Your Wish Come True revised Chapter 22 Good Grief
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Your Wish Come True (revised): Chapter 24 - Investigations free porn video
Your Wish Come True
by Pol Roger
Chapter 24
Investigations
An ally is enlisted and sides are taken
THE fit-looking man sat on the padded bench, gazing intently at the
painting on the wall.
"Guess who?"
Mandy had reached around from behind and clamped her hands over his eyes.
"You really should know better than the sneak up on a former soldier with
PTSD," he replied calmly.
"You don't seem to be panicking," Mandy countered, releasing his eyes and
plonking herself heavily beside James McLean.
"That's because I assumed you'd be doing something like that. Ye learn to
be a good judge of character in the army," he explained.
"Are you saying you think I'm predictable?" Mandy teased. "Or am I a bad
character?"
"No, never predictable," James assured her. "Quite the opposite, in fact.
And it's not my place," he deadpanned, "to comment on the character of my
esteemed employers." He cast Mandy a sideways look, his features softening
into a smile when Mandy burst into giggles.
"So, which one are we looking at?" Mandy enquired, looking at the
paintings on the gallery wall. "Or were you just pretending to look at
pictures while you waited for me to surprise you?"
"That one there. 'The Fighting Temeraire.' We had a framed print of it in
the school library when I was a wee lad. I always liked it. It's by
Turner," James explained. "The big warship there," (he pointed it out)
"that's the "Temeraire". It fought at Trafalgar, and now it's being towed
up the river to be broken up.
"See the tug?" James continued, "It's steam-powered, so it represents the
new era that's left the age of sail-and I suppose, heroic deeds-behind and
redundant. See the billowing smoke and demonic flames pouring out of the
chimney-stack? It looks very sinister, d'ye ken? It's pulling the noble
sailing ship to its doom. It's like an old soldier, eh? Done its job and
ready for the scrap-heap," James concluded stoically, a slight smile at
the corner of his mouth.
"Well you're not ready for the scrap-heap, at any rate," Mandy reassured
him, giving his hand a squeeze.
She knew the painting well, and had visited it many times over the years,
here in the National Gallery. But she was enjoying letting James McLean
explain it to her, and was touched at how he related to it so personally.
"No," he agreed, smiling, allowing himself to squeeze Mandy's had in
return.
"And you're really not that old," Mandy added comfortingly.
James let out a short chuckle. "So are ye going to tell me what this is
all about?"
"It's a matter of some delicacy," Mandy said, becoming serious and
reiterating what she had already told James on the phone the day before
(although the phrase sounded somewhat incongruous on her lips). "And
urgency," she added. "It's really crowded here, isn't it?" Indeed it was,
the Saturday gallery crowd seeming to grow by the minute. "Do you think we
could go somewhere a bit more private? Actually, I'm starving. Can we get
something to eat?"
#
MANDY had got up early, hoping to avoid Paul and Emma (Teresa was already
up and busy setting up for breakfast). But after a quick glass of orange
juice, Mandy headed out for a short run, jogging down the street and
around Eaton Square, then back up and around the corner to the gym at the
Sheraton Hotel. After an hour or so, she felt she had blown away the
cobwebs enough to return to the apartment.
"Morning, Mandy," the porter called as she came in.
"Morning, Kamal," Mandy greeted the weekend porter as she rushed by, a
little breathless, "Can't stop. You well?"
She let herself in and, as she expected, saw that Emma and Paul were now
up and having breakfast in the breakfast area at the far end of the
apartment.
She called out, "Morning!" as she headed straight downstairs to shower.
Drying her hair and dressing quickly, Mandy hastily applied some light
makeup and came back upstairs, heading for the front door.
"Bye!" she called, hoping to escape without any fuss. She had no such
luck, however, as Emma had heard the bedroom door and her footsteps as she
crossed the atrium below.
"Hold on! Where are you off to?" she called, already coming down the
gallery towards the entrance hall.
"Nowhere. Just out for a bit," Mandy called back.
"That's not good enough," said Emma. "I need to know where you are at any
given time," she added in a quieter voice, glancing for a moment to check
that Paul wasn't overhearing her.
"I'm going to the National Gallery if you must know. Is that allowed?" she
said somewhat acerbically.
"Oh." Emma was a bit taken aback. "Well, umm, I suppose there's nothing
wrong with that. Are you felling better?" she added, concern in her voice.
"Yes, fine," Mandy replied, softening. "Thanks." She headed for the door.
