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#this is mostly canon. Kevin definitely has talked about knitting something
whamcitycomedy · 1 year
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actually, you don’t need to understand the complex ways in which Cecil and Kevin operate within their narrative as both reflections of each other and opposites, both identical and antithetical, doubles but not truly doubles— all you really need to know is that Cecil crochets, and Kevin knits.
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n0-eyedtaissa · 4 years
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Lethal Charm: Chapter Two (Serial Killer!Reggie Mantle AU)
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Disclaimer: This story is in no way intended to romanticize Bundy or his crimes, all details about victims and their death have been tweaked and changed out of respect for the deceased + as a loose attempt to follow canon.
Warnings: Mentions of drinking/smoking, blood, depictions of violence/death.
Word Count: 6,634
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A police siren rings out in high-pitched bleats that are long and loud enough to make people in the surrounding areas press their palms flat against their ears to muffle the sound. Blue and red lights cast over the front of the building, illuminating the circle of squad cars clustered together as they waited for the coroner’s van to pull up to the scene. There usually wasn’t all that much excitement around the UW campus; school security officials held their police scanner radios close to their chests and wished for better circumstances. 
There’s blood on her bed — Midge Klump’s bed. Her pink silk sheets are dried and stuck together from where the blood soaked through the fabric. The dorm room is thick with the smell of it. One of the officers was wondering if the girl bled to death, another said that if the victim bled out, “You’d know. This ain’t nothin’” There’s a white nightgown hung up over one of the drain-pipes, bobbing and weaving on the man-made breeze that came with so many people bounding in and out of the basement bedroom. The fabric is old and weathered, a hole worn into the side seam, a browning ring of dried blood around the neck. A crime scene photographer flits around the room, taking pictures of any and all little inconsistencies, anything that could be used as evidence eventually. 
There’s pictures of the nightgown in the newspaper that week; the dried blood, the broken lock on the basement door. Midge’s pillowcase was gone. So was her backpack and a handful of clothes. Her body was not at the scene of the crime. 
“You listen to me, and you listen good now: The same bastard who attacked that little girl at the beginning of last month has now taken Midge Klump. People saw him. He was outside of both houses.” The city had started up a help line, open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for University students and surrounding people of the neighborhood to call in case they remembered something, or came across any other shady behavior. There was a few crank calls, some kids are just bored and downright twisted, but it was mostly helpful information. Suspect was an Asian male, 26 to 28. Little over 6 foot. Muscular build. A few of the neighbors had seen the perp lurking around the area in a little VW Beetle. 
Midge Klump was the textbook definition of a “Nice Girl”. She was bread and butter, had a small but tight-knit family that mattered to her more than anything. Never having been the girl in the spotlight, Midge flourished in college, no longer kept at bay by fruitless fake friends turned home-town enemies. She let her hair down, found her voice; when she got to the University of Washington she decided to do things that would challenge her comfort zone. The first week of school she got her hair cut short by a student beautician in the lounge of the girl’s dormitory, the next week she found herself writing her name and phone number down on the sign-up sheet for the university’s theatre program, and after smoking a little bit of pot, Midge actually had the guts to audition. She’s first understudy in the Spring Musical…it hits a little too close to home, but she’s always appreciative that she’s even able to be apart of the action. 
She was diligent and hard working; never all that much of partier, always made sure she got a recommended eight hours of sleep, always was looking bright-eyed at her professors as she sat in the front row for their early morning lectures. Midge was full of promise and life, something that was agreed upon by anyone who encountered her, regardless of their relation to her. She was a pillar in the inner-workings of the UW theater troupe, helped with the outreach program in place at the local elementary school; Midge liked helping the kids out so much that on Monday she bounded into the admin building asking for the paperwork to fill out to declare her major in Child & Adolescent Development Studies. Midge thought she was gonna be an actress…and a teacher…and a Mother. She would have been great at anything she set her sights on. She could have been, but that was taken from her. 
