?
WELSH: Um, listen, we gotta talk. [He starts to walk Fraser down the hall.]
OFFICER: Lieutenant, we've got a dust-up in interview three, and there's a guy from the IRS says he wants to talk with you.
WELSH: IRS? All right, listen, Fraser, couple of things I gotta do, but we have to talk.
Welsh biffs off. Fraser is back at the squad room and sees that Vecchio's desk is no longer unoccupied.
FRASER: Ah! Ray!
The guy who has been leaning over Vecchio's desk stands up and turns around and is not Ray Vecchio.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Fraser! Buddy! [comes and hugs him] You have a good time up there in the Northwest Areas?
FRASER: [bewildered] Territories, you mean?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Wilderness, huh? Exactly. Me personally, I leave the city, I come down with this skin condition. [He falls in step behind a uniformed cop walking through the squad room.] Janey, you given any thought to Friday night? It would be a great first date. Crystal Ballroom, the band, martinis, me.
JANEY: My dog has a foot fungus that needs some attention.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Right. [He turns to Fraser after Janey walks away.] Is there a karmic chi love thing happening there, or what?
FRASER: I'm sorry, uh, there seems to be some sort of, uh, misunderstanding. I'm looking for Ray Vecchio.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Uh-huh?
FRASER: Raymond Vecchio. The detective.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You talked to Welsh, right?
FRASER: Ah, yes, I did.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Good. So we're on the right track. Look, I'm glad you're back, Fraser, 'cause things have not been the same around here. [He slings an arm around Fraser's shoulder and guides him back toward the squad room.]
FRASER: Obviously.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: And you want to know why?
FRASER: As a matter of fact, yes, I do.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Take a look back through history, what do you see?
FRASER: Any particular period of history?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Nah, the whole shebang.
HUEY: Oh, Fraser, you found him. Good. [Fraser is confused by this.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What do you see, over and over, is this: Duets. Okay?
SOMEONE ELSE PASSING BY: Hey, Ray, what's up?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: [high fives the guy] Jimmy, you owe me a fin from last week.
SOMEONE ELSE PASSING BY (JIMMY): Yeah, yeah, yeah.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Think about it. Lennon and McCartney, Leopold and Loeb, the Three Stooges. [As they return to the squad room, they pass Elaine; she has Fraser's gift on her head and is looking in a mirror.] Strictly speaking, they were a trio, but in my opinion they should have dropped Larry right from the start, 'cause you could see, the guy, he just was not committed to it. Anyway, I think you know what I'm talking about.
FRASER: No, I'm sorry, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Partners, Fraser. Partners. Elaine, you got that stuff on the Docklands?
FRASER: Who are you?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Quit kidding around, Fraser. You know who I am.
FRASER: I assure you I am not kidding around.
ELAINE: Here you go, Ray. Files one through seven and the background on the Johnson case.
FRASER: [watches Elaine return to her desk, even more confused] I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. But I rarely forget a face, and I am very confident that you and I have never met. Now, my name is Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father, and for reasons that — well, they don't need exploring at this juncture — I have remained, attached as liaison with the Canadian consulate. And over the course of my time here I have formed what you would call a duet with the person that I am currently looking for, one Raymond Vecchio, detective first grade, Chicago Police Department.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: [shows Fraser his badge] Raymond Vecchio, detective first grade, Chicago Police Department. Everyone here knows who I am, Fraser, how about you? [The phone rings. He answers it.] Ray Vecchio. [He winks at Fraser.] Yeah, like something off a Christmas tree? [gives Fraser the phone] For you.
VOICE ON THE PHONE: Listen, what a shame about your apartment building. Homeless, huh? What an ugly word. Well, you could always move in with your friend Vecchio.
FRASER: I'm not at all convinced that he is my friend, actually. [Whoever The Hell This Guy Is looks offended.]
VOICE ON THE PHONE: Oh, well, great. Then you probably won't sweat the fact that his electric blanket's getting the family home all nice and toasty.
FRASER: [hanging up the phone, speaking to Whoever The Hell This Guy Is] I have no idea who you are, but if you insist on maintaining this charade of being Ray Vecchio, it may be of interest for you to know that I have reason to believe your house is about to burn down.
They rush from the squad room.
Some things to be aware of with reference to this scene: Lennon and McCartney refers, of course, to John Lennon and Paul McCartney, two of the Beatles, who wrote most of that band's songs. Leopold and Loeb were a couple of college students who kidnapped and murdered a kid in 1924 because they thought their "superior intellect" would allow them to get away with "the perfect crime." They were brought in for questioning a week later, the assholes. The Three Stooges were of course a trio; as my six-year-old would say, it's right there in their name. The sextant Fraser gives Huey looks for all the world like it's carved from balsa wood or Styrofoam rather than bone of any kind. We are still not re-recording dialogue to make it make sense ("What do you see, over and over, is this" should be "What you see" or "What you do see," but here we are.). Vecchio's badge was, let's not forget, a big five-pointed silver star with "DETECTIVE" across the top, "METROPOLITAN POLICE" across the middle, and "93026" at the bottom; this guy's badge is a big silver five-pointed star, but alas none of the other details are visible. And gaslighting is what is happening to Fraser.
Whoever The Hell This Guy Is is obviously not Ray Vecchio, but everyone seems to be agreeing to pretend he is. Why? And Fraser is taking it pretty calmly? I'm not sure how I'd react if someone pretending to be my best friend insisted that I was the one making shit up for insisting he was no one of the sort. I did have a nightmare once in which, among other things, my husband didn't know me, and it was awful. So maybe this scene is hitting me harder than it's meant to. There is a slight clue in Welsh saying "We've got to talk" and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is saying "You talked to Welsh, right?" Fraser says he has, although he hasn't, really, has he; that will no doubt explain what on earth is going on here. But Fraser has, as we know, had more than his share of concussions during the course of his adult life, so what do I know, maybe the traumatic brain injuries have finally caught up with him.
The "trail of the killers of my father" stuff is a nice way of bringing viewers up to speed who haven't been with the show this whole time. It reminds me of one of my favorite meta bits from Wodehouse, toward the beginning of The Code of the Woosters:
A thing I never know, when I'm starting out to tell a story about a chap I've told a story about before, is how much explanation to bung in at the outset. It's a problem you've got to look at from every angle. I mean to say, in the present case, if I take it for granted that my public knows all about Gussie Fink-Nottle and just breeze ahead, those publicans who weren't hanging on my lips the first time are apt to be fogged. Whereas, if before kicking off I give about eight volumes of the man's life and history, other bimbos who were so hanging will stifle yawns and murmur 'Old stuff. Get on with it.' I suppose the only thing to do is to put the salient facts as briefly as possible in the possession of the first gang, waving an apologetic hand at the second gang the while, to indicate that they had better let their attention wander for a minute or two and that I will be with them shortly.
Scene 7
Fraser and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is rush from the police station.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Look, we'll take my car.
