Chapter 7: An Unwanted Visit

He was running late. Freddy rummaged through the files that had piled up around his little hole-in-the-wall office, scattering papers left and right. He was making a mess but he didn't give a flying fuck right now. Where'd he put his notes?

"Detective Newendyke?"

"What?" Freddy snapped, looking up. He stopped short when he realized who was standing in his doorway. "Er… Mrs. Nash." he said in a more normal tone of voice.

"Hello," said the young woman self-consciously. She looked around at the disarray. "May I come in?"

"Actually I'm on my way to a meeting and –"

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she interrupted, "but I just have a few questions." Mrs. Nash walked right into the cramped little room without waiting for an invitation. She obviously wasn't going to let Freddy turn her away. Great. "I really need to talk to you, Detective. You weren't answering my calls, so I decided to come down here in person."

Freddy leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms, trying not to look like he was deliberately avoiding eye contact. It was true, though. He didn't want anything more to do with her, not after having to go through the horrible experience of talking about her husband. He just wanted to close that chapter of his life.

Mrs. Nash brushed a wisp of short dark hair out of her face. "I have questions you refused to answer the day we met. I want to know more about Marvin." Freddy turned away in exasperation. "All you told me," she said a little louder, demanding his attention, "was that he saved your life. But you won't tell me what my husband went through. You won't say what happened to him."

"Why should I tell you what happened to him?" said Freddy harshly.

"Because he was my husband." Her dark eyes were blazing with righteousness like a fucking televangelist. "It's my right. You, you didn't even know him until the day he died, and you know more than I do about his last moments. How's that fair?"

Freddy walked closer to her. "You want to know what I know?" he sneered. "What, you really want to know how Marvin was tortured? How he pleaded for his life as gasoline was poured all over him? You want me to tell you what we talked about when all we could do was bleed all over the floor? Huh? You wanna hear how many times he was shot in the fucking chest? Do you?"

Mrs. Nash had been staring up at him with her mouth slightly open, and at this her eyes filled with tears. Freddy immediately felt like a jerk, and could only watch uncomfortably as she sobbed into her hands.

"Look, I'm – I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Mrs. Nash continued to weep, and Freddy tentatively put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She swayed forward like a drunk and clung to the front of his shirt, positively bawling. He held her awkwardly, wishing to fucking god that she'd shut up. "I'm sorry," he repeated. He patted her back lightly, shushing her and hoping that nobody would see him like this. He wouldn't be able to live it down, making a woman cry like this. "I shouldn't have said that to you. I'm such a jackass."

Mrs. Nash's sobs were getting quieter, and finally she took a deep breath and looked up at him. Her eyes were swollen and red, and her nose was streaming. "Yeah, you kinda are," she said with a watery smile. Freddy grinned and handed her a box of Kleenex, and then there was a very embarrassed moment as she straightened herself out and he tried to look anywhere but at her.

"I guess I should be going then," said Mrs. Nash quietly.

Finally. "Okay." Freddy opened the door.

She turned on the threshold and held out her hand. "I shouldn't have come. You're right. I'm sorry."

Freddy took her hand. "No, I'm sorry. Those were terrible things to say to you. I just – I just have a lot on my plate right now."

Mrs. Nash smiled. "I understand."

They were still holding hands. And all of a sudden Freddy felt very, very confused. Up until this point he had thought of this woman as Marvin's wife, but now… She was quite pretty, it had to be said, even after she'd been crying her eyes out. And standing there she looked so small and unhappy. She was going through hell right now, and Freddy knew what that felt like. If only he could help her in some way –

"Good-bye, detective." Mrs. Nash gave him a peculiar look and extricated her hand from his grip. Freddy watched her leave the office.

"Shit," he muttered. He was in trouble. Attraction on his part was dangerous. If nothing else, it would be an insult to Marvin's memory. It would be best if he could just stay away from Mrs. Nash. Then he remembered the meeting. Oh shit!

"You're late, Newendyke."

"Yeah, I know. I was held up in my office by an attractive woman who threw herself into my arms. She wouldn't take no for an answer."

Holdaway turned to Jeffrey Andrews. "That's Freddy's pathetic idea of a joke, kid. You probably know by now this guy has no sense of humor. But I find if you ignore his attempts at being funny he'll eventually tell you the truth." The older man crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking at Freddy expectantly.

Freddy shrugged and offered the others an innocent smile. "Couldn't find my file," he said hefting said file for all to see.

