There’s really no more to say; the police showed up and took my three crash-test dummies into custody, I showed them where the shotgun was, and gave a statement, as did Georgy and Aunt Kay.
The ambulance people who took those three morons away securely cuffed to the gurneys gave Georgy and Aunt Kay a quick going-over, but apart from a bruise where that animal had hit her, Georgy was unhurt, as was Aunt Kay.
The police were not at all pleased at the implications of the drain-cleaner filled syringes, nor at the the sawn-off shotgun, which is an instant jail term in the UK anyway; as far as they were concerned it was all evidence of conspiracy to murder, because there was no other possible reason for them to have syringes loaded with drain-cleaner in their possession while carrying out their plan to commit armed robbery.
The police were also really interested to learn that Max Preece had been involved, that those men were his accomplices, so the police Detective Inspector who managed the crime scene and the clean-up told us that the police would be recommending that Max also face additional conspiracy to murder and domestic terrorism charges, as would his three accomplices; the case of poison-filled syringes and the sawn-off shotgun was all the proof the police needed.
I also had some plans of my own when it came to Max Preece: I had low friends in high places in the Prison Service; Max was going to feel me. Big time.
*****
Epilogue:
We managed to get back to finishing off the house the way we wanted to present it, with genuine or accurate repro period features and the furniture to show them to their best advantage.
With Georgy and Aunt Kay’s help I managed to get the correct period finishes, things like genuine powder blue and intricately patterned vermillion flocked wallpapers, expensive, but so right for the house, and the appropriate Georgian paint colours, not cheap pastiches; we were presenting the house as an elegant, desirable period dwelling for someone who saw themselves as a person with taste and refinement and the asking price in their pocket.
To this end we engaged an estate agent in London who specialised in pitching our kind of house to the kind of people who would be most likely to want what we were selling.
Wouldn’tcha know it, we ended-up in a three-way bidding war; an American Hedge-Fund manager who wanted a quiet, luxurious weekend retreat, a quiet little guy who’d made a fortune selling toys over the internet and wanted a place large enough to house his gigantic collection of movie toys and space-opera collectibles, and a descendant of the family who had originally owned the house in the nineteenth century who’d come from Australia to try and buy back his heritage. We resisted the attempted bribes and sweeteners, golf club memberships, exotic holidays, girls, boys, cars, all kinds of stuff and just passed the word: best offer secures.
We eventually accepted an offer 60% over our original asking price, spectacularly over what we’d been resigned to accepting on the open market, and well over the top limit we’d decided was the most the market would bear.
The day we handed over the keys and all the final paperwork Georgy and I were standing outside, getting a long, last look at the house we’d spent so much time, effort, and yes, love too, renovating, prepping, dressing, and showing.
“It was fun, wasn’t it?” she murmured, slipping her hand into mine, “I loved this house, all the work we did here, didn’t you, Will?”
I glanced at her and saw the tear trembling on her lower eyelid.
“I loved working here with you, Georgy-Girl,” I murmured back at her, “This place, this was about more than just the money we’d make, or about the house, that was just a thing. It was about having the best time of my life. You made it that way, Georgy, if I hadn’t had you with me we wouldn’t be standing here right now.
Being here with you was the most wonderful part of it all, Georgy, and you know what? We can keep doing that; we can keep having the time of our life. You give me purpose, Georgy; I love you, because you make my life worth living.”
She looked at me and smiled, even as the tear trailed down her cheek.
“You mean that, don’t you?” she smiled, lacing her fingers through mine in an unbreakable grip.
I pulled her closer so I could kiss the tear away.
“I mean every word of it, Georgy-Girl, every single word. And now we’re done here, let’s do this again, not for the money, not for the profit, let’s just have fun again. I love working with you, I love having fun with you, I love being around you and watching your eyes light up when you’re having fun and feeling good about it. I need to see that every day; I can’t be away from you ever again. So let’s do it again, you and me, let’s find another place like this and have this much fun all over again.”
Georgy huddled herself into me, hugging me, before standing up on tip-toes to kiss my chin.
“Before we do that, Will, there’s a project I want to get out of the way.”
I looked down at her in the crook of my arm.
“Go on, Georgy…” I encouraged her.
“That large dressing room next to our bedroom, I want to remodel it.”
“Okay… “I waited, while she gathered her thoughts.
“It’s just that I think it would make the perfect nursery…”
I held her at arm’s length so I could look in her in the eyes.
“Georgy… a nursery? Are you…?” and she giggled, that sweet, musical tinkle that always made my spine tingle.
“No, Will, not yet, not without talking to you first, but it’s as well to be prepared, because one day soon we’re going to have that talk… if you’re okay with that?”
I hugged her and lifted her up so I could swing her around and kiss her repeatedly.
“There’s nothing I want more, Georgy, and I can’t wait for the day you tell me. Six months ago I discovered a new Georgy-Girl, and now she’s here with me, talking about making babies with me; it doesn’t get any better than this! I love you, Georgina Lassiter, my very own Georgy-Girl, now and always!”