MIDNIGHT TEASE.

alice dubois is released into sunlight she can’t see in and reporters she can’t talk to. shielding her eyes with one hand and reaching instinctively for elle’s hand with the other, the innocent girl tucks her head down and prays for a moment of silence. it’s emmett and freddie’s job to clear a path for her to walk through, the both of them dismissing news outlets with tight lipped smiles. 

as soon as she’s in full view to bystanders, there’s a yell that seems to freeze everyone in their tracks -- in a blur of wild excitement, rich and his friend collide, alice being lifted clean off of her feet and spun wildly. it isn’t long before they’re swallowed by everyone else: alice and her group sink to the floor in a tightly-knit heap. her tears are joyful instead of terrified, and she doesn’t seem to mind the suffocating nature of their embrace. 

alice’s court date fast approaches with maria in custody. despite elle, freddie and emmett being on her legal team and the confidence she has in them, alice cries quietly for the majority of the time she’s questioned. her story is consistent: she argued with caleb, left through the front door, walked around the club to the cab station at the rear and got into a cab that took her home. she did not speak to caleb after their argument had ended, and did not see anyone else before getting into her cab. 

eventually, it’s time to call maria to the stand.

she sits bolt upright, silent and sticken, makeup smudged on her face -- the picture of horror and shock. she trembles as she takes the oath. unfortunately for her, she’s dealing with professionals, not just sympathetic onlookers. when freddie talks to her, it’s as if they’d never met before today.

“miss harding,” he begins, in that same powerful voice he’d used when conducting the search of her apartment, “can you tell me what you saw the night of the murder?”

“alice and caleb fought,” she says, voice whispy and gentle, “and alice left because he upset her. caleb followed her out-”

“but miss dubois says that she didn’t see the victim once she left the club,” emmett interjects, crossing his arms over his chest tightly. 

“i--” maria looks a little hopeless, glancing between the lawyers with her doe’s eyes. “i--”

“and we have a statement from one sonny merriweather, who tells us that the victim left through the back exit. how could you see the victim follow miss dubois when he left through the opposite exit?” freddie pushes, clearly fighting the urge to pace. it’s a statement given to him by jake and not one he expects to uphold, but it seems the court has other concerns. 

“objection,” maria’s lawyer stands, paper in her left hand. “that wasn’t an official statement given to police, so--”

“overruled,” the judge says shortly, face stony, “if woods, redchester and forrest can provide substantial evidence of this claim, i’ll allow it.” 

elle smiles, glancing over her shoulder -- the bouncer from the club is sat in the fourth row. “we can provide that.”

“continue.”

“so, miss harding,” emmett begins, overtaking freddie smoothly. they work like a well oiled machine, flickering back and forth between the three of them with no competition or desire to cling to the spotlight. “can you explain the evidence we found at your address?”

“the gun is my dad’s,” she says, running both hands through her hair. everyone in the courtroom that’s been spending any time with maria knows that this is a nervous tick, and that isn’t lost on any lawyer, “and the shoes and gloves are mine. i wore them the night caleb was shot.”

“so, did you come into contact with the body at all?” elle asks, head tilting very slightly to the left. 

“no.”

“then why,” freddie begins, voice commanding, “was the dna of the victim found in trace on your shoes, miss harding?”

maria seems to shut down, shoulders slumping uselessly. 

“and why,” emmett picks up, “did we find fabric from your torn gloves on the weapon?”

“and why,” elle finalises, regarded with as much awe as her male counterparts, “are miss dubois’ prints missing from the aforementioned weapon?”

she seems to have no answer.

“objection,” her lawyer barks again, looking furious. “the evidence they’re referring to was obtained without a warrant--”

“overruled. woods, redchester and forrest were invited onto the premises by miss harding. they then granted entry to officers of the law once the evidence was uncovered, and were supervised by lieutenant robert burns, sfpd, at the time. if he vouches so, the proceeds were completely legal. continue.”

freddie turns to lock eyes with the lieutenant, jaw squared and ticking.

“the gun we found at your address was a .357 magnum, correct? six chambers for six bullets. the victim was shot seven times, with a short period between the penultimate and last shots fired, with a .357 magnum. were you armed, the night of the murder, miss harding?” elle asks.

maria has begun to cry, openly, freely. “i can’t believe--”

“the media called this act a crime of passion,” emmett interrupts, gesturing to a newspaper clipping on the table before them, “but i don’t think that’s quite true. i think the assailant took the time to reload her weapon, because she greatly overestimated how difficult it would be to watch someone bleed to death.”

