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'm beginning to wonder if anyone is reading anymore – no matter, I write because this story needs to get told. Shout outs only help the process along and may get a guest appearance in the tale. – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 39
Veronica awoke the next morning and slipped from the warmth of Willy's arms as stealthily as possible. He mumbled once and flung himself bodily over the pillows she had positioned to take her place. She took a moment to admire him; the bare pale skin gleaming like the finest marble in the morning light, the soft swells that defined his muscles at rest, the dark tousled mop of deep auburn hair that stuck up in a multitude of directions contrary to his every-hair-in-place persona while awake. She loved the softest shade of pink of his lips, relaxed and slightly parted with slight puffs of air and the incredible long dark lashes that shadowed his cheeks. It just wasn't fair that someone so masculine could have eyelashes that supermodels would maim an assistant over.
She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and he sighed a bit deeper before clutching the pillows tighter.
Dressing quickly, Veronica tip-toed out of the room as quietly as any ninja and closed the door with aching slowness. Now that she was recovered from her over-exertion, she was back to being an early bird, no use making her lover suffer from her inability to sleep.
She made her way down to her room to shower and dress for the day. Her first task would be to contact Cavenaugh to ask what the progress of the case was. The second was to find Willy's media expert.
Veronica had a plan.
Brushing her teeth, she contemplated the long mop of hair that still hung heavy to the middle of her back. It was too long for the messy bun she had been so used to – she'd have to figure out something else for the time being. She spat the foam into the sink and gave herself a good hard once over. To make her plan work, some changes would have to be made.
She dressed carefully in the one pair of nice slacks and button up shirt that she had selected in her whirlwind spree. The boots were a little rough, but would have to do. She actually took a few moments to apply make-up before giving her hair a quick braid and tucking it up with a spare pencil. Still heavier than she was used to but not threatening to fall apart either. It'll suffice, she decided.
She grabbed her messenger bag and headed up to Willy's office.
The mess seemed to be a bit tidier than the last time she was there, but then again, maybe she was just getting used to it. Veronica dug out the phone from under a stack of inventory sheets, carefully replacing them on the visitor's seat before dialing. Being rerouted through the switchboard took a few minutes, through which she amused herself by finding a few spare sheets of Soduku to solve while listening to the bad 70's music that constituted being on hold.
"Cavenaugh," answered the detective's gruff voice.
"Detective! It's Veronica Carmichael," she jumped slightly, guiltily dropping the sheet she'd been working on.
"Ms. Carmichael. Good to hear from you. I suppose you're looking for an update?"
"Yes, please."
"First, I'd like to ask you a question," there was the sound of shuffling paper, "Why didn't you disclose that you were the victim of a previous crime when we first spoke?"
Veronica froze, ice water suddenly running through her veins.
"I wasn't aware I was supposed to," she stuttered; sweat breaking out on her palms and face. What if they decided not to believe her because she hadn't?
"I looked up your name as a hunch. Looks like the ol' gut knows what it's doing when your name came back as a named victim in a case against Marcus Preacher," Cavenaugh's voice was still mild, but there was a hidden edge that had a wave of panic threatening to overwhelm her. Veronica held her hand over the mouthpiece as she started to hyperventilate.
No. I've fought past this. I'll not let it beat me again – not here and not now.
"Yes. I was involved in that case. However, it has no bearing on the present. I didn't disclose that information because I didn't think it was relevant. Was I incorrect?" she asked, surprising herself with how calm and reasonable her voice sounded despite how forced it may feel. Her lips felt numb and her fingers icy, but her voice hadn't betrayed her.
"No. I'm just wondering what else you may not have told me," Cavenaugh said.
"Nothing. Look Detective. Do you have an update or do you wish to interrogate me about the most terrifying and horrifying experience of my life?" she asked peevishly. Her anger pushed past the fear and made her strong.
"I apologize. I read through the file over the holidays and recognize what a formidable woman you are Ms. Carmichael. I was just wondering if Victor Brahm had any idea of this before he attempted to harass you?"
"I've done my level best to try and put that incident in my past, detective. I've made no mention of it to anyone I've previously worked for. Believe it or not, but I do maintain a standard for separation between my work and personal life," Veronica said stiffly.
Cavenaugh leapt on her slip, "Previously? So you have told Mr. Wonka then?"
Veronica flushed at the implication, "Not that it is any of your business, but yes. After our work contract concluded."
She could hear rapid scribbling in the background and felt her temper fraying.
"Just what did your work contract constitute, Ms. Carmichael?" he asked distracted.
