I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. Last night was the first round of Loompa Idol. All I'll say is yeah, they can dance, but they sure can't all sing. Yerg! Mr. Wonka says his face is sore from holding that weird smile for so long and Simon drank himself under the table after the first five contestants. Who would have guessed I would be thankful to be partially deaf?
– Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 21
The factory seemed strangely empty as they entered. It wasn't until Willy directed them to a small conference room not too far from the entrance that Veronica realized the Oompa Loompas had made themselves scarce around the Detective.
Charlie and his mother took the packages from her, offering to deliver them to her room while she spoke with the police. She readily agreed, taking a moment to disentangle herself from the multiple bags before handing them over. Willy watched with a neutral expression before turning and leading the way into the room.
Veronica took a seat at the brightly polished glass table. Comfortable seats were decorated whimsically with large neon colored polka-dots reminiscent of jawbreakers. There were eight seats in all. On the table was a hospitality set with glasses and a pitcher of water. Willy took the large seat at the head of the table to her right and Det. Cavenaugh took the seat across from her.
"Let me start out by saying that you are not under investigation, Ms. Carmichael," Det. Cavenaugh started, removing his jacket to reveal a blue shirt and paisley tie with dark slacks – much more of a respectable impression than the thug that had confronted her outside.
His professional appearance paired with his words did much to relax Veronica. "I'm pleased to hear that. Fire Chief McGee at the scene had given me the impression that I was going to jail."
Cavenaugh snorted, "He's an ass. Whoops! Pardon my French."
She smiled, "No need to apologize for summarizing so neatly."
"I'd just like to talk to you about who might have broken into your apartment. Do you wish Mr. Wonka to remain?"
Veronica raised an eyebrow and replied coolly, "I don't see why not. Mr. Wonka seems to know much more than I do."
Willy squirmed uncomfortably as Det. Cavenaugh looked puzzled, "How do you mean?"
"I learned that Mr. Wonka was aware of the intruder in my apartment and did not make me aware of the situation this morning before we departed to buy some clothing replacements," she explained, keeping her eyes flatly on Willy.
"I'm sorry Veronica. I didn't want to alarm you unnecessarily after the shock you received last night," Willy protested, leaning forward and begging for forgiveness with his bright violet eyes.
He was trying to give her the Kicked Puppy™ look with limited success.
"That might be so. But sending out Mrs. Bucket to escort me without letting me know about the danger is equally reprehensible," Veronica shot back, her eyes flashing with anger.
Cavenaugh shook his head. These two had it bad. Why did he have to get all the bloody domestic calls?
"Okay kids, knock it off for now. Mr. Wonka, why don't you take the opportunity to fill Ms. Carmichael in on what you learned and I'll jump in when appropriate?" he said soothingly.
Thank God for the hostage negotiation training.
"First I need to verify you are who you say you are," Cavenaugh pulled a tape recorder out of his pocket and set it on the table.
"Full name please."
"Veronica Eunice Carmichael"
"Eunice? Really?" asked Willy with a smirk.
"Shut it!" she growled, it was a sensitive topic.
"Age?"
"33."
"Seriously?" Cavenaugh looked dubious.
"Yes."
"Address?"
"As of last night before the fire? 145 Bradshaw Street."
"Okay. Mr. Wonka, would you care to talk about how you know about the intruder?"
"Part of the security measures installed in the studio was thermal imaging. The security system activates when you leave, turning on the thermal camera for surveillance. When the man broke in, we got footage of him as he snooped around – not real useful for identification purposes as it's a thermal outline rather than a regular picture. He also hit the pressure plates activating the Toffee Traps." Willy explained.
"Toffee Traps?" asked Veronica.
"It's one of my inventions, liquid toffee shoots out of high-pressure canisters at strategic points to coat the chosen target. The toffee hardens almost instantly thus ensnaring the intruder."
"How did he escape then? How did the fire start?" asked Cavenaugh.
"When the alarm activated, my surveillance team here was supposed to notify me ASAP. They were hesitant to call me as we were at a party. They decided to keep an eye on the intruder and when he showed signs of coming around, would notify me."
"Why the delay? Why not notify the police immediately?"
