I Know What You Did Last Halloween
Halloween Night – One Year Previously
Ben Cross stared down at the body at his feet in horror. He let out a muffled cry, clapping his hands to his mouth, as his eyes filled with tears at the realization of what he had done. "Oh my God!" he gasped. "Oh my God, Julie, wake up!"
But the body at his feet lay still and lifeless, the woman's wide eyes frozen in shock as the blood trickled from a large wound at the back of her skull.
"Oh God!" gasped Ben, kneeling down next to her. "Oh God, Julie, I didn't mean it! I'm sorry! Please wake up!"
But one look at her told him it was useless to try and revive her. His horror turned to blind panic – he had killed his wife. He hadn't meant to – it had been an accident. Just an argument that had got out of control, and she had attacked him, and he had defended himself by shoving her away…and that was when her head had collided with the marble counter. And now…now he was a murderer. If he called the police, they would take him in, and what were the chances that they would believe him if he told them the truth? They would look into his story – they would see that it wasn't the first time he and his wife had been loudly arguing, they would discover that the police had actually been called on them a few times. They might uncover his wife's affair, they might suspect he had intended to kill her because of that. He might be tried for murder in the first degree, sentenced to life in prison, or death for something he didn't mean to do...he couldn't take the risk of the cops finding out about this. His panicked brain reasoned that much anyway. He had to get rid of the body, and fast.
She lay on the kitchen rug, and he rolled her into it, and then dragged it out the back door. He looked carefully around to make sure there were no stray trick-or-treaters still wandering the neighborhood, but it was late, and the street was deserted. He dragged the rug into his car, and then started the engine, driving off toward the river.
When he reached the bridge over the Gotham River, he stopped the car, looking around carefully to make sure the cops nor, God forbid, the Batman was around. Then he removed the rug from the trunk, and pulled it over to the railing…
And that was when he heard voices. "You know, however much candy you're paying me with, it's not enough for dragging this crap all the way down here. Where are your useless henchmen tonight?"
"Incarcerated, unfortunately. The Batman always persecutes my men on the run up to Halloween in an effort to foil me, but I've outsmarted him as usual. Anyway, you didn't have anything better to do on Halloween, did you? It's my night, everyone knows that, which means you people don't have schemes."
"Not schemes, but y'know, a life. Harley and I were gonna do some costumed roleplay – I've been dying to try out my new Batman costume in the sack."
"And as much as I love Mr. J's enthusiasm, I'd rather be doing anything than have him do his Batman roleplay, even dragging this crap to the river. Especially since he's gonna insist I wear my Robin costume, and it's not exactly flattering on me."
"That's not an image I wanted, and yet, there it is."
"Well, someone could ask her plants to help, but someone seems to think her so-called babies are too good for manual labor."
"Child labor is illegal in this country, and there's no rule that says it doesn't apply to plant children."
"No, but there's also no rule that says it does. There's also what's called a reasonable person standard, which would probably exclude considering plants as equals to human beings under the law."
"I'm not exactly a reasonable person, but I'm fairly certain none of our laws apply to plants, because that would be nonsense."
"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? And you're also not a lawyer, so what would you know about the law anyway?"
"I know we're all supposed to be currently incarcerated for breaking it, so keep your voices down please!"
Ben glanced under the bridge to see several shadowy figures struggling with large cannisters. As he looked closer, he could see that the cannisters had an upside-down bat symbol used as a mouth, and two eyes above it – the mark of the Scarecrow.
He had clearly stumbled upon some supercriminal plot to poison the river with fear gas, and he knew dropping Julie's body would alert them to his presence. He tried not to make a sound as he attempted to pull her back into the car…but that was when he lost his grip on the rug. It fell to the ground with a loud bang, and unrolled. Julie's body hit the railing with a thud, and Ben cringed as the talking suddenly stopped.
Blind panic seized him, and he forgot all thoughts of dumping Julie's body, focused now only on getting away before the supercriminals noticed him. He leapt into the car, but before he could even start the engine, a face appeared at the windscreen directly in front of him. And Ben's heart practically stopped when he recognized the smiling face of the Joker.
