Amelia Salvatore

Summertime Murder

*Chicago, 1922*

It was a warm Saturday evening, and I was having a positively glorious day. I even wore a smile as I walked away from the alley that I'd left a dead girl lying in. I wiped the trickle of scarlet from the corner of my mouth as I checked my reflection in my compact mirror. My lips were still painted crimson, and my eyes ringed with black Kohl.

I had one particular destination in mind tonight, and that was the infamous Gloria's, the best speakeasy in town. I'd been going there for nearly a year, but it'd been nearly a month since I'd visited. I'd had other matters to attend with.

I headed down a side street and knocked on a seemingly uninviting door. A small latch opened and I smiled at  the doorman, who let me in. The sound of music reached my ears, and I was glad to find Gloria herself up on stage tonight. She was my favourite singer.

The speakeasy was crowded with people, and a haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air. On the dance floor, the beaded fringes of girl's dresses swayed side to side as they danced. The flapper dresses were similar to mine, which was a very dark red. My hair was curled and pinned back loosely, and the black headband I was wearing kept the top smoothed down.

Gloria smiled at me, which I returned before moving down the steps towards the bar. I passed a waiter as I did so, grabbing the last glass of sherry from the tray he was carrying. I was happily going to continue on my way, but a hand grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me back around.

A girl with an unfortunate nose was glaring at me accusingly, and I wasn't sure if her cheeks were red with anger, or she was wearing too much blush.

"Do you mind?" I said indignantly, wondering if anyone would notice if I broke her fingers.

"That's my drink!" she snapped, pointing to my other hand.

"Is it now?" I asked her. The look on her face told me she was expecting me to hand it over, but I did the complete opposite. After flashing her a smile, I downed the sherry in one go and gave her the glass. "My mistake, darling."

The girl scoffed in offence. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"No clue," I answered nonchalantly. "And I couldn't care less. Tata now."

With a wave of my fingers, I continued through the crowd until I reached the bar. I ordered another sherry, which I received mere moments later. I turned around to find a table to sit at, only to find the same girl storming up to me, looking furious.

"Ugh," I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Don't you have anyone else to bother?"

Instead of answering, she smacked the drink out of my hand. The glass shattered on the ground, but barely anyone noticed. I let out a deep sigh and looked dangerously at the girl. In the blink of an eye, I gripped the same hand that had knocked the glass to the ground and squeezed tightly. She gasped, trying to break my grip, but I was much stronger than her.

"I should crush your hand," I said coldly. My glare turned into a sadistic smile. "But I have a better idea. Since you ruined my drink, you'll just have to replace it."

The girl glared at me, but obviously sensed that it would be a bad idea to annoy me further. 

"Fine," she spat reluctantly. "I'll buy you a glass of sherry."

I chuckled. "That's not quite what I meant, darling." Before she could question my response, I looked into her eyes. "You will not move," I compelled. "You will not scream. Do you understand?"

She nodded and I smiled. I reached behind the bar and picked up an empty glass, setting it on the bar before pulling a hairpin from the back of my head. Still gripping her hand, I pulled the girl forwards until her wrist was hovering over the glass. I ran the sharp end of the hair pin across her skin, drawing blood. It dripped into the glass and once it was full, I dropped the girl's hand.