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Wedgwood And Gaslight

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Summary: Mulder and Scully investigate a series of
mysterious happenings at the home of a couple in
Kansas City, Missouri.


Rated: PG

Spoiler(s): None.

Category: Case File.

Feedback: patfiler2016@outlook.com

Archive: Gossamer. I'll take care of the others, and
please ask if you would like it.



KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI,
9:58 PM

Amy Grosvenor closed the bedroom closet and proudly announced, "Well, it's official, Brad. We're now fully moved in." Her sandy coloured hair glimmered under the fluorescent ceiling lights.

Her husband exited the bathroom in nothing but a towel and
drew her into an embrace. "And it's about time we owned a place outright," he whispered, as he nibbled her ear. "Let's christen this place right now... " He took her hands and placed them on his dark hair so he could better embrace her. Besides, he thought, he could get a relaxing scalp massage.

"Mmm... you've got an early morning," Amy purred.

Brad smirked mischievously. "Yes, but the night's young. I just wish you hadn't hung that portrait of your grandmother above my dresser."

"Well, she's the reason we have all we have, isn't she? Now, where were we?"

6:31 AM

Amy awoke to the buss of the alarm clock and nudged her husband into consciousness. "Okay, Mr. Executive. Up and at 'em."

"First day at the salt mine. Okay, I have the suit all picked out."

"Good," Amy smiled as she pulled her peignoir on and grabbed her slippers. "I'll make you a high energy breakfast. Hey, what happened to Grandma's portrait?"

Brad glanced at the wall as he put on his robe. "It was there last night. Maybe we have a ghost."

As she smacked him with a pillow, Amy playfully growled, "Bradley Grosvenor, you put that picture back on the wall before you come down for breakfast! Now no more of your Monday morning attitude. And there are no such things as ghosts. Especially ghosts in a new, custom-built home. You do make me laugh!"

"It probably fell behind my dresser. Really, I didn't hear anything last night, and I didn't move the thing. Now, about breakfast... " He wrapped his arms around Amy and nuzzled her neck.

"Coming right up. Now get into that shower."

Later that morning, as Amy Grosvenor carried linens into that room, her grandmother's portrait was over the bed. She wondered if perhaps her husband had placed it there in contrition for having removed it, then shook off that idea.

GROSVENOR HOME
KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI
SATURDAY
7:33 PM

It was raining to beat the band as the couple snuggled on the couch watching a made-for-tv movie.

"Comfy?" Brad asked, reaching for the beer bottle on the table.

"I don't know, Brad. I think the weather's getting to me."

"Another migraine?"

"Know the first signs by now," she replied. "I'd better take a painkiller before it really sets in."

"I'll get you your medicine and a cup of tea if you go upstairs and promise to get some rest. Nothing's more important to me than you feeling better."

"Don't spoil me," Amy warned him playfully, as she walked up the stairs. "I'll get used to it and never go back to work!"

As the evening passed, the young woman tried to keep her eyes closed, although thunder and lightning were keeping her awake. The throbbing in her head and neck was unbelievably painful with every beat of her heart. How she dreaded these headaches. After a particularly bright lightning flash, she opened her eye on reflex and saw, or perhaps though she saw, a cashmere sweater hovering over the bed, then drifting back to the open closet. She screamed in terror.

Brad was upstairs in a shot, and hugged his wife. "Honey, you're safe. The lighting was blocks away."

"No, no... that didn't... I could have sworn I saw my pink cashmere sweater flying around the room."

"Maybe it was a bad dream, Amy. The stress of moving to a new city... "

"Maybe." Amy rubbed her forehead. "Go on. I'm going to try to get some sleep. Be thankful you don't suffer these damn headaches."

"You're sure? I mean, I could sit with you... "

"No. C'mon, I didn't even let my own Mom sit with me every time I had a migraine." Amy kissed her husband's cheek. "Enjoy the rest of the movie. If you keep it really quiet, I'll make blueberry pancakes for breakfast."

"Now that's an offer I can't refuse. Okay. I'll be up in a couple of hours. Get some sleep." He pulled the covers over Amy's chest and left the room, eying the open closet and grinning. "Ghosts," he whispered.

OFFICE OF THE X-FILES
WASHINGTON, DC
TUESDAY
2:17 PM

Mulder went through some of the e-mails as Scully walked into the office."Any more sightings or mutant sewer dwellers?" she asked half-heartedly. "Because if there are, we can put them on hold for a week or two, can't we?"