FRASER: Oh, please, don't tell me that your car is a nineteen-seventy-one green Buick Riviera.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Yep.
FRASER: [stows his stuff in the trunk of a green 1971 Riviera] Why not? [to Diefenbaker] Let's just play along.
They peel out. A cigarette-smoking woman in a blue panel van follows them. Whoever The Hell This Guy Is blows through a stop sign somewhere in Definitely Chicago.
FRASER: I believe that was a stop sign.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: My house could be burning down, you're worried about a stop sign?
FRASER: Well, it's no reason to compound a tragedy.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: God! Stop it!
FRASER: Stop what?
Diefenbaker is licking the guy's ear and snuffling at his neck.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What he's doing to me, the things he's doing to me!
FRASER: It could be a sign of affection.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Or what?
FRASER: Or a prelude to lunch.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: He's doing disgusting things to my ear! Get him off me!
FRASER: He doesn't always listen to me. As you know, he's deaf.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I'll crash the car!
FRASER: He does read lips, so enunciate clearly.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Get off me exclamation mark! [Diefenbaker retreats to the back seat.]
FRASER: You missed our turn.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I did not miss our turn.
FRASER: Yes, I believe you did. You see, ordinarily you would turn at Montclair, cut across the alley, cross Harlem, and then turn right on Octavia.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Yeah, yeah, ordinarily I would do that, but ordinarily I do not have a deaf wolf trying to make intimate with me, Fraser. Besides, I'm trying to shake things up a little bit. Routine is the silent killer.
FRASER: I thought that was high blood pressure.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Nah, they changed that.
FRASER: When?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You were on vacation.
FRASER: Ah.
They are approaching Chez Vecchio.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Oh my God. [Smoke is coming from the windows. This Guy calls dispatch on the radio.] This is unit one-one-seven. We got a code thirteen at twenty-nine-twenty-six North Octavia Avenue.
FRASER: Right. You take the back, I'll take the front.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is a fire. We wait for the fire department.
FRASER: Lives are at stake.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Look, pal, I don't risk my neck for anybody.
FRASER: Ray Vecchio would.
Fraser jumps out of the car and runs into the burning house. Diefenbaker and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is watch him from the car.
We're calling back to the first meeting between Vecchio and Diefenbaker, of course, with the "getting intimate" stuff. I appreciate that. I also appreciate "Ray Vecchio would," as a statement of Fraser's loyalty to his friend. (In fact if I'd directed this episode I'd have hit it just a little harder; I know Fraser is in a rush to get to the house, but this line reading feels almost too quick, edging perilously close to offhand.) The only thing is . . . I'm not sure Fraser is right? Not exactly. I don't mean Vecchio wouldn't have risked his life in service to others. He obviously did so not a few times in the first two seasons of this show. But Vecchio's life-endangering escapades were mainly situations Fraser got him into, right? Situations that may not actually have needed to be potentially fatal. We definitely never saw him run into a burning building, for example, though I do agree he'd have done so to save his own family, sure. Bottom line, I think what Fraser means is "Ray Vecchio would (if I asked him to)," which is differently sweet.
The burning house does appear to be the latter of the two Vecchio homes we've seen before, though it is not literally at 2926 N Octavia (which doesn't seem to be a real address). And code 13 is "major disaster activation," which I guess I'll allow in this case (I mean, I assume the writers asked someone and that's the correct code for "officer's house is on fire").
Scene 8
Fraser breaks the glass in the front door and runs into the house. Sirens are approaching. Fraser runs up the stairs. The place sure is on fire. He starts kicking down doors. He follows voices to a bathroom.
TONY: We're going to die in here!
FRANCESCA: No, we're not. Take this and cover your face.
FRASER: Come with me. This way. [He leads them both to a bedroom window.] Stand aside. [He breaks the window.]
FRANCESCA: Oh, Fraser, Fraser, forget it.
FRASER: Trust me. [He picks her up.]
FRANCESCA: You, I trust. It's the landing that I'm not so sure of. [He tosses her out the window.] Fraser! Oh! [She lands on the porch roof and hangs onto the eave. Whoever The Hell This Guy Is comes running around the house and climbs onto a barrel to help her down.] Watch where you're putting your hands, mister.
In the house, Tony is getting ready to go out the same window.
TONY: You know, I'm carrying a little extra weight.
FRASER: All right, I'll push. [He shoves Tony out the window.]
TONY: Whoa! [He lands with a crash.]
FRANCESCA: Augh!
FRASER: [looks out the window, winces] Ooh.
FRANCESCA: Get off me, you baboon!
Fraser goes back into the house to check for anyone else he needs to save—passing, let's notice, a picture of himself (tucked into Francesca's vanity mirror) with lipstick marks on it. The next door he kicks down has his father behind it.
BOB FRASER: It's hot. Is this my final posting?
FRASER: I wasn't aware you could feel heat.
BOB FRASER: I'm dead, I'm not insensitive. What are you going to do about the Yank?
FRASER: Well, what do you propose I do?
BOB FRASER: Collect forensic evidence to determine if he is who he claims to be.
FRASER: Of course he's not who he claims to be.
BOB FRASER: Well, there are those who would contradict you. You might be delusional.
FRASER: You know, you might be delusional.
BOB FRASER: Oh, that's another story.
FRASER: Well, there you are.
I'm enjoying the Fraser-and-Bob dynamic. I especially enjoy "It's hot. Is this my final posting?" I do like that Fraser is admitting out loud that he knows perfectly well This Guy isn't Ray Vecchio, though here's his subconscious (which he points out may be delusional) suggesting he'd better gather actual evidence in case he can't believe his own lying eyes.
Also, observe Francesca being more competent than Tony. \o/
Scene 9
The fire department have arrived. Guys are running toward the house with hoses; one guy has a megaphone.
FIREFIGHTER: You there in the building! Is there anyone else inside?
FRASER: Yes.
FIREFIGHTER: Alive?
FRASER: They are. I'm bringing them out now. [He comes out carrying a fish tank.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I don't believe this.
FRASER: I know. It is remarkable, although Carassius auratus can withstand fluctuations in temperature far greater than generally known.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You went into a burning building for fish?
FRASER: No, not exclusively. Dief, keep an eye on them. [There are three goldfish. Diefenbaker starts drinking the water out of the tank.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: That man just went into a burning building for fish.
FIREFIGHTER: Well, sure. He took that extra step for red bubble-eye goldfish. Kramer! Take the back!
Francesca and Tony are coming around the from the back of the house. Tony is about to light a cigarette.
FRANCESCA: I'm shaking like a leaf. My heart's going a hundred miles an hour. Fraser, feel my heart. Tell me it's not going a hundred miles an hour. [She presses Fraser's hand to her chest.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Frannie, your heart's fine.
FRASER: Excuse me. Francesca, do you know this man?