After it happened, the police made a comprehensive timeline of Midge’s whereabouts leading up to her disappearance. The cops were trying to cover all of their bases, talking to all of Midge’s friends and housemates, her shift supervisor, her store manager, her professor; anyone who had seen her in the hours before her disappearance. The officers were aggressive, trying to leave no stone unturned as they grilled on about Midge’s life, asking if there was anyone who would want to hurt Midge. Each person that was questioned swore up and down that Midge didn’t have any enemies, that she wasn’t that kind of girl. Whether their statements were a correct testimony to the circumstances behind the girl’s disappearance was a different story though, because the police pressed on further. There was a big suspect board tacked up on the bulletin board down at the station, though it was looking a little blank. Midge’s senior portrait from high school was posted up in the middle of it all, blue string connecting to the crime scene photos; the bloodied nightgown swaying eerily from where it was hooked onto the drain pipe, the Midge-shaped indent in a vacant bed, the broken lock — Sheriff said it looked like the perp cut the pad-lock with bolt cutters. Besides the old portrait of the missing girl and the sparse number of crime scene photos, the only other solidified evidence the police were working with was an outline of the victim’s confirmed whereabouts:
[1:35 PM] KLUMP leaves place of residence to commence her walk to campus; roommate confirms that victim was running late. [1:50 PM] Victim sets foot on the University of Washington campus, due east towards the Humanities building. [2:00 PM] University Professor MARY ANDREWS confirms that KLUMP was present for attendance and through the class period. [4:45 PM] KLUMP exits building, heads north towards the Student Union [4:50] KLUMP sits down for coffee with KEVIN KELLER, the two started discussions about the upcoming musical theatre production 
Midge slung her schoolbag over her shoulder, taking in a deep breath between her teeth as she quickened her pace. A brief glance at her watch was enough to alert her that she was late, officially having left Kevin hanging for approximately three minutes and forty-five seconds. Kevin Keller was a theater major and it was obvious, but despite his grand talents and his ability to match pitch, he saw something in Midge from the first day she walked into the  auditions for Guys & Dolls. He didn’t give her the part of Sarah Brown, but she ended up being the understudy. After one of the dormitory buildings goes under quarantine for mono, Midge ended up in the spotlight for the closing night of the musical; her rendition of "I've Never Been In Love Before” garnered a full standing ovation. Kevin sure had his clipboard handed to him, not casting Midge in the first place. He was determined to rectify that this semester, even if he was doing it for somewhat of a selfish reason: The department head said that if the musical pulled good numbers this season, he'd work with Kevin on a plan for expanding the budget and allotting more funds to be applied to costume and set design for future productions. Kevin hated to say it out loud, but he needed Midge. He sees her hobbling towards him across the quad and sends a polite, tight-lipped smile her way as he waited for her to approach. 
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Midge apologizes, fluttering into the area on a gust of wind. She huffs and reaches a frazzled hand up to pet down the loose hairs of her bangs, flinging her book bag onto the wooden table, “My Professor decided that the perfect time to hand back midterm papers was the last five minutes of a three hour class and demanded to talk to everybody about the grade that they got”. Midge rolled her eyes before smoothing down the back of her skirt in order to sit across from Kevin. He finds her personality to be endearing but this was more of a business meeting than a friendly gathering and Kevin meant business. 
“That’s not a problem,” Kevin brushes off her tardiness with a homegrown smile and a small sip of his cappuccino. “I actually had something that I had been meaning to discuss with you…about the upcoming musical.” 
Midge’s eyebrow raised in inquisition, “Did you and Fogarty decide on what production’s gonna be put on?” It’d been a point of tension for the small troupe of students for a few months now, since people started hearing whispers about casting rumors. 
Kevin sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat, “On behalf of the entire theater department, I’d like to —informally— announce that this spring we’ll be putting on a production of,” Kevin does a mock drumroll against the table, “Bye Bye Birdie!” His megawatt smile beams over at Midge as she clapped her hands excitedly. 
