I do not own Women's Murder Club. Some scenes are graphic and may be disturbing.

"So, Mrs Melanie Brandt, may I escort you to your hotel room?" David Brandt asked his wife as he held out his hand, a grin which resembled that of a Cheshire cat plastered on his face.

"Of course you may, my dear." Melanie took David's proffered hand and they walked to the elevator, which pinged open just as they got there, with only a member of staff inside. David and Melanie exchanged pleasantries with the waiter whose name tag said Phillip, but didn't really pay him any attention as they waited for the elevator to reach their floor.

The elevator pinged as the doors opened on the Brandt's floor and, with a goodnight to the waiter; they stepped out and headed to their suite. After fumbling with the key card, David opened their suite door, holding it open for his wife, closing and locking the door firmly behind him.

David grinned as he heard a gasp of surprise come from his wife, "David, did you do this?" David just nodded; there were long-stemmed, red roses all over the room. "It's beautiful." Melanie beamed.

"I wouldn't change places with anyone else in the world right now." David mutters into his wife's neck as he hugs her from behind as they look out at the outline of the Golden Gate Bridge in the fading sunlight.

"Me neither." Melanie sighs as David goes across the room to where his suit jacket is across the back of one of the chairs.

"I've got something for you." He says as he rummages through his pocket.

"Oh David, there isn't anything else I need apart from being with you for the rest of my life." In the low sunlight, Melanie blushes as David brings out a small, black suede pouch from a box which she recognises from her favourite jewellers, Bulgari.

"Just open it dear." David hands her the pouch. "I think you'll like."

"Oh David, you didn't have to." Melanie gasps as she pulls out a pair of earrings, a pair of moons made from diamonds which are surrounded by metal rings.

"These represent how I feel about you; you are the moon who pulls my tides." Melanie held the earrings against the lobes of her ears, they looked perfect on her. David takes two champagne filled flutes from the nearby table, handing one to Melanie. "A toast…to us and to the future." He declared, clinking his glass against Melanie's and taking a long sip, as did she. They stood in silence for a time, enjoying the comfort of being with each other, watching the sunset across San Francisco.

As the light turned to dark, David put his and his wife's glasses back onto the table from which he had taken them and took his wife's hand, moving them to the edge of the bed. Without words, he slowly moved the straps of Melanie's dress over her shoulder, kissing each shoulder as he did so; he paused to nibble on her ear and was moving down her neck as a knock came from the other side of the door.

"Champagne!" Called the dislocated voice. David felt like telling them to leave it out there, they were busy but Melanie told him to answer, holding up the earrings to her ears.

"I'm going to try these on." She said with a wink as she turned and sauntered toward their en-suite. After she was out of sight, David went and opened the door.

Phillip Campbell had dreamed of this moment, envisioned the delightful scene that would unfold right in front of him, so many times, he just hoped that this wasn't a dream. "Congratulations." He murmured as he handed the bottle of Krug, Clos du Mesnil, 1989 to David, who barely acknowledged him and was intently inspecting the bottle.

"Was there a card?" Was all David asked, briefly looking behind him in search of his wife.

"Only this, sir." Phillip said as he stepped forward and thrust a knife into the groom's chest, right between the third and fourth ribs, the closest route to the heart. David stumbled backwards slightly at the impact, 'almost as if he had been shot' Campbell mused with a chuckle. He then grabbed hold of the groom, pushing him up against the door as he drove the blade in deeper as Mr. Brandt stiffened with shock and pain.

David tried to breathe, guttural, rasping sounds escaping his throat. "David? David, where are you?" Melanie called from the en suite and Campbell was quick enough to pull the knife from Mr. Brandt just as Mrs. Brandt walked into the room.

"Dav….who are you? Where's David?" Melanie scanned the room frantically until her eyes locked on her husband, whom had slid to the floor; there was now a pool of blood by his chest where he had been stabbed and he was also coughing up blood as his lungs filled.

"Oh my god! David! What have you done?!" Melanie tried to move, to get to where her husband's body was but she was frozen in fear, her eyes swept the room for a way out, but there wasn't one, she felt a rush of adrenaline and made a dash for the door, but Campbell grabbed a hold of her wrist, pulling her close as he pressed the bloodied knife against her throat.

Melanie's eyes widened as she felt the pressure of the knife against her throat. "Please don't kill me." She begged, the sound music to Campbell's ears.

"Oh, but Melanie, I'm here to save you." Campbell lowered the knife and sliced into her. Melanie tensed as a death rattle escaped her lips, the life draining from her eyes as she sagged into Campbell's arms.

It took Campbell nearly a full minute to regain his senses. After removing the blade from Melanie, he carried her over to the bed and placed her on it, a grin that would remind anyone of a Cheshire cat upon his face and a somewhat crazed look in his eye.

'What's the worst thing anyone has done?' Campbell asked himself. 'Is it this? Was he responsible for it?' 'Not quite yet' answered the voice inside, and with that answer, he proceeded to lift the bride's wedding dress.