"Got to go. Bye."
"Wait, who are you ..." Mandy heard Emma calling after her as the front
door closed behind her.
Mandy ran down the street towards Sloane Square. She caught the tube to
Embankment Station, walking briskly up towards Trafalgar Square. The day
was warm but cloudy, and it began to sprinkle. She opened her folding pink
umbrella and held it aloft as she made her way through the throng (despite
the rain) of tourists and sightseers, past Nelson's Column (giving a
little wave to the nearest of the four enormous bronze lions at its base),
straight towards the unmistakable portico of the National Gallery at the
top of the vast open square.
Once inside, she headed down the entire length of the gallery to the
furthest room, as arranged.
She saw James immediately, sitting side-on to her on one of the benches,
looking straight ahead at some painting. It's funny to see him dressed in
casual clothes, she reflected.
Keeping close to the walls, she entered the room and crept as
inconspicuously as she could, until she was directly behind him. She moved
toward him cautiously ...
#
"MMM, but this is scrumptious!" Mandy declared as she tucked in to her
plate of poached egg with crispy bacon and "smashed" avocado on toasted
Turkish bread. James murmured his agreement as he swallowed his own
mouthful and took a sip of coffee.
"How is everyone at Beckley Hall?" Mandy enquired. "How's Mrs Wassam? Mr
and Mrs Diggory? The little Diggories? Dear Jeremy? Has Lady Harriet been
around?"
"We're all very well, thank you, Miss Mandy," James answered patiently.
"Better drop the "Miss", don't you think?" Mandy commented, still chewing.
"Protocol has broken down, if you ask me, under the circumstances."
"Alright ... Mandy. Go on, then," James acquiesced, leaning back in his
chair.
"You agree!" Mandy was surprised. "I thought you'd put up more of a
fight."
James shrugged his shoulders. "I agree for now. Besides, I'm off-duty."
Mandy smiled appreciatively. "I'm really grateful to you for seeing me so
promptly. I'm not sure how you're going to take what I have to say."
"Don't worry about me," James reassured her. "I'm glad to have the chance
for a weekend in town. Now, why don't you just tell me what the problem
is, and how I can help."
"You'll think this is mental." Mandy paused and wiped her mouth with her
napkin. "Where to begin? Emma doesn't know I'm seeing you, by the way."
"I sort of got that impression already," James concurred.
"But she knows what I'm going to tell you. She agrees with what I'm going
to propose. Or, she would if she knew. I think."
James waited.
Mandy took a deep breath.
"You remember that night? The terrible news? About Derek ... about Emma's
father?"
"I do. Last Wednesday night." James hesitated, then added, very seriously,
"Would you prefer that I didn't remember? Is that what this is about?"
"What? No! God, no!" Mandy exclaimed in surprise. This was proving harder
than she had expected. "No, of course not. And thank you again for being
so nice to me." She flashed a smile, but she was beginning to fidget with
her hands.
"So, anyway," she continued, "there are circumstances-that I can't mention
right now-that make us think, or suspect, that the body that was
discovered is not Derek Ross." Mandy waited for James" reaction.
After a significant pause, he let out a sigh.
"You don't believe me," Mandy said deflated.
"No, it's not that," James began, carefully. "I'm not dismissing what
you're saying. But I need a wee bit more to go on. I mean, it's quite a
statement, you have tae'admit."
"Alright, then," Mandy leaned forward and spoke in a lower voice, "just
listen. The body was found near Battersea Bridge, which is not that far
from where Derek lived. The police suspect suicide-I'm sure you picked
that up. The body was very decomposed. No face. No hands. There won't be a
formal identification. Not by anyone."
"They identified it with DNA. That's pretty conclusive," James offered.
"And that's what we-I-need you for. We need to somehow find out: was the
DNA identification correct? Can we rely on it?"
James paused for a while before he spoke again. "And how am I supposed to
check that? I don't know anything about forensics-or DNA science, or
anything like that. And how would I go about checking it, even if I did?"
James asked, not dismissively, but genuinely baffled. "Perhaps you should
be thinking about a private investigator. Have you mentioned this to the
police?"
"We can't say anything to the police," Mandy said, vaguely. "I'm sorry,
there are things I can't tell you. It's not that I don't trust you, really
it isn't." She reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "But the reasons
are good ones. I know it's not much to go on, but you have to trust me."
"So. What are you proposing?" James was becoming a little exasperated.
