CHAPTER 7: THE DETECTIVE'S TRAP
It was early afternoon when Dominika rang the bell of Mrs. Galway's door, keeping their appointment for a cup of tea. Up to that point, she'd been occupied with housework, mostly cleaning up and cooking. House had been gone from early in the morning, having said something about an appointment with his psychiatrist. He'd not even had breakfast, only grabbing a bite out of a pancake and draining his cup of coffee in two gulps. Dominika wondered why he was avoiding her since last night. Seeing him in this obvious discomfort, constantly finding an excuse not to be in the same place with her, made her wrack her brain over what was she doing so wrong that her presence was so intolerable to him. She'd taken the liberty of adjusting some things in the apartment, like moving his coffee table or adding some decorations echoing her country, mostly as a way of underscoring her own presence there. Truth be told, his reaction to that had been hard to interpret. Every word and action of the man who now was her husband in name was notoriously hard to interpret. When he'd seen her doing her dancercise routine and asked her about it, she thought she caught the faint traces of warmth in his voice. From the moment she'd woken up in the morning, she'd been recapping the events of last evening from that moment onwards. But, no matter how it began, it had ended with his hasty retreat to his bedroom, leaving her confused and frustrated. She'd lied down on the couch shortly afterwards, aimlessly zapping the TV channels before turning it off and going to sleep. She'd dreamed of some weird things she couldn't recall, but it was a relief of sorts when the sun was up and she had to rise to make breakfast. Throughout the process of making coffee and pancakes for House, she was trying to think of what to say, how to approach him. But, when she glimpsed his form walking into the kitchen, she'd merely whispered "Good morning" and flashed him a smile. A small, awkward one, nonetheless still a smile. He was staring on the wall, however, his gaze avoiding her. Acknowledging her presence with a mere nod, he'd only muttered, "I gotta be going. I have an appointment with my psychiatrist and then I'm going to work. Talk to you later", before going back to his bedroom to get dressed, shutting the door behind him. When he'd finished dressing, he didn't look for her, nor did he announce his departure, the sound of keys at the door and later the roar of his motorcycle being the clues leading her to surmise he'd left. With a sigh, she'd returned to her housework mere minutes later. He's gonna find the house in immaculate condition when he's back, she thought. However, all this sounded inadequate, too inadequate. What she wanted was to find the way to demonstrate beyond any doubt, any second thought, that she really wanted him, she really wished for this marriage not to be a fake, for the wedding ring on her finger to symbolize something with substance. With a deep sigh, she tried to banish those thoughts, at least for the time being, and enjoy her afternoon.
It took a second ring of the bell to make Mrs. Galway understand that someone was outside her apartment. She sped up towards the door and opened it with a warm greeting. "Come in, my dear, come in", she said to Dominika. Soon, they were both seated in the living room, each holding a cup of tea in their hands. The older woman was, once again, expressing her grievances towards her boyfriend. "All my relatives would say I'm crazy, having a new boyfriend on that age, but I don't care and I don't need their approval. If only Mike didn't demand to see where I live...", she was saying. "I still haven't told my relatives I'm married woman now", Dominika interjected. "Well, your relatives are living at the other edge of the world, you don't have to worry about their approval", the older woman replied, adding, "Imagine that, finally Dr. House has got married. The whole area frankly believed he wasn't going to find the right lady". "He's very different from what he seems to be", Dominika responded, taking a generous sip of her tea. "Oh, I don't doubt that. My husband- God rest his soul- was grumpy, but when we got married he was sweet like sugar. Speaking of which, would you like some sugar in your tea, my dear?", the older lady asked, to which Dominika politely declined, observing "Greg is grumpy, but never mean. Caring for him is... pleasure". "If only Mike let me care for him. But he wants to be the tough cop, so he doesn't let me clean his place up or cook something good for him", the other woman returned to her own problems. "But I must be boring you to the extreme with my grievances", she understood. "Not at all. I'd like to meet this Mike", Dominika said in all kindness. "Why not? I think I can invite him here at tea time. Tomorrow, or the day after. I hope your husband isn't so busy in the hospital all those days", answered Mrs. Galway, clearly enthusiastic about the idea. She turned her gaze towards her visitor and remarked, "In all the years I live here, Dr. House hasn't exchanged visits with any neighbor. I know he isn't that sociable, but...", she started saying, to be interrupted by a not so gentle knock on the door. "Oh, God, who can it be now? They don't let you drink your tea quietly!", the widow stated, rising from her seat and going to open the door.
Two policemen were standing out of the apartment door. Mrs. Galway was evidently taken aback by their presence. "Mrs. Galway? We were told by Mr. Hastings that Mrs. House is in there", one of them said. "Y-Yes, but...", she began to say, to be cut off by the other policeman, who informed her, "There has been a complaint against Mrs. House. She needs to come with us to the police station". On the very same moment, Dominika appeared, evidently eager to find out who had been knocking. Seeing the police officers, she grew pale and beads of sweat drenched her forehead. "Ah, here she is", one of the officers remarked, "Mrs. House? You need to come with us at the police station". "There must have been mistake. I... I haven't done anything wrong", she muttered in a faltering voice. "Leave the girl alone! This is outrageous! My fiancé is a high-ranking detective! You can't do this!", Mrs. Galway was fiercely objecting. "We are just following orders", the officer responded, adding, "Well, Mrs. House? Are you coming voluntarily or...?". Having no other choice, Dominika followed the policemen. "Don't worry, my dear. I'm calling Mike. This charade is gonna end in the matter of a few minutes", the other woman tried to reassure her. "Call my husband, please. He is at hospital, you can call there and ask to speak to him", she pleaded, before she was forced to exit the apartment.
