Death by Chocolate

All it took was a single slice of chocolate cake. It was the story of the century, and the newsroom of the Raven’s Peak Herald was abuzz. As a reporter, I knew that this story would be a benchmark upon the history of our little town, and so did the two other reporters in the room. Having already spent most of the night digging up details from our sources on the streets, we sat around the conference table discussing the morning headline. Jeffrey Fields, our editor in chief, looked frustrated, as though he were seconds away from pulling out his hair.

“If we don’t get this story out in the next three hours, I’m going to go on a killing spree myself!” he shouted.

“Relax chief,” replied Salem McVeigh, the head reporter. “We have most of the details, we’ll get the story ironed out in time for the morning print.”

“All we have is a bunch of speculation,” countered Selina Burns, my roommate and colleague who never hesitated to speak her mind. “We’re not going to put the reputation of our paper on the line by publishing half baked opinions.”

“Where the hell is he?!” shouted Jeffrey, inquiring about the whereabouts of our field reporter Gerald Hoskins who was out greasing the palms of anyone who could provide a detailed account of the story that would undoubtedly be read by thousands across town.

“I think he’s pulling in now!” replied Salem.

The scraping of chairs across the vinyl floors echoed throughout the room as we simultaneously ran out of the conference room to get the scoop from the disheveled Gerald who appeared to be in dire need of a shower and a nap.

“Damn it Hoskins! Where the hell have you been?!” shouted Jeffrey.

“Sorry chief,” replied Gerald. “Trust me, this story is worth the wait.”

“Conference room, now!” replied Jeffrey as we all filed into the tiny sitting room that reeked of coffee and cigarettes.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” stated Gerald as we took our seats and stared him down for the scoop. “A single slice of chocolate cake. That’s all it took. I had my guy in R.P.P.D. listen in on the chatter from the sheriff’s department. You guys already know that the murders spanned almost two decades. Apparently the cops traced his latest kill back to the very first murder from 1978. Two guesses as to what was similar.”

“Cake?!” Salem remarked, astounded.

“Cake,” replied Gerald with a smirk. “Apparently some detective by the name of Lacaden made the connection. The M.E.’s office spent the good part of the night going through the autopsy reports along with the sheriffs. They found seven different cases so far that have had that one common denominator. Every crime scene has had some sort of connection with chocolate cake.”

“I don’t get it,” replied Selina. “What’s the connection?”

“That’s what the cops couldn’t figure out,” replied Gerald. “Apparently the detective had been combing through most of the case files at Betty’s Diner down on Hooper, and made the connection yesterday morning while having a slice of their famous chocolate cake. Originally they had pegged McBride’s son Harry as the primary suspect in the murders, but he had an alibi. Apparently he was with the neighbor’s son on the night of the first murder. And even though he was let go, every subsequent murder was connected to him in one way or another. Everyone was convinced it was him, but his lawyers kept insisting it was a small town and without any evidence, practically the whole town could be considered a suspect.”

“So what happened?” asked Jeffrey with a hint of urgency in his voice.

“Let me guess,” interrupted Salem. “The friend confessed to lying at the time of the original murder?”

“Even better,” replied Gerald. “The friend turned out to be the final victim.”

Dead silence fell upon the room. Coming from a small town where everybody knew everybody, it was devastating to learn that one of our very own citizens could have committed such atrocities. That was the thing about people in general, no matter how close you were to someone, you could never really judge a person’s true color by how well you knew them.

“I can’t believe it’s Harry,” blurted out Selina, breaking the silence. “I mean, no matter how much we all suspected him, he was still one of us.”

“I guess you can never really know a person,” replied Salem. “Hell, I went to high school with the guy, I never expected this though.”

“Aren’t we jumping the gun a bit?” I asked, trying to play on my colleagues’ emotions. “I mean, we still don’t know for sure that he’s guilty…”

“What more evidence do you need?” asked Gerald. “Clearly the guy was cracking from the pressure and decided to confess, and Harry went and tied up a loose end.”

“Still, what about the evidence?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s the best part,” replied Gerald. “So there were several key similarities between all the victims. All of them were guys who had been students at Raven’s Peak High.”

“That’s not surprising,” countered Salem. “It’s one of the only two high schools in town, we were all students there.”

“Yes,” replied Gerald. “But we weren’t all students in Mrs. McBride’s class.”

“Woah, all the victims were in the same class?” inquired Selina.

“All of them took Rachel McBride’s class,” replied Gerald. “But not all of them were in the same class year. Apparently, all of the victims had taken her class at one point or another, Harry and the neighbor’s kid included. They found Harry’s fingerprints all over his room.”

“Hey, Sara and I were in McBride’s class!” shouted Salem, a dumbfounded look upon his face.

“Yeah,” I replied in a nervous tone. “Back in ‘86. That’s so creepy!”

“Holy crap!” shouted Salem grabbing handfuls of his hair. “We could have been victims of that maniac!”

“Yeah, I think Harry had better candidates in mind,” laughed Selina sarcastically.