FRANCESCA: Yeah, of course I do. [to Whoever The Hell This Guy Is] Doesn't he know . . .?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Nah, thinks he's a comedian, har-de-ha-ha-ha. So did you hear or see anything?
FRANCESCA: Uh, okay, I had, ah, I had Linda Ronstadt on the tape deck, and I was in the middle of, um, of a facial peel, so . . . no. And our brother-in-law, here, was in the middle of his usual.
TONY: My teeth. I had the water going. I was working on my molars, right? Next thing you know, I got a mouth full of smoke.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Okay, but did you hear or see anything?
FRASER: I think we've already answered that.
FRANCESCA: I just said no.
Fraser goes around to the side of the house, looks at some wires coming out of a conduit, touches something, sniffs his fingers, then gets down and licks the wires.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Hey! What are you doing? [Fraser looks up at him.] I don't know where you come from, but I come from this little place called America, where we got this big thing called electricity. Word of advice: Your tongue, electricity — not a good mix.
FRASER: Huh.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Okay? Come on, let's rock and roll.
He trots down the porch stairs. Fraser gets up and is about to follow him, but he is waylaid by Francesca.
FRANCESCA: Hey, Frase, you know that —
ANOTHER FIREFIGHTER: Excuse me, folks. [He urges them down the steps and away from the house.]
FRANCESCA: — I mean, I know what — what you know. You know? And, and what everybody else knows? And, and all of that is, um — known. Do — do you know what I'm saying?
FRASER: I have no idea what you're saying.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: [lays on the car horn] Come on, Fraser!
FRASER: Excuse me. Dief, let's — [Diefenbaker whines. There are no fish in the tank. Fraser hangs his head.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Before I die of waiting?
FRASER: Come on.
Diefenbaker gets up to follow Fraser to the car.
Okay, Fraser probably saved those fish because he assumed they belonged to Tony and Maria's children, which means Diefenbaker just casually ate some kids' pets. Oh dear.
The reason we have saved only Francesca and Tony is surely because the actresses who played Maria and Mrs. Vecchio were not available, right? (In conclusion: etc.)
Scene 10
Fraser and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is are driving across down. Fraser is messing with a pair of calipers.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You can burn down my place of employment, you can burn down my bowling alley, you can burn down my dance hall, sure, but my place of residence? I don't think so.
FRASER: Hold still. [He holds the calipers up to This Guy's nose.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What are you doing?
FRASER: It's not important. What is important is that we try to determine who might have had a motive for these fires.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You always think the obvious?
FRASER: I've never thought about it. Although, you know, my Uncle Tiberius had a lifelong fascination with cabbage and its northern possibilities. He once remarked —
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Forget I asked.
BOB FRASER: Don't bring up Tiberius.
FRASER: Understood.
BOB FRASER: Oh, that was good, though, measuring the Yank. [He touches his nose.]
FRASER: Thank you.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: For what?
FRASER: For driving the car.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You're thanking me for driving the car?
BOB FRASER: But of course, one Yank is pretty much like another, anyway.
FRASER: People are not interchangeable, like snowmobile parts.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: There you go with the obvious again.
FRASER: You're right about that. What I think we should do is go back through our past histories. Well, realizing, of course, that's not something you're equipped to do —
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What do you mean, I'm not equipped to do? I, I can do that. Uh, what about the, ah, ah, Bolt brothers?
FRASER: The Bolt brothers were not arsonists. They were demented terrorists whose MO involved impromptu thermonuclear devices.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Right, right, I'm thinking, uh —
FRASER: Other demented terrorists whose MO involved impromptu thermonuclear devices?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: No, wise guy.
BOB FRASER: He's confused.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Geiger.
FRASER: Geiger was an escaped convict sworn to vengeance on a legendary Mountie who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Canadian actor and comedian Leslie Nielsen.
BOB FRASER: Who has yet to receive the Order of Canada.
FRASER: Long overdue.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Morgan.
FRASER: Bank robbery.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Herb Colling.
FRASER: Aging vigilante.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Bodine.
FRASER: Gun smuggler. Although it is interesting; his partner wore a very heavy perfume, the base property I believe to be a combination of camphor and rose. [They have arrived back at the station.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What's the connection?
FRASER: Dief, let's go. Connection?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Yeah, connection.
FRASER: Ah, to Bodine, none, other than the perfume. However, I did detect the odor of ambergris, a base common to many perfumes, in the electrical socket outside the Vecchio house, and the same odor was present in the rubble of my apartment building. [They are inside the station now.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're telling me your apartment building was burnt down as well?
FRASER: Yes. In all of the excitement, I neglected to mention it.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Neglected to mention it!
FRASER: Well, the point is the same odor was present, and I retrieved this from the rubble. [He shows him the broken perfume bottle.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Oh, great. So all we got to do is go around Chicago sticking our noses in people's pits to find somebody with the same smell. [Elaine passes them going the other way.]
FRASER: Well, that's one approach, I suppose.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: [turning back to catch her] Elaine, did you give any thought to Friday? It would be a great first date. Crystal Ballroom, the band, martinis, moi.
ELAINE: No.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: [coming back to join Fraser] Wait a minute. The . . . perfume is the starter, the trigger, what the hell is the name of that stuff that, uh, gets the fire going?
FRASER: The accelerant.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Accelerant! Don't say anything. [He thinks hard for a moment.] Two and a half years ago we nailed a painter named Zoltan Motherwell. [Fraser nods. They head back into the squad room as they talk.] At face value, it looked like, ah, he was torching his lofts to cash in on the insurance money, right?
FRASER: Yes, but the trail widened and it revealed itself to be a pattern.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Right. He was burning down ah, ah, studios, workshops — the guy was on a psycho mission against art. [He starts digging in a file cabinet.]
FRASER: Yes — [He stealthily palms an ink pad from a nearby desk.] — and in each case the accelerant was —
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Perfume.
FRASER: Give me five, Detective. [He high-fives This Guy with the ink pad in his hand.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Fraser, you got ink all over my fingers.
FRASER: Terribly sorry. [He "blots" the ink on a sheet of paper and examines it to be sure he got a clean print.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What was that all about?
FRASER: Ah, it's just a little thing we do.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Little thing we do, huh?
FRASER: Yeah. It's one of our little things.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: We have a lot of fun, don't we, you and I?
FRASER: [chuckling] More fun than a barrel of monkeys.
Whoever The Hell This Guy Is finds the file he wants and takes it over to Vecchio's desk. Fraser follows him.
BOB FRASER: Very smooth, son.
FRASER: Thank you.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Don't thank me yet. Zoltan Motherwell is in the, ah, Evanston Institution for the Criminally Insane.
FRASER: A dead end.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Maybe. Maybe not. I got a hunch.
FRASER: You have hunches?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Well, that's pretty much all I ever have. You know that, Fraser.
BOB FRASER: What about his teeth?
FRASER: Oh, I'm working on that.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Let's go. You're working on what?