Meanwhile, in the hospital, James Wilson was faced with an overly familiar situation: himself, trying to work, and his friend, Gregory House, interrupting him. "I was late today", House said upon walking into the oncologist's office. "And I'm supposed to ask where you were", Wilson responded. "I went to Nolan's office. We continued our session after a year", his friend informed him. "Wow. And what about your last night call? Or your disappearance those last few days?", he asked. "Had you answered, I might haven't gone to Nolan", House replied in an enigmatic way. "And, it was about...?", Wilson repeated his question, but then added, "Although it's better if you tell me later", pointing towards the file he was holding. "I found a neon green undergarment of Dominika's in the bathroom last night", the diagnostician quipped. "Later just turned to never", the oncologist stated, obviously irritated. "Before that, I was with Thirteen at a spud gun competition. And that wasn't a metaphor", his friend continued talking. "Thirteen?", Wilson cocked an eyebrow inquisitively. "Yep. She's back. Were you not busy with your file, you'd have seen her prancing around in those tight clothes", House observed, adding, "As for the other part, I'm gonna ask for Dominika's hand in marriage, for real". "If I'm not mistaken, you've already married her", the other man said matter-of-factly. "Until now, it's a felony. Now, I'm gonna try transforming it into a real marriage", the diagnostician clarified, his expression and the tone of his voice betraying how he totally meant what he was saying. "House, are you sure about that?", the oncologist asked, remarking, "I've seen you do a lot of immature things lately, trying to get over your breakup. I've tried to dissuade you from all those antics, not out of a whim, but because I'm genuinely thinking you're falling apart. Talk to me, talk to Dr. Nolan, talk to Cuddy herself, but don't do things you're gonna regret later or will lead you to get more hurt. Your marriage was a childish act in itself, don't make it even worse for you". "My psychiatrist said it's a kind act. Strange, isn't it? I thought I had a heart three sizes too small, maybe it's gonna turn out I have a normal one", House responded, half earnestly, half in jest. "And is Dr. Nolan aware of her...ummm... background?", Wilson enquired. "Contrary to what all of you thought, she's never been a hooker. Just a qualified aesthetician and pastry chef", the diagnostician said, surprising him. "And, no, it's not about Cuddy anymore, I decided to move on for real", he added, increasing his friend's surprise. "If only you tried to move on and stay clear from Vicodin", Wilson said with a sigh. "My leg hurts, Wilson", House replied, adding, "Psychotherapy can't help that. Detox failed. Another legacy of my breakup". "Stop blaming your breakup for everything. It's your momentary backslide that caused the breakup, not vice versa", he reminded his friend.
Just as House was getting ready to reply, the door opened again and Martha Masters walked in. "House? There's some lady wanting to talk to you. She says she's your neighbor and has something of major importance to say", the young prodigy informed her superior, remembering to greet Wilson only after she'd delivered her message. "Tell her I'm grabbing the phone in a minute", the diagnostician instructed, telling Wilson "Be right back. Possibly she wants to complain about the stereo". Accompanied by his fellow, the diagnostician picked the phone. "Gregory House speaking", he announced. "Doctor House, Emma Galway here. It's terrible! It's horrendous!", the voice from the other side could be heard. House snorted and asked, "Maybe I could hear what's going on?". "What kind of country are we living in? Out of the blue, police comes and arrests people for no reason! I gotta call my boyfriend! He's a detective! He's gonna show them...", the voice kept shouting in a barely coherent manner, further agitating the doctor. "What is going on there?", he barely restrained himself from shouting in an even higher tone. "They knocked at my door and took your wife to the police station! It's outrageous! Don't worry, however, we are all aware it's some kind of misunderstanding! They are so incompetent! I'm gonna call...", the older woman starting talking nonstop again, but House hang up, without waiting for the end of the sentence.
The police car stopped outside of the station. Dominika stepped out of the car, trying to appear calm, although, with every step, her feeling of terror and dread reached higher and higher levels. She hoped Mrs. Galway had the mind to call her boyfriend and get him to find a way securing her release. Otherwise, they would find out everything about her quest for the green card, meaning she was gonna be deported and House fined or sent to prison. The mere thought of not seeing him again terrified her, making her want to cry. No, she stifled herself, she wouldn't give them that satisfaction. She'd try to appear as calm as possible and repel any kind of accusation thrown at her. "The detective is waiting in this office", one of the policemen escorting her announced, pointing towards the office. She walked in, taking a deep breath. The detective was looking out from the window. The other officer said, "Sir, we've brought Mrs. House", and the detective dismissed them both. Turning to face Dominika, he introduced himself, "Good afternoon, Mrs. House. My name is Michael Tritter".