The Mystery of Mr Cheese
There was once a detective. Detective Terri Ost. Who had a difficult case, most difficult indeed. There had been a series of murders, most gruesome & repulsive. The murderer had seemingly put several large bullet holes in the victims. But they were not bullet holes. The coroner had concluded that pastry cutters had, in fact, produced the wounds post-mortem. So far, three victims had been found with these wounds, placing the murderer in serial killer territory. Homicide detectives like to give serial killers nicknames, this killer had been given the title, “Swiss-Cheese-Man”. Ost didn’t like the title. Ost claimed it sounded like a bad superhero. Ost called Swiss-Cheese-Man: “Mr Cheese”.
A month went by, 6 more victims had been found. Each body more gruesome than the last. However, there was something new on the most recent cadaver. There was an envelope attached. On the letter it read: “To Detective Ost.” Ost took the letter to her office to read:
“How do you like my latest victim? I did this for you.”
Ost was terrified. The killer was addressing her directly, claiming to have killed the victim specifically with her in mind. Why? For what reason? How do they know who I am? Were all questions running though Ost’s mind, yet they weren’t the one’s which concerned her the most. Most importantly Ost wanted to know: When?
To answer this, Ost had to take a trip to the morgue. Here she spoke with the coroner, who told her that each victim had been found roughly a week after death. However, the most recent corpse to be found, the one with the letter attached, had been dead for no longer than 24 hours.
Five weeks later and the case of Mr Cheese had gone cold. Homicide had been waiting for Mr Cheese to strike again, hopefully giving away more information as to his identity. So far, all the bodies had been washed with alcohol. No DNA. No trace. Detective Ost arrived; a letter was waiting for her on her desk, already checked for prints. Everyone thought it was from Mr Cheese. Ost opened it. It was.
“Hello again Detective. I have a new corpse for you. Come to the warehouse on 7th street alone. 10pm.”
Ost was something of an arrogant woman, always quick to pick up a challenge. This arrogance led her to lie about many things. Important things, like these troubling black outs she’d been having for several months now, waking up in empty brothels, with nothing but a trench coat & a pair of old tattered boots. This arrogance was now leading Ost to lie about the letter, claiming it was from her estranged uncle, asking her for money.
9:57pm. Ost pulls up outside the warehouse. She climbs the fence, making sure no one sees her. Ost goes in through the back entrance. The warehouse is dark, vast & empty, except for what looks like a wooden plank in the centre of the room, dimly lit by a flickering ceiling light. Ost walks over to it, cautiously, looking from left to right, looking for Mr Cheese. She places her fingers on the plank, as she walks round to the other side. It’s not a plank of wood. It’s a mirror. Ost stands in front of it. Her face turns a ghastly white.
“It can’t be.” she stammers.
The light falls from the ceiling, crushing Detective Terri Ost.
On the mirror, written in blood, reads: “Hello, MISS CHEESE.”
