Disclaimer: I don't own the WWE people… the original idea is Sherrie's… the rest is mine.
Distribution: Flights.
Notes: Sherrie, you were warned and you did it anyways… this is revenge, pure and simple.
"I still can't believe he's dead," Trish said with a sigh. "I mean… he always seemed so invincible."
Next to her, a stricken Stephanie McMahon could only nod in agreement. She was in utter shock… Hunter, her ex-husband was dead, murdered actually, by the hand of an unknown assailant. His throat had been slit, in the exact same manner she had killed Chris Jericho. True, Hunter had been on her hit list but she'd expected him to die by her hand, not by the hand of an unknown assailant. Anger filled her body… she had been cheated out of Hunter's rightful death and someone was going to pay… Hunter's killer was going to pay for cheating her out of her rightful revenge.
"Stephanie," Trish said softly, "I know you still cared for him… I'm so sorry."
"I'll be fine."
No you won't, Trish thought as she walked away, you so won't…
"The two investigations are going nowhere," assistant district attorney Lisa Kincaid told the investigators in charge of finding out who had killed Chris Jericho and Hunter Hearst Helmsley.
"We know… but we have no murder weapon and a suspect list that's as long as the WWE roster."
"And no one stands out in particular? No one at all?"
"As of now, no."
"Well, find someone and find someone fast. Vince McMahon is breathing down the mayor's neck, he's breathing down my boss' neck and she's breathing down on me. Do we have anything tying the victims beside the obvious? Like the murder weapon?"
"It's the same kind of weapon," Detective Stone said with a shrug, "but without the actual murder weapon, the crime scene investigation unit can't be positive."
"And let me guess, you two are nowhere near finding the murder weapon?"
"We're still looking."
"Oh swell! Any good news?"
"No other wrestlers have been killed," Detective Grissom said with a wry smile.
A.D.A Kincaid missed the levity of the moment as she drilled them both with long stares. Smart men as they were, the detectives got up and hurried out.
"So what now?"
"I've never been to a big time wrestler's funeral… must be fun."
For people who liked watching humanity when it thought it was hiding everything about itself, Hunter's funeral was just that… a study in humanity. The members of the Kliq formed a tightly knit group, including Chyna, aka Joanie Laurer, Road Dogg Jesse James, aka Brian James, and Billy, aka Montgomery Kip Sopp. Then, off in a corner, were the hardcore ECW crew, Paul E. Heyman at their core. The younger crowd and the high flyers, the Hardyz, Edge and Christian, Test, Lita, Trish, Molly, Torrie, and the Tough Enough winners and participants, stood around Al Snow and Mick Foley, looking to both men for directions on how to act.
As for the top stars who had been at the same level as Hunter, Rocky, Austin, Taker and Hogan, they had a few followers but they spent most of their time glaring at each other, trying to figure out who was going to step in and take over Hunter's empty spot. As for the others, they stood in groups of two or three, talking in hushed voices, mourning yet another one of their fallen colleagues while trying to figure out why they weren't part of a group.
As for the McMahons, they were seated with Hunter's family and other top WWE executives, watching their employees, trying to figure out who they were going to lose to a murder charge. Shane was there with his very pregnant wife Marissa, keeping a close eye on his sister Stephanie, often finding her talking in hushed tones with, surprise of surprises, Stacey Keibler. He frowned at the two of them, wondering exactly what type of relationship these two had. He turned to his wife when he felt her pull on his sleeve.
"What?" he asked her, still not taking his eyes off Stephanie and Stacey.
"They are lovers," Marissa said softly.
"Excuse me?"
"Stephanie and Stacey? It's more than friendship Shane. That's why she stopped fighting Hunter on the divorce."
"You're telling me my sister is a dyke?"
"No… I'm telling you your sister is having an affair with Stacey Keibler."
"Oh, that's just… God, could this day not get any worse?"
At the back of the church, Shane recognized Detectives Grissom and Stone. He excused himself and quickly made his way to them.
"Gentlemen, is this really necessary?"
"We're conducting an investigation Mr. McMahon… into the death of one of your employees. Do we really have to tell you how necessary every step of our investigation is?"
"It's bad enough that you won't let our employees leave Boston but you have to invade this private moment as well?"
"You call it invading, we call it an investigation."
