sLaughter

“Hey, baby. Nice rack!” A disgusting man with a beer belly and whiskey breath called out to Madeline Tremayne as she walked along the street, her high heels click clacking on the pavement beneath her feet. She stopped and turned to smile at him, before walking towards him.

“What’s your name, honey?” She asked, her voice sultry and soft. The man grinned, showing his yellowed, crooked teeth.

“Avery,” He told her. “Joe Avery.”

She leaned in close before grabbing his shirt with her hands, and kicking him in the balls with her knee. She pushed him back, making him land against the brick wall of the bar he’d been standing outside of.

“Maybe that will teach you not to mess with women, Joe.” She said as she wiped her hands on the side of her skirt and began walking away. This same thing happened every night with her, as she was walking the streets of New York City on her way home from her job as a waitress. And the same thing always happened to the men who decided to try and pick her up; they ended up on the ground, wincing in pain.

As she started walking, she heard a deep rumble come from the sky. The clouds were dark, and threatened to start raining any time now. She had completely forgotten that it was going to rain today, and she’d left her raincoat at home, along with her umbrella. She shivered, awaiting the cold rain to start falling, and quickened her pace so she could get home sooner rather than later.

When she had gotten outside her apartment complex, the rain started to pour heavily, and she got inside just in time. She shivered, and looked outside to see the rain.

“It’s s’posed t’rain like this all week, yes i’tis.” The man at the front desk of the apartment complex lobby said, his British accent annoying Madeline. Though, if she were honest with herself, it wasn’t the man’s accent that annoyed her, but rather the man himself.

“Great,” She muttered under her breath. “If anyone comes to see me, just send them up.”

“But yeh never get vis’tors, Ms. Teymarne.”

Madeline stopped, and turned to glare at the man. “It’s Tremayne, Oliver. And I know I don’t get visitors. But if, perchance, someone does stop to see me, just send them up. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, ma’am.” He muttered, looking at the floor. She smiled, and then walked towards the elevator, not wanting to bother with the stairwells.

-x-

When Madeline got to her apartment; the penthouse of the place, she smiled. She had worked hard for her apartment, and enjoyed the time she spent in it. Though it wasn’t nearly the best penthouse in New York City, the fact that she was able to comfortably afford the place just made her smile.

She walked towards her bedroom, opening the door and stepped inside the room. The walls were a deep red; almost blood colored, Madeline thought to herself with a smile. She’d always had a love for the darker side of life. The floor was a dark cherry wood, and in the middle of the vaulted ceiling was a chandelier from the 18th century. Out of all the rooms in her penthouse apartment, Madeline’s bedroom was certainly her favorite place to be. She walked over to the closet and opened the door, pulling her hoodie off and hanging it up on a hanger before shutting the door again. She walked through to the living room and turned the TV on, flipping through several channels before stopping on the local news. As she walked into her kitchen, she stopped when she heard an interesting tidbit of information.

”---And in other news, a man believed to be homeless and addicted to drugs was found dead outside the Mariott Hotel, his body cut into small pieces and individually bagged before being placed together, like a puzzle. This is the third murder of its sorts, and the NYPD is at their wit's end trying to find a suspect. This is KWTV News at 10, I’m Katie Hausser. Back to—“

Madeline turned the TV off, smiling to herself. The Mariott was just down the street from her apartment complex. She walked back into her bedroom before grabbing the raincoat on the hanger in her closet, a hat, and a camera before walking out of the bedroom and towards the door. She locked the door shut securely, and walked over to the elevator, and rode in silence down the thirteen floors until she got to the first floor.

As she walked to the doors to leave, the man at the desk coughed. “I wouldn’ go out there, Ma’am. ‘Tis getting’ colder an’ there’s a murd’rer on the loose. ‘Aven’t you ‘erd?”

“No, I haven’t. I’m leaving now, Oliver,” She rolled her eyes as she stepped outside into the downpour of rain.

When she got outside, Madeline was tempted to go back inside. It promised to be a very cold night in New York City, and she had never been fond of the cold. But curiosity of the murder got the better of her, and she kept walking, finding herself to be, for once, the only person walking along the normally busy sidewalk.

