C019D9C090E03@comcast.net> e5c9fa93   
   Title - Decoding the Enigma   
   Authors - Amy Jonas and MagsRose   
   E-mail - adjonas2000@yahoo.com or magsrose@comcast.net   
   Rating - FRT-13 (PG - 13)   
   Category - AU/Gen/Het   
   Archive - Just let us know.   
   Feedback - Yes, please. Any kind is always welcome. We just like to know   
   someone is reading this stuff.   
   Disclaimer - Without Prejudice. The names of all characters contained here in   
   are the property of Chris Carter, et. al. No infringements of these copyrights   
   are intended, and are used here without permission. All original characters   
   are the sole property    
   of Mags or Amy and may not be used without the author's permission.   
   Summary - In 1940, Private Investigator, Melvin Frohike thought he was working   
   on a simple missing person case but he soon found himself embroiled in   
   something far more sinister.   
   Authors' notes - After seeing the Maltese Falcon, Amy presented Mags with an   
   idea for The X-Files characters in an Alternate Universe.  Intrigued by the   
   possibilities, Mags suggested a co-authoring effort.  The result is the story   
   you see here.  Thanks    
   to Erynn and Alison for betaing this for us.   
      
      
   Chapter 2   
      
   Melvin Frohike drove around the streets of Washington, DC searching for   
   someone. He knew the man was working that day and it should be a simple matter   
   to locate him but after circling the neighborhood for the fifth time, Frohike   
   was ready to give up.   
      
   Finally spotting the beat cop talking to one of the local prostitutes on a   
   corner near his favorite coffee shop, Frohike pulled up to the curb. The   
   prostitute stepped hopefully up to the car, saw who it was and, making a sour   
   face, turned to the cop and    
   said, "It's for you, Mulder."   
      
   "Don't be so sure, Crystal," the cop replied. "Some day he may want your   
   services."   
      
   "That gnome?" Crystal laughed making fun of Frohike's short stature. "He says   
   he's never paid for it in his life."   
      
   Frohike was in no mood for the usual banter. He reached over and opened the   
   passenger door. "Get in, Mulder. We need to talk."   
      
   The cop obliged, pulling the door of the old Ford shut. "What's the scoop,   
   Shamus?" Mulder asked amiably.   
      
   Frohike was often amazed at how cheerful Mulder always seemed to be. He'd been   
   on the police force for years but never managed to get promoted beyond beat   
   cop although Frohike knew that what the man truly desired was to be a   
   detective.   
      
   Pulling out into traffic, Frohike said, "You know, Mulder, if you arrested the   
   prostitutes instead of making friends with them, you might actually get that   
   promotion you think you deserve."   
      
   "In a town full of politicians, these ladies have an important role to play,"   
   Mulder said in good-natured defense of his actions. "I'm helping them provide   
   a vital service by making sure no one hassles them."   
      
   "Yeah," Frohike snorted, "and you don't seem to mind the free services they   
   toss your way."   
      
   Mulder nodded. "I feel it's my duty to ensure the quality of their product."   
      
   Frohike smiled in spite of himself. Mulder always had that effect on him: made   
   him forget his problems, at least for a short time. The man was such an   
   incorrigible smart ass. He couldn't help but laugh at him.   
      
   "So what did you need to see me for, Frohike?"   
      
   "Molly Jennings…were you able to get any information on her for me? Do the   
   police have any leads?"   
      
   "I tried but the chief found out I was asking around and told me to back off.   
   He said I should mind my own business and that when and if I ever make   
   detective, I can work on open cases."   
      
   "Damn him," Frohike swore. "Did you tell him I'd been hired to look into it?"   
      
   "Yeah, but he wasn't impressed."   
      
   Frohike shook his head. "I'll have to go talk to him myself. I don't know why   
   he has to be so hard headed."   
      
   Mulder shrugged. "I guess he thinks it's his job."   
      
   Frohike pulled the car back up to the curb not far from where he'd picked up   
   Mulder. "Thanks anyway, Bub," he said to the cop as he climbed out of the car.   
      
   "Good luck with the chief," Mulder said closing the door. "You're going to   
   need it." He shouted as the car pulled away from the curb.   
      
      
   * * * * *   
      
      
   "It's an open case and I don't have to give you any information!" Police Chief   
   Skinner was nearly shouting.   
      
   "Now, Walt…" Frohike began.   
      
   "And don't call me Walt!"   
      
   This angered Frohike. “You didn’t mind me calling you that when we walked a   
   beat together,” he snapped.  The correction of the name stung. Ever since   
   Skinner made the rank of Chief, he had stopped passing Frohike information   
   citing rules and regulations    
   and procedure.  It served to only make Frohike feel shut out from a life he   
   had once loved and cherished.   
      
   "That was years ago," Skinner slung back. "The only time I see you now is when   
   you want my help with something."   
      
   Frohike bit back the retort that sprung to his lips, remembering the reason he   
   was here.   
      
   "This isn't for me! It's for the kid's parents. The police weren't making any   
   progress so they asked me to look into it."   
      
   "There are sensitive politics involved in this job, Mel.  I can't just give   
   you police information whenever you ask."   
      
   "My God, Walt, the kid is only twelve years old."   
      
   When the Police Chief seemed unmoved, Frohike added, "She and Emma walked home   
   from school together everyday. What if it had been Emma and not Molly?"   
      
    Skinner sat down behind his desk. Frohike knew the man well enough to   
   understand that he was backing down from his hard-nosed stance.   
      
   "I'm sorry, Mel." Skinner shook his head. "It just makes us look bad when I   
   have to tell you…" he paused, "that we have nothing. No leads…nothing."   
   Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He looked worn out. He   
   glanced up at Frohike standing on    
   the other side of his desk. He pointed to a chair. "Have a seat."   
      
   "How much information did you get from her parents?" Skinner asked as he   
   watched Frohike take off his coat to sit down.   
      
   "She never came home from school. Her parents talked to Emma and the other   
   girls they walked with. They all said nothing out of the ordinary happened."   
      
   The Chief nodded. "We interviewed all the girls and got the same story and   
   canvassing the neighborhood did no good either." Skinner sighed again. "It's   
   like she just disappeared."   
      
   He continued, "Her parents were very unhappy when we had to ask them if they   
   had considered the possibility that Molly had simply run away." He studied   
   Frohike. "I'm willing to bet that's when they enlisted your help."   
      
   The private investigator nodded.   
      
   "It's been four days," Skinner went on. "The chances of finding her alive at   
   this point are not very good." Skinner noted the pain in his friend's face at   
   that comment. He knew how this type of case could get to Frohike.   
      
   "I need to go talk to everyone again," Frohike decided. "They may have   
   remembered something new since your boys were out there." He stood up,   
   shrugging into his coat and adjusting his fedora. "And, who knows. They may be   
   more willing to talk to me seeing    
   as I'm not a cop."   
      
   "It's worth a shot," Skinner agreed. "Do you have a photograph of her?"   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)