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. I feel like the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland trying to catch up after being sick the past few days. Enjoy the tale. – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 38
Boxing Day came and went with a remarkable lack of anything exciting happening – that is, out of the ordinary for Willy Wonka's Marvelous Chocolate Factory.
Veronica and Willy spend a long day in exploration of some of the stranger rooms that had developed in the factory. They climbed about 2/3 the way up Fudge Mountain before deciding that fingers and toes were frozen and retreating for warmer fare. They collected Marshmallows from the candy marsh with the Oompa Loompa workers. Veronica found herself strangely attached to an early lamb from the flock of candy floss sheep – the knock-kneed creature with huge liquid brown eyes and just an light fuzz of pink wool just starting to come in followed her as they toured the pen. She leaned down to pet it often and Willy joked about letting it follow her when she moved into her apartment.
"I don't know, does the landlord allow pets?" Veronica asked mockingly.
"With a large enough deposit, I'm sure an agreement can be reached." Willy smirked, resting his hands on top of the ever-present cane. She noted that the only place he seemed comfortable not wearing gloves was in his bedroom.
Her contemplation was abandoned as she felt a warm wetness soak through her jeans and she looked down in disgust to the doe-eyed lamb in her lap, regarding her innocently. "Ew!" she groaned, gently shooing the creature back toward the concerned ewe waiting for it.
Veronica threw her hands up in exasperation, "See. Definitely not cut out for motherhood," indicating the pee-soaked clothing.
Willy was choked on laughter at her expression. "Okay – looks like a break is in order. Shall we repair to the master suite for some refreshments….of all sorts?"
She nodded and took malicious glee in rising and approaching him with open arms, "Oh hold me my darling! Hold me close!"
Willy skittered back grinning, easily avoiding her, "Um…No. Not while you smell like sheep pee."
Veronica grinned at him and pouted playfully, "So the magic is gone already. Alas! What is to become of me?"
They entered the Wonkavator and the close quarters concentrated the smell until they both were gagging.
"My love. I will follow you until the ends of the earth…at a good distance and outdoors preferably right now…"
As soon as the door was closed to her room, she shimmied out of the stinking clothing, much to the appreciation of her audience.
"How does turkey sandwiches sound?" he called as she bolted for the shower.
"Great," she shouted back, turning on the shower and hopping in.
Willy shook his head at her antics and lifted the handset of her phone dialing a number.
"Gigi? Hey! It's me….yeah….could I get a couple of your special turkey clubs? Cranberry sauce? You bet…," he quickly ordered and had just set the phone down when Veronica returned from the shower, casually clad in a towel, hair still dripping wet.
Willy felt his mouth go dry at the sight. Amazing how we could go from complete isolation to such delightful casual nudity in a few days.
She was ignorant to his admiring gaze as she shuffled through drawers and her sparse belongings. Grimacing she grabbed a tee shirt, cargo pants, under things and the ugly socks that somehow had made themselves hers.
"Please. Don't get dressed on my behalf," he drawled, falling across the bed with what he probably thought as a beguiling expression.
Veronica smirked; she thought he just looked slightly deranged.
"Somehow, conversations seems to come to a halt if I don't," she said, pulling on the underwear and pants under the towel. She turned her back to slip on the bra and shirt.
Willy just sighed as the long line of her back disappeared under her clothes, "Fine – be that way."
"Willy. I'd like to try and figure out what to do about the media and Victor."
That was enough to toss ice water on his libido.
"I think we have a firm enough grasp on Victor's sterling character to guess what he's up to," he mused.
She looked puzzled as she wrapped the towel around her hair in that mysterious way women could – he tried it himself could never get it to stay.
"How can you predict what he's going to do?"
"Easy – He's a reptile. He's always looking for the warmth of the spotlight and will climb over anyone or anything to get to it. Also like a reptile, he's the sort of guy who when threatened will use camouflage to hide until the threat passes."
Veronica smirked at the idea of her former employer as a lizard, complete with forked tongue, bad leisure suit and white platform shoes.
Willy saw this and screwed up his face and flickered his tongue out at her with a hiss making her giggle.
"Now this particular lizard in question, his environment seems to be Hollywood – a poisonous jungle if there ever was one. I'm guessing he was also the one to alert the media on you as well. Who knows how long they've been on your trail before catching up with you. More camouflage."
Veronica flopped next to him on the bed, "That makes sense – go on."