Ben sat frozen in terror as the Joker slowly came around to open the door. "Well, well, well, what have we here?" asked Joker, smiling at him. "What brings you out on a night like this, pal?"
"N…nothing," stammered Ben, trying to think up a plausible lie. "I was just…going home…from a party…"
"Oh, a Halloween party?" asked Joker. "Where's your costume? You can't be wearing it, because that's the lamest costume I've ever seen, and I've seen Riddler's. What's it meant to be?"
"Uh...it's...uh..." stammered Ben.
"Did you go as a rug?" pressed Joker, nodding at the rug at his feet. "Or maybe as a crime scene since it's all covered in blood? Kinda a weird costume if you ask me, but certainly creative. Or maybe you were just at a crime scene, and you stole this rug from it. I guess it is pretty nice, aside from the bloodstains, and maybe you can clean those up somehow. Harley's a miracle worker with bloodstains, and she can probably share some tips with you, can't you, cupcake?"
"I don't think it's a costume, Mr. J," said a voice, and Ben turned to see that Harley Quinn was kneeling down by the railing, over Julie's body. "She's dead," said Harley, straightening up.
"Oh, a little robbery and murder for Halloween, huh?" chuckled Joker. "Can't say I blame you, buddy – nights like these always put me in the mood too!"
"N…no, I didn't…I didn't murder her!" sobbed Ben, breaking down suddenly. "I mean…I didn't mean to! It was an accident! It all just happened so fast – I didn't know what I was doing…"
"Yeah, the insanity defense is a good one," interrupted Joker, nodding. "Be sure to keep saying that if you get arrested. Say you're not in control of your actions – they usually buy that."
"It's true!" exclaimed Ben. "She…she was the one who attacked me – I would never have laid a hand on her! But she started goaded me, telling me all about Greg…"
"Who's Greg?" asked Harley.
"This guy she's seeing – he works with her, and I confronted her about it, and she didn't deny it…"
"Aw, well, she brought it on herself then," said Harley, shrugging. "Cheating on a guy – just shameful behavior. I know if I was ever crazy enough to cheat on Mr. J, he'd murder me horribly, and I'd deserve it, wouldn't I, puddin'?"
"That's right, pooh," said Joker, nodding. "You'd have it coming, just like she did."
"What utter misogynistic crap!" snapped another voice, as Poison Ivy appeared on the bridge. "Women do not deserve to be murdered for having affairs! You probably brought the cheating on yourself by not being supportive enough, or ignoring her, or something! Any relationship between a man and a woman is oppressive by definition, so she probably cheated because you were oppressing her like all men do!"
"That defense won't stand up in a court of law," said Two-Face, who appeared beside her. "But then neither will murdering her because she cheated on you. We have divorce courts to handle things like that without resorting to murder."
"I told you, it was an accident!" sobbed Ben. "She came at me, and I pushed her away, and she hit her head! I never meant to hurt her! I would never have laid a hand on her…"
"Maybe that's why she cheated on you," suggested Joker. "Women like to be treated rough, and they crave a firm backhand every once in a while."
"You're a disgusting excuse for a man, and so are you!" snapped Ivy, glaring from Joker to Ben.
"What the devil is going on?" demanded the Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, followed by Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter. "I thought you were going to take care of whoever was spying on us, Joker, not sit him down for a chat and a therapy session!"
"You'd think you of all people would appreciate me doing that, Dr. Crane," retorted Joker. "Anyway, I was curious. You don't come across people trying to dump bodies every day, although it probably happens more frequently in Gotham than anywhere else. Thought it might be an interesting story."
"And is it?" demanded Crane.
"No, not really," sighed Joker. "Amateur hour, really. An accidental murder, which is so disappointing. It's like seeing a work of art where the guy has clearly just thrown blobs of paint on the canvas – no skill and no style involved in that. Some of us work our whole lives to perfect our art, and it's annoying to have people with no experience hone in on our act."
"I'm not trying to hone in," said Ben. "Honest. I just…I just want this nightmare to end!" he sobbed.
"Aw no, there, there," said Harley, patting his shoulder. "There's no need to get worked up over a silly accidental murder. Could've happened to anyone, so don't beat yourself up about it."
