[jimblake2004]

WHAT IF…

We knew exactly how Regan killed Burke Dennings?

He heard the front door open and close as Sharon left to get Regan’s medicine.  “Bloody well could use a drink,” Burke muttered as he walked to the study and removed the top of the crystal decanter containing the Crown Royal.   Grabbing a rock glass from the oak cabinet above the drink stand, he poured himself a double and then sat down in the brown leather loveseat near the fireplace.   

The smell and taste of blended whiskey sent him into ruminations about the filming schedule.  The exterior Georgetown scenes for “Crash Course” were almost complete and the next phase would be in New York City.  The script was still a problem however.  He doubted his summoning of the writer from Paris would achieve anything but more delays.  “I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”  BOOM!!  “What the fuck was…” BOOM!!!!  Two tremendous blows, like the sound of heavy furniture crashing to the floor upstairs reverberated through the house.    Leaping from his chair, Burke spilled his drink and stood still for a moment looking…and listening.  The house remained silent but the lights flickered for a second.  Remembering Regan, he walked from the study into the foyer and gazed up the stairs.  Nothing but silence and dark.  “What was that damn noise?” 

Puzzled, Burke wondered if Regan was awake.  She was supposed to be sedated, but maybe she got up and stumbled into something.  Not wanting to disturb the sick girl, he hesitated at the base of the staircase.  “Oh bloody hell” he thought, “I promised Sharon.” He ascended the stairs and saw the white paneled door to Regan's bedroom down the hall.  It was ajar but the room was dark.  Something wasn't right though.  He felt a draft of cold air sweep past his face.   He walked to her room and entered.  It was freezing because the window overlooking M street was wide open.  The curtains billowed slightly and he could hear traffic noises from down below.   “Regan?  Regan? Are you ok?  It’s Uncle…”  He never finished the sentence.  At that moment Regan emerged from beyond the door and smashed the back of his head with a two-handed punch.  Burke saw stars and went crashing face first into bookcase by the open window. 

Groaning from the blow, he tried to get up but Regan quickly grabbed his shoulders and spun him around with impossible speed and strength.  A deep,demonic voice thundered from Regan’s throat, “Fuck my mother will you?  WILL YOU!!???? YESS!!! YESSSS!!”  A powerful right hook then sent Denning's crumpling face first into the polished oak floor.  Regan drove her knee into his back and yanked his head back violently.  With preternatural strength and purpose, she slowly twisted his head around.  Semi-conscious, Burke tried to scream, but the merciless torsion popped and splintered his neck bones until the spinal cord itself was transected at 180 degrees.  Releasing her grip, the back of Burke's head thudded on the wood floor.  The murderous deed now complete, Regan lifted Denning’s corpse over her head, and threw it out the window onto the steep M Street stairs next to the house.  Nobody saw or heard. 

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