Chicago Reverse

Disclaimer: I do not own Chicago or its characters or any other aspect of it in any way, shape or form (including more Roxie dialogue) ... I just wish I did.

Consequences of Murder

After splurging on a ridiculously expensive meal (and several bottles of booze), Velma staggered out of the restaurant, intending to return home, pretend to be alarmed by the sight of her dead husband and sister and raise the alarm. She drunkenly hailed a taxi and sat quietly, smug smile still in place, until the taxi pulled up at the apartment block. Velma was totally unprepared for the sight that met her.

Police had surrounded the building and were talking to old Mrs. Borusewicz, Velma's neighbour. Velma's eyes widened in shock as she took in what Mrs. Borusewicz was saying to the police officer.

"I heard shots fired and loud cursing next door. I went outside to see what was going on when Ms. Kelly ran out of the room and down the stairs. She didn't see me, she was obviously shaken ..."

Velma started walking angrily over to the masses of police officers muttering curses under her breath.

"Hey!" yelled the taxi driver. "Hey, miss!"

Velma exasperatedly chucked a few bills at him, which he grabbed quickly before speeding away. Velma continues to storm over to the throng. Upon seeing her, Mrs. Borusewicz pointed at Velma and said "That's her! The one rushing out!"

Resisting the urge to murder her neighbour as well, Velma tried to arrange her face into a concerned look.

"What's going on, officer?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"You're being arrested for murder, Ms. Kelly," the officer said. "THAT'S what's going on."

Roxie sat nervously on the bed, anxiously awaiting the return of her husband, Amos. Stupid sap, she thought smugly. He'll believe anything I tell him. Roxie enjoyed that power she had over her husband, how a simple pout and eyelash flutter had him eating out of her hand. She had formulated a plan; when Amos came home, she would appear distraught and tell him how she had woken up to find a burglar climbing through the window, and, scared out of her wits (cue baby-faced pout), she had shot him. She would then somehow convince him to take the blame, because 'he was sure to get off'. Yeah right, thought Roxie. Better him than me.

Sure enough, Amos, after getting over the initial horror of finding a corpse in the bedroom, completely swallowed Roxie's story and agreed to 'confess' to the police. And now, here they were, interrogating Amos, who, in spite of himself, was being pretty convincing, thought Roxie grudgingly. As she half-listened to Amos's carefully rehearsed spiel, she let her mind wander. Maybe she would sing about this later ... until she snapped out of her fantasy (flowing pink dress, sitting on the piano, the works ...) after hearing Amos say those fateful words ...

"Fred Casely?" Amos said, disbelievingly. "How could he be a burglar? My wife knows him, he sold us out furniture ..." Roxie could almost see the cogs turning slowly in her husband's head. "He gave us ten percent off ..." No shit, Sherlock, Roxie thought, before realising how much trouble she would be in if Amos didn't shut up.

"You big blabbermouth!" she heard herself yelling. "You promised you'd stick!"

"What are you talking about?" Amos yelled louder. "You've been stringing me Roxanne!"

"Goddammit!" Roxie yelled. "You are a disloyal husband!"

She suddenly realized what had happened and turned to the intimidating man in front of her, frantically trying to think up a story.

"Look, it's true," she said, desperately. "I shot him. But it was self-defense; he was trying to burgle me."

"From what I hear, he's been burgling you three times a week for the past month," retorted the man. "Your story doesn't wash, Mrs. Hart."

Roxie didn't hear the rest, she was inwardly kicking herself for her outburst. But the worst was still to come. The man produced photographs of a woman and five children ... Fred's family.

"What?" Roxie whimpered, disbelievingly. "That bastard ... that BASTARD!" She turned to the man and incensed, yelled "Yeah, I killed him, and I would kill him again!"

"I'm sorry, officer, what was that?" Velma asked, desperately trying to keep her cool.

"Murder, Ms. Kelly, murder."

Velma decided to keep up the act. "Whose murder? I've been out to dinner."

The police officer bemusedly raised one eyebrow and spoke slowly.

"Alone? Really? Well your husband and sister are dead ... what do you think happened?"

"Charlie? Veronica?" Velma asked, pretending to be shocked. "Dead? No, it can't be! Why would anyone kill Charlie and Veronica?"

"YOU killed them, Ms. Kelly, drop the act," sighed the police officer. "Your alibi is invalid. Your neighbour saw you rushing out just after the crime was committed. You wouldn't have had time to reach the restaurant."

Velma clenched her jaw. "I'm telling you, I'm innocent!" she said. "Why won't you believe me?"

The police officer ignored her and ushered her towards the van. "Tell that to a jury, Ms. Kelly," he said. "This is a hanging case."

Frozen with fear, Velma sat in the van, her worst nightmare true. She refused to cry, but inside, she had never been so shaken. Hanging case ... the words that had haunted her since she realized the extent of her crime ...

Roxie found herself escorted outside, the streets filled with photographers and reporters, all wanting the latest scoop on Roxie Hart, newly minted jazz killer. But it was all a blur for Roxie. She couldn't believe it. This was supposed to be Amos ... well, her picture, but Amos in the van. She blinked and looked around wildly as they locked the door on the van. She saw flashes of cameras, Amos's distraught face, and the cold expression of ADA Harrison.

"Not so tough anymore, huh?"

Crushed, all she could do was, sit and stare blankly out, much to the frustration of the photographers. All she could make out was "This is a hanging case."

"Wait," she called. "What do you mean, hanging?"

But she knew. The worst possible outcome was now a definite possibility. And, for the first time in as long as she could remember, Roxie Hart was scared.