“i think it’s safe to assume that you followed the victim out of the club under the guise of going to the bathroom,” freddie says, now allowing himself to pace back and forth. “i think you followed him out and shot him in the back as he stood in the alleyway behind midnight tease. i think that you emptied that gun into his chest and struggled with watching him cling to life, and so you reloaded with the bullets in your purse and put one last bullet between his eyes. that’s why there are five bullets still in that gun, which is covered in the fibres from your torn gloves, isn’t it, miss harding?”

elle flips a file in her hands, drawing out a still from the cctv footage and holding it in the air. “you snuck back in with these two girls and hid out in the bathroom until you heard someone else come in. you then spoke to them, planted that you had been trying to contact alice after her departure, and rejoined your friends.”

once she knows she’s lost, maria’s entire face changes. her tears stop, the tracks still glistening on her cheeks. looking almost feral, she snarls, jutting out her chin defiantly. “you’re so sure i planned this whole thing? that i shot caleb because i wanted him dead?”

alice cries out, though it’s muffled by her hand.

“i didn’t want to shoot caleb. he was my friend. alice was just already gone by the time i got out there.”

murmurs ripple through the courtroom, though no one moves. maria harding’s confession is not over.

“when you’re a ballerina, it’s -- i wanted her out of the way. i’m her understudy -- i was told, and i quote, ‘if anything happened to alice, it would be you replacing her’, and you can write that down in your fucking minutes. nothing was going to happen to her, so i was going to make it happen.”

it’s like a car crash -- no one wants to watch, but no one can look away, least of all alice. she’s crying violently, both hands pressed over her mouth, but her gaze doesn’t waver from her collegue’s face.

maria just keeps going, fueled by that same intense passion that had caused her to wield a gun. “caleb was a dick to alice. i knew that. our friends knew that. it wasn’t a secret, but no one was going to do anything about it.” her attention turns to the court, the jury. “you all just let it happen. i knew that if he was hurt, alice would look like she had motive.” she leans forward, and, to the horror of everyone in the room, she begins to smile. “if you think about it, i stepped up. i saved her.” for the first time, maria’s eyes turn on alice, stare piercing and intense. “you’re welcome, ally.”

with that, she’s handcuffed, escorted from the room as the judge adjourns the court. alice slumps in her chair, still crying, almost breathless with fear and relief and sorrow. freddie sits by her, stunned into silence, patting her shoulder reassuringly.

with everyone present in agreement, a plan is hatched -- next time you meet at maria’s house, you’ll do what you can to distract her, get her to leave you be, and conduct a house-wide search for anything that looks even remotely suspicious. with alice’s court date fast approaching, desperation is almost tangible.

-

“so,” maria hums, tapping the tabletop delicately before settling into her seat at the head of the table, “what have we got so far? from the top.”

“caleb was a douchebag,” rich says, but he’s not being facetious -- it feels more like he’s stating a fact than acting deliberately abrasive, “and he hurt al, bad. they argued at the club, and a bouncer saw alice leave out the front exit.”

“i watched caleb follow her out,” maria continues, shifting through a small notebook that appears to be blank, “and that was the last anyone inside the club saw of them, right?”

there’s a hush over the table. “you talked to a girl in the bathroom by the back exit a little after it happened,” mystral says, referring to maria. “that’s pretty close to the back alley. did she look off, to you?”

maria looks taken aback for a second. with everyone looking at her, freddie’s sly glance to brooke goes unnoticed -- brooke stands quietly and makes her way to the fridge, looking, for all the world, like she just wants another drink. “i -- i don’t think so. what are you suggesting?”

freddie chimes in, then: “the back door and the bathroom are close together, right? maybe someone came through the back and went straight to the bathroom to wait a little while. you’re the one that talked to her that night. did she look suspicious at all?”

maria shifts, the permanent crease between her eyebrows deepening. “i--”

before she can finish, the sound of glass shattering floods the house, brooke squealing to accompany the ruckus. when you turn to look at the source of the noise, you find brooke stood in a pool of milk, wincing. “god, i’m sorry!”

for some reason, maria looks a lot more comfortable now. “that’s okay,” she says, standing in the same instant. “i’ll grab my coat and we can go and get some more. we can take my car -- is that okay?”

as a matter of fact, it is. brooke glances at freddie quickly, is met with his encouraging nod. “yeah! yeah, of course.”

