Mega monster-s-ze story says 'rawr.'
This is not a great story, mainly because it was schoolified awfully and time-crunched brutally. Also, I censored anything that would give up important personal info for me. AQ mystery story, the Fibonacho Murders!
The Fibonacho Murders
Chapter Uno
It had started discreetly. Investigator Jeff Crevat had received a noticeâ"a rather curious case. Apparently, there had been a rather. . .unorthodox murder.
The body of a person named Caleb H. had been found. It was a clean murder; little blood, if any, was found at the crime scene. The only apparent cause of death was a small cut at the femoral artery, and that would leave copious amounts of blood at the crime scene-and yet there was no blood.. What distinguished this from any other murder, however, was what was left at the crime scene-1 nacho chip and some queso.
Crevat strolled in, bumping his shoulder on a soda-vending machine, and peered over the scene. It appeared to be a teacher work roomâ"there was a copy machine, a vending machine, and a central table with three chairs at it. Adjacent to the vending machine was a door leading to a utility closet, which was stacked with science books; the grayish multicolored carpet gave off to tile. A drab room, save for the fact the Caleb had been killed and hidden behind one of the shelves in the room.
Crevat had knowledge of pathology, and a quick inspection revealed that the death had occurred about two hours ago. Stepping back into the main work room, he carefully surveyed it. He glanced over the copy machine, inspecting every bit of it. The tray wasn't hiding anything, and neither was the inside of the machine. He knocked on the vending machine. Nothing. He reached his hand into the compartment where the soft drinks fell into after a purchase-and all there was was a quarter. He had two people collect the cheese and the chip in separate evidence bags, and they left the room.
"Kind of an odd murder. . ." Crevat grabbed the railing and started down the ZMS stairs.
His assistant and right-hand-man, Jason Smith, was careful to hold the evidence bag containing the chip carefully as he descended the stairs. "A bit crazy, really. A waste of nachos, too."
"I could care less about the nachos. Waste of a life, if anything."
"Waste of as life and a good bite of nachos."
"Why are you concerned with the nachos~?"
"They ARE the only things left at the crime scene. They could be a link to the killer."
"Ah."
This did not dissipate Jeff's apprehension, it only tantalized it.
Pushing open the door, Jeff held it for Jason. He carefully grasped the evidence bags, and they stepped out onto the rain-dampened sidewalk.
Chapter Dos
They exited onto the bus lot of the school, Jeff's eyes fixed on the police car. Him, Jason, and a rather quiet man who was carrying the other evidence bag loaded up and headed back for the police station.
Arriving at the police station, they immediately set to work. Jason and the other man took the queso and the chip to a lab for testing. Crevat leafed through the case file.
The tests came back negative. There was one fingerprint on the chip-matched to a man named Bill Mendez, an employee and supporter of the Mexican restaurant El Rodeo. The cheese measured to be 10 fluid ounces. There was no DNA, hair, fingerprints, or any sign of handling or use on the cheese. It was truly a perplexing situation.
Crevat was not an outwardly sad person; his face was bright and his face was always contorted into at least a somewhat gleeful countenance, and he interacted with others well. He was, however, inherently antisocial, as he only had one friend and never spoke unless spoken to. He was usually rather somber in reality and was typically emotionless, save or an occasional burst of happiness or annoyance. (typically the latter of the two.)
Jason and Jeff both entered the police station at the same time, and received interesting news. A second murder had taken place.
Trevor R. was found, murdered, behind the Mexican restaurant and bar, El Rodeo. Jeff rushed up to the scene and investigated the body.
"He died about. . .one hour ago, by the look of it. No blood. . .and no femoral cut. Now, let's see here. . . ." Crevat looked to the side of him, and saw one nacho chip and a smattering of cheese sauce.
Smith, Crevat, and the other man (his name was Phil) repeated the procedure. This time, an autopsy revealed that the cause of death was a measured blow to the temple, revealed by slight swelling of the area. His hair was so curly and afroesque that it took a long time to even notice the swelling.
"Hmmmm. . .same thing. No evidence as to who on either the body, the cheese, or the chip. But, there may be a link to the restaurant itself. . .as with the first murder. We should examine both locales again." Jeff put the reports in the case file, and walked over to the car.
"Wait up a sec! There was one ounce of cheese this time!" Jason spouted as Crevat realized what he had missed and hurriedly changed it.
Chapter Tres
He stopped first at the school. He asked all of the 6th grade teachers to allow him privately into their homerooms.
