Remember Cathy Pringle? ‘The Killer Cook’ the newspaper called her. Well, she comes in at number three on our list.
The Nine Greatest Deaths in the History of Marsden Creek: 3
By Nick Lachmund
I left school at 15, much to the anguish of my mother. She couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t stay and finish. She was even more mortified when I got my first fulltime job. A cleaner in the Marsden Creek Hospital seemed to her like a dead end job with no perks or career opportunities. But to me, it was perfect. I knew that if I built up enough trust, I would eventually have unrestricted access to the hospital, including access to the pathology department. That’s when the job would be worthwhile. That’s when my dream of having a body to myself would come true.
Six months into my employment and I had been given full access to the hospital. I needed to invest some more time, getting to know the schedule of the night guard and making sure I wouldn’t get caught. I wanted to keep the job long enough to have a few women before they found out. But on my first night alone in the pathology department, it was a bit much for me. I wasn’t expecting to find a celebrity on one of the slabs.
Since I was a kid, I’ve kept a journal of newspaper articles about deaths and murders in Marsden Creek. It was my key reference for making this list. One article that I particularly loved was on the 20th anniversary of Cathy Pringle murdering her father. I used to stare at her picture, examining every line on her face and wonder where she was hiding. I never actually believed that I would find her. Let alone find her dead body. But as soon as I looked at the woman in front of me, aged in her mid-forties and tagged as Deborah Henderson, I knew that it was her. She must have been hiding nearby the whole time. And a bout of cancer had placed her before me, almost like fate. My first had to be the Killer Cook.
I removed the sheet and examined her. Her hips were wide and a layer of flab enveloped her whole body. Her breasts were small and a tuft of wild, dark pubic hair stuck out between her legs. She wasn’t beautiful, but she wasn’t hideous either. She looked to be in reasonable shape for a woman of her age. Then, I touched her. Her skin was colder than I expected and I felt goose bumps rise over my body. My lust grew as I ran my hand over her. An urge came over me to tell her that I love her. A smile crossed my lips at the thought. I knew she couldn’t hear me. But she didn’t need to hear or feel me. I just had to feel her. I climbed atop the tray that held her and I began.
The security guard entered the room as I was finishing. At first I didn’t hear his screaming, deafened by my own ecstasy. But I regained my wits as he pulled me off of Cathy. My instincts kicked in and knew that I had to run. I pushed the guard, giving me just enough room to escape. I ran from the room and then from the hospital. In fact, I ran all the way home. Adrenaline pumped through me as I entered my house and slammed the door behind me. The thrill of what I had just done was greater than I could have imagined. I needed to do it again, as soon as possible. I had to find a way to get to another dead body before the cops turned up and arrested me. Then my mother came out of her room to ask me why I wasn’t at work. I stared at her, not replying to her questions, knowing exactly what I needed to do.
Cathy Pringle makes my list of the nine greatest deaths in Marsden Creek because she opened my eyes to the joys that being with a woman can bring. Her death wasn’t glamourous. It wasn’t even memorable. But to me it was incredibly significant. She set me on the path that I’m now on. She made me what I am today.