FRASER: What?
Okay, I'm sorry to raise my voice, but if they're considering old cases where someone might have a motive for fucking shit up today, is there a particular reason we are not mentioning Victoria, who if I'm thinking correctly is the only one who got away? . . . The only suspect I'd call an arsonist is William Porter, but he's not mad at them and anyway he's in federal prison for 10 years; the only one besides Victoria who I think would be mean or mad enough would be Frank Zuko, but he too is probably downstate for a long while.
Wait, though, there are other baddies (or "baddies") who don't go to prison at the end of their respective episodes. We don't actually know what's become of Mark Smithbauer (nor Turk Broda? does he go to prison?), but he doesn't seem like a burning-Fraser's-apartment-down type. You know who does, though? John Taylor, that's who. Since we're bringing up old cases, I mean to say. That's totally who I'd expect to light up both Fraser's building (for the insurance) and Vecchio's house (because it was at least partly Vecchio's fault he couldn't go forward with his building plans). It's fine that they ultimately went with an apocryphal case. I'm just saying, there were better back-catalogue options they could have referred to than Herb for heaven's sake Colling.
There does not seem to be (or ever to have been) any such place as the Evanston Institution for the Criminally Insane. Best I can come up with is that the Peoria State Hospital was, between 1902 and 1907, called the Illinois Hospital for the Incurable Insane (note the adjective + substantive adjective rather than adverb + adjective; regrettable but certainly of its time).
Three other things:
- Fraser (that is, Paul Gross) says "thermonucular" both times he should say "thermonuclear," and it has bothered me since the very first time I saw this show twenty-mumble years ago. See above re: doing ADR until the words come out of the actors' mouths right. GAH.
- Where did he get those calipers?
- Leslie Nielsen was appointed an Officer of the Order of Canada in 2002.
Scene 11
Fraser and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is roll up at, presumably, the Evanston Institution for the Criminally Insane.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Okay, this is how we're going to play this mook. You do the legwork, I'll hang in the background.
FRASER: You prefer not to be seen.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I'll be seen when I need to be seen.
FRASER: I see.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I see, what does that mean?
FRASER: Nothing.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: No, when someone says "I see," it means something. [Fraser has opened the door but stops This Guy going in so someone can come out.] What?
FRASER: It only takes an extra second to be courteous. Ah — [He lets another person come out, then defers to This Guy.] — after you.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: After you.
FRASER: Ah, thank you kindly.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You're welcome.
The blue van that was following them in scene 7 pulls up and parks in front of the building. Fraser and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is are in the institution.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What do you mean?
FRASER: Well, what I mean is that civility is a quality often overlooked in a modern society —
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: No, not that. When you said "I see." What did you mean by that?
FRASER: Ah. Well, Ray Vecchio arrested Zoltan Motherwell. Now, if you are Ray Vecchio, he'll recognize you. If you're not, he won't.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You know something? You're a Doubting Thomas. [to the guard at security] You got those files I ordered?
GUARD: Yeah, here you go. [He puts down a file.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: [checks his gun and signs the visitor's log] You see? We're like a one-two punch. A duet. You set 'em up, I knock 'em down. You set 'em up, I knock 'em down.
The blue van is lurking. Its driver is smoking a cigarette and watching her wing mirror.
Fraser didn't sign in. Why doesn't that bother the guard?
Scene 12
Fraser is speaking to a straitjacketed Zoltan Motherwell in an interview room. Whoever The Hell This Guy Is is lurking in a shadow.
MOTHERWELL: I have no regrets, Constable. I now live a life of, ah, simplicity and purpose. I couldn't live like this before when I was a slave. Do you understand me?
FRASER: No, I'm afraid I don't. You were a slave to. . . ?
MOTHERWELL: Everything. To everything. Canvas, paint, dealers, galleries, fashion, falsehood. A slave, until . . . come here. [Fraser takes a step toward him.] Closer. [Fraser leans down a bit.] Closer.
FRASER: I think this is close enough.
MOTHERWELL: Until I realized it could be reduced to ashes. Wiped clean.
FRASER: Ah. I understand.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You understand. I don't believe this.
MOTHERWELL: Who's he?
FRASER: He's a detective, apparently. My problem, Mr. Motherwell — [He clears his throat.] — is that it would appear that someone is continuing your efforts on a far more personal level. My apartment building has been burned down, leaving all of its tenants homeless.
MOTHERWELL: Oh, that's tragic. But that's the nature of artistic movements. I was merely the, ah, the first great performance arsonist. Of course there'll be followers, imitators, possibly a school —
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: All right, okay, I've had enough of this. [He comes out of the shadow but stands behind Motherwell.] You see, my friend here, he's Canadian. He's polite. He'll let you ramble on about this namby-pamby art crap. But me? [He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and flicks it; Motherwell is transfixed by the flame and may be hearing echoes and voices.] I don't know what art is. [He snaps the lighter shut.] But I know what I like. [He tosses the lighter onto Motherwell's lap.] And you, dirtball? I don't like.
MOTHERWELL: Who are you?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Hey, shut your trap! You look into my eyes! [gets right in his face] You look deep into my eyes! What do you see? You see the guy? Do you see the guy? The guy that put you in here?! Right?! Right?! Right?! Right?! [Motherwell is a little confused, possibly hearing voices, and does something like a nod.] Good! Let's talk about his copycat torch that's walking the streets that's got your signature, which means you know the torch.
MOTHERWELL: How could I possibly have anything to do with this, Detective? I'm incarcerated.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Okay, I got a phone log here. Three phone calls made by you. Two by pay phone. One to five-five-five zero-one-eight-eight. That's a district of the Chicago Police Department. My district. My department. My phone. In fact, I picked up the phone. Concerning my house.
MOTHERWELL: Possibly.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Possibly. Visitors log. One visitor, marked "girlfriend" with no name. [back in his face again] Now, you cough up a name, or it is all aboard for fun time, and I will kick your head all over this room!
MOTHERWELL: I think I need to see my attorney.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Sure, you'll get to see your attorney, right after I break your jaw! [He cocks his fist.]
MOTHERWELL: Is he going to hit me?
FRASER: I think it's probably just a posture.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: No, no, I'm going to break your jaw. But first, let's talk about your girlfriend.
MOTHERWELL: I have nothing to say.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Gentlemen! [He throws his arms out like a circus ringmaster. He drops his logs and starts taking off his coat.] Five!
MOTHERWELL: This is ridiculous.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Four.
MOTHERWELL: He's going to hit me!
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Three.
FRASER: I'm sure it's a posture. [taking This Guy's coat and blazer as he hands them off]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Two.
FRASER: I could be wrong.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: One! [dives for Motherwell with his fist cocked again]
MOTHERWELL: No, wait, wait, wait. All right. What do you want to know?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: How about a name?
MOTHERWELL: Greta Garbo.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: A real name!