When he came to the homeroom of one Monica P., he was allowed in gingerly. He first noticed the immense amount of newspaper comics taped to the wall. Turning around slightly, he looked over most of the comics, until he found a rather shocking one. It showed two rather nerdy children taking nacho chips out of a bowl and eating themâ"'One cheesy tortilla chip, one cheesy tortilla chip, two cheesy tortilla chips, three cheesy tortilla chips, five cheesy tortilla chips, eight cheesy tortilla chips. . . .
Looking at Mrs. P., he posed a question. "What exactly are 'Fibonachos?'"
"It's a play on words. They're eating the chips in a Fibonacci sequence, and they call them Fibonachos. Kind of clever."
"Ahhhhh. . .thanks. I'll, like, keep note of it. Kay, bye." Jeff finished the sentence as he sauntered out the door.
Jason vivaciously pushed open the door to El Rodeo and met with one of the employees, Bill Mendez.
"Mr. Mendez, I'm with the ZPD, and I'm here to discuss the recent. . .ah, murder behind your restaurant. Now, have you had a nacho shortage recently?"
"We always do! No one ever tries the enchiladas, and they're the gem of this place, I swear!"
"Soooooo. . .you always have a nacho shortage?"
"Yes!" Bill gesticulated angrily.
"Okay then. Uhm. . .I don't like enchiladas. I've always liked nachos. . . ."
"Ugh! I don't want to hear your enchilada propaganda!"
"I'll be off then. . . ." Jason appeared to be furious as he walked out of the restaurant.
Jason kicked back in his chair- throwing ping balls at his floor fan and mulled over the case insofar. . . .
I could prevent these. . .it's not my fault. . .I can't be blamed for this. . .it has to stop. . .but it can't be stopped. . . what will happen when Crevat finds the murderer. . .?
Gary Jonstone put down his pen. Ushering the family out the door, he opened the window for some fresh air and lit a cigarette. The shop was closing- soon he could go home. Home. What an odd concept, that is. Home.
Chapter Quatro
The killer was changing his game. The murders before had been covert- single and obscure. In the gym of ZMS, two were found- Nick Nagy and Sam Willis. Both had rather obviously been murdered by a lacrosse stick- it was thrust into the grip of Sam, and dripping next to each one was a quantity of nachos. Next to Nick, two chips, three next to Sam~ what could the number of chips relate to? Pure randomness?
Crevat knew that the murders wouldn't stop. A psychopath would not halt the song at the key change. He would play his rhapsody of madness through to the end.
19 ounces of cheese on Nick. . .14 on Sam. . . and instead of hiding the murder weapon, it was left out in the open. There were so many discrepancies from the first two murders. . . .
Jeff went home and slumped in his desk. He was stumped- defeated and unable to prevent the next murder. Of course, it had become a textbook maneuver almost- the Poirot Strategy: letting the ext few murders happen. Bait the killer. And that was what he was to do.
Chapter Cinco
"Jason, c'mere."
"What?"
"Why do you think the amount of cheese has been so random? Personally, I-I have no idea. . . ."
"Ummmm . .it could be based on their birthdays or something. Something subliminal. That the killer wouldn't be able to think of consciously- if he knew the victims. I can't think of anything else."
"Hmm. . .could it be mathematical?"
"I doubt it. Unless there's some sort of correlation with the pattern~ but I wouldn't hold my breath."
"It could be. Ya know, I know a guy who's pretty much obsessed with these types of mathematical things. . . ." Jason took out his cell phone and punched in the numbers.
"Gary? Is that you?"
"Yes. Unless my birth certificate lied. . . ."
"Okay then. Are there any patterns that relate to the numbers '1, 1, 2, 3?'"
"I believe so. Are there any other numbers involved?"
"Not that I know of. It's possible."
"It could be a Fibonacci sequence. Ever heard of those?"
"Nope." Jason rubbed the back of his neck.
"I'll get back to you. See ya, Jason."
Jason folded the cell phone, put in back in his pocket, and sighed.
"Gary wasn't much help. . .all he did was talk about this thing called a Fibonacci sequence. . . ."
Jeff's eyes lit up for a moment. "I heard that teacher, Monica P., mention a Fibonacci sequence."
"When?"
"Something about a comic. . .and there were. . .oh God."
"What? And I thought you were atheist. . . ."
"That's beside the point, Jason, but the comic had nachos in it."
Jason looked a bit shocked at this revelation- almost unbelievably so. "Well, who else could it be then?"
"It could be Mendez. We DO have a fingerprint."
