The Cake Killer

It was just another ordinary day in Boulder County for most of its residents. For homicide detectives Logan Hayes and Jeff Randell however, things were not so normal on the way back to the station to try to dig up some clues on the murder scene they had just left in the Valley Heights gated community. A friend and neighbor of 37-year-old stay at home mother, Gwen Talbot, found her unconscious in her home around 6:00 am and she was announced dead on arrival. It was confirmed by his boss and fellow neighbors that the husband was out of the country on business and their two children where across the country in college.

Gwen was a model citizen and well respected by all that knew her in Boulder County, it seemed. There was no sign of forced entry, no sign of a struggle, no evidence left behind that they had noticed, no explanation of any kind on how a loving wife, mother and model citizen had been found slouched over dead in her kitchen floor. The thoughts jumped all over the place in detective Hayes’ mind as he inattentively cruised down Route 9, a short cut through the country that detective Randell had shown him when he had first started out on patrol about 10 years ago.

Ring, Ring, Logan subconsciously heard Jeff’s work phone go off, and then once more Ring, Ring. Jeff pulled his phone out of the pocket of his light gray button up shirt, “Go ahead” he said. “Alright Captain, we’re headed that way” he went on. “Step on it, kid, we’re going to Daleswood; gotta female body beside the dumpster behind the movie theater.” Detective Randell said to Detective Hayes, reaching up to the dash of the outdated black Crown Vic to turn on the siren. Logan kicked up a cloud of dust on the old county dirt road as he mashed the throttle to the floor. “You think its related to the woman this morning?” Detective Hayes asked.

“Doubt it, that location it is probably a junkie overdose, or someone dumped a prostitute” Detective Randell answered shaking his head. They came to the T at the end of Route 9 and turned right, heading toward the city of Daleswood. When they got to Daleswood, they turned into the theater parking lot and drove around to the back of the building. As they got out of the car, they were met by the responding officer. “Detective Randell, it’s an honor to finally meet you, your reputation exceeds you” the officer said extending a hand to Detective Randell.

“What’s going on here, officer,” Detective Hayes interrupted, preventing Detective Randell from going on a spiel about his impressive career, as he tended to do when approached by newer officers, media, or anyone that would care to listen.

“Right,” the officer said retracting his hand and leading the detectives to the crime scene. “We have a 23-year-old Caucasian female found dead, leaned up against the dumpster. Her name is Sara Beth Hawthorne; there is no sign of foul play. She has track marks on both arms and a record for solicitation of prostitution. That is really about all we got. Looks like an overdose to us. We were advised to call you guys in because of the other woman found dead this morning” he continued.

“Thank you, officer, let us take a look around see if anything looks familiar with our other investigation and we will be out of y’all’s way.” Detective Randell said, handing the officer his card, instructing him to call if he wanted to hear about his career. The two detectives walked around the crime scene looking over the young woman’s body for signs of a struggle or foul play.

“Look at the lips, they are the same shade of red as the woman from Valley Heights.” Detective Hayes said pointing to the victim’s lips.

“It’s a popular color. A lot of women wear red lipstick, Logan, do not play too much into this. It’s probably just a coincidence” Detective Randell replied as he squinched his eyes, scanning the crime scene in the beating sun of the day. They looked around the crime scene for about an hour or so and just as they were getting ready to head back to the station, something caught Detective Hayes’ eye. Over in the corner of the fenced-in lot behind the theater on the old sun worn picnic table that looked to be the theater’s break room, there was a small brown paper box. As he approached it, he saw that it had cake crumbs in the bottom of the box and assumed that it was left by an employee rushing back to work.

“Detective Hayes, you ready? We really need to get back to the station to do some digging.” Detective Randell said, signaling Detective Hayes to come to the car. The two made casual small talk on the way back to the station. Upon arrival at the police station, the two went their separate ways, checking contacts and trying to dig up as much as they could on the two women found dead. As the shift was ending, Detective Hayes returned to his desk to find his partner Jeff shoveling a fork full of chocolate cake in his mouth. “Maggie’s gonna get you for having dessert before supper, Jeff,” Detective Hayes said in a slight chuckle.