-

it takes around ten minutes for maria to leave with brooke, her car pulling out of the driveway almost achingly slowly. as soon as they’re gone, freddie snaps into action, his voice taking on a new, powerful air -- he’s no longer the man everyone has come to know. he’s freddie redchester, attorney at law, and he knows exactly what he wants to find. “okay. split into twos and take a room each. search more personal places first -- her room, the closets, see if she has a basement or an attic. we meet back here once we think we’re done. michael, you keep tabs on brooke. text her, ask her to let us know when maria’s on her way back. hypothetically, burns would be our supervisor here -- vouching we’re not doing anything illegal. let’s go.”

there’s nothing else to say, after that. people group into twos or go solo, as instructed, and shift through the harding household with meticulous precision. 

freddie and emmett take her bedroom, being careful to keep things as neat as possible despite their rummaging. it takes freddie lifting the bed itself to find anything -- there’s a hollow compartment in the base, and in this compartment is a shoebox. once opened, the shoes inside are almost unremarkable ( simple pink heels with a fur trim ), but, upon closer inspection, something seems off. there are brown speckles on the fabric and the decoration, a splatter that’s too unnatural to be design. “blood?” emmett asks, and freddie can only grimace, putting the lid back on the box and picking it up carefully.

in the sitting room, jake sifts through drawers and cabinets indiscriminately. it’s the last place he checks, a large ottoman by the hallway, that yields something of interest: a gun, presumably owned by the harding family. what type, jake isn’t exactly sure, but its six chambers are unmistakable. all but one are filled with a bullet. thinking quickly, grabbing a cloth from the kitchen, jake takes the gun from the ottoman and returns to the rendezvous area, placing it neatly on the table in waiting.

other, smaller items are found by mystral -- white gloves that are torn at the palm, and an empty box previously used to store bullets. 

when you meet up again, the atmosphere in the room is drastically different. rich’s transformation is most obvious: he’s giddy, grinning, barely able to keep still. “holy shit,” he breathes every now and again at random, surveying the newfound evidence with a thrilled kind of awe. “holy shit.”

freddie seems to understand his emotion, smiling himself. “well,” he says, casting a glance around the room in that special way he has, looking ever single one of you in the eyes, “i think we have our case.”

it’s all hands on deck after the news story concerning alice’s motive. sat around maria’s kitchen table, papers and notepads and laptops open and waiting, you all pour over things you already know, trying to connect some strings. it’s uneventful and short-lived until rich pushes closed a cupboard door, making it shut with a bang.

maria jumps so violently she spills water into her lap, coughing viciously. only vaguely apologetic, rich mumbles something that could be ‘sorry’ and goes back to his notes. she’s embarrassed, standing up quickly to go and change.

“sorry,” she says, fanning her burning face with both hands, still breathless. “it’s just -- loud noises get to me, after it happened. i’ve been kinda jumpy, like... everything's another gunshot, you know?" a hand has found its way to her hair, fingers weaving through each glossy-black strand meticulously. “can we start this up again in a couple hours? i -- i’ll make lunch.”

however reluctant you are to leave (you still have questions, and you haven’t been there long enough to ask them), everyone begins to leave -- some in groups of two or three, some alone. once almost everyone is gone and maria has jogged up her stairs towards her bedroom, freddie catches emmett by the elbow and prior by his hand, pulling both men quickly to the front door and closing it behind them.

only a few days after your visit to the club, there’s a fresh new news story about the case in the papers. todd’s parents had cleared the press to publish details about their son’s murder, and publish they did -- as you read, you start to feel sick, cold.

there are the things that were already public domain: he had been shot with a .357 magnum revolver, six times in the chest and once in the head, between his eyes. this final shot had killed him, fired a little later than the others -- as if the killer had savoured watching him suffer. there’s no doubt in any expert’s mind that this was a crime of passion, something with motive. the question everyone is asking is simple: what is the motive?

as it happens, the press have an answer. an anonymous source had called up the night prior, ready to talk about the relationship between alice dubois and caleb todd. outwardly, they appeared tense, on the verge of separation, but that was, apparently, nothing compared to what happened behind closed doors.

caleb todd was not a nice man. it’s alleged that he sexually assaulted alice on more than one occasion -- something that alice had told the anonymous source, according to them -- and would often raise his hand to her when things did not go his way. apparently, he was a master of emotional manipulation, keeping alice under lock and key for over three years.

not only does alice have opportunity, she has motive. and now, the entire country knows it.

despite this, the news article argues, no one should resort to murder. they provide websites, phone lines, centres that provide help for those victims of assault and domestic abuse.

when this news makes it around the group, most of you are surprised -- alice never mentioned this to them. they knew little things were rocky, but they never expected her to have gone through so much. almost everyone is stunned -- everyone except rich.

muses involved: burns, freddie, emmett.