He looked up from the monitor. "Scully, if I stayed on the 'straight and narrow' as Skinner would like, I'd be bored out of my skull. You don't want to be a kill-joy, do you?"

"Oh, of course not! Why would I spoil your fun?" She kept a
straight face and activated her monitor.

"That's still up for debate, but I do have a message here from a woman in Kansas City, Missouri. She saw me on the Uma Lindsay show talking about the paranormal and thinks I might be interested in the haunting of a brand new house."

"Mulderrr... " There was that famous eye-roll and she knew she was doing that, but she had been looking forward to a good mainstream case for months.

"C'mon, Scully. New houses generally aren't haunted, and if this woman thinks her house is haunted, we can at least humour her. Maybe some ghost followed her and her husband from their last place."

Scully slumped into her chair. "I was just upstairs begging
Skinner to give us something like interstate insurance fraud or kidnappings, Mulder. Wouldn't you like to get credit for solving more cases that aren't of the paranormal variety?"

"Been there, done that, and besides, she did see me on the Uma Lindsay show. I think we can get Skinner to approve this."

"Of course, Mulder. Maybe he saw you on the Uma Lindsay show, too. Let's go tell him the exciting news... "

"Oh, I love that Scully enthusiasm. Here's the run down: Bradley and Amy Grosvenor, married two years and in their early thirties. No children, Mrs. Grosvenor received a rather large inheritance from her grandmother recently, and Mr. Grosvenor is a junior executive at the Kingsley-Moscroft factory. Kingsley dish detergent is a best-selling brand these days, and he's part of the reason for its successful marketing. Apparently there's been a lot of
mysterious phenomena in that house... "

***

GROSVENOR RESIDENCE,
KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI
WEDNESDAY
10:30 AM

Mrs. Grosvenor poured the agents coffee and sat with them at the kitchen table. "You know, I just can't believe it, but I swear I'm not seeing things."

"I'm sure you aren't," Scully assured the woman. "Do you follow the paranormal, or did this just... "

"I think what Agent Scully is trying to ask is whether you are familiar with these things, whether you've read about them. That sort of thing... "

The woman hung her head for a second. "No. I'm not into any of that. And it's odd how I never found that sweater. We both knew it was in the closet that night. And the way the picture seemed to have gone someplace other than where I hung it, then it was over the bed. I don't think Brad had much time to look for it and put it there. Yesterday was his first day at Kingsley-Moscroft."

"Do you have any children?" Mulder asked.

The woman smiled shyly. "We've been putting it off. Sometime this year we'll be trying. I don't have to work anymore, and I'm on sick-leave from work back in Oklahoma. I'd like to return to fashion design some day, but... depression is sometimes a hard thing to recover from.'

Mulder looked at Scully, then continued. "Have you ever been hospitalized for depression?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Scully said softly, putting her hand on Amy's.

"No. I've had the good fortune of effective medications so far. Really, I'm not crazy. I just tapered off of my medication, with my doctor's approval. I design things, I don't imagine things, if that's what you're thinking."

"We didn't mean to infer we believed that," Mulder replied. "What about life insurance?"

"Agent Mulder, I wrote you about a possible haunting, not every detail of my life! What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing, I assure you. It's just a routine question."

"We each have a policy on each other right now, but that's only logical. I have no family left and Brad's kind of estranged from his father. His mother lives in Tahiti. Our wills name each other as beneficiaries. I'm kind of hoping a baby or two will come along soon, so we can amend them," she whispered shyly. Can I get you more coffee?"

Mulder shook his head.

Scully stood. "Do you mind if we take a look around?"

Amy smiled. "Oh, not at all! This is our baby! Custom designed and built. Payment in full, as well." The doorbell rang. "You go right ahead. I'll get that. It's probably the courier with something I ordered."

Scully marvelled at the china cabinet. "Wedgwood," she noted.

"They really are well-off." Mulder glanced at the most modern refrigerator freezer and dishwasher. The room was huge compared to most kitchens he had seen. "If this is their type of kitchen, I bet the bathroom's humongous."

"Yeah. Let's check out the upstairs," Scully decided.

Mrs. Grosvenor followed them up the stairs. "That was a set of wind chimes I ordered. So, I noticed you were admiring the china? Something strange happened in the kitchen last night. I was going to tell you."