“Oh that’s so exciting!” She tittered, the toes of her sandals tapping excitedly against the pavement. Midge was quite pleased, two weeks ago when the little paper ballots were handed out, she checked the little box besides the classic show before folding it neatly in half and handing it to Kevin. The group was an uneven split and Midge was sure that the co-director’s choice was going to win the draw, but she was in luck! 
The initial excitement wore off pretty fast, and as the two college sophomores knew virtually nothing about each other besides a shared joy for acting, things quickly grew awkward. Kevin looked across the table at Midge, who’s smile had faded to more of a grimace. “And!” He clapped his hands together like one of the excited tour guides that led groups of potential students around the school grounds. 
“And?” Midge questions, eyebrow raising with inquisition. 
“I wanted to talk to you about casting,” Kevin started earnestly. “I know that with the last production you were a little upset by the fact that we stuck you with the role of first understudy, but you came through when we needed you to the most and absolutely blew the house down, so I was wondering…” He paused for emphasis and took a quick glance over at Midge to gauge her reaction, “Would you do us all the honors of being our Kim?” 
Part of Midge wanted to refuse the offer, to rub it in Kevin’s face a little more now after all of the times that Kevin took advantage of her. But she knew that she had talent, no matter how many times she wasn’t the one in the spotlight; now she had had the chance to show everyone the skills she had been working so hard on since the winter musical. “I’d love nothing more!” She sighs, feeling dreamy before giving Kevin a quick embrace. The two make idle chatter about auditions and rehearsal schedules before Kevin excuses himself and lets Midge get on with the rest of her day. 
__
[5:40 PM] KLUMP exits school grounds and begins her walk back to place of residence. [5:50 PM] Victim is offered a ride home from roommate, GINGER LOPEZ, approximately six blocks away from their shared house at 5823 Healy Avenue. LOPEZ and KLUMP commence their drive and arrive back on Healy Ave around [6:00PM]. [6:10 PM] KLUMP retreats to her bedroom, located in the basement of the residence. [8:00PM] Both KLUMP and LOPEZ exit the premises, with LOPEZ driving the two the local college bar, The Maple Club. 
The sound of the gravel crunching under the car’s tires is enough to make Midge wince and grit her teeth, her knuckles having gone white after holding on for dear life as her housemate sped along the main road as the two girls made their way to the old college bar for an after-school pint. 
“Remind me to never drive with you when you’re angry” Midge huffed, flipping down the sun visor to check her hair in the small mirror. She pulls her tube of lipstick out from her pocket and purses her lips as she applies the shimmery pink tint. 
Ginger wasn’t listening, which didn’t come as a surprise to Midge as she hoisted herself up and out of the vehicle, pausing to smooth down the back of her skirt and check out her reflection in the window. The short-haired girl watches as Ginger stomps out her cigarette, and soon the two girls are locking their arms together and preparing to take the nightlife by storm. 
When the two girls cross over the bar’s threshold, their senses are accosted by the bitter smell of smoke and the static boom of voices as they tried to overpower the loud, smooth rock music that was playing over the blown-out speakers. 
“Look who it is” Ginger leans down to whisper-yell into Midge’s ear, gesturing to a handsome young man sipping frothy beer from a frosted glass. 
 [8:30] LOPEZ confirms that the victim was spotted with long-time suitor, MARMADUKE, “MOOSE” MASON, no history of violence, harassment, or foul play. 
Moose Mason was a nice boy. Homegrown, the kind of man that most girls would dream of bringing home to their mother and father. He was a pressed linen shirt and a white picket fence, an old beat-up Ford truck that he spent the summer after high school fixing with his father. He was meat and potatoes. Moose Mason was good. He met Midge when he was recruiting potential new brothers from his fraternity; asked her if she wasn’t a part of any school sororities because they’d all be competing to have a pretty girl like her. Moose Mason was clumsy, heartfelt, not good with words but never shying away from expressing his hopes and dreams. It took him over a month to ask Midge out on a date: The two went dancing at the Maple Club and he was a perfect gentlemen. Moose didn’t drink anything because he wanted to make sure he’d be able to get Midge home safe. Didn’t smoke, didn’t try to make a move on her (though he did give Midge a goodnight kiss on the cheek after walking her back to her front door). His Christian methods of courtship were proving to be lackluster to Midge. She was waiting for someone to take her breath away, someone to sweep her off her feet and break her out of her suburban comfort zone. Moose Mason wasn’t quite there yet, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying. 
