Blood And Butter

"Well, Jack, looks like the village of Lavenham will be witnessing its harshest blizzard ever, if the weather forecasts are anything to go by," said the television weatherman.

"Oh dear," Grandma Wilmer said softly, as she walked past the living room, and into the kitchen. She placed a kettle on the stove, and took out a large metal tray from the cupboard. Grandma Wilmer was well past the age of 60, with wrinkled skin and a frail body. Yet she had surprisingly agile hands, perhaps the result of 40 years of devoted service to her late husband.

Though it was still snowing heavily outside her cottage, Grandma Wilmer decided to bake her usual batch of Sunday butter cookies. Pity no one else would taste them...


"...We would also like to remind our viewers that the serial killer Jack Lloris is still at large. Since his escape from Wales Maximum Security Prison two days ago, there have been no sightings of the fugitive. Police have requested residents in nearby villages to take extreme caution. Jack Lloris is armed and extremely dangerous..."

Grandma Wilmer strode towards the television, and quickly switched it off. There was a look of distress on her face, one which was quickly replaced by a smile as she watched William walk into the room.

"Good morning Grandma," William said, still rubbing his eyes. Grandma Wilmer had hired him as a helping hand a few years ago, and today was his thirteenth birthday.

"Good morning dear," Wilmer replied with a smile.

"Happy Birthday! I've got a small surprise for you," she took a small envelope from the top of the television and handed it to the short, wiry boy. "There's about 20 pounds in it," she said with a smile, "why don't you take the day off and enjoy with your friends?"

William looked more than happy as he grabbed the envelope and headed towards the door. Just then, there was a loud knock.

"Could you get that, dear?" Grandma Wilmer asked, turning her attention back to the kitchen.

William opened the door, and craned his head upwards at the large, broad shouldered man who leaned against the door frame. He had a rugged beard and long, unruly hair. As he observed the little boy and elderly woman in front of him, a smile formed across his face...

* * * * *

Inspector Harper buried his face in his hands, feeling exhausted after 18 hours of work. His eyes were red, and the floor was littered with empty coffee cups.

Taking another look at the map in front of him, he tried to think about the problem yet again. Where was Jack Lloris?

Almost as though on cue, the door was opened and Constable Jeffrey entered, looking visibly excited. "Sir," he said without bothering for the usual salutation. "The prison guard has just regained consciousness. And he swears that Lloris escaped towards the south, into the forest."

Immediately the finger was placed on the map. "He's most likely within a 5 mile radius. The blizzard would've slowed him down considerably," Inspector Harper said, as he tapped again on a small dot, marked Lavenham.

* * * * *

As he trudged through the snow, his small frame wrapped in half a dozen layers of warm clothing, William felt uneasy for some reason. His mates had promised him a grand birthday party, and the thick envelope in his pocket would normally have ensured a smile. Yet William frowned as he stopped and turned to look back at Grandma Wilmer's cottage.

He remembered the look on the stranger's face. There was nothing peculiar there. An ordinary traveler's face. One that's endured a torrid blizzard, seeking shelter. Shrugging his head, William continued walking. He had almost made it to the paved roadside, when with a sudden jerk, he turned around, and began running towards the cottage.

Inside the cottage, Grandma Wilmer was pleased to have a guest after so long. At least there would be someone to taste her butter cookies, she thought, as she placed a tray into the oven.

"What is a handsome young man like you doing in such a quite village, that too in such horrid weather?"

"It's a long story," Peter said, as he knelt next to the fireplace. As he warmed his hands, he observed the room around him, looking rather impressed. "I have an important package to mail, and since the post wont be working for the next few days, I decided to drive till the nearby office. Unfortunately my car broke down and-"

He stopped talking as he saw Grandma Wilmer, staring out the kitchen window, her face looking pale. "What's wrong?" he asked quickly, stepping forward.

"Oh, nothing," Wilmer said quickly, waving her hand dismissively. "Have a seat, dear. The butter cookies will be ready any moment now."

As Peter sat down, Grandma Wilmer tried to steady her hands as she took the tray out of the oven. She had seen someone moving through the trees outside. For a moment she panicked, remembering everything she'd heard that morning.

Everyone was searching for the serial killer Jack Lloris. Over half a century of experience had taught Grandma Wilmer to remain calm. It was something her husband, who'd fought in the War, had taught her. How she wished he was with her now...

Just then she saw him again. A tall figure moving through the snow. Grandma Wilmer's fingers turned white as she griped the tray tighter. She continued staring at the figure, hoping. Praying that it would go away.

The door flew open with a burst, and Grandma Wilmer yelled loudly, dropping the tray onto the table. Peter was on his feet immediately, looking alert.

A breathless William stood in front of them, still panting from his run through the snow covered lawn. Seeing him stand in the hallway, Grandma Wilmer felt a renewed sense of security. Without asking why he'd returned, that too in dramatic fashion, Grandma Wilmer said, "Glad you've come back, dear. There's a man outside. Could you see he'd want?"

There was a firmness in her tone, one that William had rarely heard before. He glanced at Peter once, then nodded his head obediently. As he closed the door, he observed the stranger again. His angular face, his long nose...

* * * * *
"Sir, we've had a tip off from Lavenham," Constable Jeffrey said as he put down the receiver. "Someone's claimed to have seen a stranger walking through the village. It could be Jack Lloris."

Inspector Harper thought for a moment. "Maybe, or maybe it's just a stranger. Still, get the informer on the phone, and see if we can get a description. Also, tell them that Jack Lloris is an extremely dangerous man."

"Just how dangerous is he?" asked the Inspector's wife. She had dropped by to deliver her husband's lunch.

"He's been charged with over eight killings, but never proven guilty. Until eight years ago, when he was captured after trying to murder a couple. He was sentenced to life imprisonment for murder of the husband, and attempted murder of the wife.

Jeffrey glanced down at the photo of Jack Lloris. He would never forget the angular face and pointed nose of the man...

* * * * *

Grandma Wilmer smiled to herself as she saw William talking to the man. Apparently, the sight of a boy had deterred the fellow. For now at least, she would be safe, she thought to herself.

"Dear, the butter cookies are ready. Would you like some?" she asked, as she bent down to take the second batch out of the oven. Peter stood up and began walking towards the old lady, his eyes fixed on her. "Sure," he said softly, as a smile formed across his face again.

Without making a sound, he grabbed a knife from the table, and stood behind Grandma Wilmer. "There was something I wanted you to see," he said softly, as he looked at the shiny blade of the knife.

A second later, a knife slashed violently, and the body fell to the ground with a soft thud. Blood splattered onto the butter cookies.

After eight long years, Grandma Wilmer had finally killed her husband's murderer...

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