MOTHERWELL: Greta Garbo's her real name! She, she, she, she has a thing, an obsession with privacy. She changed it legally.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Whereabouts?
MOTHERWELL: Last time I talked with her, she lived on Shuter Street. Two-seven-one.
FRASER: [leans into the light and nods politely] Thank you kindly.
MOTHERWELL: Glad to help.
Fraser gives Whoever The Hell This Guy Is his blazer as they leave the room.
FRASER: That was just a posture, wasn't it?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Yeah, sure. What's a posture?
Motherwell still has the lighter in his lap, and he wants to pick it up so badly.
Whoever The Hell This Guy Is is evidently quite clever in a lot of ways, no? For example, he brings the lighter into the conversation to distract Motherwell so he can confuse him into thinking he probably is the same guy who arrested him. It's a shitty mind game to play, and the only reason we like it at all is that the cops on this show are our heroes, which, not for the first time, oof, why do we have to love a cop show? And here's Fraser, the one guy who is absolutely sodden with principle, standing there not interfering while Whoever The Hell This Guy Is (a) plays shitty mind games with Motherwell and (b) threatens him with at least two kinds of excessive force. UGH.
I like This Guy's use of "I don't know art, but I know what I like."
Greta Garbo was a famously introverted movie star of the 1920s and 30s. She is remembered for saying "I vant to be alone," but this is a line from Grand Hotel (1932); still, in a 1928 interview, she said "As early as I can remember, I have wanted to be alone. I detest crowds, don't like many people," and can't an awful lot of us sympathize with that?
Scene 13
The landlord lets Fraser and Diefenbaker and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is into Greta Garbo's apartment, which is tiny: A single bed, a nightstand, a closet, a washbasin with a medicine cabinet.
LANDLORD: Here you go.
The guys look under the mattress, behind her shoes, and so on. Diefenbaker sniffs at the closet and alerts with a grumble. Fraser opens the case he's nosing at.
FRASER: Ray, I found her supply.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: We might be too late. I think she's planning to switch countries. [He is looking at a brochure.] "How to Become a Canadian in Ten Easy Steps."
FRASER: The consulate.
They leave the apartment. Diefenbaker brings something from the case with him.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Step one: Get a big hat. Step two: Lick electrical sockets. Step three . . .
Let the record show that at 30:02 on the DVD, Constable Benton Fraser called Whoever The Hell This Guy Is "Ray."
Scene 14
Fraser and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is are driving to the Canadian consulate. Fraser is on the phone with Constable Turnbull.
FRASER: Ah, Constable Turnbull —
TURNBULL: Why, that's correct, sir. I am a constable. And you've reached the Canadian consulate. My name is Turnbull. Constable Renfield Turnbull of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
FRASER: [to This Guy] Where are you going?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: The consulate.
FRASER: The old consulate?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: There's a new consulate?
TURNBULL: Attached to the consulate as an assistant liaison officer.
FRASER: As of this week. It's something Ray Vecchio would know.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I knew that.
FRASER: [to Turnbull] Yes, I know who you are, Constable. [to This Guy] It's right.
TURNBULL: If you know who I am, Mr. Wright, I fail to see why you're asking me who I am. I would have thought you —
FRASER: Just put Inspector Thatcher on the line.
TURNBULL: I'm sorry, but Inspector Thatcher is indisposed at the moment — [Fraser's reception starts to break up.]
FRASER: Turnbull? Turnbull? [The call has ended.] That man is . . . [He shakes his head.] We'd better hurry.
TURNBULL: Hello?
The purpose of Turnbull is to show Fraser how the rest of the world sees him, right?
Scene 15
The green Riviera is driving through Definitely Chicago, pursued by the blue panel van. Fraser and Diefenbaker and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is pull up and run into the new Canadian consulate. Turnbull is hanging a portrait of the queen. Whoever The Hell This Guy Is runs past him up the stairs. Fraser is giving Diefenbaker a sniff of the broken perfume bottle.
TURNBULL: Ah, Constable Fraser, you have impeccable timing.
FRASER: [to Diefenbaker] Go!
TURNBULL: I would appreciate your opinion. Do you think Her Majesty would be happy here?
FRASER: Very happy, yes. Turnbull, have there been any visitors in the office today? Any couriers, any deliveries? [He and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is are examining everything they can think of—electrical fixtures, baseboards, radiators, wall paneling. Turnbull is oblivious to all of it.]
TURNBULL: It's been very quiet today, sir, with the exception of the builders and movers and a peculiar conversation with a man named Wright.
FRASER: That was me, Turnbull.
TURNBULL: Ah. Deliberately misidentifying yourself. Very cunning, sir.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Is this guy for real?
FRASER: Very much so, yes. [He and Diefenbaker and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is are at Thatcher's office door.]
TURNBULL: I wouldn't go in there, sir. The inspector is in a high-level meeting with a man from Scandinavia.
Diefenbaker growls. The three of them charge in. Thatcher is talking with a blond man whom Diefenbaker runs at and knocks down.
FRASER: Would you mind telling me what brand of perfume you're wearing, sir?
MAN FROM SCANDINAVIA: Will he bite?
FRASER: Only if provoked.
THATCHER: Fraser, what are you doing?
FRASER: Your perfume, if you wouldn't mind?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: [looking at a curtain swatch Thatcher has draped over her shoulder like a scarf] Ooh, nice outfit.
THATCHER: [to Whoever The Hell This Guy Is] Who are you?
MAN FROM SCANDINAVIA: My perfume?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Ray. Vecchio. [He grins.]
FRASER: If you would be so kind.
THATCHER: Of . . . course you are, Detective.
MAN FROM SCANDINAVIA: Eau de Pomme.
FRASER: Ah. Uh, Dief? [Diefenbaker gets off the guy. Fraser helps him up.] I'm so terribly sorry, sir. There's been a horrifying mistake.
THATCHER: That would be one way of putting it, Fraser. Let me introduce you to Sven, my interior designer. [Fraser shakes Sven's hand.] Sven, this is Constable Fraser, with whom I would like to have a word in private. So if you and Detective Vecchio wouldn't mind . . .?
Sven and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is step out to the lobby. Thatcher watches him walk away a little thirstily.
FRASER: I imagine, sir, that you would like something resembling an explanation.
THATCHER: That would be a good idea, Fraser, because at this particular moment, I can assume only one of two things. Either you are mentally unhinged or you object on principle to interior designers.
FRASER: No, sir, I only objected to his smell.
THATCHER: Sven's smell?
FRASER: Yes, sir. Sven's smell. You see, the base property of his cologne is identical to the base property of a perfume that was used as an accelerant in two fires, one at my apartment building and one at the Vecchio house. And I had reason to believe that the consulate was the arsonist's next target.
THATCHER: The arsonist?
FRASER: Yes, sir. It would appear that I am being stalked by a performance arsonist.
THATCHER: Okay. That would qualify as an explanation.