"I wanted to make sure it wasn't misguided curiosity. Do you know how many people I've intercepted trying to break into the factory over the years? Many of them were just interested in what happens here. I usually escort them out with a stern lecture. The ones who tried breaking in for purposes of corporate espionage," at this Willy smiled grimly, his top hat shadowing his eyes and giving his presence an ominous air, "I am legally able to deal with as I please and I persecute within the full letter of the law."
"But this wasn't your factory, Mr. Wonka. Why didn't you call the police immediately upon learning about the intruder," Cavenaugh repeated, a stern note in his voice dissuading any further evasion.
"Ms. Carmichael and I are currently working on a sensitive project. That was the reason I insisted on such heavy security measures. My work is of high interest to my competitors – bringing in the police without verifying the situation endangers my privacy and company's security," Willy said and a slow firm voice. His body language fairly screamed, drop it already!
"So when did the fire break out?" asked Cavenaugh.
"Apparently the intruder managed to get an arm free, knocked some of the candy-making equipment off the counter and used that to free himself. We think it was a torch or heat lamp. It would hurt like hell, but possible. When he got free, he scrammed, but left the heat lamp running and that's what started the fire."
Cavenaugh relaxed, "I can buy that. You were kind enough to provide us the surveillance tape and your story corresponds to what was on the footage." He turned his attention to Veronica.
"Ms. Carmichael, when did you become aware of the situation?"
"I learned about the intruder from Mrs. Clara Bucket – Charlie's mother. She offered to escort me to the store to buy some replacement clothing since everything I owned besides my coat and bag had been ruined by smoke and soot," Veronica explained, leaning forward to grab a yellow frosted glass, filling one for herself.
"Where did you go today?"
"Marks and Spencer off of Whittingham Street, The Flowerhead Tea Room, Bill's Candy Store off of Cherry and the ruins of my apartment building." She recited promptly, taking a sip.
She nearly spit the liquid out – she had taken mouthful expecting water and tasted lemonade instead. Veronica shot a hard look at Willy who smirked slightly and turned his head to regard the ceiling innocently.
Cavenaugh saw the exchange and took a glass for himself and poured a cup. He too took a sip and the expression of consternation that crossed his face was comical. He swallowed with some difficulty and studied the liquid in the glass. "Lemonade? But it looks like water."
"Oh, it is. When you poured the water into my 'Licious Lemon Glass, it becomes lemonade," Willy explained casually.
"Kind of sour – you might want to sweeten it up a bit," commented the detective.
"It adjusts according to the person. The more jaded you are the more bitter the taste."
"No wonder mine taste like straight lemon juice – the price of being a good cop I guess," said Cavenaugh with a rueful smile.
Veronica nodded. Hers had tasted nicely tart with a good bite, but not face-wrenchingly sour.
So what did that say about her?
"Ahem! Back to the topic at hand. Ms. Carmichael, would you be kind enough to take a look at some pictures for me please?" the detective said, and pulled a small stack of 5X7 photographs from inside his jacket pocket.
They were mugshots of various men. She leaned over to study each carefully. All but one was unfamiliar. Each man was hurt in some manner, some wearing bandages, others sporting black eyes or missing teeth.
The last was a man who looked like he'd been in a bad chemical accident. Portions of hair were missing off his head and face around what had been a moustache and beard. His skin looked red and raw on the left side of his face, neck and body. It was his face that caught his attention. The expression of equal parts fear and resolution didn't match. He should be darkly amused…arrogant…
"This one looks vaguely familiar. Give me a moment and I'll have it," she said, staring hard at the picture. She closed her eyes and thought about his face and how it should look. The roving eyes, the lustful smile at a distance…two men laughing as she worked at a steel table…
She had it!
"I don't know his name, but I remember seeing him talking my old employer," she said, excited that she was able to place the face.
"What's the name of your former employer?"
"Victor Brahm. He's got offices in several places - London, New York and Los Angeles. I worked for him while he was in town for several months earlier this year," Veronica said, returning the photograph to the detective.
Willy sat up straight, his attention peaked.
"His name is Jacob Giles Manning. He runs an auto body repair business in Manchester. We picked him up at Charing Cross Hospital last night with first and second degree burns to his head, torso and limbs. The clothes he was wearing were crusted with a hard substance that later was tested to be toffee."