"Well, can this investigation wait until after the service? Please?"
"Don't see why it shouldn't," Stone shrugged.
Shane stared at them pointedly, waiting for them to turn around and leave but that didn't happen. "Well," he asked them, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
"Oh, we're staying," Grissom explained, "we won't disturb… we'll simply observe."
Shane was on the verge of saying something but heard the service starting and joined his family. As for the detectives, they sat back and enjoyed the show.
The funeral was over and Hunter Hearst Helmsley was good and buried. The WWE crew were in a reception room at the downtown Boston Marriott Hotel enjoying a small buffet. Trish Stratus was standing in front of Stephanie McMahon in the dessert line.
"I hate these things," the short Canadian said with a shudder.
"Excuse me?"
"These little receptions after funerals… I hate them… I don't know why but in my family, when someone dies, women put their aprons on and start cooking. The family of the deceased always ends up with fifteen kinds of pasta salads and cakes… sickening really."
"Then why are you eating?" Stephanie asked, eyeing Trish's very full plate.
"Because I simply couldn't eat before the funeral. I still can't believe Hunter is dead."
"Neither can I."
"You probably still loved him… maybe not as a husband, but as a person, a friend… a colleague."
"Yeah…"
"Would you hand me that knife please," Trish said, pointing to a knife placed behind a chocolate cake. "Chocolate has a way of always making me feel better."
Nodding, Stephanie picked up the knife and handed it to a smiling Trish, questioning the blonde's wide smile but not noticing how Trish's hand was covered by a linen napkin or how familiar the knife's curved silver handle felt in her hand. Naturally, Trish was smiling because this was the knife Stephanie had used to kill Chris, the same knife the Canadian had retrieved from the trash can where Stephanie had disposed of it, the same knife Trish had wiped down before using it to kill Hunter… and it was that knife that was now covered with Stephanie's prints.
"I don't know if I should be here but it is my duty," Trish said, stifling a sob behind her hands.
"Take your time Miss Stratus," detective Grissom said with a gentle smile.
"I want to stress that my client is here of her own free will," Trish's attorney said as she patted the small wrestler's back, "and that by coming here, she is trying to help this investigation."
"We understand," Kincaid said with a sigh, "but before we do anything else, we'd like to know exactly what Miss Stratus has to offer us."
Trish looked at her attorney for confirmation and picked up her small suitcase which had been lying next to her feet.
"This is my suitcase. I always have it with me when I have shows. I leave my bigger suitcase at the hotels, grab what I need and go to the arenas with this one… that's where my work equipment is. This is what I found in it this morning."
Trish opened the suitcase and moved aside some of her underwear and short skirts. There, nestled by her clothes, was a knife. Stone and Grissom grinned at each other and called a nerd from the crime scene investigation unit.
"We have to find another arena… as long as we're stuck in Boston, we'll shoot all of our shows from here," Vince told his executives. "We also have to…"
The door to the conference room was thrown open by a very somber Lisa Kincaid, flanked by detectives Grissom and Stone and four or five policemen.
"I apologize for the interruption," Lisa said, "but we found Helmsley and Jericho's killer… we thought you might want to know."
"Of course we wanted to know," Linda McMahon said, coming to her feet, "but could this wait?"
"The news could, but the arrest couldn't," Lisa said, nodding at the detectives.
They moved forward together as Lisa handed Vince a warrant.
"Stephanie McMahon, you are under arrest for the murder of Chris Jericho and Hunter Hearst Helmsley."
"WHAAAAAAAAAAT?"
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be assigned to you by a court of law, do you understand these rights as I've explained them to you?"
"I didn't kill them… daddy, please help me."
"You can't do this! This is my daughter… she's not a murderer…"
"The evidence says otherwise."
"The evidence? I'm Vince McMahon, God damn it and I didn't raise any murderers!"
"It seems that you have Mr. McMahon," Lisa said sternly, following Stone and Grissom as they led a cuffed Stephanie out of the conference room.
"Sir," Lisa Kincaid asked the man sitting in the witness chair, "would you please state your name and your employment for the court?"
"I'm Gil Briscoe, and I'm the head of the forensics science department for the Boston city police."
"Thank you sir. Now, do you recognize exhibit D1," Lisa asked, picking up the knife found in Trish Stratus' suitcase.
