ds_flashfiction | One night stand entry

A quick 577 words.

The party was winding down; Fraser could hear the guests spilling out into the front hall. He stood a little straighter.

The Mayor and his wife were the first to leave. She cooed over his uniform while the Mayor was berating their driver for parking so far away. He was skilled at ignoring distracting stimuli while on duty, so he merely stared straight ahead, mentally ticking down the minutes until he was off duty. Granted, it was slightly jarring when she slipped her hand under his tunic and squeezed his bottom, but he was a Mountie. He didn’t so much as flinch.

A steady stream of partygoers continued after that. Apparently, everyone had been waiting for the Mayor to leave before they made their exit. He endured the usual hand waving, finger snapping and the slightly more embarrassing surreptitious deposit of women’s phone numbers into his jodhpurs. Only four minutes remained of his shift. It was bearable.

He heard Inspector Thatcher step outside to bid the guest of honor, a Russian diplomat, goodbye.

“You have such superb staff,” he said, admiring Fraser. “Wonderful posture.”

“Constable Fraser is the jewel of the consulate,” the Inspector purred.

There was a familiar snort next to his ear. “Yeah, his posture is the pride of Canada. How much longer is he gonna have to do this?”

She sniffed. “Constable Fraser’s shift, “ He could hear the aggrieved emphasis in her voice. “ends in approximately 54 seconds.”

“I’ll wait.”

Mr. Samorev left, and the Inspector went inside, humming the waltz that had just been playing.

Three, two, one …

Fraser stretched and turned. “Lieutenant! I trust you enjoyed yourself at the party.”

He shifted and loosened his tie. “Oh yeah, a blast. Diplomats and politicians. My favorite people.” He sat down heavily on the Consulate steps and motioned for Fraser to follow.

Fraser sat, wincing a little at the stiffness in his joints.

“Better stretch that out before tomorrow, Constable.”

“I shall, sir.”

“You and Vecchio still working on that Heston robbery?”

“Yes, sir.” In fact, he had been going through the minutiae of the case while he was stationed outside. There was no point in wasting time - not that standing guard was a waste of time, of course – but it was useful to have his mind engaged as well as his body.

Lieutenant Welsh was staring at him. “You guys will probably end up running down Heston’s men tomorrow.” He looked away. “I don’t want one of my detectives cramping up from standing like a tin soldier all night.”

Fraser frowned. “Well, I’m not exactly one of your detectives, though the details of my responsibilities as a liaison are rather …nebulous.”

The Lieutenant cleared his throat and stood, with Fraser immediately following suit. “Of course, my mistake. It must have been all that caviar. Goes straight to my head.” He looked away. “What I mean to say was, If you were one of my detectives …” He shook his head disgustedly and blew out a breath.

He shrugged on his dinner jacket and pointed at Fraser. “You guys have a lot of work to do tomorrow. Make sure Vecchio gets his skinny butt out of bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you tell Thatcher that I’m going to need you for the rest of the week. Scratch that, make it two weeks. This robbery is big news and a royal pain in the ass.”

Fraser smiled. “Yes, sir.”

He was looking forward to it.