"Well," Mandy began, "is there some way you could ask questions, without
arousing suspicion. Could you, you know, somehow look at the body. Take
some notes. I know! You could take some pictures!"
"Och! Take pictures of a decomposed corpse! That's a bit over the top,
especially coming from a wee girl!"
Mandy seemed completely deflated. "I suppose you're right. I just thought
we might spot some clues, some inconsistencies. But listen, this is the
thing: the body was supposedly in the water for over three weeks. If this
person committed suicide by jumping off a bridge close to where he
lived-assuming if you like that it's Derek Ross-why was it still in the
same place three weeks later? Why didn't the tides and currents carry it
down the river?"
"I see what yer driving at. But there could be many explanations. He
weighed himself down, for example. Ye'd do that, if ye were trying to top
yersel', would ye no'? Or he was snagged on something in the river. What
does the coroner's report say?"
"The coroner's report isn't done yet," Mandy stated. "But going back: even
if the body is weighed down-that would ensure drowning (obviously) but the
current would still carry it some distance. It always does."
"Ye sound very certain, but how d'ye know?" James challenged. "It sounds
plausible, but it might not always be the case."
"I just know. And it is always the case. You can check with the River
Authority," Mandy countered. (Derek had dealt with several cases where
bodies had been recovered from the river.) "But, I suppose it could have
been snagged ..." Mandy was beginning to sound uncertain.
"This is not normal butler work, ye know," James broke the silence that
had followed Mandy's last remark.
"I just thought, well, you've seen dead bodies, haven't you? You'd notice
things. You wouldn't be put-off. And you're, like, resourceful." Mandy was
beginning to get emotional. "I'm sorry," she said eventually, "I was wrong
to put you in this position. You probably think I'm off my head. I wish I
could tell you why I think it's not ... Derek. Then you really would think
I'm mental!"
James was silent for a while. "You say that Miss Ross shares your
suspicions?" he probed.
"Yes," Mandy answered hesitantly, "-to a degree," she clarified. "We've
talked about it. There are a lot of things that don't add up."
"I would think a family member would have the most chance of being allowed
to view the body. Even if it is in a bit of a state," James postulated.
"You're right, of course!" Mandy declared. "Why didn't I think of that?"
But I could never ask that of Emma, she told herself.
"I'm not sure that would work out, though," Mandy said aloud, after
hesitating.
James McLean sat for a while frowning. "I really don't know how I can be
of much help, but I can do as ye ask. I can try and find out some things.
Sort of play it by ear. But I'll need to know where he's being kept-the
morgue or wherever."
"It's the Westminster Public Mortuary, in Horseferry Road," Mandy
answered. "The case falls under the Westminster Coroner's Court. Does that
help?"
"It's a start," James replied. "I won't be able to do much over the
weekend, though. I'll bide in London a wee while longer."
"Do you have somewhere to stay? I'd like to invite you to stay with us,
but I don't want to tell Emma I've been talking to you unless there's
something to report. Can I put you up in a hotel?"
"Dinna fash yersel," James replied. "I'm already staying at the Army and
Navy Club. It's quite close by."
"The Army and Navy? In Pall Mall?" Mandy spluttered. "Good for you!"
"Aye," said James. "Some lads from the regiment got me signed up as soon
as they learned I was in gainful employment."
"And because you won the Military Cross," Mandy ventured.
"Ye know about that, d'ye? I wouldna say I won it, but anyway, they gave
it to me. And I suppose this is the only time it's done m'anae guid."
#
THE sense of optimism Mandy felt when she left James began to dissipate as
she mounted the steps to the apartment. She slid her thumb on the scanner
and entered the flat with some trepidation. Voices were coming from the
living room, and Mandy recognised the third voice immediately.
"Peter!" she cried, rushing to him and giving him a hug. "Hello, Paul,"
she added, seeing him sitting with Emma on the sofa. He was looking rather
glum. "Still here?"
"Peter popped over to say hello," Emma explained. "He was a bit
disappointed you weren't here, weren't you, Peter?"
"Why didn't you give me a call? I'd have come back sooner," Mandy
insisted.
"We tried, but you didn't answer," said Emma.
"Really?" She looked in her bag. "Oh, I don't think I had my phone with
me. I must have left it behind. I hope I haven't lost it," Mandy
explained.
"Well, you need to be more careful in future," Emma lectured, "It's very
important you're not out of reach. Especially when you're out on your
own."