Veronica gasped and Willy reached out to hold her hand for support. She grasped it gratefully. They were both enthralled by the revelations the Detective was sharing.
"I can't really tell you much more as the case is active, but let's just say I think you should stay with Mr. Wonka for the time being. There's more going on here." Cavenaugh said darkly.
"Is she in danger?" Willy asked his voice deeper than normal. No one threatened Veronica!
"Not that we're aware of right now, but this case isn't closed yet. There is a good chance that Mr. Manning might not be working alone and we're not certain if a threat is present."
Veronica gripped Willy's hand tightly, her heart in her throat. Had Victor snapped and set a contract out for her life? This was all starting to sound like a bad Hollywood movie!
…I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse.
Victor had said it jokingly when he propositioned her again and again. Apparently he wasn't joking. Why was he doing this now after blacklisting her name? It wasn't like her employment with Willy Wonka was public knowledge – it was the only thing she could think of to cause this kind of jealous response.
"Veronica. I know you're angry with me for not telling you earlier. But you seem to be in danger. Will you stay with me in the factory until this matter is put to rest?" Willy asked, his eyes deadly earnest. He held her hand just as tightly and she could tell he was afraid for her. If her face was as pale as his with worry, no wonder everyone was worried about her health. His face was deathly white and his hand trembled slightly in her grip.
She looked to Cavenaugh for verification, "If you were me, would you say I was in danger?" she asked bluntly.
"Ms. Carmichael. As an official representative of the Met Police, all I can say is that the potential is there. However, I have a daughter about your age. If she asked me that question, I would say 'Yes'. Take the offer – we'll know one way or the other shortly." The man said gently, but no less serious for his soft tone.
Veronica turned to Willy, "I appreciate your offer. I will stay, but I insist on keeping to the original timetable of the project. I will earn my place while I am here." She said sternly.
The present danger clarified her emotions for now. Her growing affection for Willy would have to be put on the back burner until after the project was completed. Being in such close proximity was exciting, but confusing. She refused to fall sway to his charms under the circumstances unless she had the means and wherewithal to stand on her own two feet to make a free choice.
She was no Snow White waiting for her Prince Charming to make things all better. She would rebuild her life.
After all it wasn't the first time.
--
Willy felt a huge weight drop off his shoulder with her agreement. Her serious expression lent a great deal of credibility to her demand to be put to work once more. He was impressed with her resilience and determination to do what she was hired for.
Detective Cavenaugh asked a few more questions, making her run through the previous evening several times to confirm her story.
"Thank you Ms. Carmichael, Mr. Wonka for your cooperation. We'll be in touch keeping you abreast of what we can. Is the number you provided earlier the best way to rea \gggggkloklllll''vxzzzzch you two?" he asked, pulling on the ugly parka and returning the black skullcap to his thinning hair.
"Yes, it's my office number. Please give us a call if you have any further questions," Willy said, gesturing for the detective to lead the way out of the conference room. Willy escorted him to the door and bid him farewell. They watched as the bulky figure waddled through the sleet coming down to the gate. Willy shut the door after ensuring the detective had exited safely, leaning against the doors with closed eyes.
"I'm still annoyed with you, Mr. Wonka," Veronica said severely.
He opened his eyes to watch her. Her arms were crossed at her chest and she glared at him. The new clothing scarcely fit better than her old. Her copper chestnut hair curled in tendrils around her face, escaping from its messy bun and her green eyes seemed to boil with golden flecks. Light blue jeans with black doc marten boots, sage green shirt under her worn black coat was casually stylish enough to make her appear, again, like a youthful college student.
He closed his eyes sighed marveling at her appeal without trying. It was the kind of thing that models tried too hard to achieve and never could.
"So what else did you buy? Anything good?" he asked casually, opening his eyes and pushing away from the door to lead the way down the cavernous hallway.
"Don't change the topic, Willy," she snapped, following.
"I already apologized. Once someone apologizes, as I understand it, the injured party offers forgiveness and the topic is dropped."
"You asked, but I didn't forgive you yet."
"Do you?"