"I need to clear that with the legal department before I answer that question Detective. I had to sign a confidentiality agreement before I started, but I will tell you that I was commissioned to make a spun sugar piece for Mr. Wonka," she said, dancing around the question. No way was she going to betray Willy's secrets.
"But that work had concluded, yet you still remain in the factory."
Veronica remained silent. It wasn't a question so she'd be damned if she would answer.
"Are you and Mr. Wonka involved in a personal relationship, Ms. Carmichael?" Cavenaugh asked bluntly.
"Is this going to get leaked, like my brother's wedding?" she shot back, infuriated.
"This is for my investigation. Nothing we discuss here will end up in the media."
"I want your word on that, Detective."
"Fine. You have it. So are you and Willy Wonka involved in a romantic relationship?"
Veronica sighed, this was the first of difficult questions she was going to be facing, so might as well face the problem head on.
"Mr. Wonka and I are romantically involved at the moment, yes," she sighed wearily. It felt strange to confirm it to the outside world, but if her plan was to take shape, this was only the first step in a line of many.
"When did this relationship begin?"
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. How was this relevant? "After I turned in my final work for his inspection on Christmas Eve. I did not feel it appropriate to address my personal feelings toward him until after my contract was up."
"I'm sorry to keep hammering this, but it does pertain to the investigation. So, just to be clear, you didn't engage in any personal relationship with Wonka while you were under his employ."
Mentally biting her tongue, she replied shortly, "That is correct."
Cavenaugh sighed, "Very good then. Now, as for the update to the investigation, Manning is pleading no contest and will get his day in court in about three weeks. If you wish to make an appearance, it's scheduled for 9 a.m. on Jan 12 down at the courthouse. Barring anything else happening he'll get his three years for arson and get released in about two and a half on good behavior. This is also barring anyone else coming forward to file charges…"
"Anyone else?"
She could hear the cynical grin on the grizzled detective's face from over the phone, "Yes. Apparently, this is not the first time that Manning claims that Brahm hired him to lean on an uncooperative ex-employee. There have been several other people stepping forward when the news broke of his arrest."
Veronica's mood greatly lightened with that news – others were taking her lead and taking a stand against the brute.
"On top of that – you may be required to make a trip over the pond to the colonies to California."
Taken aback, Veronica said, "I beg your pardon?"
"The Yanks are building a racketeering case against Brahm as well. I'll keep the details sparse as it's not my field or my investigation, but I will tell you that you are considered the primary witness against Victor Brahm and most likely will be called upon to testify against him in American court," Cavenaugh said. She imagined that he must look like a cat that had gotten into the cream.
"Dear lord!" she breathed, she'd never dreamed that things would turn out this way.
Willy was right – more than right. Under those circumstances, Victor was a dangerous man to her.
"Thank you Detective. I appreciate you taking me into your confidence. I'll keep this to myself," she said, finding a post it with only a few hearts scribbled on it and writing the court date on it with a purple pen.
"Between you and your boyfriend – I think you can count on him to stick by your side for support," Cavenaugh surprised her with a chuckle. "Frankly, you two remind me of me and my missus when we were young."
Blushing, Veronica said, "Thank you…I think."
"Keep in touch miss. Thank you for your help. Good luck!" Cavenaugh said politely before hanging up.
That was surprising, she thought to herself. Cavenaugh had her confused, running hot and cold from moment to moment. Still, he seemed to be on her side again…for the moment.
She stuffed the court date in her pocket and dialed a new number.
The phone rang a few times before a machine picked up.
"You have reached the residence of Reginald Carmichael and Spencer Talbot, please leave your message at the beep." Reggie's deepest, most intimidating voice growled over the phone – the sullen menace sending a chill down her back.
Spencer of course could not let that lie though, "Unless you're from some media outlet, at which point you can go bugger off. Ta darlings!"
Veronica choked back a laugh at the new message, "Good morning boys. Just checking in for the day. I see you are already at work, so I'll ring you back tonight. I've got my eye on a couple of properties – one in particular. I'll let you know about it tonight. Love you much! Bye."
Hanging up, she chuckled for a moment before pushing herself to her feet. Time to go track down the Media whiz and see if they would be able to help her with her plan.
--
It was well past sunrise by the time that Veronica tracked down the Oompa Loompa she'd been looking for.
"Sherman! Do you happen to have a sec?" she called to the small dapper man chatting with a group of workers in line at one of the cantinas throughout the factory. This particular one was close to his office and she had a feeling she'd managed to catch him on a break.