"Yes I do. This knife was retrieved from the personal belongings of Trish Stratus."
"And what evidence, if any, did you find on this knife relating to the murders of Chris Jericho and Hunter Hearst Helmsley?"
"I found traces of their DNA on the knife."
"In your expert opinion, was this weapon used in their murders?"
"Yes. This is the murder weapon."
"Thank you. Now, did you find any evidence on this knife, connecting it to anyone else?"
"As a matter of fact I did. I was able to get some very clear prints of the handle of the knife."
"Do these prints belong to anyone in attendance here today?"
"They are a 99.9% match for Stephanie McMahon."
"But I didn't kill them! I didn't kill Paul! I swear!" Stephanie shouted as she jumped to her feet.
"Mr. Logan, I urge you to control your client. She has been warned about her outbursts before. One more and she is out of this courtroom, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes your honor, I apologize."
While Stephanie was admonished to remain silent by her attorney, in the first row behind the prosecutor's table, Trish tried to look sad and contrite… managing it was another matter entirely.
"Miss McMahon, is this your day planner?" Lisa asked Stephanie, showing her a brown leather day planner with Stephanie's name engraved in gold on it.
"Yes it is."
"If you don't mind Miss, please open it to June 24th, 2002."
"Your honor," Mr. Logan said, rising to his feet, "if Miss Kincaid can't flip open a day planner, I don't see why my client has to."
"I'll open it your honor, it's not a problem."
Lisa opened the day planner and placed it in front of Stephanie, "Might I impose on you and tell me what dates appear there?"
"June 23rd and June 26th."
"So the page for June 24th and 25th are missing?"
"It would seem so."
"Your honor, I would like to introduce into evidence the prosecution's exhibit J2, the missing page from Miss McMahon's day planner."
"So noted," the judge said, nodding her head.
"Miss McMahon, read us your planned events for June 24th?"
"6.00: flight to Boston; 9:00 workout; 10:00 write daddy's scene with Stacey; 11:30 lunch with Shane; 14:00 Quickie with Stacey; 15:00 knife Paul…"
"Thank you that's all I need," Lisa interrupted her. "Now, Miss McMahon, do you usually plan your murders to the day?"
"Will the defendant please rise?" the judge said as the jury came back after their two day long deliberation. "Mrs. Forewoman, have you reached a verdict?"
"Yes we have your honor."
"How do you find?"
"In the case of the first degree murder of Chris Jericho, we find the defendant Stephanie McMahon, guilty. In the case of the first degree murder of Hunter Harst Helmsley, we find the defendant Stephanie McMahon, guilty."
"Members of the jury, the court thanks you for your service. The defendant is remanded without bail. Sentencing will be finalized in two weeks."
Lisa Kincaid watched as shell-shocked Stephanie McMahon was led away, in handcuffs. She nodded to Stone and Grissom, making sure the Billion Dollar Princess was watched around the clock.
DRING! DRING!
The rings of her phone pulled Lisa Kincaid from a thick sleep and she fumbled around for it as she tried opening her eyes, "Lisa Kincaid."
"Turn on your TV," Grissom said.
"What for?"
"CNN… it'll be worth it."
Putting the phone down, Lisa fumbled around for the remote on her bedside table and found it, directing it at the television set and turning it on. It was, as usual, on CNN.
"… We repeat, Stephanie McMahon, who was recently found guilty of the murders of co-worker Chris Jericho and ex-husband Hunter Hearst Helmsley, was shot by her lover Stacey Keibler who then turned the gun on herself. It is not known at this time how Keibler managed to get a gun past security at the jail where Miss McMahon was detained."
Lisa turned off the television and lay back in her bed. Her companion rolled over to her, brushing her long blonde hair out of her face.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing… just everything going exactly as you planned it."
"You doubted me?"
"No… I'm just surprised it went off so well."
"Hey… people always think Canadians are the nicest people in the world… and we are… until you get on our bad side."
Lisa leaned down and pressed her lips against Trish's, gathering her into her arms. Thank God she loved her Canadian, or she might be forced to rat her out for murdering Hunter Hearst Helmsley or for hypnotizing Stacey Keibler into killing her lover. But some women made a murderous streak look good and Trish was one of these women.