The following is a recording transcript for police use only. Any unauthorized distribution of this material could result in punitive action.
Is the recorder on? I don’t see the red light. Wait, okay. I see it now. Sorry. I’m just a little nervous.
Look, Bob always seemed like a decent enough guy. He was a little quiet, sure, but very friendly. Working as an accountant at an insurance company isn’t the most exciting job in the world and doesn’t tend to attract the most exciting people, either.
We didn’t know him well even though he’d been there about a decade. His office was pretty sterile. No picture of a wife… or a husband, for that matter. No pictures of children. He never shared personal details about his life.
Everyone in the office would invite him to birthday parties or potlucks at lunch, but he just stayed in his office. Ate at his desk every day as far back as I can remember. A bologna sandwich, a bottle of water, and half of a banana. Never deviated from his routine.
Seemed like a good enough guy, though.
Mr. Applegate, our manager… he was less pleasant.
He was a micromanager if I ever met one. No detail of a project was too small for him to scrutinize. The guy would rip you to shreds in a meeting for the smallest error. Everyone walked on eggshells around him. I don’t think anyone deserved what happened to him, though.
During an afternoon meeting, Mr. Applegate was lecturing the staff about the importance of double-checking all financial documents for final submission. Our error percentage on financial reports last month had increased from one percent to one and a half percent.
In our favor, mind you, but that was beside the point to Mr. Applegate.
“And who do we have to thank for making us look like a cluster of morons to the head office?” Mr. Applegate asked us dramatically. “Bob Brooks. Accountant extraordinaire! Stand up, Bob, so we can give you a round of applause for sending out the wrong numbers.”
Bob stood hesitantly as Mr. Applegate clapped loudly. No one else joined him. We just felt bad for Bob. We’d all taken our share of insults over the years, but we’d never seen Mr. Applegate go after Bob.
Sometime in March, Mr. Applegate stopped showing up to work. It was out of the blue. He had worked there for over twenty years and you could set your watch by the time he walked in the door each day. Things went on as usual for a few days, but it became clear he wasn’t coming back.
He ignored every phone call or e-mail sent his way.
A rep from corporate stopped by at the end of the week and called Bob into the conference room. The rep had decided Bob would be our interim manager until the position was filled. Most of us were indifferent. He wasn’t anyone’s friend, but no one disliked him.
To our surprise, Bob was a fantastic manager. The office ran more smoothly than ever. Productivity was up. We weren’t being micromanaged. Bob stayed in his office most of the day unless he needed something specific, which wasn’t often.
He took care of the corporate side of things and we took care of the day-to-day operations.
It was nice, really.
At the end of last quarter, Bob surprised us with a big announcement.
“According to the main office,” he said quietly. “, our numbers are the highest in the state. You have all done excellent work. As a reward, we will have a barbeque in the empty field beside the parking lot. I will put a signup sheet on the breakroom door for sides and drinks, but I’ll bring the main course.”
With that, he headed back to his office.
The day of the cookout arrived and we all met in the field at the end of the day. A few of those folding tables sat on the edge of the parking lot by the field covered with food. You know, casseroles and dips. Things like that.
There was Bob, standing behind the grill cooking steaks and smiling happily to himself.
We all ate until we thought we’d be sick.
I’ll be damned if that wasn’t how it turned out.
Anyway, the part you wanted to know…
We had just finished packing up from the barbecue. Bob sat in front of me at the exit onto the main road. I guess he didn’t see the car coming when he pulled out and the red Jeep clipped the back of his van, knocking open the backdoor and sending his white cooler crashing to the ground.
That’s when I saw it. Couldn’t tell exactly what it was at first. There were some leftover steaks from the cookout scattered on the road.
I thought they were steaks, anyway.
Shit, I feel sick thinking about it.
That’s when I saw the hand sticking out of the cooler. Before I could register what I was looking at, Bob peeled away in his damaged van leaving the cooler behind.
I don’t know why the hell out I got out and looked, but I did.
Already told your officers my fingerprints would be on the lid of the cooler.
I lifted the lid and that’s when the arm rolled out. Inside were… the rest of the pieces of Mr. Applegate.
The parts we didn’t eat at the cookout.
I could hear screaming after I opened to lid, but it took me a few seconds to realize I was the one shrieking. I’ve never seen a dead body. Shit, I mean, I have, you know? Like at a funeral, but not… not like that. It scared me more than anything I’ve ever seen.
I don’t know why he did it. Applegate was an asshole, but no one deserves that.
Have you found him yet?