Paul was looking rather bemused.
"So, how was the National Gallery?" Emma asked. "What did you go to see?"
"Turners," Mandy answered, sitting down next to Peter, "and it was very
crowded."
"Dad always loved Turner," Peter commented. There was an awkward silence
for a few moments.
"Sorry I wasn't here when you arrived," Mandy said to Peter. "Can you stay
for dinner?"
"Peter said he was about to leave, didn't you, Peter?" Paul piped up.
"I was, but now you're back I think I'll stay a bit longer. If that's
alright,"
"Of course it is! So, you will stay for dinner? I'll make you chocolate
souffl?s. All of you," Mandy added, less enthusiastically, glancing at
Paul and Emma.
"Actually, I'm about to give Paul a lift home," Emma demurred. "We might
have a bite together on the way. How are you getting home, Peter? Is Mum
coming?"
"We'll call a mini-cab," Mandy chipped in. "There, it's all arranged. You
two needn't worry about us."
Emma gave Peter a hug before she and Paul left, saying she'd see him soon.
Paul shook Peter's hand rather gruffly. He left with Emma, casting a quick
look at Mandy, but otherwise ignoring her.
"So that's Emma's boyfriend," Peter observed. "Bit of a wanker, isn't he?"
"Totally," Mandy agreed. "I thought he was nice at first. I've really gone
off him lately, though. To be honest, I'm a bit worried for Emma. She
seems to be totally into him."
"I don't think he likes you very much, either," Peter mused. "When I asked
for you he seemed rather miffed."
Mandy felt a slight thrill when Peter said this.
"He kept looking daggers at me," Peter continued. "He started asking how
well I knew you and for how long."
"What did Emma say?" Mandy asked, concerned.
"He only did it when Em was out of earshot, getting drinks or something.
That's pretty creepy, don't you think? Do you think we should we tell
Emma?"
"Well I can't, anyway. She already thinks I flirted with him."
Peter began to feel he was a bit out of his depth at this information.
Obviously things had happened that he didn't know about.
"Well, shall we go and talk to Teresa about dinner?" Mandy suggested.
"Okay," Peter agreed, "good idea."
#
TERESA announced that dinner was ready. She seemed rather pleased with
herself, as if she was up to something.
Mandy and Peter had been playing video games in the alcove off the sitting
room where all the computer gaming equipment was located (normally
concealed behind a sliding panel). Peter had been explaining the rules of
BioShock, and describing the scenario in which some mad scientist had
caused havoc by driving the population of some underwater city mad with
his gene splicing. He was amazed Mandy had it, as it wasn't due for
release until August, and Peter had only knew about it from a pre-release
review in some gaming magazine. (It came with the house, Mandy explained.)
They paused the game, which hadn't got very far, and prepared to follow
Teresa.
The lights in the gallery had been dimmed, and as they approached the
dining room overlooking the atrium, they saw that Teresa had moved the
main dining table and chairs and set up a smaller table for two,
overlooking the garden courtyard on the other side to the atrium. She had
turned on the lights in the garden and set the fountain going. All the
indoor lights were set very low, and she had decorated the table with
candles and flowers. Some soft jazz was playing.
Mandy blushed in the dim light as she and Peter surveyed the intimate
setting. Teresa smiled conspiratorially before going back into the
kitchen. Was Teresa trying to set Mandy up with Peter? Had she perhaps
jumped to conclusions about their relationship?
"Sorry," Mandy said flustered. "I didn't know Teresa was going to do this.
I hope you don't mind."
"No," Peter replied, "I like it. It's really nice. I've thought about us
having dinner together. After you asked me to stay this afternoon, that
is," he corrected, also becoming rather flustered.
"Well, we may as well take our seats," Mandy suggested. Conversation
became rather stilted.
"How's school?" Mandy ventured. She cringed inwardly. Of course, Peter was
on term break, the same as her. It was the sort of question Derek would
have asked whenever he saw Peter.
"It's alright," Peter answered, fortunately unconcerned. "Next term's
going to be pretty busy with GCSEs. I think I'll be alright, though. You?"
Mandy smiled and shrugged. "I've only been to the school for four days.
But I really enjoyed it so far. Most of the other kids are nice. There's
one girl, well, three, if you count her friends-which I do-who've been
really mean. Or, I think they have. They said they wanted to be friends,
but they make me feel like everything I do is wrong.
Peter listened with concern, furrowing his brow.
