The "Mud Pie"

I was ten years old when I witnessed a man murder my neighbour, Mrs. Baker, in a quiet town in Hamilton, Ontario.

Seven years ago...

It was a late evening on a Sunday. I was riding my bike home from the park when I heard someone yelling in Mrs. Baker’s home. I got curious and made my way over to check it out. I had rested my bike against a parked car and squatted low, looking over the hood into the open window of her home. The cool breeze nipped my chocolate warm skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She squeaked.

“I know you do, just tell me where it is.” his voice was deep with a slight rasp.

He took a step forward while she took one back.

“Theresa, you know I don’t want to do this,”

“Then don’t.” She begged.

“I don’t have a choice, so make this easier for the both of us and just give me the book.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What book?” I can tell she was afraid even with her back facing me at the time. She continued to back away slowly. She stopped just in front of the window where I was witnessing everything.

Now that she was closer, I noticed that she was hiding something behind her back.

“I don’t have time for this, just tell me where it is!” The man’s voice boomed so loudly, I was sure it vibrated the car I was cowering behind. He raised a hand to her and that’s when I realized he was holding a gun.

She slipped what looked to be a book through the window.

She shook her head, “Please, I do-I don’t know… Wait, Adrian don-“

BANG!

Her cry was cut short as crimson red fluids splattered against the transparent glass. She slumped to the floor, her body no longer in view. I felt myself tremble with fear, unable to move.

“Mrs. Baker…” I whispered.

I was able to hear the inside of the house being terrorized; items being thrown, broken, and misplaced.

“Where the fuck is it?” The killer yelled. I flinched as I heard another item break.

Was that the book he was looking for? My body began to move on it’s own as I made my way to the porch. I had to be quick if I was going to steal it. I was by the window when I noticed a few potted plants covered in red spots. Blood splatter. Her blood splatter. The thought of this man catching me right outside made my stomach churn.

Hurry up and get the book Adam. My subconscious had rushed me.

Since it was dark outside, I had trouble locating it, but eventually found it.

I popped my head up to look through the window to make sure the guy was still busy vandalizing the property. I unintentionally looked down and spotted her limp body covered in blood. She was missing an eye. Her head was mutilated by the bullet that he had shot. All that was left was a dark gaping hole that oozed blood. That was enough to encourage me to run. I had what I wanted, no need for me to stay longer.

I lived several blocks away from Mrs. Baker’s house, so it didn’t take me long before I was home, safe and sound.

Today...

What happened that night was all over the news for months and the gossip had spread through our town like a virus. I was surprised to find out that no one saw what happened, which means they never saw me or the murderer. It’s been seven years since her death and since I took this book. I went through it a dozen times but never found anything interesting. It’s only filled with recipes. Why would Mrs. Baker try to hide this?

I sit on my bed going through the small black book again.

What am I missing?

I read through all the instructions on each page, but stop when I notice something different. I look at the name of the recipe, “Mud Pie”. On this page she only wrote the ingredients and items needed.

- A bowl of water.

- A large silver spoon.

- Grounded chocolate.

- Clean greens.

There were no other details and the “clean greens” confused me the most.

This isn't how you make mud pie.

A week before she was killed, I do remember her burying something in her front yard. She had covered the area with a small garden fountain to hide the fresh dirt. She didn’t notice me watching, but I never thought anything of it then.

It was a message...

I grab a shovel from the garage, leave my house, hop into my car, and make my way to the structure that was once her home. No one ever bought it after she died, so it remained alone. When I got there, I noticed the fountain was missing, I guess someone stole it. I take the shovel out of the trunk of my car and begin digging. After a while, the shovel comes in contact with something solid. I bend down and use my hands to remove the remaining dirt. It reveals a black duffle bag. I zip it open and was surprised to see cash, all in twenty-dollar bills.

“Clean greens. I get it now.” I say aloud. I zip the bag back up, refill the hole, shove everything into my car and drive off.

I just found a bag of cash in my dead neighbour’s yard… I don’t know how to feel about that...

When I got home, I parked my car in my garage and took out the bag. I sat on the floor and spent hours counting the amount.

In total, there was twenty thousand dollars and it was all mine.