"Captain!" A voice rang out, quavering but strong in its years. "Captain! Would you and your boys like something to eat? Maybe some drink?"

The elderly woman bustled forwards, carrying a covered plate. "I thought you boys might be hungry, what with all of the forensicking going on around here!"

The Captain grudgingly lifted the cover, eyeing what was inside. "What sort of food, if I may ask?"

"Sandwiches! You know, brain food! Helps you think, keeps your thought processes clear! We can't have our officers at anything less than their best performance! There's a murderer about, you know."

"Yes, ma'am, we know about the murderer. Thats why we're here, after all. Brain food, huh? You know, thats what my wife used to call tuna sandwiches, too. I love tuna, mercury be damned!" He reached in, and grabbed one.

"Well, you enjoy that now, I'm almost out of sandwiches. I'm going to go make some more food for the rest of your boys" and with that, she walked away matronly purpose in her stride.

Well, the old lady was right, he was hungry. A bit of something to eat would do him good, he thought while absentmindedly munching away. Three homicides this month, all in the same area, the small town of Whittenberg (population 600). In all three cases, a lot of blood found at the scene, but never a body. There had to be bodies somewhere, that much was certain, a irrevocable fact. Nobody could lose that much blood and live.

Blood tests confirmed. Blood belongs to a single victim, body missing. Attack was perpetrated between the hours of 3 and 5 AM, spouse is out on a business trip, also confirmed, and has not yet been contacted. He pondered further, finishing the sandwich but not his train of thought. The door was unlocked, as in the previous two cases, but no sign of tampering. No sign of struggle either. Obviously, it was someone that the victims all knew, but in a town this small, it would be harder finding someone that the victims *didn't* know.

—

"Captain! Captain! You gotta come quick, you're not going to believe this." It was one of his men on the radio. "We've got something. Do you remember that old woman you spoke to earlier? I believe it was a Ms. Geraldine Robinson? We knocked on her door, and she told us to come inside… And well, we've found the remains of several bodies. In her freezer. You'd better come down here."

"You mean the elderly woman I was just speaking to 5 minutes ago? How could she have done it! She's eighty years old, for chrissake! She could barely lift that plate she was carrying, let alone a body! Give me a moment, I'll be right there."

"Captain!" An urgent voice came running up behind him, a sergeant.

"Not now!" He turned, irritated at being interrupted. "We've found something, I've got to go." The sergeant, white as a sheet, quivering, shook his head and held up something unidentifiable in a clear plastic bag. "I know sir, I was just there."

"Captain… We found her in the kitchen… chopping up hands, she said she was making us some… finger snacks." The sergeant retched for a moment, but managed to keep his stomach in check. "We think she was some sort of cannibal, sir…"

"And captain…" his voice quaking a bit, "we've located the victims' heads. In the garbage… Captain, the heads were smashed open. Sir, their brains are gone. She's already used them…"