At Crane’s house:

Ichy *sighing, to Kidd*  I understand.  I will do what I can for Kat and for the children.  *Hears a knock at the door*  Just a moment.  Nobody should know that I am at home ... *carefully and cautiously he peeks through the kitchen window and sees Ava with a blonde guy standing at the door, waiting.  He frowns, not knowing what to make of this, not wanting Kat or Kidd to see Ava, opens the door, goes out and shuts it again*  Yes, what is it?  Who is this?  *he eyes George suspiciously*

Ava *raising her eyebrow* Hello Ichabod this is George, George this is Ichabod all I want to do was to collective my things out of the attic. That's all I want Ichabod and then you can hate me as much as you want. George has came to help me with things.

George: *George looks at Ichy with some hatred he can’t see what Ava saw in him. To him Ichy just looks like a male pigeon when its chest is puffed up*  Hello Ichabod.

Ichy *with dignity, eyeing George with hostility*  You are welcome.  Please pick also up the panties you dropped on my floor.  And any other stray items you might have left overall my house.  You stay here and wait, George, was it?  *reluctantly opens the door so that Ava can slip in, then he bangs the door shut again.*  Hello, George.  And just where were you when she needed help?

Ava:  Sure whatever.  *slides into the house and upstairs.*

George *arms folded and sunglasses on, still hostile*  Well I could say the same about you Crane but we all know that you want what you cant have.  However I am here to help Ava unlike some people *taking his sunglasses off* now don't you go on about why I wasn't there because I didn't know they wouldn't tell me a thing because, of that twit she called a husband and that thing she called a friend did a runner on her.

Ichy *crosses his arms and snorts again*  I don't think that my personal matters are any business of yours.  It seems to me that she has found another bully for herself.  Poor woman.  *he shakes his head*  A bit too eager to jump the man who stands nearest at the moment, isn't she?  I would have at least awaited a thank for all I did for her.  Isn't it easy to play the hero afterwards, Georgie?

George *clinching his fists* I am no bully  *angrily and gets close to his face* do you really think you deserve a thank you Crane she was broken and tortured at that hospital after you left. While you go off seducing other women Crane, Ava was left to believe you were dead. Oh yes *shouts at him* DEAD *George calms himself down* for all that time you left her she was made to believe you were D-E-A-D. I hope that makes you want your little thank you even more. Listen here never speak of my Ava like that Ava is never eager to jump in with a man I believe she felt sorry for you that's all, sorry for a sad pathetic man who is scared of spiders. Oh it's my every right to know you speak of my girl like crap I speak to you like crap Crane. Oh yes and what a fine job you do too playing the hero the only hero you play is the one in your dreams. Now I didn't want to speak to you like that because Ava wanted to remain friends with you but the way you speak of her I am surprised she can even call you a friend, for some reason she kept mentioning Catharine I have no idea who she is but she said you would know. Ava spent a whole lot of time in that woods looking for that stupid herb you want for your stupid little spider killer.

Kidd:  Now don't ye both be sounding just like two junkyard dogs fightin' o'er the same .... pardon the expression … b****

At From Hell Court:

Maryann *looking after the car triumphantly*  They got him!  He killed my husband, and an another man.  He was not on duty, and they were not suspected of anything.  Just two completely innocent men representing a charity organisation.  *she wipes away a fake tear, it is long since she has been able to cry.*  Just a brutal killing. I am sure he was after the funds the charity had managed to raise in Deppville.  *a woman wraps her arm around her and leads her to the bar, orders her a drink, and soon a part of the crowd has moved in to the bar to listen to her tragic story*

Hanson *in the car, to show that while Donnie is in charge, he himself has been investigating this too, feeling rather important*  Inspector Abberline, you are also suspected of two murders and two attempted murders.

Abberline *glaring at Donnie and Hanson*  Get off these stupid handcuffs immediately and stop the car.  You have no authority to arrest me, especially on those stupid fake claims.  I am still your superior officer.  What was the meaning of that public show?  *ironically*  You even brought a reporter with you.  Are you both out of your senses?

Donnie *sighs*  Ordinarily, yes, you are my superior, but as for now you’re a suspect in a criminal investigation.  If I were 100% sure that you’d talk to me voluntarily I’d be glad to relieve you of those cuffs, but I’m not.  And that ‘public show” as you call it, saved your ass!  In case you didn’t notice that crowd were ready to hang you right then and there.  As for Miss Martin, she weren’t there as a reporter.  She’s familiar with dangerous situations and can handle a weapon, so I asked her to assist as we were outnumbered.  Any other questions?