Willy rolled onto his back and tipped the top hat over his eyes before grasping his hands behind his neck – she was right, her proximity was distracting.
"Okay. Lizard-boy is under investigation by the police. He's throwing up a smokescreen to cover his tracks. From what you've told me, you aren't the only person he's played this little game with – so maybe the scope of the investigation is not just you – you're just the tip of the iceberg."
"We can ask Cavenaugh tomorrow. I was planning on contacting him anyway to find out if there was anything else I needed to do to make sure that Jake Manning person gets put behind bars," she said fiercely.
"So that makes you pretty high on old Vic's hit list – if he can somehow discredit you or keep you from testifying for the investigation, that saves his bacon and achieves his ultimate goal." Willy said, shooting her a serious gaze from under the rim of his hat.
"What's that?"
"Your annihilation. He's been trying to trash your reputation since you showed him up at the Food Network Competition. When you landed the contract with me and somehow he's found out about it? My dearest, you've put a bug the size of Godzilla up his butt."
He pushed his hat back and rolled to his side to face her, "As for the media. I can put you in contact with the head of my media department, she'll help you learn how to deal with a camera in your face if you want to go that route. Otherwise, maybe some sort of press statement telling people to mind their own business or something."
Willy sighed, "Sorry - that's really not my area. The paparazzi scares the Skittles out of me."
Veronica smiled at him, "The great Willy Wonka admits there's something he's not good at? Yikes! Isn't that the sign of the end of the world?"
"Aren't you just the comedian."
"In either case, I'm not going to let your name get dragged in the muck because of Victor. I'll fight to the death to keep that from happening," she said fiercely.
"I don't think things are going to go to those lengths - but the thoughts are appreciated. Maybe there's a way to turn this whole thing on it's ears that we're just not seeing yet. It's not like you can just challenge him to a duel to the death or anything."
There was a knock at the door. Willy shot up with a cheerful, "I got it! Me! Me! Me! Mine!"
He left her staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression on her face.
--
Cavenaugh sighed, closing the door to the chaos outside his home office. His wife's family was visiting from out of town and as much as he enjoyed their company in short doses, he was more than happy to slip away for a bit to the relative peace and quiet of his office.
He logged into the Scotland Yard database of previous cases to follow up on his hunch from a few days before. The haunted expression and scars on Veronica Carmichael added up to a victim of a previous crime.
With thick fingers more used to physical labor than typing on a keyboard, he entered her name and hit return. The progress bar said it was working, but thanks to the fact that all they could afford was dial-up on an honest cop's salary, it would be a few minutes before anything would come up.
Cavenaugh leaned back to stare at the ceiling, tossing a small ball made up of rubber bands from hand to hand.
The unofficial word from a buddy of his stateside managed to dig up some interesting tidbits on Victor Brahm. Born in Hell's Kitchen (Noo Yawk), he was a college drop-out who sheer will had managed to build a fairly successful catering business with offices in Los Angeles, New York, Houston, Chicago and Miami with an international office in London. There had been one or two reports of unfair business practices and Victor taking the credit for some jobs he hadn't done, but nothing really consistent until Carmichael came up.
Once the news that she and Wonka were linked hit the news, suddenly more calls were pouring in from more of previous employees making claims that Brahm had sexually harassed them, stolen their work and threatened them. One person even claimed that after threatening to go to the cops, they had been taken out back behind the dumpsters and viciously beaten.
Brahm was in a heap of trouble, and Cavenaugh had the sinking suspicion that he was trying to throw up as much of a legal smokescreen as possible. Bad news was, frivolous as they were, his countersuits still took precious time and energy. It could take years for the case to actually go to trial.
The computer beeped and Cavenaugh sat up to scan the page.
Damn, I hate it when I'm right, he thought sadly.
He glanced through the case history; she was just a kid when this happened.
Victim, aggravated rape, attempted murder…the list went on. He read with a sick feeling in his gut her testimony of how her attacker had kept her locked in his parent's basement and tortured her for two days before dumping what he had thought her lifeless body. Cavenaugh looked over the hospital pictures, seeing the shattered cheekbone underneath the spectacularly red and purple puffed skin; the split lip and the sliver of brilliant colored eye staring blankly at the camera from the ruins of her face. He focused on the pictures of her hands, blistered, blackened and the flesh warped from grabbing the hot poker.
