19 - Epilogue

It wasn't long before the police followed the trail that led clearly to Mr. Riggs. They confronted him in his classroom one day, just after school had ended. Somehow, Elizabeth's mother had contrived to be present, against what he presumed would be all police regulations and common sense, when they did so.

Mr. Riggs had suspected that this moment would come, sooner or later, and had prepared for it accordingly. Rather than deny or prevaricate, he simply told them the truth. It might, however, be more accurate to say that he told them A truth, rather than THE truth.

The tale that Mr. Riggs spun for his investigative audience started with his approaching Elizabeth about her grades, then offering her after school lessons as extra credit in order to make up for the ground she had already lost in his class. The after school sessions had gone well, at first, as Elizabeth had truly tried to learn all he had to teach her about chemistry.

The turning point came when his student had stumbled upon his odd little hobby one day, which happened to be designing ovens for the express purpose of cooking, whole or merely in part, consenting girls. Mr. Riggs was very careful to stress the "consenting" part of his peculiar predilections as he explained this. Elizabeth had, it seemed, been immediately taken by the concept, and had insisted, quite fervently, that she be allowed to assist him in his efforts.

Mr. Riggs admitted then to his audience then, sheepishly, that he had allowed his student to persuade him to exchange her time that was supposed to be devoted to chemistry with an equal amount of time working and tinkering with his incomplete ovens. He told them of the leaps and bounds his ovens had advanced by with her help, and of how she had volunteered, quite eagerly, to test them out herself once they had reached the prototype stage.

At this point, Mr. Riggs fished around in his desk drawer for a moment, then pulled out his tablet. He opened the album containing the photos of Elizabeth during her less agonized moments, which, with a judicious eye, could be appraised as being images of pleasure. Both the officers questioning him, as well as Elizabeth's mother, scrutinized the images closely as they flipped from one to the next.

Mr. Riggs continued his tale, his audience dividing its attention between him and the startling, shocking images of a young woman apparently cooking her breasts in an oven and happy about it. He told them how the tests of his various oven designs had escalated, and how Elizabeth had, finally, practically blackmailed him into cooking her completely at the end of the semester.

His tale ended just as the final series of photos in the album, the ones showing Elizabeth baking to perfection within his oven, flipped across the screen before incredulous, unbelieving eyes. Mr. Riggs then admitted, head hung in shame, that he had not approached the police or the girl's mother about the issue, despite its severity, out of simple embarrassment and fear of the reactions he would receive. He then apologized profusely to Elizabeth's mother, his contrition evident for all to see.

The police officer leading the investigation, a trim, athletic woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, then said that she had seen similar events occur several times before, while investigating recent missing person reports. Mr. Riggs had been genuinely shocked to hear this, since he had been operating under the assumption that he was the first person to have accomplished actually getting a girl into an oven. He quickly spun his shock into more sympathy capital, though, by expressing remorse at the idea of other girls being subjected to such acts.

"Actually, it's almost always the girl who got cooked who instigated events, just as apparently happened here. This isn't official, sir, as I'm not the district attorney who will make the final decision on whether or not to bring charges, but in my opinion you needn't worry too much about the legal ramifications of your act. You were clearly under duress, and both the county and state have been turning a lenient eye towards cases such as this when they turn up." the leading officer said, nodding reassuringly at Mr. Riggs as she did so.

"As to whether civil charges will be brought, that is up to the girl's mother, here." she finished, motioning towards Elizabeth's mother, who was still looking down at the final image of Elizabeth, roasted and presented on a platter, upon the table she would be devoured at a short time later.

Elizabeth's mother, who so far hadn't said a word during the entire interview, traced her fingers lightly across the screen over the image of her daughter's baked body, then heaved a regretful sigh.

"My god, Elizabeth. She had seemed a little different lately, but.." she said quietly, before looking away from the tablet and up at Mr. Riggs. "I think the worst part of the whole thing is that I never even got to taste her."

Mr. Riggs blinked in surprise at her response, then his face split into a wide, beaming smile as he replied to her.

"My dear lady, that is a condition that, I am very happy to say, is easily remedied."