"But he was out of plastic gloves. He would have had to prepare nachos with his hands, after washing them."
"True."
"But still, he's a restaurant worker. Not exactly the type of cognoscenti who would be knowledgeable of a Fibonacci sequence."
"But, we originally thought of it as a random sequence. It could be coincidence."
"Not sure about that."
"Still, it's-"
"Hey, uh guys. . . ." Phil entered the room.
"What?" Crevat barked back at him.
"There's been another murder."
Chapter Seis
Jeff was shocked. The shock quickly melted into more of an acceptance, which melted into a determination.
Phil said, "A kid named Jack Horn--found in one of the orchestra practice rooms at Z'Ville Middle School."
"These murders are happening so fast! And we can't stop them." "
We have to take these things as they come." Jason tried to reassure Crevat.
Crevat answered him with a glare, then dashed out the door haphazardly to drive to the scene.
The rain pounded against Gary's windshield as he drove home. Not 'home' necessarily- it was more foreign than that. More cold. More distant. It was more of a place to store sustenance and medication than a home, and he only kept food and his meds because he needed them for survival; he would go without them if he could. But he couldn't. And he resented this greatly. He had mental problems all of his life- easily suppressed, but severe. It was a problem a person could never outwardly tell of him. But it was something that, if it consumed him, would not be something that could be mitigated in the slightest- he became a feral creature.
"This guy's been here for longer than the others. At least ten hours, I'd wager. Give or take. The cause of death. . .looks like blunt trauma. I think. . . ."
"Check for the nachos!" Jason cut into the room.
"Ummm. . .1. . .2. . .3. . .4. . .5 chips here. Lots of cheese. . . ."
"I'll bag up the cheese for ya. Phil can get the chips."
"This has become very casual, the way we deal with these crime scenes. . .almost like a routine. . . ." Jeff mused.
Jason didn't seem to hear him, because he was already out the door with the evidence bag- Crevat was left to think alone.
Back at the police station, Crevat was documenting the details of the case. Jason was sitting at a desk, playing a word game. Crevat's curiosity was peaked at this. He asked about it.
"This is a game where you're given math problems to do. Once you solve them, you take the answers, and they'll be letters of the alphabet that correspond. For example if the answer is 1, then you'd write down the letter 'A,' because it's the first letter of the alphabet. See? It's fun."
"You were always a word nerd. . . ."
"And you were always the one who was in the corner, playing Clue by himself." Jason chuckled, apparently happy with his 'scathing' comment.
"You're insufferable. Hehe." Crevat was uplifted in spirit by the camaraderie. Phil just sat, twiddling his thumbs.
Chapter Siete
"We haven't spoken to people's relatives. . . ." Jason said.
"I'll be sure to explain sometime. For now, they just need to know that there was a murder in their family."
"Still, they need to know at least the link between the murders. . . ."
"We can't, Jason. We can't tease this guy. He's a psychopath- giving him more people against him'll only make him more willing to kill more people."
"Ummm. . .okay." Jason relented.
Phil came back with results. "14 ounces of cheese. Still, not a single piece of DNA- this guy is professional. He knows more than your average killer. I wouldn't put anything past him at this point~"
"14. . .that's the next answer." Jason jotted down the letter 'N' on his page.
Bill Mendez packed the nachos under the shelf. He closed the box tightly, then washed his hands and packed up the store. Grabbing his cane, he pushed open the door of El Rodeo and drove off.
"Jason!" Crevat called.
Jason was late in. "Hey!"
"Get me medical records for Monica, Jonstone, and Mendez!"
"Why?"
"Well, this guy has to be insane. We'll need to figure out if any of 'em are. . . ."
Jason turned around and drove off to the doctor's office.
Jeff got a phone call. "Hello, I'd like to file a missing person report."
"Who for?"
"Rex Barrett."
"Where'd you last see him?"
"Lions Park."
"Thanks. Bye."
Crevat sped off for Lions Park. When he got there, he proceeded to the concession stand. It wasn't open, but the nacho cheese machine was up and running. . . .
Crevat knew what that meant. And sure enough, after just a few minutes of searching, he found him- behind a few stacks of packaged Coca-Cola. This murder much more resembled the first, but with eight tortilla chips, drenched in copious amounts of cheese. He flipped open his phone to call Phil, and he was soon there. He was about to call Jason as well, but right before he dialed the numbers, Jason called him.
"Jeff! There's been another murder!" Jason crooned.