"My subjects are all good," Mandy continued, changing tack. "Performing
Arts is going to be brilliant!" She was feeling herself becoming
enthusiastic. "They're putting on "High School Musical" next term, and I
think I might try out. I might not be good enough, though. But, on the
other hand, what if I get one of the really good parts?" she said
inconsistently. "That might put a few noses out of joint, mightn't it? You
know-kids that've been there, like, forever."
"I bet they've already chosen all the good parts," Peter stated. "I think
school auditions are a bit of a farce."
"Hmm," Mandy considered, somewhat deflated, "you may be right. So, do you
think I should try out?"
"Definitely try out," Peter advised. "And if you don't get it, at least
they'll see what a sham it was that the best person wasn't chosen."
Mandy beamed at him. "Thanks," she said.
They chatted easily now, feeling more relaxed. Teresa served the meal very
discreetly (although she seemed to have a sort of smirk on her face
throughout).
It was time for sweets, and Mandy had promised she would make chocolate
souffl?s. "Would you like to come and help?" she suggested.
They adjourned to the kitchen, where Teresa had laid everything out ready.
"Teresa, you're a gem!" Mandy pronounced when she saw. She was going to
ask if Teresa wanted to join them, but Teresa had disappeared.
Mandy got Peter to prep the ramekins and break up the chocolate while she
made the souffl? batter.
"Here's a little secret," she divulged as she added the batter to the
softened chocolate, "some salt and a pinch of cayenne. No, really! It
makes all the difference."
Mandy got Peter to whisk the egg-whites with the sugar. "Be careful not to
overdo it," she counselled. Mandy added the resulting meringue to the
melting chocolate herself, carefully folding it in, then pouring the mix
into the ramekins. Into the oven they went, while Mandy and Peter took
turns beating some fresh cream to have on the side.
"They look pretty good," Mandy announced as she took the souffl?s out of
the oven. "A quick dusting with cocoa," she said while she did so, "cocoa,
not icing sugar-so it's proper chocolatey! Now, plate up with the cream; I
like a mint leaf, just on the plate-there. Now, quickly. Before they
flop!"
"Delicious!" Peter pronounced, tucking in heartily. "It's not actually
that hard, is it?" he commented.
"Oh, really?" Mandy challenged. "You can be in charge next time, then."
"Alright," Peter accepted the challenge, playing it cool, but inwardly
excited at the mention of "next time".
"Just one glass each," Teresa said, suddenly appearing with two glasses of
sauterne.
"Oh, thanks! You have one with us, Teresa," Mandy insisted. Teresa fetched
a glass and drew up a chair.
"How were the souffl?s?" she asked.
"Near perfect," Mandy answered. "Peter did half the work."
"I know, I could hear you," Teresa said. "You make a good team."
Peter smiled at Mandy.
She smiled back, but Teresa's remark had made her a little uneasy.
But why shouldn't we be a good team? she asked herself. Why shouldn't I
enjoy his company? I've known him all his life. I'm proud of him. I'd do
anything for him and Emma.
She smiled back more warmly.
#
"YOU'RE still here, Peter!" Emma stated the obvious, having come
downstairs into the atrium upon her return. It was about half-past eleven.
Upstairs, Teresa had cleared up everything from dinner some time ago, and
moved the big dining table back.
Mandy and Peter were sitting on one of the sofas, listening to a song
Mandy wanted Peter to hear, "Who Knew" by Pink. (It was about so-called
friends not sticking around, Mandy had explained. Peter wondered whether
Mandy was trying to tell him something by playing the song. If so, what
was she trying to tell him? He hoped she was telling him that she wanted
him to be a friend that did stick around. Or maybe she just liked the
song.)
"It's a bit late, isn't it? Won't Mum be worried?" Emma commented.
"I rang Mum," Peter explained, leaving it at that. "But I suppose I should
get going. Thanks for a great night, Mandy. And thanks for the chocolate
souffl?."
"No, thank you!," Mandy replied. "Anyway, team effort, like Teresa said."
She and Peter both blushed.
Mandy walked Peter to the door after the porter buzzed through that the
mini-cab had arrived. Mandy gave Peter a warm hug. He stood, hesitating
for a moment."
"So, umm, bye then," he said.
"Bye," Mandy repeated.
The mini-cab driver sounded a short burst from his horn.
"Quick, before he wakes the neighbours!" Mandy laughed.
"Bye, then," Peter said again, finally turning and walking towards the
car.
Alma
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