"I understand you are concerned about me. I will forgive you if you quit trying to wrap me in bubble wrap."
"Sounds like fun actually." He mused, approaching the Wonkavator.
"It isn't – you can't move and it's noisy as hell," she scowled. As his questioning glance Veronica replied, "Spencer, packaging tape, bubble wrap and too much tequila – don't ask."
They stepped inside and he pushed a button marked "Workshop." They started to move.
"Okay – now that you're aware of the threat. Do you promise in return not to go out without letting someone know and come with you?" Willy asked seriously, the intensity of his eyes halting her glib answer.
Veronica paused. She hated to admit it, but his concern was well founded as she was seriously out of her depth here.
This was a side that not many got to see of the famous man. He may come across childish and annoying, but there was a mind like an adamantium trap underneath. How else could he become a world famous Chocolatier at such a young age in a notoriously competitive market? Families who had been in the business for years and histories spanning centuries didn't take lightly to being upstaged. He'd survived vicious back-stabbing, personal threats, travelled the world and started from scratch to rise to the top of the confectionary field and he had many enemies as a result. Willy knew what he was up against.
"I promise – I'll be working night and day to try and recreate what we lost anyway," she grumbled.
"Then I promise to try and not be so overprotective," he said.
"In that case, I forgive you," she said, swaying gently with the movements of the Wonkavator. The ride this time had been pleasantly sedate. Of course, Murphy had been following the conversation…
A sudden change in direction threw her across the space to crash into him, she hit his midsection with her shoulder in a textbook tackle and he went down with a loud "Oomph!" His top hat rolled and bounced off the walls of the Wonkavator with the rapidly changing movements.
"Ow!" she groaned, climbing to her knees only to be knocked down with another change in direction.
"I think I'm in more danger of harm here anyway."
--
Rather than get thrown to the ground again, they agreed to sit on the floor of the Wonkavator and she had fun sliding from side to side with occasional zero gravity drops and a few rough landings.
Veronica felt cheered by the disgruntled expression on Willy's face and the bumper car mode of travel. Every time he'd replaced his hat, it would get knocked off with another impact. He'd finally given up and just sat, cross-legged and cross armed, pouting as he careened around the floor and occasionally colliding with her.
"Here we are. It should be a shorter ride from your room – I can't promise any smoother though," he grunted, rising to his feet and stooping to grab his hat from where it rested on the floor. He dusted it off with careful black latex clad hands, held it up for a squint-eyed inspection before placing it with great ceremony square on his head.
Willy gestured to a door. As she reached for the handle he held up one hand in warning. "Wait. Make sure you open the door with the same hand you will every time. There's a palm reader on the door handle and it will only open for you. Not even I will be able to enter without a heck of a lot of dismantling."
With that warning in mind, she reached out with her right hand and opened the door. There was a beep and Willy nodded with satisfaction, "Okay it registered. Go on in! Shoo!"
She looked around. There was a sense of disorientation – it was as if she stepped from the factory to return to her lost studio. The same wooden floor, the same countertops, it was even the same dimensions. The familiar computer desktop sat in its accustomed place, the same swirling gold "W" on a purple background.
"I feel like an extra on Dr. Who!" she announced. This was surreal!
She opened a drawer to peek inside. Veronica was mildly comforted that the utensils, although similar, were of differing brands than her own. She looked up. How was there a frosted glass skylight? They were in the heart of the factory, right?
Veronica pointed up with an inquiring air at the skylight and Willy just smirked.
"Think this will work? The Oompa Loompas won't come in without your permission or presence."
"Absolutely. How do you keep managing to create things like this in a few hours?" she wondered.
There was that maddening smirk again, "Magic"
She glared at him and he was honest enough to admit, "Okay – magic and a team of a dozen extremely talented workers."
"Thank you again, Willy. I know this is to your ultimate benefit, but you have been more than kind to me than you really need to. You've brought me into your home, offered me your protection and hospitality. I'm more than honored," she said humbly, feeling rather guilty for her anger earlier.
Willy stepped closer, to take her hands and to smile down at her, "It is my pleasure, dear lady."
He started to lean in for a kiss, and was hurt and confused as she stepped back, still holding his hands.