In the lobby, Turnbull is still debating where to hang the queen's portrait and monologuing at Sven and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is.
TURNBULL: Oh, sure, people snigger. What use is the monarchy, they say. And right then and there I know they've never experienced the horse guard on parade.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Here they come.
TURNBULL: Who?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: The fire department.
TURNBULL: Fire?!
He shoves past Whoever The Hell This Guy Is and flees the building, rescuing the portrait of the queen. This Guy sees the blue van across the street and runs back to Thatcher's office.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: The torch! She's here!
FRASER: May I, uh —
THATCHER: Yes.
FRASER: Thank you. [He crosses the room and picks something up before he goes.] Ah, do you mind if I —
THATCHER: Good luck. [She starts folding up the curtain swatch.]
FRASER: May I just say, sir, and I'm by no means an expert, but that muted green with the flecks of gold — I think it would be a wonderful complement to the woodwork, the walls, and your eyes.
Fraser leaves Thatcher's office, picking up a sandwich from next to Sven as he goes. At the door to the building, he sees the van pull away with a squeal of tires.
Thatcher has a very severe, no-nonsense short haircut. It's not that it doesn't suit her, but it definitely changes her face, doesn't it. I like that she can obviously tell Whoever The Hell This Guy Is isn't Ray Vecchio but she simply doesn't give a shit—if that's the game he wants to play, fine, whatever.
Scene 16
Fraser and Diefenbaker are hurrying to join Whoever The Hell This Guy Is in the car.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Like, I don't believe this. She's followed us every step of the way. Up the street from my house, at the mental institution, and now here. [They peel out to follow the van. Fraser offers This Guy a snack.]
FRASER: Sandwich?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: We are chasing a torch and you're thinking about food?
FRASER: Well, we have to keep our strength up. Here, bite down. Oh! Wrong sandwich.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What was that?
FRASER: Window putty. [He puts the bite impression in a sandwich bag.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What else you got? You got any pastrami?
FRASER: No, I'm sorry. She's headed for the freeway.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Look, I'm not blind. I can see. Okay, so now we are following you. You been watching your handiwork, but now we are behind you. You got any roast beef?
FRASER: No, I'm afraid not, and you know, I really don't want to be a party pooper, but if she's been following us to witness her handiwork, she can in theory still do that.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: How? We are following her in a car.
FRASER: Well, exactly. All she has to do is look in her rearview mirror and watch us burst into flames.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Burst into flames.
They get onto the freeway.
They get onto the freeway in the exact shot from "The Duel" in which Fraser and Vecchio hurried back to the city from Will Kelly's place. I'm just saying.
Also, after feeding him the window putty, why doesn't Fraser give Whoever The Hell This Guy Is the actual sandwich? There were two halves, and he only put window putty in one of them.
Scene 17
The guys are following the van. Fraser undoes his seatbelt.
FRASER: Stay with the van. Don't lose her.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What do you mean, don't lose her? We could go up at any time. [Fraser is climbing into the back seat.] Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing? What the hell are you —
FRASER: I'm trying to locate the igniter.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Well, how about we stop the car and locate the igniter?
FRASER: She is a criminal. Stay the course.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: [while Fraser climbs around] Look — you know something, you're a freak, but in spite of that, I'm going to tell you something. This may not be the best time, but I'd like to say it before we go up in smoke. [Fraser climbs out the window onto the roof of the car.] And I feel a little pink about it, because I realize that nobody talked to you. Number one, I'm not the guy that you think. Number two, the guy you think I am — [Fraser is prone on the roof of the car, looking at the back windshield. Cars in other lanes honk their horns, so we can't hear what This Guy is saying.] — three, you know, this was not my ambition to be, you know, driving in a Molotov cocktail with a Mountie on the roof and, and, and a deaf wolf staring at me like I was an appetizer. It just was not part of a normal desire. Not for me, anyway. I had other things in mind. [Fraser goes over the back bumper and under the car.] Fraser! Fra— They said he was ag— he's not agile, he fell off the car. [Fraser pulls himself up on the driver's side window.] Hey! Hi. Are you with me?
FRASER: You bet. [He climbs back onto the roof of the car.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Okay. Good. Well, the upshot is, I go in, they say "Hey, you want a job," and, and, um, I go . . . I was weak, I was, I was down, I say, "hell, I'll think about it," I'm thinking about it — [Fraser slides down onto the hood of the car and looks at the front grille.] — and hey, my life's not great at the moment, I think maybe I could use a change, a change of scene, a change of luck, go undercover, get a new life. Then they say, you want to work with this guy —
FRASER: She's taking the exit!
Whoever The Hell This Guy Is veers off onto the exit ramp to follow the van. Fraser clings to the hood of the car.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Okay, so I say "no problem." And that's about it. I mean, I could say more, but that — [Fraser climbs back into the car through the passenger window.] — is how I got here. So what do you think?
FRASER: Nothing.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Nothing? I spill my guts and nothing?
FRASER: What are you talking about?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I — what I was just saying, you didn't hear any of it?
FRASER: Well, no, with the wind, speed, I'm sorry. Also, I was unable to locate the — what is she doing? [The van is in front of them, showing brake lights.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: She's slowing down. [He's coming up on her fast; he honks the horn.]
FRASER: No! [He's too late to stop This Guy on the horn; the steering column begins to smoke.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Okay, I guess we located the igniter.
FRASER: It would appear so.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Okay, this is where I get out.
FRASER: No, we cannot do that.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Yes we can, Fraser. Our work is done here. [The whole car is smoking. The woman driving the van, presumably Greta Garbo, is watching in the mirror as she drives and grinning happily.]
FRASER: We stay in the car. [He leans over and starts reaching under the steering column.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Look, Fraser, what are you doing? Do not touch my inner thigh or calf!
FRASER: Keep your foot off the brake.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I'm trying to stop!
FRASER: You cannot stop the car.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Not with you holding onto my leg, I can't.
FRASER: Wait. It is too dangerous. This is a public thoroughfare. Pedestrians may be afoot.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Look, I do not risk my neck for anybody. Look, the car's going to blow!
FRASER: [sitting up] No, it is not. It is very, very, very rare that a car ever actually explodes. [The car explodes. Body panels fly off it as it keeps coasting. Fraser and This Guy are unharmed in the front seats. Fraser taps his forehead.] Mental note. Equip your vehicle with a fire extinguisher.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I am all over that.
FRASER: We've got to find a safe place to deposit this car.
The car, in flames, goes through an intersection. Other traffic beeps as it goes by.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: A parking lot.
FRASER: No, it's too crowded.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: How about a park?
FRASER: There might be children present. Family pets. [The car swerves through traffic.] Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What?!
FRASER: Stop light.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
FRASER: No, I'm afraid not. This is a serious business. Traffic fatalities account for the loss of forty-one thousand seven hundred and eighty-six American lives every year. [They are literally sitting at a red light in a flaming car.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Got it! [He points to a car wash.]
