The Portland Butcher

Calls bombarded Mandy's cell phone while she was driving. She finally reached her destination and quickly got out of the car. Not even five minutes passed when another call began to ring. She stopped in front of the door and answered.

“My God, I am already in front of your house. Stop calling me!"

Ryan flung open the door, grabbed Mandy's arm, and pulled her inside.

“Ouch! Can you explain to me what the hell is wrong with you?" Mandy claimed.

"Oh my friend, you have no idea what I just found!" Ryan said excitedly. “I found this letter that I think was written by my ancestor, Mary Rivers; around 1850. I don't understand calligraphy very well, so I called you.”

"Where did you find it?"

“Behind the canvas of this painting of a woman drinking coffee. I bought it cheap at a garage sale, but that doesn't matter much.”

"How do you know it's from your ancestor?"

"I'll explain it to you when you finish reading the letter to me, please just do it!"

“Okay, just calm down and pour me a cup of coffee; I like to have one next to me while I read.”

"Immediately!"

Mandy settled at the table while Ryan poured her steaming cup of coffee. She took a huge sip, then read the letter. Ryan's eyes sparkled like two gems.

Dear Chester; my blood brother. Things in Portland aren't going the way I hoped. Again that impulse won me; that particularity that only you and I know. I could no longer bear the boring life of a housewife, with a severe husband and a hostile mother-in-law. Divorce is a very late option and I can't do it if my husband doesn't want it, so I did what I had to do.
I killed Oliver and his mother's witch. I'm sorry, I promised I wouldn't do it again, but he felt so good. I chopped up their bodies into small pieces and placed them in containers to…

"Wait..." Ryan interrupted. "Does it also explain what he did with the corpses afterward?"

“Not really,” Mandy stated with a smile. "I'm just kidding. I wanted to see your face after this."

Ryan raised an eyebrow and looked at Mandy with a severe face.

"Just keep reading, please."

“Okay, what a lack of humor you have…”

The police don't suspect me, they don't believe that a frail woman committed such an atrocity, but Detective Davis doesn't take his eyes off me. I am forbidden to leave the city. I wanted to go to San Francisco, where you are. This makes me so angry that I have committed murders in other parts of the city; Don't worry, I've been cautious. The papers call me 'The Portland Butcher', they think I'm a man so there's no suspicion towards me.
I hired a painter to do a portrait of me where I am casually drinking coffee. I will use paint as camouflage to get this letter to you. I hope you can find it. I miss you so much, I hope to see you very soon.

With love…

Mary

P.S.: I also killed the painter. He was a nice guy and he had no reason to, but no way, these are things that happen.

After reading the letter, both were stunned and looked at each other.

"Oh my God!" Ryan exclaimed. “The Portland Butcher was a woman and she turned out to be my great-aunt. That's… that's so cool!”

"Really?" Mandy inquired wrinkling her face.

"Yeah, I mean, it's the most interesting thing I've ever seen from my family and not those stupid spelling bees."

"Ok... Well, now explain to me why you think you are related to that woman."

Ryan pulls another old, stained piece of paper from his pocket.

“This is a letter from my great-great-grandfather, Chester; Mary's brother, which he wrote to her sister weeks after this. The calligraphy is a little more understandable, that's why I affirm what I say. Please read it and you will know.”

Mandy took the letter and started reading it immediately.

Dear Mary; my blood sister I haven't heard from you in months. I must confess to you that I am worried when you remain silent for a long time, I imagine that terrible things have happened. Maybe they are my things; I do not know. I hope everything is looking up in your marriage. I have read in the newspapers about brutal murders in Portland, and that worries me and I think about you a lot; not because you're going to be a victim, but because… Well, you know that. I miss you so much, your nephews want to see you. I hope you can visit me so we can share a nice steaming cup of coffee every day.