"That's what I was calling you about! I found another one here in Lion's Park."
"I found a kid here. No name ID yet. . .but there are 13 tortilla chips here. . . ."
"Mine has 8. . . ." Jeff replied.
"Hmm. . .the one over here happened later then. I'll go over there, and get some officers here."
He hung up. Crevat looked over the scene- obviously blunt trauma again. The ounces of cheese sauce turned out to be 19 again. . .repetition? It could be. . . .
Jason and Crevat almost collided with each other by the door, because they were running so fast. A troupe of officers was carrying all of Jason's evidence, whilst poor old Phil was stuck carrying all of the items from the scene.
"Rex was killed first. . .by about one hour. Then- Jason, did you get an ID on the victim you found?"
"Ahm, he's a kid named Daniel Wesenberg."
"Okay- now, both of them were killed by blunt trauma. . .and there were 8 chips by Rex. . .13 by Daniel. . .cheese measurements?" Jeff looked up at Phil from the table.
"Let's see here. . .19 by Rex, and 13 by Daniel."
"Jason, what strikes me is the speed of these murders. . .we have almost not time between them. We just have time for a basic sweep of the scene, ya know?"
"Yeah. . .I've been sleeping in a lot lately. I keep forgetting to fix my alarm clock."
"Jason! Ever get the medical records?"
"Oh, yeah. Interesting, really. Monica is clear, but Mendez has documented vision impairment (contacts are enough, supposedly) and anger management-"
"Yeah, no crap about that." Crevat interjected concerning Mendez.
"And Jonstone. . .he's a crazy. Has to take tons of meds to keep his schizophrenia down. Mentally he fits the glove."
"Hmmm. . .and he knew about the Fibonacci sequence too. . .what do you think?" Crevat mused.
"Not sure. . .but that P. lady, she also knew about the Fibonacci sequence. . .and the nachos. And Mendez? Looked as though he was formerly an IT guy. It said somewhere in his record that he had vision problems some years ago. . .and he would almost have to own a computer, considering if that were his profession. And all computers have Google, so he could just Google 'number patterns' or something like that, and BAM! Fibonacci sequence." Jason looked sure.
"Maybe. Hmmmm. What else can we do? There's an equal chance for either of them. Ummmm, can I try that word game of yours?"
"Oh, sure." Jason handed over the notepad.
Crevat quickly got hold of the rules and how to play. He was able to solve three of the problems in about ten minutes.
"Fun game. I'll buy my own soon." Crevat handed him the pen. "I'm off."
Chapter Ocho
Crevat hadn't given himself a closer look at the condition of the victims. He knew that he would have to sometime- the clues would be with the victims- so he gave himself a closer look at the victims themselves.
Caleb was first. The cut on the femoral was clean, almost scarily so. There was no DNA whatsoever on the body- lending more to the professionalism of the killer. The same results were turned up in inspection of the other bodies- no DNA, and a professional and quick way of killing the victim.
Jeff ran back over to his office. He had completely forgot that he fixed some coffee earlier. He gave a mug to Jason, who was sitting, motionless, at his desk, and he himself sipped a mug.
And it was the inexorable misfortune of Jeff Crevat to be notified of yet another murder- this time, Joshua Geiser in his home neighborhood, Deer Ridge. Jason couldn't be at the scene, so it was only Crevat and Phil.
"Looks like he had some trouble this time," Phil remarked on the scene.
Phil wasn't erroneous; there were 21 chips, yet four of them appeared to be split into two pieces instead of being whole. The chips were brittle to the touch, so all it would take to break one is shaky hands. . . .
"Definitely. Looks like a good amount of cheese too." Crevat remarked.
The repeated the procedure with speed. Taking the nachos in separate evidence bags, they disembarked for the police station.
"Measure the cheese." Crevat meant business.
"Already did. Nine ounces this time. Heck if I know why. . . ."
"Maybe he's running out of cheese?"
"Noo. . .a criminal like this would be dedicated enough to spend a few bucks on more cheese. It's not like the cheese retailers ration the stuff. Also, I wonder how he could weigh the cheese beforehand. . . ."
"If we have scales, than a criminal can too. Besides, I don't think the amount of cheese he leaves at the crime scene would matter very much." Phil noted.
"We're not sure about that. It's the only clue we haven't deciphered yet. It has to mean something," Crevat said.
Phil seemed to accept this statement on his countenance. He bought a soda from a nearby vending machine. "Interestingly, cola makes a good blood cleaner. Kind of odd, really."
