Dead Again

Prompt: Hamish and Belle look into the trial of Rupert Strauss and find some interesting information about Isabelle's death; they go on a date. (Rated T for mild sexual content)

It wasn't difficult to gather the resources needed to find out what happened to the Strausses. According to the reports and trial documents, Rupert insisted it was a thief that murdered his wife and stole her anklet. Eventually, witnesses came forward to tell about Rupert's jealousy and the heated arguments he had with Isabelle over Gaston Baker. There was one incident—a New Year's party—that led to a confrontation between Rupert and Gaston. The anklet was involved and the two men ended up fighting in a fountain.

Even the housekeeper testified the jealous flare ups between husband and wife. It wasn't long for the police to declare a motive and arrested Rupert Strauss on charges for murder. He continued to claim he was innocent, but his alibi didn't hold up.

The trial was a dramatic one—very much like one of his operas. The jury found him guilty and he was sentenced to death.

Surprisingly, Rupert didn't appeal the verdict and was resigned to his fate. On the day of his execution, he requested to speak to Mr. Baker. The prison worker who witnessed the conversation said that Strauss wanted Baker to print how much he loved his wife. Then Strauss bent over to whisper in his ear and he was led to the chamber. The worker hadn't a clue what was spoken, but whatever it was, Gaston Baker never wrote a word again.

Groaning, Belle set the papers down. "I don't get it. None of this makes sense. Rupert loved Isabelle. He wouldn't kill her."

"Not according to these," Hamish said. "Seems to me this Rupert fellow had a nasty temper."

Belle rolled her eyes. "Then why don't I remember that? I would think Isabelle would have known… or be afraid or something."

"Well, we don't always see the worst in people that we love until it's too late. Could be Isabelle didn't know what she was getting herself into."

"I refuse to believe that."

"Whatever you believe doesn't matter. Rupert was found guilty. Look. He didn't bother to testify in his defense. That pretty much screams guilty."

"I don't care what it says. I know in my heart it can't be true." Belle got up from the ground. "I wish I knew who I was; why I am so afraid."

"Hey. We will. I promise you, didn't I?" Hamish went over and took her in his arms. "I never go back on my word. You can trust that."

She smiled. "I'm sorry. I guess all this talk about murder and death is making me batty."

Hamish grinned. "How about a bite to eat? Clear our minds a little and work on that memory of yours."

"Sounds like a plan."

He took her to a little piano bar that he knew. The owner was a good friend—well, an acquaintance—but Hamish had helped him in the past with a former employee embezzling.

"David, hey! Belle, I want you to meet my pal, David. David, this is Belle."

David had a warm smile and easy going eyes. Belle could see why they were friends as she shook his hand. "Nice to meet you David."

"Same here. What can I do you for you?"

"David, we would like a nice meal underneath this lovely moonlit night."

David chuckled. "I can do that. Come this way."

Along the way, they met his wife, Mary Margaret, a very sweet woman who welcomed them. David had a patio where he showed them their table—a nice, secluded spot so they wouldn't be interrupted. Once their drink and food orders were placed, Hamish regaled some stories of past cases he worked on. As soon as they received their drinks, Hamish accidentally spilled his on Belle's lap.

"Ah, geez. I'm so sorry Belle." He picked up a napkin and began to clean up.

She laughed. "It's all right. In fact, this reminds me of Rupert and Isabelle's first date. She spilled his drink on him."

"I take it we're both klutzes," he said. "Really. I'm sorry."

"Forget it. Let's enjoy the night."

And it was enjoyable. After dinner, Hamish and Belle walked along Main Street until he grabbed her hand and pulled her into an impromptu waltz. Belle couldn't recall a time where she had this much fun. Actually, she couldn't recall anything at all, but if she had, this was definitely at the top.

They began to head back to his apartment when it started to rain. Drenched, the two were too busy laughing as they ran back. As soon as they got to the door, Hamish took one look at her and found himself kissing Belle.

He couldn't ignore his attraction to her anymore. While there was a chance she could be married or taken, Hamish didn't care and neither did she as Belle kissed him back with the same longing he felt.

They wound up on the couch, tearing each other's clothes off. As Hamish and Belle continued their kissing and touching, she gasped, "This is like Rupert and Isabelle all over again."

"I'm not Rupert!" Hamish moaned as their passion swept over them.

Later, they were tangled in each other's arms and wondered where they would go from here. Hamish knew he wouldn't be able to let her go. Fate brought them together and he was starting to fall in love with her. Strange how this happen, but a part of him knew this was where he belonged.

As for Belle, she was thinking the same. This man had done so much for her and she didn't know how she could repay him. There was a part of her that didn't want to know who she was. This life now was what she wanted and the truth could go to Hell for all she cared.

As they slept in their embrace, Belle dreamed of the past. She saw Isabelle lying down in bed, sleeping peacefully and unawares as a cloaked figure entered the bedroom. She tried to warn Isabelle, but her throat was silenced. Instead, she could only watch in horror as the figure raised his arm, the scissors glinting from the lightning outside. Thunder clapped, waking Isabelle as she looked up in fright.

The figure removed his mask—it was Hamish!

"These are for you!" he shouted as the scissors came down on Isabelle's throat.

Belle woke up screaming and scrambled to get away from Hamish as he fought to wake up.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

Holding the blanket to her chin, Belle pointed at him. "You. It was you that killed her."

Confused, Hamish stared at her. "Me? What?"

"You heard me. You killed her. I saw you. I saw you!"

So much for the wonderful evening out.

Hmmm… did he or didn't he? I will certainly add more between the requests and such. Next series of prompts is based on my favorite TV show and my very first OTP—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World. You know the drill. Feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!