Holdaway snorted, clearly not buying this new explanation. "We started without you," he said. "Jeff summarized the undercover job, what he noticed, any weird vibes, that sort of shit. He can fill you in later, a' right? All he's gotta do now is stay home and wait for Dov to call him in." Andrews gave a wan smile, and Freddy imagined that the kid wasn't too thrilled about his situation. "And McKlusky's been telling us about the guys working for Dov."

Freddy moved to sit on Holdaway's desk as all of the chairs were occupied.

"Right," said McKlusky, scanning a long sheet of computer printout. "So we covered the two gorillas in the elevator. We also got ID's on three of the guys outside the office. They definitely used to be Cabot's boys. The one called Teddy has been seen in the company of Nice Guy Eddie in the past. Quite high up too. The other guys are soldiers."

"Okay. So Dov's managed to keep a few of Cabot's boys. Now whatchoo got for us, Freddy?"

"I talked to your contact at Jack Rabbit Slim's." Freddy flipped open the file to the notes he'd made, and tried not to smirk at the memory of Susan in the backseat of his car. "Apparently that's Marsellus Wallace's turf. Dov was making some sort of deal with a guy called Tony Rocky Horror, who used to associate with Wallace in the same diner. I talked to a guy working on the Wallace case, uh… Detective Zack Jiang. He arranged a meet with Tony." He flipped to another page of notes. "Four months ago Wallace threw Tony out of his apartment window – for reasons unknown – and since then the guy's been part-time. Tony claims Dov was trying to solicit him for some full-time work as one of his soldiers." He closed the file. "If Dov's trying to proposition Wallace's goons, then he's gotta be desperate."

"Good," said Holdaway with satisfaction. "That's where we want him, man. If the company's in that big of a rut, then this Dov motherfucker won't be so careful about hirin' Jeff, and maybe they'll slip up. Nice work, Freddy. Kelvin, you're next."

"Right," said the techie. "I analyzed the footage, and we've got a few surveillance options. I got the blueprints of the office building." He rolled out a large sheet on top of Holdaway's desk, forcing Freddy to move over. "If we can get the office above it, we can drill a pinhole camera into the corner here. Now I noticed a phone in the hallway, and if Jeff can somehow put a mike on the bottom…"

Freddy tuned out. The technical stuff didn't really interest him. He cocked his head to read a newspaper lying beside him on Holdaway's desk. He hadn't read the news yet today, and usually limited himself to sports and comics. A small side column was topped with the photograph of a middle-aged woman, with the headline: "Local receives journalism prize". As Freddy scanned the article, he realized that the woman was the very same bitch reporter who had snuck into the hospital to take pictures of him while he was comatose, thus compromising his identity and preventing him from ever going undercover again. What a nosy bitch.

Freddy scowled, but soon forgot about everything when a stabbing pain went through his right temple. He brought his hands up to his head and bent over, scrunching his eyes shut. Dimly he heard the concerned voices of the others asking him what was wrong. He cracked his eyelids open and immediately shut them against the light. A wave of nausea hit and he broke out into a cold sweat. Arms went around his shoulders, and Freddy barely noticed as he was guided down the hall and back into his own office. He could hear somebody closing the blinds, but every little sound was enough to send his brain into agony.

"Just lie down," said McKlusky, and he sank onto the couch. There were sounds of people moving about, and somebody put a cool cloth over his eyes.

"I'll be okay," he murmured. "Just leave me for a minute?" The door softly closed.

What seemed like a few hours passed by hazily, during which the door opened softly for people to check up on him. Freddy had experienced severe headaches before, but this one would qualify as a full-blown migraine. Finally, the pain subsided enough for Freddy to hazard opening his eyes. He felt lightheaded, almost as if he was suffering from a hangover.

All he could hope was that Frankie wouldn't see this as sufficient cause to take him off the case. He'd lied about the intensity of his headaches, and had managed to hide them until now. Maybe if he said he'd forgotten to take his medication…

The room was dim, but he could still make out shapes and forms. And there was one object by the door that did not belong. Freddy frowned. It was an umbrella.

"What the –?" Realization hit him like a tidal wave. The umbrella belonged to Irene Nash. "Shit…" Freddy muttered, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back. He didn't want anything more to do with Marvin or Irene or Derek, but he was going to have to return that fucking umbrella.

A/N: God, how awkward. Mrs. Nash should just leave him alone.