“You look real pretty tonight, Midgie” Moose says as he walks up to the pair of girls, drunk on confidence and Coors Lite as he teetered, slinging a heavy arm around the short-haired girl’s shoulders.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mason” Ginger scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pulls out a cigarette. Moose laughs at the pinch-faced girl but can’t help but waft the air around him to clear the thick stream of smoke. "Find me when you’re ready to spend some time with more exciting people” 
Midge nods, silently preparing herself for the damage control she would have to face with the backlash of her roommate’s harsh words. But like always, Moose Mason is there standing tall, with his puppyish brown eyes and his sad smile.
“I’m sorry about her, must be her time of the month” She fibs, biting at her painted lips. 
Moose chuckles, “No, I think she’s always that unpleasant”
Midge is taken aback by the young man’s sudden bout of unabashed honesty, so much so that her gut reaction is to laugh loudly and without regard for who may hear her. She shuts up quickly and claps a hand over her mouth. Moose has a wry look on his face and it confuses Midge because she didn’t think he had a mean bone in his body. It didn’t suit him, but maybe that’s what made it so much more enticing. She lets Moose buy her a beer, lets herself be led onto the dance floor, lets him rest his hands on her backside as they swayed to the in-house band. 
[9:45PM] LOPEZ confirms seeing MARMADUKE MASON exit the MAPLE CLUB, sans KLUMP. LOPEZ claims that KLUMP was spotted in a darker corner of the bar with an unknown man: Handsome, over 6-foot, dark hair & eyes. NAME UNKNOWN]
Midge dangles her feet off of the tall barstool as she watches Ginger flirt unabashedly with the fraternity meatheads that were always regulars at the Maple Club. She watches how the guys leaned into Ginger when she spoke, a protective hand covering the small of her back. It’s not that Midge needed the attention, or that she wanted it even, just that it seemed to come so easy to her roommate. Watching Ginger tote one of her suitors to the back corner of the bar to feel her up, Midge can’t help but sigh.  When Moose Mason left the Maple Club early that evening, he barely gave Midge a kiss goodbye. She got a half-hearted peck on the cheek and a side-hug. Knowing how old-fashioned the boy was, this behavior made sense, but Moose treated her less like someone he wanted to date, and more like a sister or a cousin. All Midge wanted was to feel desirable, to feel beautiful and confident after all of her adolescent years spent in the shadows of her so called “friends” from grade school. Her head hands low and woeful as she watches the couples dancing under the red lights to the music of the surprisingly good in-house band. 
“Is this seat taken?” A smooth voice knocks Midge out of her self-deprecating trance. When she looks up, she’s surprised to see a tall, handsome man smiling down at her. 
“It’s yours now” She smiles politely, glancing away from the man and assuming that he was most likely waiting for some beautiful girl he was on a date with.  
“You come here often?” The man asks again, with more intent, shifting his weight towards Midge as he sits atop the rickety barstool. 
“Sometimes, yeah” Midge answers honestly, “Though I’m not usually alone” She gestures broadly to her roommate Ginger at the other side of the bar, who was letting her suitor feel her up over her turtleneck sweater. 
“Well, you’re not alone now, are you?”  The handsome man smirks at Midge and she finds herself leaning in closer and opening herself up for conversation. She looks up at the stranger dreamily and takes in his appearance: Statuesque build, broad shoulders, clean-cut with his shirt tucked in and his hair slicked back. Pretty, pursed lips that would make the cosmetology students jealous, a smirk that made Midge weak in the knees. 
