Under the Moonlight

A July full moon beamed down, casting its pale reflection over the water.The humid summer air was suffocating, each breath stifling my lungs as I stood on the banks of the bayou with my love in my arms. She rested her head against my shoulder, her hair glinting like liquid gold in the moonlight. My lovely Nellie, looking ravishing in a red dress that matched my jacket. She was still just as beautiful as the day I met her in that speakeasy five years ago. The memories of that night flashed in my mind as I gazed into her eyes.

I sat at the bar, casually sipping a scotch while a talentless vaudeville performer warbled in the background. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her on the dance floor, a doe-eyed blonde in the arms of a man twice her size and twice her age. Her hair was messy, her lip bleeding, and her face streaked with tears and running mascara. Despite her tears, there was a slight spark of defiance in her eyes as she struggled to free herself from his embrace. That spark reminded me of someone I used to know.

My eyes darkened as I watched him slip her dress off one shoulder, and as they passed, I overheard him say she owed him more than a dance for booking her vaudeville act. Another empty-headed brute who took whatever he wanted by force. I knew his type all too well; I was raised by one of them.

Before I could think twice, I was on my feet. She was in my arms, and the brute was staring dumbfounded, red-faced and mumbling incoherently. The poor girl was stiff and trembling in my arms, and she looked at me with wide, frightened eyes like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s trap. She obediently followed my lead, gradually relaxing as she saw that I wasn’t going to hurt her like the other guy.

As we talked, I learned that her name was Nellie Warren. She was new to town, a transplant from a small town in Minnesota, and she’d moved to the city for her job. That job was managing the Sam Scanlon Vaudeville Band, and her boss was none other than the talentless performer who had been strutting about the stage the whole time. The pompous peacock was too blinded by fame to notice his manager in distress.

We parted that night with a gentle kiss and a promise that I would talk to the nightclub owner who attacked her. As a gentleman of my word, I did more than promised. No one ever saw that brute again after that night. Only two people alive knew what happened to him.

****************************

Nellie’s makeup was ruined, just like that night five years ago. The black streaks of mascara mingled with tears on her cheeks served as a bitter reminder of our argument tonight. I smiled as I gently cupped her face, tracing the streaks with my thumb. “This romantic boat ride will help you forget all about that little lovers’ quarrel. Now let’s see a smile, my dear.”

She didn’t smile. She didn’t even look at me at all.

Our romantic boat was a rickety old rowboat, partially hidden by reeds. Its peeling white paint was stained green with algae and its oars splintered and rotten. A faint smell of mold and wet earth permeated the wood.

I offered Nellie a hand into the boat. She stumbled on the bank, but I caught her before the hem of her dress so much as brushed the water. “Careful, my dear. It’s slippery.”

Despite the warm summer night, her hand was like ice. I clasped her hand in both of mine trying to warm it. “Darling, you’re freezing! Let’s get you warmed up!” I exclaimed, draping my jacket over her shoulders as I climbed into the boat with her.

The sound of the oars lapping against the water was soon drowned out by a cacophony of frogs croaking and crickets chirping. As we drifted out, I stole a glance at Nellie. She rested her head against her outstretched arm, her fingers grazing the surface of the water to make ripples. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder, hiding her face from view. She still wouldn’t speak to me or even stir.

I shook my head, chuckling under my breath. “Come now, you can’t give me the silent treatment forever.”

She offered no resistance as I held her. She leaned limply against me, her head resting against my shoulder. Her blue eyes clouded like a storm gathering over a calm sea. One look in those blank, staring eyes, and the illusion shattered. My Nellie was gone, her mouth half-open in a permanent expression of shock and her dress stiff with drying blood. She was dead, and I killed her.

My first unplanned victim, and the first I never wanted to kill. Sweet, innocent little Nellie, used and abused by every man in her life. I swore I'd never hurt her like them, but she left me no choice.

****************************

To think that only a few hours ago, we were happy together in my living room. She sat beside me on the sofa, huddled in my arms as the radio played faint jazz music in the background. The little darling secretly loved to be held, but only by me. I was the only man she trusted not to hurt or ignore her, and I was happy to oblige. Hers was the only touch that didn’t disgust me.

She caressed my cheek, looking at me with those blue eyes. “I wish the radio station would play something besides jazz!”

“We are in the jazz capital of the world, remember? What would you have them play instead?”

“I don’t know, vaudeville? Maybe some of Sam’s music…”

Sam Scanlon, the worthless crooner whose career was built on Nellie’s degradation… and the fool had no idea! The name alone was enough to send me into a rage, but I restrained myself for her sake. I chuckled darkly. “When will you ever learn, my dear? Vaudeville is a dying art.”

The comfortable stillness was broken as the soft jazz music stopped playing, and a man’s voice interrupted. “Breaking news, ladies and gentlemen! The Bourbon Street Butcher has finally been captured. Vaudeville entertainer Sam Scanlon was apprehended by police this evening at…”

One moment, Nellie was in my arms and happy. The next, she was on her feet and panic-stricken. “Sam! We have to go to the police right now!”

There was that name again. My mind raced. She knew too much… the identities of my victims, the weapon I used to kill them, the location of the bodies. If she went blabbing to the police, she could lead them back to me. No, I’d be damned if I let her gamble away my life and livelihood for some vapid vaudevillian! I put on a smile to hide my own panic. “Now, now, remember our deal.”