"That would. . .it would. . .oh my." Crevat was shocked.
"What?"
"At the first murder. There was a quarter in the vending machine. The first victim died from a cut in the femoral artery- but there was no blood. That has to mean something."
Chapter Nueve
Jeff was sitting. Not exactly 'sitting,' however- it was more halfhearted than sitting. It wasn't a pensive sitting, it was more zombie-like- the world wouldn't be at a loss if that sitting was erased. This bout of uselessness was broken rather quickly, however, by yet another report. It wasn't a shocking one, because these reports had become so common that Crevat had become almost desensitized to them, emptying his already slight outward emotion and draining a good deal of his inner emotion as well. He was just another geeky inspector with a case to solve. Of course, the report was the report of two more murders.
Taite Kitchel and Abbey Roberts were found murdered in the equipment room of the Azionaqua- two days before it opened. Crevat, Phil, and Jason were all on the scene immediately.
There were 34 chips by Taite, and 55 on Abbey. There was a lot of cheese in the area.
"I'll get the nachos on Taite, you get the nachos on Abbey." Jason said while grabbing two evidence bags.
Phil conceded to Jason's sharp orders, and himself procured two evidence bags from the police car and bagged up the nachos separately.
Back at the police station, Phil was working to measure the cheese. There were 20 ounces of queso on Taite. 8 on Abbey. "Once again, pure randomness. . . ." Phil whispered to himself.
Crevat had finished filing the documents. He then decided to take another look over the basic case. Ten murders, an amount of nacho cheese along with some chips left at the crime scene, and the suspects.
Bill Mendez, a man who supports El Rodeo, a Mexican restaurant and bar. The second murder victim was found behind El Rodeo. He had eyesight problems since his work as an Information Technology consultant. He owned a cane. Mendez also had documented anger management issues. His fingerprint as found on one of the nacho chips from one of the murders.
Monica P. was a 6th grade teacher. The first victim was found in the ZMS workroom, and the second and third were found in the ZMS gym. She had a comic in her homeroom that included a Fibonacci sequence and nachos. No mental problem.
Gary Jonstone was a real estate agent. Light smoker. He knew about the Fibonacci sequence. Mental problem- violent schizophrenia. No victims were found near him, though his mental disorder makes him a likely suspect.
Crevat put down the case file. "Well, THAT sure solved problems," he said as he put it down and left the station.
Chapter Diez
"You know, you'd think that a series of murders involving nachos would be very whimsy. Like out of a children's story or something," Jason remarked to Phil and Jeff at the police station.
"You'd think so. But it would be pretty awful to have to count out the exact ounces of cheese and chips to put at the crime scene. Imagine how long it would take to do that. This guy must have some free time," Crevat replied.
"Maybe he wakes up early. Or he could be unemployed, or always late to work or something," Phil interjected.
Jeff froze for a moment. Always late to work. . . .He shrugged off the thought, but it stuck in the back of his mind.
Jeff was at home. Tired. Defeated. The murderer had stopped him- ensnared him, like a fly, in his cheesy web of madness. Crevat knew all of the facts about the case- but there was something, something right in front of him that he was missing. Crevat took out the notepad of the word game that Jason was playing, and he began to play. He was hoping to pass the time.
"Hmm. . .J is 10.. .sooo. . .J. Then. . .let's see the answer there iiiis. . .5. E is 5. So, E. JE. Then, 6 times two times 1 is 12. . .so L for that one. Next one is also L. . .soo it's JELL. Then, 5 times 5 minus 5 times 2 is 15. . .O. JELLO. Haha, that's cute." Crevat was enjoying the game.
Crevat flipped the page, then, in epiphanic realization, dropped his pen and threw his pad to the floor. He ran over to the case file voraciously, and opened the case file.
"Let's see here. . .10 ounces the first time. J. One the next. A. 19 the next. . .S. 15 ounces is O. 14 is N. . .19 again is S, 13 is M, and 9 is I. 20 is T. And 8 is. . .it's. . .H. JASON SMITH." Crevat was shaken.
Crevat knew what to do. He went to Jason's house, and searched it.
It was a somber place- quite messy. There was a flight of stairs in front of Jeff (it was practically begging to be vacuumed) and a hallway next to the stairs that shot into a kitchen, which was connected to a living room. Jeff proceeded apprehensively up the stairs, sure not to trip on one of the myriad obstacles, and he came to what he thought to be Jason's room. The was a harsh smell of nacho cheese in the room. Looking over, he realized that Jason's alarm clock was fine. In fact, it was working wonderfully- it was fresh out of the box. Looking over the pile of papers on his bedside table, he found a printed page of the succession of a Fibonacci sequence. There was even a liquid measurement scale that had dried cheese sauce on it. Crevat sneaked out of the house with utmost carefulness.