“I guess not” She giggled in response, toying with a lock of her cropped hair. 
“I’m Reginald” He skips over his last name but Midge doesn’t think anything of it, moving forward with introductions to give the man her name and to talk about college-related things, like choice of major and prospective carer paths. 
Reginald was a photography student, though his father wished that he would have chosen to study law like the rest of the men in his family. The way Reginald spoke about his father, it was clear that there was some resentment there, but it wasn’t anything Midge felt comfortable pushing as she knew it wasn’t her business. 
“I bet you have a really good artistic eye!” She pipes up, trying to ease some of the tension. “I’d love to see some of your work someday…” She hopes that the prospect of seeing each other another time doesn’t come on too strong for Reginald, the last thing she wanted to do was seem desperate and pushy, especially with someone as handsome and charming as he was. 
“I’d quite like that” There was a twinkle in Reginald’s eye that she couldn’t seem to place, but it made her feel hopeful nonetheless. 
The two carried on conversation for the better part of a few hours, laughing and talking casually while exchanging freshman year horror stories and hometown gems. When Reginald asked if he could buy her a drink, she wanted to be coquettish and refuse, but she didn’t, not wanting to run the risk of offending the man and scaring him. That one pint turned into a whole pitcher, and Midge was feeling loose and bubbly, not even ashamed to say that she was playing in to Reginald’s relentless flirting. 
Every so often Midge would cast her gaze towards Ginger, in part just to check in, but because she wanted to brag about being courted by a looker like Reginald. "Find me when you’re ready to spend some time with more exciting people” Ginger told Midge when the two girls split ways, and that was exactly what she did. 
“So you said you were an actress?” Reginald cocks a curious eyebrow at Midge, leaning in closer to hear her over the music. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, which was refreshing to her. 
Midge laughs at the notion. “You’re looking at the University Theater Department’s favorite first understudy.” She shrugs and takes a hearty swig of her beer.
“Wow, I’m honored to be with such esteemed company” Reginald jokes, giving a megawatt smile. 
“If you must know,” She starts, laughter bubbling up in her throat as she continued, “Opening night of the Spring Musical, I came to the rescue when the leading lady came down with a bad case of mono. Blew the house down and received the only standing ovation!” Midge gives a comical bow when Reginald starts clapping.
“Thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight, Miss Big-Shot Actress” Reginald laughs, lacing his fingers with hers as their hands sat on top of the sticky covered bar. “You know, all the big time actresses have really nice headshots. Glamour shots, they’re called — It’s what you send to casting directors when you audition for the movies” His thumb massages the back of Midge’s hand as he explained.
“They’d never put me in the movies” Midge looked down at her feet to avoid Reginald’s eyes when she felt the heat creep up her neck as she blushed. 
He hooks a finger under Midge’s chin, tilting her face towards him and forcing her to maintain eye contact with him, like he wanted to make sure that his words would mean something and be remembered. “You’re beautiful, Midge. Don’t deny it to yourself.” She doesn’t refute it, shy away from it, or say thank you; Midge nods to herself, like she was trying her best to process it and take his words to heart. 
The conversation flows easier as Midge continued to emerge from her shell, but as soon as she was feeling more confident, there was Ginger waving wildly at her from the other side of the bar. The girl gestured towards the exit, hoping that she was good enough at playing charades to convert her message to Midge. It worked of course, because Ginger was flapping her arms very obviously so it was impossible for Midge not to notice. Reginald was talking animately about a debate that sparked up in his psychology intro course, but Midge was only really half-listening, as she was more concerned with how she was supposed to interject and remove herself from the conversation. 
“A-are you…?” Reggie breaks from his long-winded monologue and picks up on Midge’s hesitation, turning over his shoulder just as Ginger whips around as to not be noticed. Midge feels her face heat up with embarrassment, but Reginald acts cooly. “Duty calls?” He questions with a chuckle and another knee-buckling smirk.