"The china?" Mulder gazed longingly at the huge bathroom with it's luxuriously large tub, the faucets and the fixtures.

"Yes. I went down for a cup of tea, and I could have sworn someone had moved the larger plates down to the next shelf. Then in the morning, they were back to where they belonged. And there were... noises."

Scully was admiring one of the bedrooms. "Noises. Can you describe them?"

"Well, this is stupid. It sounds crazy. I could have sworn I heard two elderly people talking, so I took the tea up to our room."

"Did you tell your husband about the voices?" Mulder asked.

The woman looked at the floor. "No. I don't want to worry him. Well, he doesn't understand about depression or any other mental illness, so all he knows is I get migraines. Which is true."

Scully stopped at the closet of the master bedroom. "Are you taking anything for them?"

"Just some acetaminophen capsules, Agent Scully. I didn't want to take anything with codeine, and ergotamine doesn't seem to agree with me. And before you ask, I'm not currently on an antidepressant."

Mulder joined Scully at the closet and looked up and down the walls, fixing his gaze on the ceiling panel that led to the attic. "Have you and your husband been up on the attic since you moved in?"

"Well, we don't have anything really to store yet, so we left it alone. We did view it when the house was finished. It's very small, but can be heated in winter. There's another entrance to it down the hall. If you'd like I can take you up there... "

"Maybe we can leave that for some other time. Would you mind if we took a look in the garage, backyard?"

"No. Not at all."

***

5:37 PM

The local Field Office yielded a relatively pristine background report on one Bradley Grosvenor. Mulder turned away from the monitor to see how Scully's search for medical information was progressing on the Grosvenor couple.

"Really, there's nothing that remarkable about either Amy or Bradley Grosvenor, Mulder. Neither of them has a criminal record, they've had the usual childhood diseases and scrapes. Other than that, I see nothing unusual about the husband or the wife."

"Yeah, but Mrs. Grosvenor seems to have inherited a substantial estate from her grandmother, and I don't think their house holds all the value. I'm looking into the bank records now and should have some results any time now."

A perplexed Scully wondered aloud, "Well, what does money have to do with a haunting?"

"Maybe nothing; maybe everything. Haven't you seen that movie about the husband who sets things up to have his wife committed?"

"Mulder. 'Gaslight' is only a movie. I see a perfectly normal couple with a nice lifestyle and some extra assets. The man has a good job and is upwardly mobile, from what we could gather from Kingsley-Moscroft. I'm pretty sure he's on the up and up."

"Ninety-nine and fourty-four-one hundredths' sure, Scully?"

A slight smirk came over Scully's face. "Well, no."

"Then why don't we hang around and see if Casper or his friends show up any time soon? Mrs. Grosvenor has our business cards."

Scully's smile faded. "Why not. Don't you think we should speak with her husband, Mulder?"

"Let's call it a day. Tomorrow we can have a talk with him, and if his story jibes with hers, we may just have a haunted new house."

"Why do I get the feeling you're thinking they have a poltergeist?"

"Because you suspect that poltergeist is about 5'9" and upwardly mobile, but just can't see himself as upward as he could be with his wife's assets."

Scully pondered that and couldn't really agree or disagree, but knew that often money was a motive for the removal of a spouse, but more commonly today by murder. "Maybe," she conceded.

"I think this calls for some night work, Scully."

She nodded. "Let's have dinner then, and get the show underway. Just promise me no break and entry without a -- "

Mulder shook his head before the words left her mouth. "You know I don't break the law. I just improvise."

"Of course."

***

GROSVENOR RESIDENCE
11:52 PM

Mulder led Scully through the backyard of the home and led her to a tool shed.

She had that exasperated look on her face. "Mulder, please don't tell me we're going to dig for anything in the literal sense!"

"Shh!! Of course not. Just figuratively. The lock shouldn't be a problem."

"Of course not."

He picked at the padlock and eased the doors of the shed open, then produced a piece of clothing. "Agent Scully, in your humble opinion, what could this possible be?"

"A pink cashmere sweater." Scully peered behind Mulder's back. "And bungee cord. So you believe... "

"I believe we have a demented yuppie husband out to spook his missus."

"Well, we don't have enough evidence to even think that!" Scully hissed.

"Then we'll just have to wait and watch." He took the sweater and cord to the car and they began what would be a long night's vigil, leaning against a couple of trees as close to the house as they could be without being seen.