FRASER: Good thinking.
They drive the burning car through the car wash. Car wash employees come running out the other end ahead of the car, which is still in flames.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: What is this, some kind of super fire?
FRASER: No, you shouldn't have pressed the hot wax option.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Now what? [The steering wheel is starting to get hot.] Ow!
FRASER: The lake they call Michigan.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Lake Michigan.
FRASER: Yes, the lake they call Michigan.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Lake Michigan.
FRASER: All right.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Straight in?
FRASER: Straight in.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Listen, in case something happens, I just want you to know, I had a pleasure meeting you.
FRASER: Ah, so you admit we've never met.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I'm not admitting anything.
BOB FRASER: Give him some ground, son.
FRASER: Why?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: 'Cause there's nothing to admit.
BOB FRASER: He's not bad, for a Yank.
FRASER: Are you sure?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Yeah, I'm sure.
BOB FRASER: We're getting closer.
FRASER: I can see that.
BOB FRASER: I'll say goodbye now.
FRASER: Well, I'll speak to you later.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You bet you will. And I mean it: It's been weird, but it's been a pleasure.
FRASER: Likewise. [They look at each other for a moment.] Let's lock our load.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: It's "lock and load."
FRASER: Lock and load. I'm sorry.
They hurtle toward a dock, bust through a crate of rubber ducks, and land in the water. The car starts to sink. The blue van pulls up to the dock and Greta Garbo gets out, watching them go under. She chuckles, tosses her cigarette butt in the lake, and turns back to the van, but stops when she hears Diefenbaker yip and climb up onto the dock. She watches him whimper once and look around; then Fraser chucks his hat up out of the water. Greta Garbo runs back to the van. Fraser and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is haul themselves up out of the lake and over the guardrail, Fraser helping drag This Guy by the scruff of the neck. When Fraser stands up, Greta Garbo is aiming a handgun at him. Whoever The Hell This Guy Is is also getting to his feet.
GARBO: He's a fine painter.
FRASER: Lower the gun, Miss Garbo.
GARBO: A great artist.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Like the man said, put the gun down.
GARBO: And I'm carrying on his work.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I said, put the gun down.
Whoever The Hell This Guy Is steps in front of Fraser just as Garbo fires. He is hit in the chest, and Fraser catches him and lowers him to the ground. Garbo is surprised and pleased. Fraser runs at her, grabs the gun, twists her arm behind her, bears her to the ground, and binds her hands with his lanyard. When he runs back to Whoever The Hell This Guy Is, the guy is lying still; Diefenbaker is licking his face.
FRASER: Ray. Ray! [He slaps his face.] Ray!
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: [opens his eyes] Ta-da! [He pulls up his shirt, laughing. He's got a Kevlar chestplate under there.]
FRASER: A vest.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You called me Ray.
FRASER: No, I didn't.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Yeah, you did.
FRASER: No, I didn't.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Ah. Yeah, you did. Ow.
FRASER: It was a mistake. Come on. [He helps him stand up.]
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: You know I'm Ray. Don't fight it, Benton buddy.
FRASER: You are not Ray. You don't even look like him.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I coulda had plastic surgery.
FRASER: You could also be unhinged.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I got papers to prove it. I'll show you.
FRASER: I don't want to see them.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: I'm Ray.
FRASER: If you're Ray, where were you born?
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS: Ah, that smarts when you get shot.
FRASER: Aha. See? See?
Whoever The Hell This Guy Is laughs.
That's another 1971 Riviera destroyed. What are we up to, three of them now?
Okay, first of all, don't you think if they took the car to a park, any children and family pets would vacate the park as quickly as possible? Meanwhile, Fraser says 41,786 traffic fatalities per year, which is in the ballpark for the late 1990s, so look at that, the writers' room doing some research. (I think they could be excused for running that red light, though, because a burning car is probably more dangerous. Just guessing.) They go through the car wash way too fast, and all in all the parking-lot-park-car-wash thing is one more callback to the where-shall-we-crash-this-bus scene in "The Duel," isn't it.
Is Fraser really so strong that he can keep This Guy's foot off the brake with his hands from that angle? My right leg is stronger than a lot of people's arms, I mean to say, especially when the brake pedal is in front of me and I could stand on it and a person trying to pull me off it would have to be reaching over and leaning down and whatnot. I'm just saying the physics of the situation seem to be on This Guy's side. But let's not pretend that "Do not touch my inner thigh or calf" didn't set a hundred thousand ships afloat (the ones that hadn't already been launched by "We have a lot of fun, don't we, you and I?"). 😄
Fraser and Whoever The Hell This Guy Is have a nice moment agreeing that they're pleased to have met. We've heard the new guy admit he's not who Fraser thinks (or, I guess, not who he says he is, because Fraser hasn't thought he was Vecchio for even a split second), but Fraser hasn't heard that, and after that only-semi-audible monologue, the new guy is still insisting that he's Ray. What's that all about?
And the wrapup of the peril is nice, too—having said twice that he doesn't risk his life for anybody, the new guy doesn't even hesitate before putting his body between Fraser and a loaded gun, and it turns out he's wearing a bulletproof vest, but Fraser doesn't know that. So when he goes and detains Greta Garbo, he thinks the new guy has really been shot, and when he's genuinely afraid for him, he does call him Ray. (That would have been even more meaningful if he hadn't done so in scene 13, but we're probably not supposed to have noticed that.)
I am also charmed by the fact that when the car lands in the lake, it is surrounded by a flotilla of rubber ducks, which you will never convince me is not a nod to the 1992 Friendly Floatees spill. Delightful.
Scene 18
Fraser and Diefenbaker return to the squad room, where someone is mopping the floor. Fraser, carrying a file folder, knocks on Welsh's office door, interrupting him talking to a bald man in a suit.
FRASER: Ah, Lieutenant, if I could have just one moment of your time, I promise I'll be out of your hair before you can say "Jimmy crack corn."
WELSH: Ah, Rudolph, would you please? [The bald dude leaves the office. Fraser comes all the way in and closes the door.]
FRASER: Sir, I will confess, at first I was a little worried that maybe I had a hole in my bag of marbles, so I did an impromptu investigation. I would like to present in evidence: [He gives Welsh a fingerprint card and his sheet of paper with This Guy's prints on it.] These are the registered fingerprints, and these are the fingerprints of the man in question. They do not match. [He gives him another document and a plaster model of a set of teeth.] This is an official dental record, and this is a cast I had made of the suspect's teeth. They do not match. The shoe size is also inconsistent, and finally, as you can see — [He shows Welsh his calipers.] — the suspect's nose is fully seven millimeters smaller than Ray Vecchio's. In conclusion, this man is not Raymond Vecchio.
WELSH: [takes off his glasses] Constable, you have an uncanny power of observation.
FRASER: Thank you.