At the Security office:

Manouche *lost in thought as the cab drives into town from Rartigillichal, finds they’re parked in front of the building in no time.  She pays DeNiro, hops out, enters the building, looking for an office marked with Donnie’s name*

Donnie *pulls up outside the Security Office and steps out of the car; he leads Abberline into what used to be Abberline’s office.*  Portsmith assigned the office for me, as far as I’m concerned that’s a temporary solution.  Once we get this thing sorted out, it’ll be your office again.  *Notices Manouche down the hall; to Hanson*  Keep him in here while I go talk to Manouche.  *Approaches her*  I take it you got my message … it doesn’t look good.

Manouche *raises eyebrows*  Wh-whatcha mean, mate?  What don’t look good, what’s goin’ on?  *she looks past him down the hall*  That were th’ Inspector an’ Officer Hanson, weren’t it?  An’ were th’ Inspector cuffed??  I don’t believe me eyes … *scowls as her anger flares*  What utter rubbish!  *looks at Donnie*  Ye know as well as I do that th’ Commander has ‘ad it in fer th’ Inspector since he married Kat.  Whatever bloody ‘investigation’ she’s cooked up is all jus' trumped-up charges, savvy?  I’d bet me last dollar she’s sendin’ ye an’ Hanson … *glances around* … an’ anyone else she’s dragged into this mess on a wild goose chase.  Poor Fred, I’ve got t’ talk to ‘im.  *she starts past Donnie to go to the office where Hanson took Abberline, then stops; turns to Donnie again, calmer*  Apologies, luv … I fergot yer message.  What is it ye wanted t’ discuss with me?

Donnie:  It’s alright, Manouche.  It wasn’t exactly a pleasure bringing him in, but I have to confront him with the evidence … when I first saw the file on him, my first instinct was that it was Portsmith’s work too, but then as I looked into it … *pauses, takes a deep breath as he digs into his bag and hands her the photographs and continues explaining while Manouche looks through them*  I took these to Mr. Svensson earlier and he claims that they’re real.  *Before Manouche has a chance to protest*  Now I realize that he could’ve been paid off by Portsmith and just told me whatever she wanted me to think, but I also found a bottle of absinthe and a small package with opium in his office.  That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.  Do you know if he’s slipped up?  Is he using again?  I’m hoping that it’s just leftovers, but I don’t know.  I honestly don’t know what to do here.  All the evidence says he’s guilty, but I find it hard to believe that Abberline would be on the take or that he would beat up some innocent woman.

Manouche *looks over the photos, shakes her head*  These can’t be real.  I don’t believe ‘em fer a minute.  Though I’ll grant, they’re expert work.  *pauses, thinks for a moment*  Donnie, mate, this jus’ ain’t possible.  Let’s start with th’ violence toward th’ woman.  There’s so much of th’ Victorian gent about Fred.  D’ye really think he’d go in fer such things?  *laughs*  Bloody ‘ell, he’s usually more in danger from th’ ladies, whether it be a slap from an unfortunate in From Hell Court, or far worse from Kat!  *laughs again, then her amusement fades as she shuffles through the pictures again*  Th’ Inspector’s done a lot o’ things in his time, but he’s always been on th’ up an’ up when it comes t’ police work, leastways as far as I’ve always known.  Sergeant Godley would’ve called ‘im on any misbehavin’ long before this.  They’re mates, but th’ Sergeant wouldn’t turn a blind eye on corruption, not even from his own flesh an’ blood, much less Abberline.  Takes it right seriously, he does.  *frowns, her face dark*  It’s highly interestin’ to me how Commander Portsmith were always most acceptin’ of th’ Inspector’s habits as long as he indulged in th’ name o’ investigatin’.  Then once th’ investigatin’ were over, an’ he needed assist with his addiction, all of a sudden there seemin’ly were no one on his side save Sergeant Godley.  Funny ol’ world, innit?  *she closes her eyes, concentrates for a moment, tries to get a feel for the state of Abberline’s health; everything she senses from him indicates that he’s stressed about his current situation, and that he’s perhaps been drinking and smoking more than he should, but she feels no hint of drug use.  She shrugs, hands the photos back to Donnie*  Insofar as I know, Donnie, I can assure ye that Inspector Abberline hasn’t returned t’ th’ dragon chase.  What ye found in his office were most likely residual, as ye suspect.  Might I suggest ye speak with Sergeant Godley about all this, show ‘im them photos.  Nobody’s kept better tabs on th’ Inspector than he.  Besides … his standin’ as a witness fer th’ defense would be a sight more powerful in th’ courtroom than th’ word of a filthy Gypsy pirate wench, savvy?  *smiles slightly*