freddie can’t help but feeling a sense of foreboding when he and emmett meet up with burns, who carries with him the proper paperwork. freddie accepts this gratefully, albeit at arm’s length. any and all proof they’re conducting this investigation legally will be with freddie for safekeeping and his own peace of mind.

they’re granted access to the security camera footage with little to no protest from the staff. all three men crowd the small screen, tension tangible in the air. even now, when there’s so much at stake, freddie can’t bear to be so close to burns after what he knows -- shifting uneasily, he brushes a hand over emmett’s shoulder, sidestepping closer to his partner and, thus, easing a small gap between himself and the lieutenant. here, he can breathe, focussing on the footage.

at 3:00am, alice dubois leaves the club through the front entrance, hunched at the shoulders, head in her hands. she has a short conversation with the bouncer (”sonny merriweather,” freddie informs, having gotten his name from the management), and turns to walk towards the alleyway leading to the cab station. she is not seen again on the tape.

the alleyway lacks cctv, which midnight tease are working to rectify after this incident, but the back exit does not. at 3:10am, caleb todd opens the back door of the club and walks into the alleyway, searching for something -- alice, presumably. after that, barely anything of interest: two people leave for a cigarette, a group of three girls enter the club from the back entrance, two in the front and one hanging back, probably looking to avoid the entry fee and id checks. 

the three men come away having learned this: alice dubois left through the front door of the club, walking through the alleyway after being told to catch a cab. caleb todd leaves through the back exit around ten minutes later, entering the alleyway. he never leaves. thanks to the concealed nature of the alley, the patrons of the club fail to notice anything out of the ordinary. 

thank god freddie knows this scene -- he gets you all in for free with a few well placed words, a winning smile. you all try not to notice how ashamed of himself he looks afterwards and push through the throngs of people into the crowded club. it seems not even murder most foul can scare partygoers from the maw of midnight tease.

the bartender also recognises freddie and prior, perking up and placing glasses in a neat row before him. "hey," he breathes, only to deflate when freddie waves him off.

"strictly business," freddie says, without sitting down. "were you working the night caleb todd was murdered?"

the bartender looks taken aback, glancing around the group for a lifeline. when he's given none, he sighs, starting to stock the glasses away. "yeah."

"okay," freddie says, nodding his head as if something has been established. "elle, emmett and i will stay here and ask you a few questions, if that's okay. we're on alice's legal team. everyone else -" he's addressing the rest of you now, turning with kind eyes on each and every face, "- can you see if anyone knows anything? some of these guys are regulars. they might have been here, or something."

you split up neatly, asking anyone and everyone about alice dubois and caleb todd. some were there, some were not - even so, everybody has something to say.

rich, jake and brooke ask a girl in a sleek silver dress, who gives her answers between sips of a blisteringly red cocktail. “around an hour after they say it happened, i was talking to maria in the bathroom,” she jerks her head towards the door to the female’s toilets, dimly lit, next to the rear entrance of the club. “beatrice came in while we were washing our hands and we talked about ally. i asked if she was okay, and they said she wasn’t answering their calls. that’s all i know.”

tom, prior and burns try their luck with a bouncer, who has this to say: “i saw alice leave through the front entrance in a bad way. crying, and all. i told her to go to the cab station ‘round back and wait to be picked up, get herself home. she went around. from what i hear, caleb went through the back exit to catch up with her. that’s all i saw before al was all over the news.”

veruca is drawn to a huge circle of people around one of the booths in the club. sat stiffly, looking irritated, is connor brannigan, who had arrived earlier than everyone else. everyone knows him -- his grandfather is on the forbes 100, after all. connor is alice’s best friend, so veruca assumes connor would be willing to talk -- instead, veruca is met with a snap. “they’ve got the wrong person,” connor says, and the sincerity of the statement flashes in his eyes, “and if you think otherwise, i’m done talking to you. all of you.” the crowd dissipates not long after.

no one else seems to have anything worthwhile to say. mystral is roped unwillingly into a conversation with a blonde girl holding a martini glass, who slurs something along the lines of “ i wasn’t here that night, but i really don’t think they should keep the cab station so close to that alleyway any more. who knows what could happen while you’re waiting to be picked up?” safe to say, he isn’t exactly interested.

michael is collared by another gossip. “i heard some really unfortunate things about her childhood,” they say, flicking curls from their eyes almost flirtatiously. no one in san francisco, it seems, understands the concept of time and place. “it’s a known fact most murderers aren’t raised right.”

anyone asking young men what they think of the situation seem to be met with the same, offhand, sleazy response: “it’s a shame, about alice. she was always up for a little fun.”

muses involved: jake, brooke, rich.

there are a great many rules to follow when visiting an inmate in the san francisco county jail, as the three new jersey kids would find out -- from their clothes to their belongings, they’re checked rigorously, as they’d expected. they’re all underage, but, luckily, jake is used to acting older than he is. one fake id and a short police officer later, they’re all crowded into two chairs, anxiously awaiting the arrival of their friend.

alice is already crying when they lead her in, sobbing gently into her hands. it isn’t clear what she expects, but it obviously isn’t three of her closest friends. she all but collapses into the chair across from them, reaching for their hands with her trembling fingers. for a moment, they sit in silence, both girls weeping, the picture of security and solidarity. 