The police officers left him then, after thanking him for his cooperation and also cautioning him not to leave town until the district attorney had contacted him regarding the matter. The lead investigator had pulled Mr. Riggs aside just before she departed, given him her e-mail address, and asked him to send her a copy of the images of Elizabeth as she baked within his various ovens that they had reviewed. For her "personal collection", she had said quietly.

"These are absolutely the best images I've come across so far. Nice job." she said, then winked at him as she left.

That left Mr. Riggs alone with Elizabeth's mother, who he soon learned was named Lauren. He had received her home address solemnly, which he actually already knew, and assured her that he would come by the very next day with a choice selection of Elizabeth's remaining cuts. They spent the next few minutes swapping baking ideas and recipes, before Lauren, greatly relieved to have finally found out the fate of her missing daughter, left, happily anticipating Mr. Riggs' visit.

Mr. Riggs was as good as his word, and the next day he gave Lauren one of Elizabeth's whole calves, some thigh cuts, as well as a large helping of ribs. Elizabeth's mother had immediately slathered barbecue sauce onto her daughter's ribs and grilled them up then and there.

Mr. Riggs and Lauren then spent a very pleasant evening reminiscing about Elizabeth, stripping delicious meat from her ribs, and sharing ideas on how best to cook her remaining parts. Lauren, once again making her way through the photos of her daughter cooking in Mr. Riggs' ovens, which he had thoughtfully brought with him on his tablet, even showed evidence of envy towards Elizabeth's situation in some of the images. Mr. Riggs had perked up at that, and had begun evaluating Lauren in a new way for the remainder of the night. The woman was only in her mid thirties, having had Elizabeth while she was still in school herself, and shared a very similar build with her late daughter. At least, similar to how her daughter had been apportioned before Elizabeth had fallen under Mr. Riggs' influence.

As he gathered his things to leave at the end of the evening, Mr. Riggs cast out a calculated comment towards Lauren.

"Elizabeth told me you work several jobs. She mentioned that you often got home late."

"Yes." Lauren said, nodding sadly. "My husband left us with large amounts of debt when he died, unfortunately, and I've been having to work as much as I can just to stay ahead of the interest and support Elizabeth and myself."

"That sounds very tiring. How are you managing?"

Lauren looked up at Mr. Riggs for a moment, as if debating to herself on how much of her private life to reveal to him, a relative stranger. Then she sighed, her shoulders sagging as she seemed to deflate a bit.

"Honestly, not well. Some mornings I can hardly get myself up, despite the three alarm clocks I set each night before hand. I don't know how much longer I can manage it." Lauren said, unhappiness entering her voice.

"Hmm. I might be of some assistance, if you'll allow me." Mr. Riggs said, smiling down at Elizabeth's mother. "There is a tonic I've created, for pep. I often use it myself when I feel the need for extra energy."

Mr. Riggs left Lauren's house a few minutes later, whistling to himself happily. He had a belly full of girl meat, and he may have just found a very adequate replacement for Elizabeth, which were both things that pleased him very much. He was also scheduled for another test of his filet cooker with the delightful and quite delicious Miss Evans the next afternoon, which happened to be something he was looking forward to with great relish.

Yes, things were definitely looking up, Mr. Riggs thought, as he strolled into the night, disdaining to kindle a light. His steps were sure and unfaltering, even in the blackest shadows of his path towards his home. He knew, as he always did, exactly what he was doing and where he was going, despite the darkness that surrounded him.

End

Author's Note:

This was supposed to be a short story that quickly grew out of control. I'm very happy with how it turned out, however. This is the largest bit of writing I've ever done, by a large margin. I know an author begging for comments is pretty cliche and pathetic, but I've never put so much time and effort into anything before, and I'd really like to hear what the folks who make it all the way to the end of this thing think of it. Too long, too repetitive, too wordy? I want to know your opinion, beloved reader.

On a similar note, I was actually more conflicted about cooking Elizabeth then Mr. Riggs was. I've never held one particular fantasy, nor its characters, within my mind for as long as it took to write this out. I grew nearly as attached to the poor girl as Mr. Riggs did, and I actually procrastinated for quite awhile before I finally wrote out the section where she gets cooked.

With that in mind, I wrote this last little bit simply as an exercise in fun. Whether or not it is canon with the rest of the story, an alternate timeline, or simply an amusing little drabble, I'll leave for you to decide.