Crimson Couture Part Three - Doug Klein
Part III: In Death
(before you start reading - here’s PART ONE and PART TWO)
Ralph was sitting at his desk. Most people in the office had left, but he was finishing up with some financial dockets. The sale of the last designs had gone quite well, and now he was planning on how he was going to spend his earnings. Maybe a trip? Some place warm, perhaps? Yes, yes, that would be good. And women. As many as he could buy. And he could buy quite a few with this last contract. He swirled a glass of liquor he had and gulped down what remained. His office was dark, as he only had his desk lamp on. Just as he finished the last sheet, his office door swung open. A silhouette stood, framed by the light from the hallway. It lingered in the doorway for a moment, and then moved into the room. as it approached, the light from his desk fell upon the dry smile of Helga Strohm.
She walked to the front of Ralph's desk and leaned over. Ralph caught himself peering at the rare occurrence of cleavage from the frosty Miss Strohm. Helga knew where Ralph’s eyes were, but she didn't really care at that moment. They had made so much money off the sale of the that dumb bitch Veronica Calden's designs that they could vacation for the whole year and not break a sweat. And Ralph had found her, so, begrudgingly, she had to give him some sort of credit.
"Ralph. Up here. This has been our most prosperous endeavor yet. I think congratulations are due. A few more like this and we can retire before we hit forty." Helga stood back up and crossed her arms. Ralph had stood up from his chair and had loosened his tie just enough to not feel its constant grip.
"Well we can celebrate any way you want. I'm really open to anything." Ralph tried to put on his most endearing face, but Helga laughed so hard she spat. She turned and walked towards the door.
"I was thinking a strong drink. Nothing more." She reached the door and put her hand on the handle. She glanced over her shoulder. Ralph had slid around the desk and walked with his hand up.
"Hey, hey, a drink, well, a drink sounds great. I'm out, though." Ralph shrugged his shoulders and Helga shook her head and let out a sigh.
"I have better shit than you have anyway. Let me go grab it and I'll be right back." She opened the door and left, and Ralph strode back to his desk to finish the paperwork and place it in his locked file cabinet. All the contracts ended up there, alongside all the original designs from all the other rising fashion stars that they had killed. Each one had landed them some solid paydays, but this last one had nearly broken the bank. He had kept the originals, even though he had told Helga they had been destroyed. They really were pieces of art, and he found that he just couldn't bring himself to do the deed. He went back to his desk to organize the last of the files and wait for Helga's return.
Helga's office was just a few doors down from Ralph's. She unlocked the door and headed inside. She only flipped on one light near her desk and rummaged through the drawer. She grabbed a bottle of vodka and two glasses. She walked to the small refrigerator she had and pulled out some ice and put it in each glass. She put the ice tray back in and turned to find she was not alone. Someone stood in her office in a trench coat and a hat. Helga stood still, struck with fear. The person took off their hat and dropped the coat to the floor. Even through the darkness, Helga could see a woman had somehow walked right into her office. Helga jumped back and slammed into the refrigerator. The woman was dressed in some red and black hooker outfit, and had moved to the front of Helga's desk.
"Who are you? What do you want? I'm going to have security come up here and fuck you up!" Helga yelled at the woman. Her voice cracked as she tried to sound intimidating. The woman took one more step forward, and in the light, Helga found herself horrified. It was not a woman in front of her, but the expressionless face of a mannequin. She recognized it, immediately. Helga had her hand behind her, searching frantically for some glimmer of hope. Her hand founds the bottle of vodka. She lunged and swung the bottle with all the force she had.
"Bitch!" Helga's arm came crashing down at the head of the mannequin. In a flash, the mannequin had lifted her arm to deflect the blow. Helga's forearm struck it violently, and she heard her bone crack. Pain erupted up her limb as the bottle exploded on the floor. The mannequin roughly gripped Helga's broken arm, and yanked it up. In the light, Helga saw the mannequin produce a black object. A blade snapped from the hilt, and the mannequin forcefully dragged it along Helga's wrist. She screamed as the blood jettisoned from her veins. With a quick spin, the mannequin put her back to Helga's face, and took her other arm in a vice grip that would not give. Again, like a violinist holding a somber tone, the blade slid across Helga's wrist, producing more howls and gore. Helga fell to the ground, splashing into her own blood. Tears streamed down her face as her life gushed from her wounds. The mannequin kneeled down and its blank expression bore into Helga's eyes.
"What the hell are you?" Helga moaned through the pain. The mannequin tilted its head, and Helga heard a strange voice. Feminine, but muffled. Like a voice heard through a wall, but its message was clear.
"She-Devil."
Helga spat blood in the face of She-Devil. Her body convulsed and she died. She-Devil stood up and walked out of the room, now with purpose and precision.
Ralph had unlocked his file cabinet, and was just about done putting the folders in when his door swung open once more. A womanly silhouette stood in the glow. Ralph could tell something was different. She had changed. whatever she was wearing was much tighter. He left the cabinet open and headed towards the door.
Finally going to crack this bitch. He thought so, at least. As he moved, so did the figure. Before Ralph could react, her hands were at his throat and he felt the hot sting of a blade entering his stomach. He was picked up and rushed toward the glass window. Now, with the moonlight providing illumination, Ralph could see this was not Helga. The She-Devil had him. He gurgled and tried to shout, but he could not. Her strength was unstoppable. She turned him to face the window, and grabbed his head. With a solid thrust, Ralph's head smashed through the glass. The edges sliced his face and scalp and he cried out to the night. The She-Devil held his head out of the frame, and she spotted a few long, sharp shards standing straight up out of the bottom of the frame. An idea came to mind, and the She-Devil slammed his throat onto the shards. His throat exploded in a shower of blood that rained down on the windows below. Ralph's lifeless body lay skewered at the windows edge.
The She-Devil walked to the cabinet, which was still left ajar. There were several folders in it, all with different names. Each folder contained sketches and pictures of such beautiful dresses and clothes. Another tear found its way upon the cheek of the She-Devil. She took all of the folders and chaotically threw them across the room.
Police arrived the next morning. They came upon the gruesome scene. Helga Strohm had been murdered in her office, where an assailant had apparently disrobed and then attacked her. A few doors down, Ralph Campbell had been brutally killed as well. However, police found evidence scattered in his office that connected both him and Helga to the deaths and disappearances of several people in the last few years. A strange scene indeed. The oddest part of his office was a mannequin, standing in the corner, wearing a red and black sex suit. Police photographed it, but did not deem it as evidence, and it was reportedly auctioned off some time after that.
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