It Was a Piece of Cake

Ettie poured the thick, brown batter into the pan, using a spatula to scrape the last little bits of it down the sides. Reminding herself to refrain from licking her fingers, no matter how she may have subconsciously been tempted to do so.

"Best to wash these dishes out right away," she told herself.

She swung her oven door open. A blast of heat hit her face and forced her to shut her eyes.

She popped the pan in the oven and with a deep sigh, pushed the heavy metal door closed like she had done countless times before. She turned the dial on the little automatic timer that Harry had thoughtfully gifted her last Christmas.

She took her mixing bowl, spoon, and spatula to the sink. Rinsed and washed them, and set them on the counter top to dry.

Ethel May sat back on her kitchen stool and pondered the events that led her to move forward with the plan she had just put into action. Or rather, into the oven.

She once again reassured herself that she'd never been fond of Davy, Harold's derelict nephew. Though she'd always shown him compassion and kindness, he was family after all. But Davy was a crook and worse. He was an abusive, lying, hateful man who didn't bat an eye at doing anything to anyone. No matter how horrible, if it meant getting what he wanted out of them.

If HE was in her position, he would surely do worse to her in a heartbeat, she told herself.

He didn't think twice about hurting innocent people, even when it got him in trouble with the law. Like what he did to that girl in Kansas some years back. Horrible, unthinkable things.

They had let him off of those charges, but that didn't mean he wasn't guilty after all. She knew he was guilty, knew it in her bones.

She thought of that girl when she and her husband Harry had the first conversation over what to do about Davy. When they first conceived of making a move. A move that could change their lives forever, for better or worse. The conversation had taken place about a week after he showed up unannounced in their driveway with that mysterious package tucked under his arm.

"I don't want him here," Harold had said "God only knows what kind of trouble he's dragging with him this time around. I'm shocked he has the nerve to show his face after that last incident. The one with that girl in Kansas I don't care if they let him off, we all know he's guilty as sin. They should have given him the electric chair."

She thought of the girl, when she had pulled apart the fly paper and steeped it in boiling water.

"With him gone, none of us will have anything to worry about anymore." Harry had insisted. "We won't have to worry about him showing up. Won't worry about him stealing anything from us or any of our friends. Won't have to worry about him having his way with any of the neighbors' daughters."

Ettie remembered this conversation, and thought about Dot. The neighbors' up the road, their sweet daughter, who was no older than six. As she boiled the flypaper concoction down to a syrup in order to extract the arsenic. "This will make things safer for her, and others" Ettie thought aloud.

"And hell," Harry had continued "we won't even have to worry that we're going to have to hear about him doing anymore horrible things to anyone, EVER." Harry had emphatically made his point clear.

Ettie ruminated on this point as she mixed up her flour, sugar, milk, eggs, and cocoa powder.

"Now, we know he stole all that money from somewheres." Harry had glimpsed the contents of Davy's mystery box through a crack in the barn while Davy had been unpacking to settle in for his stay. Her Harold could be sly like that. He didn't know how much was there but he knew it was a lot.

"Hopefully he stole from someone who deserved it. Either way we know HE don't deserve it. He don't, But WE sure as damn hell do!" Both she and Harry were getting along in years, and the business of farming didn't exactly come with a pension. They had a little bit saved, but not much. Not enough.

"The question is, how are we going to get rid of him?" Harry asked, a flash like ice reflected in his eyes.

"Harold," Ettie struggled to get past the thought at first. "Now you know that I've never cared much for Davey, but he's your nephew!"

"He's a violent, deranged, dangerous piece of shit Ethel, and you know it. Thank the Lord my sister didn't live to see what became of her only son. He's a liar, a thief and a degenerate of the worst kind. Besides the money he has inside of that box could change our lives, change our lives forever. And the world would be better off without him in it. Ethel, you know I'm right."

She had never seen her husband so convicted over a subject before. It made her wonder about the kind of things that he'd gone through and seen. The things he'd done, during the war.

"Good god Harold, I-, I don't like to think about it but…" Ethel paused as if there was something on her mind that she was not yet ready to speak aloud.

"But what?" pressed Harry.

"I've got an idea." she paused , pondering something unseen. "you just leave the getting rid of him to me." Ethel had said to him somberly, with an expression Harry had never before seen cross his wife's sweet face. An expression that made him feel almost as if after all these years maybe he didnt really know the whole of her after all. Maybe not even the half of her.

"Leave it to me dear, trust me." she had said nodding, "It'll be a piece of cake."

Harry had felt uneasy seeing her like this. But he knew that when Ethel put her mind to a notion, there would be no stopping her. Why, Harold trusted his wife of forty years more than he trusted himself. He trused her to keep a cool head in any situation.

Alright Ettie," he had said "I'll leave it to you. You just let me know how I can help."

She had told him that he could help by making himself scarce for the day. "Find something to do away from the house," she had said. So that she could get on with what she had to do. This would give her time to ponder the gravity of what she was about to go through with, in solitude.

She had thought about that girl, and wondered how many others there may have been. As she stirred the arsnic-laced boiled flypaper concoction, the final ingredient, into the batter for her famous chocolate cake.

As Ettie waited for the cake to bake in the oven. She pulled out cream, butter, sugar, more cocoa powder, and her whisk. She beat the butter, sugar, and cocoa powder together with just a touch of cinnamon. And as she poured the cream into the bowl whisking the ingredients together, she thought about what she and Harold could do with all that money.

The barn was long overdue for a new roof. She had always wondered what it would be like to get her hands on one of those fancy electric washing machines, for your clothes. Oh how nice it would be to not have to beat up her tired old hands washing out Harry's overalls, she thought. And she had never even seen the ocean outside of pictures. They could finally take that trip to Florida that they'd long dreamed about.

The timer she'd set for her cake went off with a ding.

She pulled it out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool.

She stepped back and stared at it for a moment. She found herself simultaneously a little appalled and strangely somehow proud of herself. She thought about Davy and that girl in Kansas.

After a few moments, she heard footsteps coming up the porch. The door swung open, and Davy plopped himself down at her kitchen table. His trousers and hands were covered in dirt.

"Whew!" He exclaimed. "Sure does smell good in here, Aunt Ettie."

"Oh, does it now?" She asked him, looking at the dirt on his clothes and thinking about her new washing machine. "Why don't you go wash up before you put your dirty hands all over my kitchen." She said sweetly.

"Oh, sorry my bad" he said with a chuckle, getting up from the table.

As Davy went outside to clean himself up, Ettie spooned the frosting onto the cake smoothing it around the edges with a butter knife. Before cutting two pieces of the heavenly looking chocolate cake. One for him, and one so as not to arouse any suspicion. Though she certainly didn't plan on eating any of the deadly stuff.

Just then he came back in from outside, and sat himself back down at the table.

"Davy," she said to him with a warm smile.

"Would you like a piece of cake?"