When she got to the Mariott, it was still tied off with police tape. The body was gone, but in its place were bloodstains that even the torrential rain wasn’t washing away.

“This is a murder scene, ma’am. May I ask what you’re doing here?” A man’s voice asked sternly from behind her. Madeline turned around, expecting to see a police officer. Instead, she saw a man with dark brown hair and brown eyes, a frown on his face.

“Does it look like I’m inside the police tape?” She asked him, smirking. When he didn’t come back at her with a remark, she started turning around to look at the bloody scene. The man touched her shoulder, and she turned around, this time glaring. “What do you want?”

“You didn’t answer my question…What’s your name?”

Madeline rolled her eyes before deciding that telling the man her name might not be a bad thing. If it got him to leave her alone, she’d do it. “Madeline,” She told him. “Madeline Tremayne.”

“Well, Ms. Tremayne, what are you standing outside in one of the biggest rainstorms of the year looking at a fresh murder scene for?” He asked her, a grin threatening to break out on his face.

“I’m fascinated by it,” She said, looking back at the scene. “You may think me odd for saying this, but I’ve always thought murder was…passionate. Beautiful, in a way.”

“I don’t think you’re odd,” The man told her. She turned around, confused at what he had just said. Anyone else would have thought her a psychopathic, crazy woman who ought to be locked up in the looney bin.

“Are you crazy? I just said I think murder is beautiful, and you don’t find that the least bit odd?”

“Nope,” The man replied, making a popping sound on the ‘p.’ “In fact, I find myself agreeing with you, oddly enough.”

“What’s your name?” Madeline asked suddenly. He gave her a confused look, before shrugging.

“Andy,” He told her, offering her his hand to shake. “Just Andy."

“Well, Just Andy, it would appear as though we have more in common than I previously thought. Would you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

“Of course,” He told her, curtsying sarcastically. “Where at?”

“My apartment is fine,” She said aloofly. “It’s just down the street.”

“Well, then let’s get going.” He smiled to her, offering her his elbow. They walked along the sidewalk together until they got to the apartment complex. When they stepped inside, she glared at Oliver.

“Don’t start,” She told him.

Knowing what she meant, Oliver didn’t say anything as she and Andy walked towards the elevator.

When they got upstairs, he smiled at her as she opened the door to the penthouse. She opened the door, and stepped inside, letting Andy follow her in.

“You have a nice apartment,” He noted. She smiled, before shrugging.

“I’ve been working for it for a long time. It doesn’t come easily,” She told him. “What do you prefer for food?”

“Steaks,” He said to her. “Very, very rare steaks.”

Her eyebrows raised in question, but she removed her raincoat and hung it up on the coatrack by the door.

“Interesting. You like your steaks the same way as I prefer them. How very odd.”

“Yes, indeed it is.” He told her, following her to the kitchen. “Do you want help with anything?”

“No, I think I can handle it.” She told him. “There’s a TV in the living room. Isn’t that what men do, is watch TV?”

“Well, most of us. Some of us prefer more…interesting pastimes.” He said to her. As she pulled the steaks out of her fridge, she turned and gave him a questioning look.

“What kind of interesting pastimes do you enjoy, then, if not football and baseball?”

“Well, that’s another conversation for another time, perhaps.” He told her, switching the conversation. “Let’s just say that I like to play games.”

Madeline smiled, preparing the seasoning. “Games? What sort of games?” She pushed. He laughed, knowing what she was getting at.

“Oh, you know. All sorts of games. Puzzles mostly, though. I love to put together puzzles. It’s fascinating to me how all the little pieces fit together to form a perfect…picture.”

Madeline nodded, smiling again. She put the seasoning on the steaks, and went to start cooking them on the stovetop. When she had finished cooking them no more than a few minutes later and had set the glass table in the dining room for two, with a candle set in the middle of the table between them, she smiled at him as she took her first bite of steak.

“So tell me, Andy,” She said as she bit into the meat, a small trace of blood staying on her mouth as she swallowed.

“Tell you what?” He asked. She grinned at him, taking a sip of the red wine she’d poured herself.

“Tell me when you were planning on telling me that you’re a serial killer.”