She must have had to wear pressure gloves for years to keep her hands functional.
Cavenaugh forced himself to read though the testimony and the conclusion of the case. He then typed in the name of the convict in prison for attacking her and read with satisfaction that he had been killed in prison. Too good for scum like that.
She was a survivor – she'd faced greater adversity than that scum Brahm. He hadn't known what he was going up against when he picked her to try and move on.
It was a mark in her favor in his eyes. If she was brave enough to face down her attacker in court and damn him with her testimony, she'd easily be able to do the same with Victor Brahm.
Cavenaugh logged off with a grim smile. Especially when someone like Wonka has a vested interest in what happens to her and gives her all the support she needs.
He reflected on his impression of them in both interviews. Wonka was solicitous and obviously protective of her, and he had the feeling that her own resolve was like an iceberg – 99 beneath the surface. He could also sense the love between them, even if they weren't aware of it at the time. She'd fight like a mother bear if Brahm attempted to hurt Wonka in any way.
Satisfied with his homework, Cavenaugh shut off the computer. He had a good feeling about this case – it would go to trial and the bad guy would get what was coming to him.
Opening the door, he grabbed his youngest boy in a bear hug as the lad sprinted by. The boy screeched and giggled as his father tickled him and roared into his belly. The ugliness of the past hour faded as Cavenaugh concentrated on playing with his son. This was his life here and now. Time to put the rest on hold for now.
--
Willy and Veronica quickly polished off the sumptuous late lunch. Thick turkey sandwiches on home-made multi-grained bread piled with lettuce, tomato, cranberry sauce and mayonnaise and a surprise bite of cheddar and apple hidden in the meat. Tall glasses of milk topped off the perfect meal.
"Gigi really knows how to treat us right," Willy sighed, dabbing his mouth with the provided napkin.
Veronica nodded. She had only been able to eat about half of her sandwich before her complaining stomach intervened.
"Care to take a short walk to let our stomachs settle?" Willy offered. "I'm afraid that if I sit here after that I'm going to slip into a coma."
Veronica agreed, "How about the roof? Sometimes I feel like I can't remember what season it is."
Willy nodded and they both took a moment to stretch before Veronica grabbed her coat. Slipping it on, she asked, "How about you? Don't you need something?"
He smiled at her, "Ah, my dear. One of the many advantages to dressing in layers – eccentric as it might be perceived to many – it that it is also easily adaptable to a multitude of climates. Besides, after that little fiasco to the police station, I had to burn my coat."
She laughed, "Now I have an idea for what to get the man who has everything."
The large flat roof was covered with about four inches of snow that creaked and crackled under their feet. They paced around the central dome that covered the Chocolate Room. It was impossible to see inside due to the thick frost. The light lit their path and they strolled arm in arm enjoying the silence of the night and each other's company.
"You see most of the buildings there? I bought most of them right before I ended up closing down the factory. I thought that was where my competitors were spying on me from. By cutting off the opportunity for them to peek in, I had hoped that would be the last time my recipes got stolen." Willy said, "So much for that idea – I had no idea the rot was from within."
Veronica snuggled closer, "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I wish I could have been there to help you feel better."
"Hearing you say that does make me feel better."
They walked on in silence. Finally Willy drew them to a stop and pointed to one building that sat just across the street from where they stood, "See that bank of windows there? That's the apartment I wanted to recommend to you."
Veronica shrugged, "It certainly is close. I won't be able to say for sure until I get a chance to see inside."
"Oh, Come on! I'll change it to however you want it to be," he wheedled.
"Willy," she said in a warning tone.
"Fine! Fine. I'll be the unreasonable landlord and say, "No! No changes! Not even heat or running water!" There might be a raving band of luddites out there who may want to rent it instead."
"Thank you."
"But, only because it's you."
"Right."
"Can we go in now? I'm losing feeling in my nose." Willy pleaded, snuggling closer and shivering.
"Yes, only if you'll let me nurse you back to normal," she purred, running her hand under his coat and up his back.
He coughed in surprise at her cold hand, "Ohho! One of those types of nurses are you?"
"Only if you want me to."
"In that case – Nurse Veronica, I am feeling distinctly chilled and need your tender mercies to bring me back to the full flush of health."
"Well then, Mr. Wonka, let's get you back inside and into a hot bath with my personal touch and a nice massage to follow. How does that sound?"
"Woo-Hoo!"