Sherman made his farewells and came over to where she waited, "Sorry to interrupt."
He sipped at his mug of hot chocolate and waved off her apologies, "Do not worry. I was just catching up on gossip. What may I help you with Ver-Oni-Ka?"
"Willy mentioned that he had a Media Relations person. Do you happen to know who that is?"
Sherman looked a bit puzzled, "Yes. But what do you have to do with her?"
Veronica quickly explained the media interest and the Shaman's face cleared of confusion, "I see. Yes, perhaps it is time for you to meet L.A."
"L.A.? Is she an Oompa Loompa? That does not sound like one of your names…"
"L.A. is herself – I will let her tell you her tale. Come, I will show you the way," Sherman guided her down the hall to one of the waiting Wonkavators. She momentarily wondered how there always seemed to be one waiting around the corner when she needed one. Hey if she could accept whipped cream, coffee cream, strawberry cream and hair cream, why not a stalker Wonkavator?
Sherman indicated one of the buttons for her to push. She peered at the small print in the middle of the wall of buttons and read, "TV Room." Shrugging, she pushed the button.
"You might want to hold on – we're taking the route through the jawbreaker shooting gallery," Sherman warned, grabbing onto her pant leg.
"Jawbreaker Shooting….oh good lord," she swore softly, looping one of her arms through the velvet loop and bracing her feet. They swerved and dropped into what seemed like a ten second free-fall. A small yelp escaped her and Sherman giggled. "Sorry. Habit." He apologized.
They plunged into a huge cavern lit by flashes of bright colored light and explosions. The Wonkavator shook with the shockwaves and she could see guns on either side seemingly taking aim at the moving target that they presented.
"Wait, are they going to shoot at us?" Veronica asked, her voice rising in alarm.
"Standard practice really. Don't worry – we're careful shots," Sherman said.
An explosion rocked the Wonkavator from inches away, she screamed and threw herself back.
Bright flashes forced her to close her eyes and she huddled in the protective circle of her arms and prayed that they would arrive safely. Explosions made her ears ring and she knew that she was whimpering with fear.
Finally they drew to the end of the gallery, no worse for wear.
Sherman patted her leg reassuringly, "See? No harm, no foul. We practice to ensure that when necessary, we can defend our home with lethal force. The worst that would have happened would be the Wonkavator would crack a bit and we'd be knocked off the track to the factory floor."
Staring at Sherman and his blasé expression when talking about plummeting to their death she had to wonder, maybe this is how they deal with no longer living with life-threatening predators following them – they make up their own death-defying stunts.
"Let's not go this way again, please," Veronica said quietly, her face pale.
Sherman shrugged, "As you wish." Strange outlanders.
They came to a sedate stop and she gratefully jumped from the Wonkavator. Sherman indicated that she grab a pair of huge goggles to slip over her eyes. She did so as he selected one of the numerous smaller pair for himself. They entered the blindingly white room.
Veronica wondered for a moment if she had stepped from the factory to one of the various sets for Star Trek. The controls were all set up in a similar model and the ergonomics set up for the Oompa Loompas reminded her so strongly of the show that she unconsciously started humming the theme music under her breath. A huge screen dominated one wall and she knew it had to be based on the forward screen of the Enterprise
Sherman indicated that she should follow him to one of the doors on the far side of the room.
"You have the Comm, number one." She muttered with a snicker as she followed him, for the room in question was where the Captain's office would have been on the Next Generation – apart from everything being a glaring white.
They stepped into the room and Sherman indicated that it was safe to remove her goggles.
The room was a cramped office, stacks of newspapers and magazines reached to hip height in places and a Mac laptop computer rested on a normal sized desk.
What stunned Veronica was the woman sitting behind the desk.
"Good Morning Sher-Man-Ra, Ms. Carmichael – Welcome to the Media Department," she said in a rich alto voice.
L.A. was normal English sized. She stood about 5'2", about late twenties, with rich brown skin and sparkling black eyes. Her long black hair shone with blue highlights and was cut in a stylish bob around her sharp cheekbones. The woman was dressed in a sharp dark rose-colored suit with matching heels. She crossed her arms and bowed to Sherman.
Sherman returned the courtesy, "I leave her in your capable hands, L.A. See you tonight."
The smaller man left, leaving Veronica floundering in his wake. How was she supposed to work with this beautiful stranger? She suddenly felt cheap and underdressed in her Marks and Spencer sales-rack finery.