"Willy wait."
"What's the matter? Am I being too pushy again?" he asked worriedly.
"No! Not at all. I just think we need to talk for a minute about what's going on here."
"Do we have to?" Willy whined.
Veronica had to smile at his tone. "Yes. Don't worry, I'm not about to declare that I'm in love with another man and go flouncing off to meet some muscle-bound cad in tight pants on a white horse to go riding off into the sunset for wild passionate monkey love."
Willy looked a little wild-eyed, "Um…good?"
"Not my type – that type is usually flaming gay or passionately involved with himself."
"And the wild passionate monkey love?" he asked hopefully.
"Not right now."
"Some day?"
"Maybe."
"Oh," Willy said with mild disappointment.
"Willy, you are a wonderful man who helped me give my life a jump start, taken me in out of the cold and is offering to stand between me and uncertain danger. I have to admit I am attracted to you," she said, squeezing his hands in her own.
"You are?" he squeaked, thrilled. His heart was starting to soar and a huge smile cracked his face, making his violet eyes sparkle.
"At the same time though, I want to ensure that you feel the same way not out of a sense of obligation or expectation, but because you like me for who I am," she explained gently, taking one hand to rest gently against his cheek to soften the blow of her words.
"Ensure? How?" he asked suspiciously.
"Give me my space while I work," Veronica said pleadingly.
His expression fell and he was silent for a moment. He stared at their joined hands. She had not let go. Willy remembered what Sherman had talked about, letting her set the pace – and if he read the situation correctly, she wasn't saying "No – never!" she was saying "Not yet".
"It's funny," he said softly, returning his gaze to her lovely face. "I was under the impression that I should be saying that to you as the world-famous Chocolatier."
She gave him a soft wistful smile, "That may be. But there are things about me and my past that I need to tell you about. Things you need to know before making a decision. Things I'm not quite ready to talk to you about yet," she admitted, letting her hand fall from his face and taking his hand in hers again.
"I'm far from perfect. I have problems that will interfere with a relationship and you deserve that honesty up front. I don't play games, I don't tease and you deserve better."
Better than me, she thought to herself.
They stood, staring at each other, hands clasped for a long moment.
"I understand," Willy said sadly. "You're afraid that I'll take advantage of you while you're here. That I give you all of this in an effort to win you to my bed," His eyes glittered with dark promise for a moment. "You fear that I'm taking you in after your building burned down just so you'd have to be closer to me and would feel obligated to submit to me." He looked tall, dark and ominous, holding her hands, top hat shadowing his eyes and face.
But she trusted him.
"I'm not like that Veronica," he leaned forward to gently kiss her forehead with petal soft lips before stepping back and releasing her hands, his face soft and sad in the light. "That's not the kind of man I am, and I would never ask that of you or anyone else. You have to be true to yourself first."
"You're right. I don't know about your past – but it's not going to change my mind either. I like you because you're funny, witty, smart, and stubborn and so many other things I can't list them in a day if I tried. But, I understand why you need to finish the project first before you can let yourself believe that I…," he paused here, swallowing hard.
I'm falling in love with you, he thought, trying to force the words from reluctant lips and failing.
Veronica's eyes glittered in the light, tears threatening. "Thank you! Willy, I want to…dear God help me, I want to right now. But it isn't the right thing to do. All I can say is, I should be done by the Exodus Ceremony and we'll go from there…together… if you still want to."
She stepped forward to greedily place a lingering kiss on his lips, hot breath cascading against his face. Her lips were warm against her own and the promise behind them made Willy's head swim. He longed to hold her close and his arms ached with resisting the urge. He felt wetness on his cheeks and couldn't tell if the tears were hers or his own.
"Give me three weeks. That's all I ask for," she begged, eyes closed as she inhaled deeply, memorizing his sweet scent.
"You have it. It's just a few weeks after all," he said lightly, but somehow his heart was screaming that he was going to lose her forever. He kissed Veronica once more and released her.
"Til then, Lady mine," Willy whispered. He turned and did the hardest thing he'd ever done - harder than closing the factory, harder than leaving Charlie with his family after he'd won the factory, even harder than facing down his father to chase his future.
He left the room and Veronica to her own devices.