She had that defiant spark in her eyes, the one that reminded me of the only other woman I ever loved. “Our deal was that Sam would never know or get hurt-”

“Which hasn’t happened yet, and most likely won’t,” I interrupted gently. “The cops are bound to realize they’ve got the wrong man when the murders continue. My dear, please think rationally. There’s no need to ruin everything for that warbling peacock.”

I hugged her from behind, but this time she didn’t melt into my embrace. She just stiffened, refusing to look at me. “And what if they don’t? What if they think it’s a copycat… or that he has a partner-in-crime? By the time they figure it out, Sam could already be dead or worse. You forget that warbling peacock saved my life.”

Always Sam… No matter what I did for Nellie, how many people I killed for her, it was never enough. She still had eyes for Sam! My hands balled into fists, hidden in my jacket pockets, as I tried to calm by building rage. “What about me? Did I not save your life when I stopped that drunken brute from having his way with you? When I killed countless men who dared lay a hand on you? By all means, trade my life for his!”

She looked at me as if I were a monster. All the horrible things she’d seen me do, but she’d never looked at me that way before. Her voice was cold. “Don’t pretend this was ever for me. You would’ve racked up the same body count, with or without my help. You needn’t worry, Al. The only life I plan to trade is my own. No one will ever know the great Alaric Hart’s dark side. Your secret dies with me.”

I imagined her in an oversized black and white prison uniform, bound in handcuffs too large for her dainty wrists. The thought of a delicate little thing like her being sentenced for my crimes was so amusing, I burst out laughing. “Who’s going to believe a little doe like you capable of such slaughter?”

I was prepared for tears, screams, insults, or some combination of all of them. None came. Instead her blue eyes hardened like cold steel, and she grabbed my knife. I blinked, caught off guard; my smile wavered for a moment.

I started to reach for the knife, momentarily forgetting that I wasn’t wearing gloves. Just in time, I realized what I was doing and retracted my bare hand. Understanding dawned in my eyes as I looked at her. Clever girl, trying to get my fingerprints on the knife, but I was on to her plan! “Darling, put the knife down.”

I half-expected her to point the knife at me, and the idea made me chuckle under my breath. Imagine, a sweet delicate thing like her threatening me when she knew what I could do to her! Anger flashed in her eyes. Her left hand trembled, still clutching the knife, and…

She stabbed the knife into the coffee table with a dull thud. “Now they have to believe me. My fingerprints are the only ones they’ll find on the knife.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose beneath my glasses. Clearly, reason wasn’t working. I would have to resort to more drastic measures to protect my secret. Already formulating a plan, I looked at her with my most defeated expression. “Touché, my dear. May I have one last request before you go? One last night on the town for old times’ sake… ”

She stopped, frozen in place with her hand on the doorknob. While her back was turned, I dislodged the knife from the coffee table, touching the handle with a handkerchief.. I could have done it then, but a gentleman does not stab his prey in the back.

Dear, sweet Nellie never saw me hide the knife in my jacket. All she saw when her limpid blue eyes met mine was my outstretched hand and pleasing eyes. “What do you say, Nell? Sam can wait in his cell until morning. It’s not like they’ll hang him in the next twelve hours.”

I saw the conflict in her eyes as she hesitated. She placed a trembling hand in mine, and I pulled her in for a kiss. I couldn’t let her walk out that door alive. All I could do was make sure she never saw the knife.

She gasped, her eyes growing wide with pain and betrayal as blood gushed from the wound in her chest. A few tears trickled down her cheeks, smearing her mascara. That look in her eyes paralyzed me, and the knife fell from my right hand with a dull clatter.

“Al…” That was all she had time to say before she bled out in my arms.

****************************

I couldn’t bring myself to dismember her like I did my other victims. The least I could do for her was let her maintain her dignity a little longer, until the water and wildlife took her. By the time anyone found her, there would be no sign of the knife wound. All I had to do was toss her body overboard, and I’d get away with murder,,, again.

So why didn’t I feel triumphant? Why did my chest ache, as if I were the one stabbed with a knife? Why did my eyes suddenly burn and water? Why couldn’t I let her go?

“Adieu, ma belle Nell. You were a loyal partner… if only you were mine.”

I held her close, giving her one last kiss on the forehead before I released her to the bayou. Her hair and dress darkened as the water enveloped her, and all I could do was watch helplessly as she disappeared beneath the surface. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw yellow eyes glinting. Two alligators approached, their slimy green forms bobbing in the water.

I gripped the oars so hard, my knuckles turned white. Splinters dug into my hands, but I didn’t care. The pain was the only thing keeping me from beating the alligators back. I shut my eyes and turned away, unable to watch them desecrate her.

In their feeding frenzy, one of the alligators bumped the boat with its tail. The dilapidated old boat creaked, swayed, and finally overturned, taking me overboard with it. Pain shot through my arm as one alligator’s teeth clamped down on it. I reached for my knife with my free hand, and… Damn! I forgot I left it behind.

I wriggled and struggled, fighting to free myself long enough to swim back to the overturned rowboat. As I punched the alligator in the nose, another one came from behind and bit my leg. I turned to hit that one, but the first pulled on my arm, dragging me down. The more I fought, the harder they pulled. Outnumbered and exhausted, I felt my strength ebbing. My body went limp, and the last thing my tired waterlogged vision saw was Nellie’s milky blue eyes staring back at me.