Killer Cake Next Door / Chapter 10: What’s Behind 504?
Killer Cake Next Door

Killer Cake Next Door

Author: Mary Schmidt

Chapter 10: What’s Behind 504?

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Ten

Mr. Harris was a little out of breath, apparently having run up all five flights of stairs.

I wondered what was so urgent, but before I could say anything, Mr. Harris glanced at the delivery in my hand and spoke first.

"Lillian, is that your delivery?"

"Yeah, Mr. Harris, I ordered strawberry cake. Want some?"

Mr. Harris smiled and waved it off.

"I’m too old for cake... but, did you just order that delivery?"

"Yeah, why?"

Mr. Harris’s face suddenly turned serious.

"That’s odd. How did a delivery guy even get into the building?"

"Huh?"

I was confused and quickly asked what he meant.

Mr. Harris looked troubled. After hesitating, he lowered his voice.

"Don’t tell anyone I told you this."

"Two days ago, a resident here had a conflict with a delivery guy."

"It got pretty heated, and the cops even showed up."

"I was off duty that day, so I don’t know all the details."

"But afterward, management told us security guards not to let any delivery people into the building. Once the new lockers are installed at the entrance, all deliveries will go in there for residents to pick up themselves."

Mr. Harris smiled awkwardly, pointing at the bag in my hand.

"I don’t know how this guy slipped in. Did I miss him? I’ve been downstairs at the building entrance the whole time, and I never saw a delivery guy leave!"

I nodded.

"Mr. Harris, you came up here for this? I promise I won’t order late-night delivery again and make trouble for you!"

"Hey, it’s not about the delivery."

Mr. Harris pointed toward apartment 504 across the hall.

"Has that resident come back? Another young woman—I remember her name is Natalie, your old friend, right?"

I glanced at 504’s door, half-expecting it to swing open again. Natalie never missed work. Ever.

"Yeah, what about her?"

I was still confused.

Mr. Harris lowered his voice further.

"Someone from her company said Natalie hasn’t shown up for work in two days, and she’s not answering calls or messages. Management asked me to check on her."

"Only apartments 501 and 504 are occupied on this floor. I’ve come by several times but no one answered. Just now I saw the hallway lights were on, so I rushed up to see if 504’s resident had come back."

"If I’m not mistaken, she just went into the room, didn’t she?"

His words hung in the air, heavier than the smell of old carpet and cleaning solution. Suddenly, the warmth from the cake bag in my hands felt sticky, almost unpleasant. I glanced over at 504—its door was shut, silent as a grave. My skin prickled, questions piling up in my head faster than my tired mind could sort through. What had I just seen? And what, exactly, was waiting behind that door?

Whatever it was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. But the AI’s timer was still ticking.

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