“Here’s the best part,” continued Gerald. “All of the victims had their throats slit with a very unique knife, a murder weapon which, up until today, the police were unable to identify.”

“What was it?” Jeffrey asked, intrigued.

“Ready for this?” asked Gerald. “A cake knife.”

“What?” asked Selina, a look of surprise and confusion upon her face.

“Yep,” nodded Gerald. “A cake knife. And get this, they found trace evidence of chocolate cake in the lacerations, as if Harry was just having a piece of cake and out of nowhere decided to slit his friend’s throat.”

“That is just fucked up,” replied Salem.

“That’s not all,” added Gerald. “The detective looked through the coroner's reports for each of the victims dating back 10 years, and at least seven other victims, all of them recent, have had some sort of trace evidence connecting them with chocolate cake, almost like a calling card."

“That’s still a bit of a stretch, no?” I asked. “I mean, a lot of people like chocolate cake.”

“Maybe,” replied Gerald. “But is it simply coincidence that each sample of chocolate cake was determined to have come from the same location?”

“No way,” remarked Selina.

“Oh yeah,” retorted Gerald. “Betty’s Café. And here’s the kicker, Betty’s Café is just a few minutes walk from Harry’s place of residence.”

“Dude! We go there all the time!” shouted Salem. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“Speculation doesn’t make for a good story Hoskins,” remarked Jeffrey. “We need something more substantial.”

“Oh don’t worry,” laughed Gerald. “I’ll give you substantial. Rachel McBride was originally a waitress at Betty’s Café back in the early 70’s, and get this, their notorious chocolate cake... her own personal recipe.”

Once again the room went silent. This was substantial evidence, and the pieces were neatly falling into place. Still, Jeffrey appeared unconvinced.

“You’re holding back,” he pressed on. “What are you not telling us?”

“Well,” replied Gerald, pausing briefly to stare in my direction. “I didn’t want to put you on the spot Sara, but while I was digging around, the watch commander happened to mention that they had brought you in for questioning a while back as well since you had some personal connections to most of the victims.”

“Yeah,” I replied nonchalantly. “But then again, who didn’t? Raven’s Peak isn’t exactly the big apple… hell, Salem knew most of those guys as well.”

“We went to high school with most of them,” replied Salem. “I remember them bringing Sara in for questioning several years back. But that was just for the sake of thoroughness, right?”

“Yep,” I replied, slightly shrugging. “I guess they had a whole list of suspects, and were looking to cover their bases. Harry’s always been at the top of the list.”

“I just can’t believe a guy like that would kill his own mother,” replied Selina. “What was his connection to the other victims?”

“I know it’s not much to go on,” replied Gerald. “But as far as the sheriffs were concerned, they’re chalking it up to a rough childhood. If I remember correctly from back in the day, Harry spent quite some time stuffed inside lockers, so it wouldn’t surprise me, him wanting revenge on those kids.”

“I’m willing to bet none of those kids passed his mother’s class,” I added aptly. “If I recall correctly, she was quite a tough grader. That couldn’t have helped his reputation.”

“Either way, they’ll need the murder weapon to convict him, right?” asked Selina. “I mean, do they actually have enough to build a case?”

“Apparently the evidence is substantial enough to take it to trial,” replied Gerald. “My guess is, with his checkered past and the DUI’s he’s got under his belt, no jury is going to let him off easy.”

“I don’t know,” replied Jeffrey. “Something about this just seems too clean. It’s almost too easy.”

“Dude, you have to learn to take the win,” remarked Selina, shaking her head.

Jeffrey surveyed the room and let out a sigh of acquiescence. I could see the case weighing on his conscience, but I could also see how exhausted he had become from the stress of the job. I had seen the same look of exasperation on the faces of many of the men of the town in the past. It was a look that screamed for release. I could tell that every fiber of his being was telling him to dig deeper, but Jeffrey was a man, frail and faulty.

“Alright,” he responded with another deep sigh. “Have the drafts ready for me within the hour. Good work Hoskins, let’s make this morning’s paper memorable.”

“Here’s to you Harry,” smirked Selina, raising her cup of coffee. “Thanks for wrapping up the story in a neat little bow.”

“Chin Chin!” laughed Gerald.

As the staff filed out of the room, stretching and yawning, I headed for the snack table, releasing a short lived sigh of relief.

“I’m still blown away right now,” remarked Salem as he followed close behind. “You personally knew most of these victims, hell, you even dated two of these guys. I’m surprised you’re not more shocked about all this.”

“I guess I can’t really believe this is happening, you know?” I replied, turning my back to Salem and grabbing a plate. “It just seems so… surreal.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he nodded, as he piled up a bunch of sugary snacks from the table onto a plate of his own. “I thought I knew Harry. Despite all the rumors, he seemed like such a stand-up guy.”

I picked up the silver plated cake knife and stared at my reflection for a brief moment to regain my composure, and proceeded to carefully cut myself a piece of chocolate cake.

“You said it yourself,” I replied casually, as a smile inadvertently escaped my lips. “You never really know a person, till they show up on the morning paper.”