“why--” she begins, conscious of their lack of time. if she weren’t so breathless, she’d be terrified. “why are you--”

“come on, al,” rich interjects, misty-eyed himself, though he’d never admit it. “you think we think you did it? we’re playing nancy drew with your lawyers and a cop and some other people -- finding what we can.”

she laughs at this, though it’s weak. “who-”

“jake,” rich and brooke chorus, redacting their own hands from the connection and leaving only alice and jake. her watery eyes fix on him intensely, tears still spilling over her cheeks. in a moment of delirium, rich wonders if she will cry so much the colour leeches away.

“inner circle only,” jake smiles, jerking his head at rich and brooke. “wanted to come see you.”

“thank you,” alice breathes, overwhelmed. “for coming. for believing me. i know my word is not much, but i -- i did not --”

brooke reaches forward again, soothing. “we know. freddie redchester said he talked to the cab driver that took you home. according to him, you were gone, like, five minutes before he was -- you know.”

alice nods, still crying, patting the tears from under her eyes. without makeup, she looks younger, more tired, nothing like the alice they know. it’s painful to see, and it makes rich restless, visibly irritated.

they converse tentatively, alice asking about connor, about veruca, about the children in her dance class with a kind of feverish intensity. the group tell her all they can, reassuring her when it’s applicable and trying to avoid the names of those who think she’s guilty.

everyone has been invited to maria harding’s cushy, middle-class house, tucked away in a picturesque suburb, an hour’s car ride away from midnight tease. if you’re all honest with yourselves, it’s nice to feel safe away from the city -- regardless of what you believe, you don’t want to be around the nightclub right now. 

she’s provided sandwiches, cups of cordial and water, coffee and tea. it’s clear that maria is usually a beautiful girl, when free from outside stress: she has a heart-shaped face and deep brown eyes, a perpetual crease between her eyebrows that makes her look weary or concerned. her dark hair is pulled messily into a ponytail, unwashed and unkempt -- she’s losing sleep over this incident, and that much is clear. 

when everyone arrives, you are seated around maria’s dining room table, with her at the head. after a brief moment in which she shakes veruca’s hand, silent and yet smiling, she talks into her coffee instead of at you. you can’t blame her for not wanting to make eye contact. "thank you all for coming,” she says, in a voice that’s vaguely accented, though you can’t quite place it. “i know it must be a shock for most of you to hear about alice. i know it was for us. we never thought...”

her voice drifts off, eyes welling with tears. “i just thought it would be nice for all of us to get together and talk about things, put names to faces, and such. this is a hard time for everyone who knew alice -- i mean... who knows who it could have been, if not caleb?”

it seems maria has made her decision: she believes alice is guilty. “i just thought you’d all like to hear what happened from someone who was there. i know some of you have bad experiences with rumours.” she looks at rich, here, who doesn’t move an inch, staring her straight in the eyes. there appears to be some kind of tension there. strange. “i didn’t see anything and no one heard the gunshots over the music, but... i saw alice leave with her purse. i saw caleb follow her. we tried to call her at around five am, but... the next time i saw her, she was being detained.”

she has begun to cry freely, tears running down her cheeks. “i -- i’m sorry. it’s just... anyway. we can meet here as often as we need to, if any of you need anything. i also think we should visit the nightclub at some point -- maybe this week, before business gets properly back into swing. i know that might provide some closure.”

as everyone stands to leave, you can’t help but notice how quickly maria leaves the room to clear plates and cutlery, wiping her eyes with vigour.

FILE UNDER: CONNOR AARON BRANNIGAN!!!!!

character name: veruca salt

character age: 16

any relation to miss dubois?: friends at least, smth to do with ballet too

mun’s (written) triggers, if any: none !

mun’s (written) squicks, if any: none !

has your muse been to midnight tease before?: one day but not yet bc she’s a younging

character name: elle woods

character age: 22

any relation to miss dubois?: defense attorney

mun’s (written) triggers, if any: n/a

mun’s (written) squicks, if any: n/a

has your muse been to midnight tease before?: no