“Something like that…” Midge bites at her lip as she stands up and smooths down the back of her skirt. Folding her jacket over her arm, she grabs a dry napkin from the bar and writes down her phone number with her brown eyeliner pencil. “You should call me sometime…” Midge blushes as she looks up at the tall man standing in front of her. 
He raises his eyebrows in surprise, not having been used to this kind of confidence radiating from the young woman. For most of their conversation it had been Reginald who had been putting in the extra effort, asking Midge questions about school and about the theater program. “I’d like that.” He quips as the short-haired girl gazes up at him hungrily. “Maybe I can help you out with those headshots.” he gestures to the camera bag at his side. 
A blush raised to Midge’s cheeks when he hands her over his ballpoint pen, prompting her to grab one of the square, white bar-napkins to write down her phone number. “You promise you’re gonna call?” She pulls her hand away a little.
“Scout’s honor” Reginald smirks, holding up the three-finger salute. “Hell, I’ll even call you right when I get home just so you know I’m the real deal.”  
“I’ll hold you to that, Reginald!” Midge quips with a coy smile, leaning to give the young man a final kiss on the cheek before retrieving Ginger and retreating to the car. 
[11:30PM] KLUMP and LOPEZ exit tavern, return to residence at approximately [11:40] Fellow resident of the home, MELODY VALENTINE, confirms talking to both KLUMP and LOPEZ in the kitchen following their return. Both women recount KLUMP taking an unknown phone call.
The ride back to the small house on the Healy Avenue was quiet, with Ginger gabbing on incessantly about the boys she was getting on with that evening, about how some showboat boy with a football scholarship was going to escort her to her sorority formal. Midge nodded along politely, knowing when to appease her friend with quiet affirmations though she wasn’t really listening. She nabs a sleek, long cigarette from the pack in Ginger’s purse and lights it up, ignoring the curious stare she receives, never really having been a smoker. Exhaling a dainty plume of smoke out the car window, Midge can’t help but ruminate on the events of her day: First Kevin gets over his own pride and offers her the lead in the musical, and then at the bar that same evening she was lucky enough to catch the attention of a person as grand as Reginald. Midge couldn’t help but feel as if something was different this time, it was like he saw her, saw her for what she truly was. She pulls a little too hard on the cigarette and sputters out a cough. It humbles her a little bit, pulls her back to the reality where she was just a small-town understudy and he was another good looking boy who only chatted her up because he was too drunk to know better. Midge tosses the butt out the window of the moving car and focuses her gaze on the grid-work of light poles and electrical towers, fully convincing herself that she would never hear from Reginald again. 
When the two girls pull up in front of the household, they exit the car quietly and stumble inside through the side door of the house, which led through Midge’s basement bedroom. The two girls are in a fit of giggles as they make their way to the main floor of the house, both in dire neat of some carbs to soak up the alcohol. Midge peeks around the corner stealthily, not wanting to disturb or wake up one of her other three housemates in case they had called in an early night. Things were going all fine and good until Ginger’s heel gets the best of her and her ankle rolls, twisted up in the carpet. She lets out a small yelp as she falls to the side and grabs the wall for support to recover. Midge claps a hand over her mouth when she hears a doorknob turning from down the hall.
“What kind of trouble are you two getting in now?” Another housemate, Melody Valentine asked, clearly irritated at the disturbance. Pulling her tortoiseshell glasses from their resting place on the tip of her nose, Melody takes in the sight of Midge: the pink tint to her cheeks, the glimmer in her eye, “What’re you all smilin’ about?” She questions again with no detectable malice laced in her tone like before. 
“Our girl Midge met a boy tonight and he was a real looker, definitely puts Moose to shame,” Ginger hiccuped. 
Her comment is received with a pointed look from Midge, leading Ginger to grimace as she limped back up the hallway to get herself a glass of water. The phone rings suddenly and the intake of Midge’s breath is audible. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be. She had convinced herself that she was just another girl that Reggie would forget by morning. The phone lets out three more sharp bleats before Midge hesitantly reaches her hand for the receiver;
“Hello?” She whispers, her throat feeling dry from anxiety of it all. 