"Ver-Oni-Ka. Please sit. Tell me what brings you to my domain today." L.A. said, gracefully indicating a chair in front of the plain industrial steel desk. Unwittingly, she made Veronica feel more at home when she knocked a stack of newspapers from the chair in an attempt to make more space for her visitor.
"Sorry – I don't get many visitors back here," L.A. apologized. "I'm not exactly a clean freak."
"If you don't mind me asking, who are you? You have Oompa Loompa features, but you…"
"…Am about three and a half times taller than my father? Yeah...might as well get this out of the way." L.A. flung herself back into her seat and the chair groaned warningly. "Oh do shut up you old thing…anyway. My name is Llana Aloua or L.A. for short. I was one of the first of the tribe to attend school on the outside. I passed my competencies just fine in private testing and took one of Won-Ka's stretchy toffees to go to my first classes at the local University. Unfortunately, I had a bad reaction to the toffee and never went back down to my original size."
"I'm so sorry," Veronica said, slightly embarrassed at the personal information that L.A. chose to share.
"No biggie – I'm able to pass as normal on the outside and Won-Ka agreed to let me take the few occasional talking-head interviews for Wonka Industries. Dad's the one who's disappointed, but he's learned to accept me like this as well," L.A. said casually.
"Who's your father?"
"Oh, Sher-Man-Ra. He and mother say they are quite proud of me,"
Veronica adsorbed the information for a moment.
"Between us girls, I think Dad's just afraid I'm going to find a nice boy on the outside and take off. No worries there. I'm an old-fashioned girl at heart," L.A. said, smirking at the shocked expression on her face.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," Veronica coughed, embarrassed.
"No, thank you. As you can tell, I have no inner monologue."
Veronica laughed as L.A. cracked a wide smile - this was a woman she may like. Her open demeanor and frankness was refreshing.
"Now, as I understand it, you wish to do something about this press shit-storm that seems to have brewed up over Christmas. I've been monitoring the situation carefully and what started out as a rumor seems to be finding enough credibility to garner more legitimate inquiry outside the tabloids. If you wish to get involved, it would be wise to do so before too much longer," said L.A.
"I do want to get involved. Willy is afraid to face the media and I feel like this uproar is all my fault. If he hadn't taken me in after my apartment burned down, I doubt anything like this would have occurred," said Veronica sadly.
L.A. fluttered her hands and blew a raspberry, "Yeah, if wishes were cocoa beans, we'd be up to our ears. That's nonsense. This has been brewing for years thanks to Won-Ka's hesitancy to address the outside world. I want to know what started it all before I can help you."
Veronica explained in stark terms her previous working relationship with Victor and the resulting cascade of events that brought her to the factory.
"Yeah. I remember that footage – Won-Ka had me record a lot of the Food Network competitions looking for someone to hire. Now I know how that fit in. Victor looked like an asshole to me too, but the camera seemed to love him." L.A. mused, scribbling on a reporter's notebook.
"That's part of the problem. He networks better than he cooks and he used that against me. I want to hit him where it hurts," Veronica scowled.
L.A. crossed her long legs and looked at Veronica with curiosity, "What do you have in mind?"
She laid out her plan, conceived the night before out to the young woman. L.A. nodded thoughtfully and looked intrigued.
"Ooh. That's good – really good. I think I can help you." L.A. gave her an appraising stare. "Stand up – let's see what I'm working with here. You mentioned that your brother-in-law is a costume designer and your brother is a choreographer? They're probably going to need to get in on the plan."
Veronica stood and raised her arms to shoulder height before giving a slow twirl.
"Are you sure about this? Have you told Won-Ka what you're up to?" L.A. asked seriously.
Veronica nodded, determination set on her face, "This is something I can do for him. I wanted to make sure it was possible before talking to him about it. I get the feeling that he's going to try and talk me out of this."
The Oompa Loompa woman nodded, "I'll support you in your arguments. Even Won-Ka will have to admit this was coming for a long time. You're going to step up to be his champion in the public eye."
Veronica swallowed her fear and tilted her chin up proudly, "If that's what it takes, so be it."
L.A. nodded slowly and clapped her hands once with a decisive nod – impressed by Veronica's regal bearing, "Right. You've got good potential. I can get to work on you as soon as you're set…"
Veronica tripped over a pile of magazines and stumbled over yet another pile of newspaper trying to catch her balance, sliding to the floor and was quickly buried by the mountain of un-recycled paper.
L.A. grimaced, she'd known she had to clean out her office, but this was the utter limit.
She staggered to where the pale outlander floundered attempting to climb to her feet, "Com'on! Up you get."
There was work to be done.