Case # 333

It was the most horrific, yet unusual and peculiar crime scene that I had ever witnessed. I had been working as a homicide detective for several years. I thought that I had seen just about everything that nightmares were made of. I was wrong, I was so very wrong.

On the night of January 28th, I was awakened by my cell phone constantly ringing. I tried to ignore the annoying comic ringtone. I rolled over and checked the clock sitting next to the bed. 3:33 AM. Those numbers are forever engraved into my very existence. I decided to check the call log, I was curious as to who would be calling me at this awkward time.

WORK – WORK – WORK the list of calls seemed endless (27 missed calls to be exact). Alarmed I jumped up and grabbed my clothes. I knew that something weighty was happening. The office never called me at home in the middle of the night. I hit redial as I grabbed an energy drink from the fridge.

“Sir! You’re needed at the candy factory immediately!” my secretary chaotically informed me. “The candy factory?” I chuckled. My first thought was that this was some form of banter from the guys. I was somewhat irritated that they had chosen such a moronic time to play games. Of course, we were all guilty of having a little workplace humor from time to time. It broke the monotony and eased the tension that we dealt with on a daily basis.

“Okay Sharon, I’ll be right there, let me grab my pink bunny costume.” I laughed “No! I’m serious there’s been a murder at the candy factory!” I could instantly sense the magnitude in her voice. “Oh shit! okay, I’m on my way.” I grabbed my jacket and ran out the door.

When I rolled up to the factory, I was damn near blinded by all of the blue lights. Every officer in the state must have been on the scene. Holding my badge up I pushed my way through the frantic crowd of onlookers. “What’s going on here?” I questioned another detective as I entered the building. “Sir, you’re not going to believe this!” he said as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “A 19-year-old man was found dead by his fellow employees. He’s submerged in a giant tank of molten chocolate.” Suddenly the sweet scent of chocolate goodness which filled the air made my stomach turn.

I walked over to the giant tank and braced myself for what I was surely about to see. It was appalling and atrocious. I had to step away quickly as nausea swept through my body. I had seen many lurid and macabre scenes in my career; this one was by far the worst.

As I looked around the room my eyes landed on a giant Willy Wonka poster hanging just above the chocolate tank. The image still haunts me at night. As hard as I try, I can’t get the vision out of my head. The machine had been turned off but the luminous digital display still read “batch 333”. That number, why does it keep coming up! I leaned against the cool wall as I tried to compose myself. This was certainly no way for a seasoned homicide detective to compose themself.

I began looking for witnesses to speak with. In the corner I noticed an older lady eating a slice of chocolate cake. My stomach began to feel sickish and squeamish again. “How in the hell is she eating when a man is floating dead in a chocolate tank directly in front of her?” I sighed and gathered myself as I approached her. “Mam, do you know what happened here tonight?” I carefully asked.

“Oh yes, I saw the whole thing!” she explained as a blob of chocolate icing rolled down her chin. I could no longer control my gag reflex. “His name is Carl and he had been down in the dumps all night long. Apparently, he had caught his fiancé having relations with his best friend. If you know what I mean.” She gave me a sly wink. “He climbed up on the tank and just jumped right in. He didn’t even scream as the 333-degree chocolate just melted him into nothing.”

There it was again, that number haunting me. I looked at the temperature chart hanging on the wall. “Isn’t 333 degrees extremely high? The chart says that 120 degrees is the maximum heat?” I pointed to the chart as I questioned her. “Yeah, that’s about right, I guess he wanted to make sure that he got the job done.” she shrugged.

The coroner was removing the body from the tank. There wasn’t much left to see of the victim. “Death by chocolate! I’ve seen it all now!” the coroner laughed. “Johnny! This isn’t a laughing matter! Try to be a bit more professional!” I scolded.

After interviewing every employee who was working that night it was confirmed that Carl had deliberately jumped into the molten tank of chocolate. I was preparing myself to go inform his mother of the tragedy. “How do I tell a mother that her son hopped into a tank of boiling chocolate?” I sighed as I stepped outside and took in the fresh night air.

I pulled up in front of the house. My assistant had already programed the GPS so I hadn’t paid much attention to the address. “333 HOLLY STREET.” My heart began to pound inside of my chest. For the first time in my life, I was legitimately horror-stricken.

When the lady opened the door, I could see that she was alarmed by my presence. She kindly invited me to come inside. I immediately noticed three photographs hanging on the wall. I fell back onto the sofa as my eyes landed on the hand-carved wooden numbers hanging above the photos. 333. She must have noticed my thunderstruck reaction. She began to explain that the numbers had great significance.

She had 3 sons.

Each was born during the 3rd month of the year.

And they were each 3 years apart in age.

"Three is my lucky number!" she smiled.

I quickly excused myself as I rushed outside and got back into my car. I had not even told her about the tragic event at the chocolate factory; I couldn’t. I was physically and mentally unable to go on. I went back to the office and placed my badge on my desk. I was quitting my job as a homicide detective. The events of the night had pushed me beyond the limits of reason.

Case #333 was my mental downfall. I will never be the same.

I still feel qualmish and unsettled when I smell the scent of chocolate. I absolutely refuse to watch Willy Wonka; in fact, the sound of Oompa-Loompas singing sends shivers down my spine. What was once a childhood favorite has now turned into a formidable horror movie.