“Scout’s Honor,” It takes Midge a minute to put the pieces together, but she knows it’s Reginald, the same smooth-talking boy she had met a few hours earlier. He promised to call her and he did. “I’m a man of my word, what can I say?” 
“Reginald” She’s beaming as she wraps the red plastic chord between her fingers as she presses the receiver even closer to her ear, wanting to be even closer to him. “I didn’t think you were gonna call…” 
“Why wouldn’t I?” Reggie mutters like it was ludicrous that Midge would think otherwise.“You were the prettiest in the whole room tonight…The Actress. You’ve got it.”
“Got what?” Midge pinches herself because at that point, she can’t help but think that she was dreaming. 
“Star power.”
There’s a beat of silence as Midge tries to regain her breath, heart swelling in her chest as she pressed the phone receiver even closer to her ear. “I don’t have star power” She denies it adamantly, not because she believed it, but so he would say it again. 
“Yes, you do, Midge. You do.” Reggie’s breath is heavy through the phone receiver and it gives Midge chills down her spine. “You should take me up on that offer, I think I could capture you well” 
“Your offer?” The beer and the anxiety have her thoughts swimming.
“Headshots, I’m a photographer. You were telling me all about how excited you are about the upcoming musical, imagine how great it would feel for you to open the programs and see a fresh, new picture of your pretty face” Reggie hums contently on the other line, like he too was picturing it, dreaming of it.
“It’s a nice offer and all, but if you’re half as good of a photographer as you say, there’s no way I could pay you” Midge can’t help but feel guilty, like she was waiting the time of the gorgeous man that she met earlier that evening. She was expecting the conversation to come to a halt after this, that Reggie would make some excuse as to why he needed to go, and it would be mutually understood that the longevity of their relationship was over as soon as the dial tone hit. 
“If it means I get to see you again, Midge, I’ll do it for free” Reginald lays the charm on thick but Midge can’t help but happily lap it up. Something about the way he talked to her — about her— made her feel more confident, sultry even. It made her think that she was successful in reinventing herself. The old Midge wouldn’t let some stranger get her in front of a camera, she tells herself, pushing away her anxieties in hopes of a romantic new beginning. 
“You want to see me again?” Midge questions, chastising herself immediately for her lapse in self-confidence. 
“Definitely” Reginald promises. 
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Midge stutters over the line. “If you’re free maybe we can get a bite to eat — or something? If you’re busy that’s okay too, I understand.” The minute she asks the question she backtracks immediately, somehow still under the assumption that Reginald would refuse. 
“I’m free” Reginald replies cooly. “What’s your address, I’ll come and pick you up. What d’you say, 4 o’clock?” 
“5823 Healy” Midge says too quickly before recovering, “I’ll see you at four o’clock sharp, Reginald” She tries to sound flirtatious but isn’t sure if it’s working for her. The man on the other end of the line laughs, low and even, sending a wave of nervous butterflies taking flight. 
“I’ll be there, Midge” He promises 
“Scout’s Honor?” She posits, calling back to their little joke from earlier. 
“Exactly”
Witnesses LOPEZ and VALENTINE confirm that after taking her phone call, KLUMP retreated to her basement bedroom of the residence, approx. [12:25 AM]. This is KLUMP’s last known whereabouts. 
He only lived three blocks away. He liked it better that way, it gave him easier access to Midge, made it easier to watch the girl from afar. If this was going to work, he needed to stick to his comfort zone. This wouldn’t be like last time. It’s what he tells himself as he sits three rows behind her in the lecture hall, when he trails the girl as she walks across the University campus to meet up with her theater friend. He passes Midge casually and walks to deposit his check from work, but the girl was gone once he circled back. 
Running into her at the Maple Club was a complete coincidence; or maybe by some stoke of luck it was fate. He knew that Midge would be receptive to his advances, though he figured he would have to work a lot harder. 