Donnie *feeling more and more like a real jerk as he listens to Manouche; how could it even cross his mind that Abberline might be guilty of those things.*  You’re right, Manouche.  I don’t know how I could even for a second believe him capable of such things.  I suppose I got a little too excited about being back to work.  *Nods*  Yes, Godley would be the perfect person to turn to in this situation.  He knows Abberline well and no one could doubt his integrity.  *Hesitates*  Unfortunately, I still have to think like an investigator and find some sort of evidence besides testimonies from the Inspector’s friends … it’s enough for me, but it would never hold up in court or be enough to make Portsmith back off.  *Thinks of the photographs, remembers that they’re dated*  I’ll need to show the photos to Abberline; maybe he has witnesses that can say he was somewhere else at the time.  That’ll prove that they’re fake … *smirks a little*  And I’d love to hear Portsmith explain herself out of that one.

Manouche *puts a hand on Donnie’s arm*  Don’t be too hard on yerself, luv.  Nothin’ wrong with yer thinkin’, it’s sound fer an investigator.  Matter o’ fact, it’s good yer thinkin’ along them lines, ‘cause if th’ Inspector is t’ prove his innocence, he has t’ realize what he’s up against.  Better fer th’ first round o’ hard questionin’ to come from a mate rather than ‘ave him face off with th’ Commander, or someone else whose interest lies in trippin’ him up on his own words.  *pauses, thinking about the photographs and everything Donnie has told her*  All this so-called evidence … th’ Commander’s on a real rampage, ain't she?  It won’t be so easy t’ dissuade ‘er this time, like it’s been in th’ past.  Used t’ be, we could come up with some distraction, an’ she’d ferget everythin’ she were in the middle of, an’ off she’d go.  *shakes her head*  She’s like a spoiled child, really.  She’s –  *her voice trails off, she thinks for a few minutes*  A child … *she smiles*  Aye, it may buy us some time, at that.  *turns to Donnie*  I reckon I’ve done all I can ‘ere.  I ‘ave an idea that might help.  It won’t solve anythin’, though, so Fred needs t’ know he’s still got t’ get his side of th’ story in order.  All th’ facts, anythin’ that can corroborate his whereabouts an’ all.  *glances down the hall again*  Can I ‘ave a word with ‘im, or would ye rather I didn’t jus’ now?  I know ye an’ Hanson ‘ave yer work to do.  I’ll come back later if ye’d prefer.  Per'aps I should go find Kat.  She needs t' be aware of all this.

Donnie *nods with a concerned expression*  She has been very thorough … no wonder she didn’t even need time to consider employing me again.  *Angrily*  I bet she’s getting a real kick out of having me run around finding evidence against a friend.  *Calms down a bit, smiles a little*  I knew you’d come up with something even if doesn’t solve the issue … even buying us some time will be very helpful.  You can go and talk to him for a bit; he might be a bit more cooperative with me if you do.  Oh and if Hanson starts talking about proper procedures, send him my way.

Manouche *grins*  Ahh, Hanson’s workin’ a bit too much by th’ bloody books, ay?  Right, we’ll work ‘round all that.  Meantime, ye’d best continue in official capacity, keep th’ Commander believin’ that yer at ‘er service.  We’ll get it all sorted.  Best contact Godley soon, though, before th’ Inspector says or does somethin’ rash.  He ain’t known fer his patience.  *she turns, walks down to the office, peeks in the doorway, sees Hanson and Abberline*  Fred, mate … I heard about what ‘appened, jus’ wanted t’ stop in an’ offer support.  I’ll go find Kat after I leave ‘ere, I’m sure she’ll be by yer side in two shakes.

Abberline *to Hanson*  Of course I've been using them, you bloody idiot, why else should I have kept them at my office.  Pity you and your mate Brasco missed my laudanum.  It's right there.  *He points to the bookshelf with his head*

Hanson *turns around, unsure, fumbles with the books and to his consternation finds a small bottle.  He holds it in his hands when Manouche peeks in*  I am sorry, but you should not be here at all.

