Frannie's Shiver
Ray Kowalski was so proud of himself.
He'd been working on this project since June and finally it was his chance to unveil it. Arriving early at the precinct, he'd completed a few tedious tasks for Welsh before setting his trap. Francesca would arrive at
any moment and he was more than prepared.
Sitting behind his desk, he twisted a paperclip in one hand while cowering behind the piles of paperwork he'd stacked precariously on his desk. Peering between stacks, he could see the doors which led into the bull pen.
Glancing at his watch for the third time, Ray frowned. She was late. Of all the days to leave him with intense anticipation, she had to choose today? He glanced back at the doors and saw Fraser
stepping through, then stopping to hold it as Huey approached. Smiling and nodding, Fraser watched Huey move quickly down the hall. Seeing no one else wishing to use the doorway, he let the door swing closed before
looking toward Detective Vecchio's desk.
Ray's head popped above the pile as he spotted his friend. Smiling widely, he waved Fraser over and waited until the man approached.
"Hello, Ray," Fraser began. "It appears you have a lot of work today."
Ray looked at the pile a shrugged. "It's more of a fortress than an ‘Inbox'," he stated. "I thought you were going to be at the Consulate all day."
Fraser nodded. "Yes, but in light of the holiday, Inspector Thatcher asked that I assist you."
Ray frowned. "She gave you Halloween off? What is it, a witches convention?" He smiled at his own joke.
Fraser straightened. "Inspector Thatcher had a meeting and didn't wish to be disturbed. She didn't specify the purpose of the meeting, but it might be interesting to note that a person whom we might consider
a witch in modern times prefers the term…"
"Fraser?"
"Yes, Ray?"
"Shut up and sit down."
Fraser looked startled, but sat across from Ray's desk. Ray stared a moment at the doors to the bullpen, then sat down. "This is it," he stated quickly, hiding behind the mess on his desk.
"This is what?" Fraser inquired, following Ray's gaze across the room as Francesca stopped at Huey's desk, dropped a few envelopes, then moved beside Dewey.
Ray watched intently as she engaged in a brief conversation with Detective Dewey and handed him a folder. On the move again, she headed toward her desk and he wanted to jump out of his seat with excitement.
Sitting delicately in her seat, Francesca nodded at Fraser, but didn't seem to notice Ray peering between the stacks on his desk. She crossed her legs and tucked her short skirt gently around her thighs, checking
Fraser's gaze once more; a gaze which had turned to look at a pillar rather than the scene she hoped would win her another blush.
Francesca spun and read the note on her desk. "Why does he need paperclips?" she mouthed to herself, rolled back slightly, and opened the center drawer of her desk.
Instantly, 10 coiled gag snakes jumped from the drawer and Francesca jumped to her feet. "AH!" she screamed and it quickly registered that they were only a joke, but as she brushed herself off, she found herself
covered in tiny black hairy spiders.
Jumping backward toward the wall and knocking over her chair, she let out a squeal and a shiver ran through her.
In yet another trailing attack, she brushed the tiny fake spiders away, shuddering, only to be surprised when a swarm of rubber bats fell all over her and the desk. She didn't even hear the cackling in the background as she
screamed and Benton moved to his feet.
Not to be outdone by a horror film, Ray pulled the string on his desk which promptly tipped a bucket on the wall, pouring blood red syrup all over Francesca.
A screech of bloody murder rose from Francesca as the concoction dripped from her and Fraser, who had also been splashed, grabbed her arm. Finally she calmed enough to become aware of the world which surrounded her and the
tormenting laughter coming from Ray's desk.
She turned toward the Detective and saw him leaned back in his chair, his face red and tears streaming from his eyes. Storming toward him, she thrust the piles of paper onto him. He continued to laugh as the
mixture he'd made to resemble pig's blood began to stick.
"I'll get you!" Francesca vowed and headed out of the bull pen, Benton in tow with the hopes of assisting.
The End