He almost felt bad, that there would be no date for the two of them to go on. 
When Reginald hung up the telephone, there was a sick sort of excitement pulsing deep through his veins. Adrenaline and anxiety were a deadly mixture. Well, not for Reginald…
He flits around the dimly lit garage as he gathers his materials. The black duffle bag was filled with everything Reggie thought he would need in this situation: wool ski mask, leather gloves, nylon stockings, bolt cutters, and red handled ice pick. A crowbar in case she tried to fight back. White clothesline rope, an orange electrical cord, strips of thinly torn bedsheets, and a pair of handcuffs as methods of restraining her. Trash bags and a small bottle of bleach for the clean-up process. Slinging the back over his shoulder, Reggie opens the garage door as quietly as possible. He starts the engine of the old VW Beetle and sits in silence as he made the quick drive three blocks over to the house on Healy Avenue. He kills the headlights when he turns into the courtyard. Parks three houses down as to not garner any suspicion. Before he exits the vehicle, Reggie pulls down the sun-visor and checks his reflection in the small mirror. He runs a hand through his hair and he smiles. 
He pulls the ski mask over his head and everything changes and suddenly he is angry and he is invincible. 
His footfalls are trained and quiet as he approaches 5823. He knows he’ll have to jump the gate. He knows that there’s a side door to Midge’s basement bedroom. When he hoists himself over the cherrywood fence he tries to be as quiet as possible, waiting an achingly long moment before making his next move, just in case a neighbor’s unsuspecting ear perked up at the noise. The bolt cutters work quickly and quietly through the metal padlock on the basement door, but again he waits to make his next move, trying his best to not wake up Midge (who he assumed was sleeping close by). Reggie moves at an agonizingly slow pace as he tries to open the basement door. Inch by inch he twists the rusty knob, the excitement bubbling now that he knew his favorite part was starting.
Who can be the quietest? It used to be Reggie’s favorite game to play as a child; taught to him by his mother as she held him close to her chest, the two of them sitting on the floor of the closet while his father went on another one of his drunken rampages. 
It was a skill that proved to be helpful to many situations such as this, because by some grace of good luck he was inside the basement with the door closed behind him and somehow Midge hadn’t even moved a muscle. Reggie paused again, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He takes in the appearance of the room: the cold cement walls and the water heater, the bedsheets she hung over the grey in order to give the place a little more life. Christmas lights, the good kind, the ones that popped and cracked like glass when you threw them. Midge had pictures and posters, a stack of records that was collecting dust.
And then there was Midge. 
She slept on her stomach with her long arms wrapped around her pillow, and Reggie can see her nightgown from where the duvet pulled up around her legs. He watches her worry-free features and feels a deep sort of pleasure knowing that she would never see this coming. He sets his duffle bag on the ground with a thump and Reggie’s heart drops to his stomach, thinking this would be the moment that he blew his cover. Heavy sleeper, Reggie noted as he heard nothing but a snore from Midge. He picks up a stray pillow from the floor and looks at it in his hands. 
It was like she was making this too easy… 
Reggie moved suddenly, shoving her sleeping body to flip her over onto her stomach; he wanted things to get a little bit more interesting. In wake of the movement Midge had become more alert now, eyes snapping open at the sudden weight present on top of her. With a quick movement, Reggie presses the feather pillow over her face before Midge could do so much as take a breath, not giving her a chance to scream. Her arms and legs flail wildly, trying to make contact with Reggie as her fight or flight instincts kicked in. One hand came down to grasp at her throat, the other still holding firm over the pillow. Midge’s nails claw at the old pillowcase, sharp enough to leave runs in the fabric. She manages to get a few good kicks in, and that made him angry. Reggie pulls his ice pick out of his back pocket and there’s a sick sound of skin splitting and blood gushing as he drives it deep into the flesh of her stomach. He repeats the motion again and again until he feels the languidness of her movements, can tell that the flight is almost over. Because when the fight was over, that’s when the real fun began…
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