At about half past two Mulder, still wide awake, thought he saw a figure in the kitchen. He nudged Scully and she quietly stood along with him as they moved closer to the window. Someone was rearranging everything in the cupboards in the dimly lit room, and that someone was not Mrs. Grosvenor. As well, as the two agents watched, the
person opened a vial that held a number of capsules, supposedly containing generic acetaminophen. The person withdrew another vial from his pajama pocket and proceeded to empty some of the painkilling capsules, filling them with a substance that was in the other capsules.

Mulder signalled Scully for the "on the count of three", they pulled their guns, and he kicked the door open. "Freeze! FBI!"

"Put the light on! Move it!" Scully shouted.

The man held his hands facing outward, at chest level, and stepped to the wall, flicking the light switch.

"Strange," Mulder remarked. "A real live poltergeist. The best ones are dead. Care to tell us just what you've been up to?"

Bradley Grosvenor shook his head. "Not without a lawyer."

Amy Grosvenor walked into the kitchen, her eyes blinking as the light reached them. "What's going on?"

Scully pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. "Amy. I think you'd better sit down. Your grandmother owned a substantial number of shares in Kingsley-Moscroft, and you inherited them recently. Am I right?"

"Well yes, but... surely... "

Mulder handcuffed Bradley and pushed him down into a chair.
"Someone's been gas-lighting you, Mrs. Grosvenor. My guess is you migraine medication had you either halluginogenic or sedated. We found your sweater and a bungee cord in the tool shed, and your husband switching your medication with something else. Once we have an analysis, we'll know for sure."

The woman was shocked beyond belief. "Bradley? Surely you couldn't have been planning such a contorted scheme!"

"Get over yourself, Amy. I may not have been from the 'right side of the tracks', but I was just as good as you and your family."

Amy stood and shrieked at the man, "You murdered my grandmother, didn't you!?"

Mr. Grosvenor was genuinely shocked, and didn't utter a sound.

Scully sat next to the woman. "Your grandmother died of Norwalk virus after her stroke, as the autopsy indicated. I don't think your husband is a murderer, but I do think he has been hiding a lot from you."

"Like his interest in your family and its assets," Mulder surmised.

"Omigod, no. I thought you really loved me, Brad!"

"For the first two years... "

"Just... just don't." The woman gestured as if to push him away as the very cretin he was.

Mulder began the routine. "Bradley Grosvenor, you have the right to remain silent. Anything can and will... "

FOLLOWING MORNING
11:52 AM

Scully knocked at the door of Mulder's room. She was greeted by a very tired man clad in pajama bottoms.

"I have the results of the chemical analysis of Amy Grosvenor's capsules. The real painkiller was acetaminophen, as she said, but the other capsules contained Celexa, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, which can have very sedative properties for some
individuals. Police found trace elements of the ground substance on Mr. Grosvenor's desk. While they were searching his study, they also found evidence he was in the process of altering his insurance policy, and amending his will. There was also a cassette tape that sounded like a couple of older people talking. Mrs. Grosvenor identified the voices as those of her parents, although they were
somewhat muffled. Do you realize we have a flight out this
afternoon?"

Mulder glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. "Yeah. Sorry. And thanks for getting all the details. Usually YOU'RE the one who's asleep while I'm... "

"Not this time, Mulder. And Amy's doing quite well. No intention of bailing her husband out of jail any time soon. Now, get dressed. I'll order some lunch. And Mulder?"

He smiled hopefully, thinking she was going to say he had been right all along, that it was a 'Gaslight' case, that this beat the insurance fraud and kidnapping cases. "Yes?"

"This has been a lot more interesting than the usual interstate fraud."

"So, there's hope for you yet, Scully."

Scully just smiled and walked away. As for Mulder, he knew she loved the adrenaline racing cases more than she had been letting on and chuckled to himself as he locked his door.


END





Author's Note: Before I receive flames about the spelling of the name of that famous china, please read what Merriam-Webster states below. Thank you.

Josiah Wedgwood:

baptized July 12, 1730, Burslem [now in Stoke-on-Trent],
Staffordshire, Eng. died Jan. 3, 1795, Etruria, Staffordshire.

Disclaimer: Everything X-Files belongs to Chris Carter,
Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Studios -- even Mulder
and Scully.  No money is collected, and no copyright
infringement is intended.