Abberline *his expression softening*  Manouche?  Have everybody gone utterly crazy or what is happenin here?  First an angry mob of imbeciles tried to attack me and then these two 'colleagues’ * he spits out the word* put handcuffs on me.  *glares at Hanson*

Manouche *comes to Abberline, puts a comforting hand on his shoulder*  Truth be told, luv, I’m not sure what’s ‘appenin’.  I wish I knew.  It would appear th’ Commander has a renewed an’ healthy vendetta against ye.  *smiles slightly*  Ye’d almost think ye’d turned pirate, from th’ way she’s comin’ after ye with both barrels, as it were.  *lowers her voice*  Me advice is t’ keep mum till ye can engage some legal counsel, savvy?  Or at least Sergeant Godley, who Donnie has assured me he’ll try an’ locate tout de suite.  *she turns to Hanson*  Jus’ wanted a word with th’ Inspector, mate, Donnie gave me permission.  *reminds herself that Hanson likes to do things by the rules; arches a brow at him*  Which reminds me, I presume ye’ve informed th' Inspector of his rights?  An’ ye’ve granted ‘im one phone call?  I hope ye’ve done all them things.  Blimey, I wouldn’t want t’ be in yer shoes if ye’ve missed such important procedures as those.  *looks at him sternly, turns and winks at Abberline*

Hanson *still feeling very unsure now that Donnie is not backing him up*  Oh.. er..  Yes, thank you.  I'll be back in a while then ... *rushes out of the room to find Donnie but he's nowhere to be seen.  There's only Charlie, reading his pirate wench magazines*  Charlie?  What's them rights one should read to an arrested suspect?

Charlie *cocks an eyebrow*  The rights?  They have no rights.  *shrugs*  Someone who has done wrong has no rights.  Why else would they be under suspicion?  We don't arrest any innocents.  *he returns to read a saucy story about a night in Tortuga*

Hanson *stands and looks at Charlie*  Oh ... I suppose it is so.  But …

Charlie *fed up with him*  Look, go and get the cell ready for your suspect if you don't have anything else to do.

Hanson *mutters*  Sure.  I am an officer, I know what to do ...

At the Wonkas’ factory:

Willy *thinks about all that LeRoi has just said; looks over at Madame, who is staring at the floor silently.  He remembers her face when she told him that.  Her calm voice when she spoke.  Her soft touch when she put a hand on his face.*  I felt like no one else knew me better.  Not even I knew myself that well.  I felt calm because at least someone knew.  *touches her hand*  And it made me fall in love all over again ....

Madame *smiles lightly*

LeRoi *nods*  Good.  Now, take a look at yourselves … *he waves toward one of the mirrors*  Now you look more like the couple we all saw in the newspaper articles, the ones about your wedding.  There’s the face of a man who encourages feelings of confidence and trust … whether dealing in big business, situations with children … or love and relationships.  *smiles at Willy*  Manouche said that underneath that impatient exterior is a generous, caring man who’s perhaps his own worst critic.  *looks at them both, nods again*  So far, so good.  Shall we continue?

Willy *takes Madame's hand*  One moment.  *he lowers his head to hers and gives her a light kiss, then presses his forehead against hers*  I love you. 

Madame *smiles*  I love you too.  *she kisses him again*  Now come on, let's continue.

Willy *nods and turns back to LeRoi*  Okay.

LeRoi:  Excellent.  One minute, please.  *he takes out his cell phone, punches in a number, leaves the room; returns after about ten minutes*  Our next exercise involves the competitive spirit.  *he takes Willy and Madame to a small table with four chairs, has them sit down next to each other*  We’ll have a little assist with this.  *he walks over to the door, opens it, waves a hand*  You may bring him in now.  *an oompa enters, accompanied by a small boy, about eight years old, with pale blond hair, wearing large glasses and a suit.  LeRoi hands a cocoa bean to the oompa, who nods and leaves the room.  LeRoi shuts the door, leads the boy over to the table*  Mr. and Mrs. Wonka, I’d like to present Oliver Sarmy.  *looks at the boy*  Oliver, I don’t have to tell you who the Wonkas are, I’m sure.

Oliver *very respectfully*  Oh no, sir, I know who they are.  *walks over to Willy and Madame, holds a hand out to shake with Willy, nods at Madame*  You’re the chocolatiers, I love your products!  *Willy shakes hands with him, looking flattered, and Madame smiles her charming smile*

LeRoi:  That’s right.  *he motions Oliver to a chair, has him sit at the table across from Willy; looks at Willy and Madame*  Oliver here has a very unique talent, himself.  He’s a world champion … he’s a master of the international thumb war competitions, a three-time winner in his division.  Knowing Mr. Wonka’s penchant for thumb war, I thought this would be a prime opportunity to work on honing patience and good sportsmanship.  *glances at Willy*  Very important qualities as your children grow, and you start to engage in games with them.  *he takes a stop-watch from his pocket, looks at Willy, then Oliver*  Both of you take your time, get comfortable, and when you’re ready, say the word and I’ll start the time.  *smiles*  And may the best man win.

