Know this. When I first took the job at Millson’s bakery on fourth street, I had nothing but the best of intentions. My writing had not been well recieved of late and I needed a job. I would like to tell you of the first morning that I arrived, with clothes carefully pressed, shoes that I’d shined the night before, but the tale would be too long and I haven’t much time.

Trust me when I say that there is a foulness in the very veins underneath the bakery. The Millson’s are not only bakers but the keepers of dark secrets. There are reasons to take a man’s life in cold blood. I tell you I am a good man! I am a good man.

Truly, it was only yesterday that I followed Jacob Millson down the ancient brick stairwell that lay under the store’s basement. Don’t ask why I would follow my employer into the darnkeness beneath the city. The story is long. Suffice to say that I had my reasons, reasons that can be verified by Angus, the undertaker and Dr. Reynolds.

Yes, I killed him. You would have too, if you knew as I do.