Tossed Stakes and Scrambled Eggs: Only her hairstylist knows for sure
by Mediancat
“What do you suppose is keeping Niles?” Frasier asked irritably.
He and his father were outside the examination room; Daphne was changing back into her street clothes inside. Her exact words had been, “Hospital policy be damned; if they still want me to take those bloody tests I will, but I’m going to walk up there under me own power – unless they fancy dragging me kicking and screaming, that is.” Daphne’d actually been convinced by the young woman’s appearance that she had no need to take the tests, but Frasier and Martin convinced her otherwise.
“I SAID –“ Frasier began again.
“Making your question louder isn’t gonna get me to answer any quicker,” Martin said. “How should I know what’s keeping Niles? For all we know he had to use the john.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, dad,” Frasier said. “This is a hospital. It’s nowhere NEAR clean enough.”
Martin said, “Well, in any case I don’t think he’s in any danger. Your brother might not have much in the way of street smarts but he’s got a hell of an instinct for self-preservation.”
“Dad –“
“Okay, okay, not self-preservation. But he’ll run if it seems the least dangerous.”
“Dad –“
“Okay, he’ll walk really quickly –“
“DAD!”
Martin looked up. “Sheesh, you don’t have to shout.”
Frasier rolled his eyebrows, then said, “It’s taken entirely too long. And I don’t care whether Niles and Daphne believed them, I still think they were raving loons.”
“Then go outside and check. I’m not going to stop you.”
“Aren’t you concerned?” Frasier asked exasperatedly.
“Not yet, I’m not.”
“Fine, then. I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.”
And so he did. He stormed out the front doors of the hospital and looked around. Partly, he was just blowing off steam; he fully expected to run into his brother. But to his shock and dismay Niles was nowhere in sight.
Neither were the two lunatics.
A voice from his left said, “You looking for someone?” He turned and saw Dr. Olmstead smoking a cigarette.
“Yes. My brother. He was talking to a young woman and a man about my age. Did you see them?”
“Yeah; they had an argument and then they all walked off towards the parking garage.” He pointed the way.
“What kind of argument?”
The man shrugged. “Dunno. Didn’t seem knockdown dragout, though.”
“Thank you, Dr. Olmstead.” When Frasier looked dubiously at the cigarettes, the man laughed and said, “Yeah, I should know better.”
“I wasn’t going to say a word,” Frasier said.
“I know you,” Dr. Olmstead said. “Yeah, the psychiatrist on the radio.” Frasier beamed briefly. “I play your show sometimes during my surgeries.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Patients drop off like THAT.” He snapped his fingers.
A tad affronted, Frasier said. “Beats the cost of having to pay for an anesthesiologist, I suppose. Anyway, thank you for your help.”
“Anytime,” Dr. Olmstead called out as Frasier went back into the hospital.
Martin looked up at him as he walked in. “Well?” he asked.
“He’s not out there. Dr. Olmstead IS, though – said he saw them arguing and then walking off towards the parking garage.”
Frowning, Martin said, “It’s not like Niles to just take off like that. Still, he is a big boy.”
“No,” Frasier said, clearly troubled, “Though I suppose that he wasn’t being dragged off kicking and screaming should give us some comfort.” This last was said acidly. “Now do you believe me?”
“ I suppose you’re going to drag me off to Maris’s?” Martin said tiredly.
“That was my plan.”
“Did you forget that we came down here tonight because of Daphne?”
Frasier caught himself. “Of course I haven’t forgotten. It’s just – I really am worried about Niles, Dad.”
Martin sighed. “Then go. I’ll stay here in case Daphne needs anyone.”
“You sure?”
“If you stayed here you’d make my life miserable, and if you dragged me along I’d be miserable. Go. Though I fully expect to say I told you so later.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“And if anything funny IS up –“
“I’ll know who to call.”
“The police.” Frasier looked at Martin oddly. “What? I’m an old man who walks with a cane.”
Frasier grimaced and left.
* * * * *
“I don’t know why you insisted on coming with us,” Buffy said.
“I know Maris,” Niles said. “She’ll never let you in.”
“And she WILL let in the guy she’s pissed at and divorcing?” Buffy asked.
“On this matter, yes. Turn here. Oh, and if we see anyone I know, you’re kidnapping me. I mean, this IS a pickup truck, and I have a reputation to maintain.”
The three of them were crammed into the front seat of the truck, Buffy in the middle. “What I fail to understand,” Giles said, “Is how you could stay married to her . . . knowing what she was.”
“She didn’t change,” Niles said. “Her character . . . maintained. She had no taste for violence. She never has. She has been relying exclusively on animal blood to keep up her strength.”
“And the fact that she’s running you through the wringer in the divorce?” Buffy asked.
“She would have done that anyway,” Niles said. “Her disposition hasn’t changed one whit since she . . . changed. Maris was a pale, cold woman with little appetite before she became a vampire. Her conversion only strengthened those qualities.”
“And with all of this why are you defending her?” Giles asked. “I would think that in a divorce case the knowledge that your opposite number isn’t technically even alive –“
“And do what with it?” Niles asked. “Kill her? Under the circumstances I’d be rather a prime suspect, wouldn’t you think? It’s hardly common knowledge, her condition. People would miss her if she suddenly vanished. Her hairstylist, if nobody else.”
“Blackmail,” Buffy suggested.
“Ah yes,” Niles said. “The old, if you don’t grant me the divorce on favorable terms I’ll tell everyone you’re a vampire ploy. That ought to land me in any number of well-padded rooms.”
“It’s not going to be a problem for much longer anyway,” Buffy said. “Because after Giles and I round up the makeup we’re going to kill her.”
“You can’t do that,” Niles said.
“Whyever not? We can guarantee you won’t be blamed for the death –“
“It’s not that,” Niles said. “Well, not JUST that. I promised her when she turned that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her because of it; she promised me she’d never do me or anyone I cared any harm through her vampirism. She has kept her word through all we’ve been through; I fully intend to keep mine.”
“You are aware you haven’t a chance of stopping us,” Giles said.
“Well, I wasn’t planning to try fisticuffs,” Niles said. “At my peak I lack the proficiency to fight off a hamster in a bad mood. I was hoping cool logic would work. The next right.”
“And here we are,” Giles said a couple of minutes later.
“Yes?” came the maid’s voice through the intercom.
“It’s me,” Niles said. “Tell her I’m coming up.”
A minute or so of silence; then the same voice said, “Mrs. Crane says she’s not supposed to talk to you during the proceedings.”
“Tell her this involves . . . her condition. She’ll know what I mean. It is IMPERATIVE that we speak.”
During the intervening quiet, Buffy said, “Why am I not simply charging forwards?”
“Because I still intend to solve this without violence, if I can,” Niles said.
The voice said, “Okay, you can come in.”
Niles said, “Thank you,” and they all got back into the truck.
“Well,” Buffy said, “You’ve got about a minute or so to convince us otherwise . . .”
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