Chapter Once
Jeff had decided to call everyone involved in the case to the station. Jason, Bill, Monica, Gary, and Phil, all collected in this one room.
"Now, I've been doing a lot of thinking into this. There are three main suspects- you know who you are, I shouldn't have to point you out. Now, the first murder was in a school. Right down the hall from one Monica P.- the first, and then primary, suspect. You knew about the Fibonacci sequence. You had a newspaper comic about nachos -and- a Fibonacci sequence. There wasn't much to convince me, at that point, that you weren't the murderer. Of course, the second murder occurred outside of El Rodeo, a Mexican restaurant and bar. Of course, Monica, you had no alibi for the first murder, but the second one happened during school day- and you were there, teaching. Of course, I could've gotten the time of death wrong. Tie of death has never been my strong point. Because of that, I almost ruled you out. But then, Nick Nagy and Sam Willis were found, murdered, in the ZMS gym. You had no discernible excuse for that. So, you were once again considerable for the murderer. My suspicion was fed even more when the fifth victim also turned up at Z'Ville Middle School- Jack Horn. But, none of the rest of the victims were found near the school. And for most of the murders, you had an alibi. But, I've found over the years, that alibis are warpable. All of my suspicion was killed when I checked your medical record, as there was no record of mental illness. So, as far as everything is concerned, you are innocent.
"Now to you, Mr. Mendez. You were an especial concern of mine. You had a fingerprint on one of the chips- I had a larger case against you than any other person. The second murder also happened right behind your restaurant. Sacked for time to hide the body, perhaps? So you would have to put it behind the nearest hiding spot. And El Rodeo would be a viable spot. Also, many of the murders were caused fro blunt trauma- may I remind you o your ownership of a tough wooden cane? The plates on a child's skull aren't finished fusing, so a wood cane could well be enough to kill a child. Among other things, I realized that you wouldn't be the sort of intelligentsia type who would know of a Fibonacci sequence- BUT, as you know yourself, you used to be an IT consultant. And you would have to own a computer to be an IT consultant. And all computers have access to Google- so you could have searched for it n the Internet. Also, you could have easily included the Fibonacci sequence to focus our investigation on the other suspects- both of them know what they are. And worst of all, you have documented anger management issues in your medical records. I have to admit, all children are annoying little creatures, and you could've easily run afoul of their tomfoolery and put your strength to their skull to end their noise and their lives. But this was an assumption. And up until the very end, I thought it could be you- despite your alibi. And you, by my investigation, are innocent.
"And now to you, Mr. Jonstone. The only case against you is your mental disorder and your knowledge of the Fibonacci sequence. Nothing special. Of course, the recession has hit real estate hard, and your medicine isn't from AstraZeneca- so you may have had to cut it and succumbed to your illness. But then, I posed a question to myself: why would be only be under the illness at such opportune times? There had to be something missing. But, there wasn't. So you, too, are innocent.â
"The-then who's the killer?" Jason rose.
"I was hoping you'd ask that question," Crevat said. "The killer, my friend, is you."
"Now, I figured this out after a long time of thinking it was Mendez. What convinced me was not only your ownership of immense amounts of cheese- hidden in your bedroom- and the fact that you had lied about your alarm clock. It was working fine. Of course, I couldn't search your home until I had a sufficient lead. And I figured, that whilst playing your word game, that the ounces of cheese wasn't random. They spell out JASON SMITH. Now, this finding took me back to our short conversation after the first murder- you thought it was a 'waste of nachos.' No one would've cared in the death of a human being- a murder at that. After that, I remembered many small things, mannerisms that you had adapted since the murders started- and it all strung together. Sorry Jason. But you're a serial killer, and you deserve what all serial killers deserve. Jason smith, you are under arrest for the murders of Caleb H., Trevor R., Sam Willis, Nick Nagy, Jack Horn, Rex Barrett, Daniel Wesenberg, Joshua Geiser, Taite Kitchel, and Abbey Roberts. You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be used against you." Crevat turned around as the policemen took Jason away.
Jeff and Phil were out. Finally. There were no more murders- no more Jason. They were waiting purely for the DNA test results to return, and their case would be complete. It may seem like it never happens, but every serial killer has to know someone.