Madame *breaks into a fit of giggles*

Willy:  Are you serious?  *he looks at Oliver, then sighs and prepares his hand*  Alright ... uh … okay, let's do this.

Oliver *nods, prepares, looks at Willy*  Ready?  One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!  *they struggle for a moment, then Oliver wins.  He looks at Willy again*  You get to call it this time.

Willy *glares at his loss, grunts, then prepares again*  Alright.  No one beats Willy Wonka at thumb war.  *he sets his hand down again and again they prepare*  One two three four I declare a thumb war!!  *another struggle goes on, this time for a little bit longer, but again Oliver wins.  Willy hits the table in anger*  Darn it!!!  Three outta five!

Oliver:  Just a minute, sir.  *he reaches in a pocket, takes out a stick of chewing gum, unwraps it, puts it in his mouth.  He chews for a moment, then smiles*  Okay, I’m ready.  *he positions his hand, chewing the gum loudly*

LeRoi *glances at Madame, who looks worried about the gum-chewing; they both look at Willy anxiously*

Willy *watches in visible disgust at Oliver.  Finally stands up*  That's it.  I give up.  No way.  *he starts to walk away*

Madame *darts over to Willy and steps in front of him*  Willy, come now, this is supposed to help you.

Willy:  No.  No.  *points at Oliver*  THAT is DISGUSTING.  I'm not doing that exercise anymore.  *he turns to LeRoi*  No.  I refuse.

Madame:  Willy ... come on.

Willy:  NO!

LeRoi *comes up to Willy and Madame, speaks quietly so Oliver can’t hear*  Now Willy, we can stop if you like, but keep in mind … someday, you may need to exercise patience and understanding in case one of your own children becomes a … gum-chewer.  *smothers a grin*

Oliver *watches them curiously, stands up, walks over to Willy’s side, pulls on his coat*  I’m sorry, Mr. Wonka, that was bad manners.  *reaches in his pocket, finds another stick of gum, holds it up for Willy*  I forgot to offer you some.  Here.  *looks at Madame*  I have some for you too, Mrs. Wonka, if you want.  *smiles*

Madame *scrunches her nose*

Willy:  We're done with this exercise, Mr. LeRoi.

LeRoi:  As you wish.

Oliver *looks up at LeRoi*  Did I do somethin’ wrong?

LeRoi *shakes his head*  No, son, it’s all right.  Come on, I’ll take you back to your parents.

Oliver *nods, removes the empty wrapper from his pocket, spits the gum in it; sees a small wastepaper basket at the end of the room, tosses the paper, it lands neatly in the basket.  He looks at Madame, bows slightly*  G’bye, Mrs. Wonka.  *shyly*  You sure are pretty.  *turns to Willy, takes his hand*  G’bye, sir.  *leans closer, whispers*  I’m sorry, I shoulda let you win.  *he grins, walks to the door*

LeRoi *joins him at the door, turns to Willy and Madame*  I’m going to get Oliver back to his parents.  I’ll be back in a little while.  We’ll call it a day, and start again tomorrow with another round of exercises if you’re both still keen.  You’ve made some fine progress today.  *smiles, puts a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, takes him out of the room*

Willy:  He's a fine boy, don't get me wrong, Kim.

Madame:  I know, darling.  The gum and the thumb wars combined was a bit extreme.  But take it easy next time.  Take a deep breath and speak softly.  We'll still listen just the same.

Willy *smiles, wraps his arms around her waist and nods*  You're right. 

Madame:  As always.  *Willy smirks and kisses her*

LeRoi *listening outside the door, smiles to himself, murmurs*  Yes!  Well done!  *he looks down at Oliver, who’s watching him, puzzled.  He crouches down, speaks to him in a whisper*  C’mon, my boy, we’ll stop for ice cream before I take you to your parents.  *he takes Oliver downstairs, they leave the factory*

Oliver *silent as they walk for awhile, then as they approach the Deppy Queen ice cream shop, he turns to LeRoi*  Are Mr. an’ Mrs. Wonka gonna be okay?

LeRoi *nods*  I think they’re going to be fine.  You were a big help.  *they approach the counter*  Order anything you want.

Oliver:  Good, I wanna get that gum taste outta my mouth.  I hate gum.  It’s like … crummy candy that won’t go away.  How come you wanted me to chew gum?

LeRoi *laughs*  Just part of the exercise, lad, all in a day’s work.  It was extreme, but I’m happy to say Willy and Madame came through it with flying colors.  *he thinks about what Oliver said*  ‘Crummy candy that won’t go away’ … I’ll have to tell that to the Wonkas later, they’ll appreciate that description …