Title: Wedgwood and Gaslight

Author: Pattie

Rated: PG

Spoiler(s): None.

Category: Case File.

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

Feedback: patfiler@hotmail.com

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

Author's Note: I found myself re-reading it at Gossy, and 
don't know if I ever put it up at Pattie's Pocketful
Of X-Fics, so I just may need to.


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 buzz 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 your
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 'Gas-light' 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.