WELSH: Of course he's not Ray Vecchio. [He chucks all the evidence in the bin.] I've been trying to get to you to talk to you about this. Ah, there's an operation going on. This operation comes from way up the ladder. Details are kinda sketchy, but all we need to know is — [He leans closer and lowers his voice.] — Ray Vecchio has gone deep undercover with the Mob. Now, to protect his identity, we have to make believe that this guy is Ray Vecchio.
FRASER: I see. Lieutenant, have you by any chance heard from Ray?
WELSH: No, no, no, and I don't expect to, either.
FRASER: I understand.
WELSH: But listen, Constable, I want you to give this guy a fair shot. He's a real good cop. And — [He leans close and whispers again.] — on your way out, send in my accountant.
FRASER: Understood.
WELSH: Thank you.
Fraser is a little puzzled, but he leaves the office and beckons Rudolph the Accountant back in.
WELSH: Ah, Rudolph.
Fraser is in mufti here—blue jeans and hiking boots, a plaid flannel shirt we probably haven't seen before, and a brown leather jacket, and I'm glad to see that sort of outfit back again, I tell you what. However: Where did it come from? His apartment burned down and his luggage was in the trunk of the car. That uniform he was wearing when he got out of the lake should be the only clothes he's got.
Poor Fraser, going to all that trouble to prove that this guy can't possibly be Ray Vecchio and then having Welsh say (basically) "Don't be ridiculous." Shifting from "It's always been this way" to "Of course this is brand-new" that fast will leave your transmission in a tangled mess on the road, innit. (I like that the bottom line is to do with the relative sizes of their noses, given Vecchio's known recall of every nose he's ever seen.) But at least we have a Watsonian explanation now: Vecchio is "deep undercover with the Mob." Okay. The fact that the entire 27th precinct and the entire Vecchio family is in on it means it's not the most covert operation anyone's ever heard of, but sure, these are people who will successfully be able to pull the wool over the eyes of the entire city of Chicago, sure, why not.
The Doylist explanation is, it had been close to a year and a half and Marciano had moved on.
This is an odd sort of semi-condition between being a continuation of the old show and being a new show that happens to have the same name—hence the changing of all the sets and locations and the non-unanimous availability of the cast. Recasting a main role can go a few different ways. Most famously, when William Hartnell, the original Doctor Who, became too ill to continue playing the part, the writers invented the concept of regeneration and forged on ahead barely missing a beat. More usually, characters are written out and replaced with new ones when the original actors want to or are required to leave (see, e.g., Shelley Long to the recently departed Kirstie Alley in Cheers; McLean Stevenson, Larry Linville, and Wayne Rogers to Harry Morgan, David Ogden Stiers, and Mike Farrell in M*A*S*H; Charlie Sheen to Ashton Kutcher in Two and a Half Men) or the actors are replaced but the characters—main and less so—are not (see, e.g., Aunt Viv on The Fresh Prince of Bel Air; Laurie Forman on That '70s Show; Carol on Friends; half the cast of most daytime soap operas; and many, many others, such as Mackenzie King and Apparently Eric on this very due South as well as Becky on Roseanne, who, when the replacement actress in turn left the show and the original actress returned, was greeted by her mother with an indignant "Where the hell have you been?"). This show has kind of done both, in a way.
Scene 19
Whoever The Hell This Guy Is ("Ray Vecchio") comes over to Fraser.
WHOEVER THE HELL THIS GUY IS ("RAY VECCHIO"): Hey, Fraser. This turned up on my desk. It's for you. [He hands Fraser a postcard. It says "COLD OUT HERE HEAT ME UP".] What do you make of it?
FRASER: It's a message.
Fraser grabs a lighter off a desk and waves it under the postcard. The snowy lake-and-mountain scene on the picture side fades away to reveal a picture of himself and Ray Vecchio.
"RAY VECCHIO": Something I should worry about?
FRASER: No, no. No, everything's all right. Everything is actually fine.
"RAY VECCHIO": Okay. Well. [He heads back to his desk.]
FRASER: Hey, Ray. ["Ray Vecchio" pauses and turns back, pleased to be called Ray again.] Would you, ah . . . you like to go and get something to eat with me?
"RAY VECCHIO": [smiles] Yeah. Uh . . . I just gotta — I'll, I'll put away these files, and I'll meet you at the car.
FRASER: All right.
"RAY VECCHIO": Good. [He heads over to put away his files.]
BOB FRASER: You want my opinion?
FRASER: Do I have any choice?
BOB FRASER: He's a good man.
FRASER: I think you're right.
BOB FRASER: Well, we have to find somewhere to live.
FRASER: What do you mean we?
BOB FRASER: Oh, that's a cruel joke, son. I've been thinking about an office. I think I need an office.
FRASER: What the hell would you do with an office?
BOB FRASER: Office work. Memoirs. Catch up on my taxes.
FRASER: Taxes? You've been dead for two years.
BOB FRASER: Oh, they find you, son. They find you.
This episode aired in September 1997. Bob Fraser died in either August (and probably August 1993 at that, because the pilot aired in April 1994) or (apparently, though it makes less sense to me) February 1994. So he has been dead for between three and four years, and evidently more like three and a half. I'm just saying.
The postcard is addressed to Const. B. Fraser, care of Dist. 27, 1219 W. Maxwell St., Chicago, Illinois 60607, an address that (unsurprisingly) also seems not quite to exist.
Anyway, saying "cold out here heat me up" is a message is a little silly, because it's written on a postcard, bro, of course it's a message—but we know what he means, I guess, he means it's a coded message. The special effect of the picture vanishing in the heat (presumably to reappear again when it cools off?) is . . . not great? But it's not completely out of nowhere. Of course I'd expect that kind of heat-sensitive thing to respond to, like, the warmth of your hand or something—that is, Fraser could have pressed his hand over the picture of the mountain, or breathed on it, and the picture of him and Vecchio would have appeared. Passing a lighter underneath it isn't how that kind of thing works at all? Plus, didn't Whoever The Hell This Guy Is leave his lighter with Motherwell? Maybe this prop wasn't Chekov's Lighter, but as I don't think the lighter was necessary at all, the fact that its presence on the desk is unexplained bothers me a little.
Folks invested in the question of whether Fraser is in love with Vecchio or vice versa would almost certainly have preferred "cold out here warm me up," wouldn't they? But either way, what just happened at the end of the episode was basically that Fraser asked the new guy out on a date, right? I mean, no, what he did was make a peace offering. He invited him to get dinner so they can get to know each other because they're supposed to be convincing the whole world that they've been best friends and bros for two years, and he did so after a whole episode's worth of calling him a lying liar, so no wonder the new guy was pleased and relieved. (But you can see it as asking the guy out on a date, too. You don't even have to squint that hard.)
Cumulative body count: 24
Red uniform: As soon as he returns to Chicago from vacation, and for the rest of the episode until he changes into civvies after getting drenched in the lake