"Harley, he doesn't need psychiatric help – he needs to be killed and dumped in the river so he doesn't spoil my fear gas attack!" snapped Crane.
"Oh yeah, and that won't alert the Batman!" said Harley, sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I thought you wanted one of your schemes to actually work for once, Johnny! Anyway, there's a better solution to both our problems. What's your name, buddy?" she asked, turning to Ben.
"Ben…Ben Cross," stammered Ben, hoping that if they did kill him and dump his body, they would at least remember his name if his body was ever found.
"Well, here's what we're gonna do, Ben," said Harley. "You leave your wife's body here with us, and we'll dump her after the attack starts, so Batsy will be too distracted to notice. Johnny gets his fear gas attack, you get rid of the body, and nobody can charge you with murder. You'll have gotten away scot free, as you should, because it was an accident, and you shouldn't be held responsible for an accident, right?"
"Harley, I will not help cover up the crime of a man who murdered his wife!" snapped Ivy. "She deserves justice!"
"And justice would be seeing this guy go to prison where the guilt will consume him?" demanded Harley. "Where he'll get involved with gangs and drug abuse? Over something he never meant to do in the first place? Sounds crazy to me, Red."
"Of course it sounds crazy to you – your boyfriend doesn't hesitate to use violence against you, so you can't see how that would be a problem for anyone else!" snapped Ivy. "Do you have any idea of the numbers of women who are killed by their intimate partner every year?"
"No. What are they?" asked Harley.
"I don't know off the top of my head, but they're up there!" snapped Ivy.
"Oh, cut the crap, Weed Lady!" snapped Joker. "You don't care about this tramp's life – you're just trying to use her to make a point about me and Harley! She probably picked flowers or something once, so even by your logic, she deserved to die. You, Ben, did you ever buy your wife flowers?" he demanded, turning to Ben. "And did she ever thank you for them?"
"Yes, I bought her…lots of flowers," murmured Ben. "She always had them in vases around the house…"
"Then yes, she deserved to be cut off in her prime, just like she loved my babies being cut off in their prime," interrupted Ivy. "But I still don't like the thought of letting this man get away with her murder!"
"If you're afraid this guy will go on to abuse other women, I think you're barking up the wrong tree," retorted Harley. "He's learned his lesson. Haven't you, Ben?"
"Y…yes," stammered Ben. "I never…I never wanted to kill her, and I'll never…never raise my hand against a woman again!"
"Well, good luck being single and alone!" chuckled Joker. "But I think Harley's right – what harm could there be in dumping a body for a guy? After you get rid of that, there's nothing else to tie you to the murder, right?"
"I'm not so sure about that," commented Tetch, who had gone over to study the open trunk. "There are bloodstains all over the boot."
"What boot?" asked Joker.
"He means trunk," retorted Crane, coming over to join Tetch.
"Well, why doesn't he speak English?" demanded Joker.
"That was English," retorted Tetch. "You stole the language from us and then corrupted it."
"I think you mean improved it," corrected Joker. "Because a boot is something you wear on your foot. It's just needlessly confusing for it to mean two things."
"You see why I'm a fan of nonsense," replied Tetch. "Anyway, I think we'll have to dump the car as well as the body."
"Not necessarily," said Crane, studying it. "These bloodstains are still fresh, and if you get hydrogen peroxide on them quickly enough, it lifts them right off. Of course you'll have to see to that directly. But yes, once they're removed from the car, and the crime scene, and the body is gone, there's nothing to tie you to the murder."
"I think it's a great joke - you accidentally murder your wife, and then you get away with it because you run into some supercriminals who are willing to help you out!" chuckled Joker. "All you gotta do is not confess, pal, and no one will ever know! Of course that's easier said than done. But I guess we'll see, won't we?" he chuckled.
"Th…thank you," stammered Ben, shocked at what he assumed had to be a joke. But it wasn't. The supercriminals allowed him to drive off in his car, Harley and Joker waving after him. And then the Scarecrow released his fear toxin into the water, mass hysteria ruled Gotham that Halloween, and nobody noticed the body dumped in the river, weighed down in a blood-soaked rug, and staining the water red as it sank to the bottom…