“What she won’t know won’t hurt her,” Detective Randell mumbled over a mouth full of cake. Detective Hayes looked down at the brown paper box that held a single slice of chocolate cake. He closed the lid to the box to find at the back, on top, just past the clear plastic front that revealed the delicious looking cake, a black outline of a peculiar looking moth. “Where did you get this cake, Jeff?” Detective Hayes asked recognizing the cake box.

“I don’t know, it was right here on my desk when we got back this afternoon,” Detective Randell replied, shoving the last couple bites of cake in his mouth.

“And you just ate it, no questions asked?” Detective Hayes ask noticing the icing on the cake had dyed the detective’s lips red.

“Come on, lighten up, Logan, it’s just a piece of cake.” Jeff said standing up slapping his partner on the shoulder jokingly.

“Yeah, just a piece of cake. Hey, is there a bakery or pastries shop in Daleswood?” Detective Hayes ask as concern took over his voice.

“Not that I know of, why?” Detective Randell asked in return.

“I saw this cake box at the second crime scene today” Detective Hayes responded, re-closing the box, examining the moth on the lid.

“It’s really good cake. Well, I gotta go, Maggie is waiting on me to get to our dinner reservation,” Detective Randell said with a chuckle.

After Detective Randell left, Detective Hayes examined the box for a little longer, before sending a text message to one of the responding officers on the prostitute case in which he was good friends, asking him to collect the empty cake box as evidence. He then left the police station got in the Crown Vic and headed back to the crime scene in Valley Heights. He went over the crime scene again a few times, looking to see if there was any piece of the puzzle that was missing. Just as he was getting ready to leave, something in his gut told him to recheck the trash can beside the counter where Gwen Talbot had been found. He lifted the lid and, as he had expected, he noticed from underneath a few newspapers, the corner of a brown paper box. He pulled it out of the trash to find that it was the exact same box as the other crime scene and his partner had just eaten from.

Detective Hayes returned to the car and started back to the police station trying to call his partner repeatedly the whole way back to the station. When he arrived, he found that half of the precinct was out in the parking lot, as well as a few ambulances, huddled around where Jeff had parked his personal car. Detective Hayes flew into the parking lot, slamming the car in park, jumping out and running to find the paramedics loading a stretcher with a body bag into one of the ambulances. The department captain came running up to Detective Hayes “It’s Jeff. It was too late he was already gone, son.” the captain said placing a hand on Logan’s shoulder. Logan talked to the police chief about what he had found and his suspicion about the cake. After which the police chief relieved Logan from the case and sent him home to grieve the loss of his partner. He went inside the station to his desk to gather a few personal things to take home with him and found on his desk a blank envelop. He opened it to find a handwritten note that read.

“Dear Detective Hayes:

This has truly been a day to remember for the both of us. A new chapter of life waits for you, a well-deserved vacation, eventually a new partner, three unsolved murders to put into you career profile, not to mention a lifelong obsession with trying to figure out who I am. For me there are new beginnings as well a new reputation to uphold, a new city to take up roots, and a lifelong commitment of reminding you that I am still out here.

Yours Truly

The Cake Killer”

After a beautiful ceremony and two weeks of mopping around his apartment, re-reading the letter over and over, Detective Hayes returned to work. He was sitting at a traffic light in downtown Daleswood, just in front of the theater, headed to the local diner to have lunch, listening to the daily news report as he and Detective Randell had always done. Today however, Logan sat and stared at the green traffic light, frozen in place as the cars behind him impatiently honked and edged closer to his bumper as he heard the news reporter say.

“Atlanta police department has called in the FBI to help investigate a series of murders yesterday when 42-year-old stay at home mom, Mary Whitener; 20-year-old exotic dancer and alleged prostitute, Tiffany “Phoenix’ Davis, and 58-year-old homicide detective, Mac Barnes where found dead with their lips dyed red. The FBI was called in because the three murders fit the same profile of a series of similar murders in Boulder County two weeks ago. The only thing linking these 6 victims together is a brown paper cake box that was found at each of the 6 crime scenes.”