The cookie jar with white porcelain and blue borders was a common background in my childhood. It was on a high shelf the color a deep chestnut, where it stood proudly amongst the others. My grandmother enjoyed collecting cookie jars from around the world. A red one for luck from her adventures in China. A jar with an Eiffel Tower, little people waving flags from the top. I’m not sure why this particular one drew my eye one day but I became determined to discover what could be inside. I loved the film inspector Gadget and considered myself an amateur sleuth in the making and one day Inspector Gadget would notice my potential and take me under his wing. I glared up at the jar and calculated how to get it, dragging a kitchen chair that clanked loudly against the floor I shoved it under the shelf and climbed on top. Reaching, my hands grasped the cool surface and I quickly tucked it under my arm and shot furtively looks over my shoulder. I was in the clear. I hopped down and with a shit eating grin ran to my room with my spoils. Upon opening it I was surprised to find various trinkets inside. Mostly jewelry. One ring even said Marie and John forever on the inside and with giddy kicked my legs in triumph that my sleuthing senses had been correct. Throughout the years I would often return to the jar and examine the trinkets inside. It wasn’t until I was 13 did I consider why these objects were there and 15 when I found out it’s nefarious origins. All these objects were from people who had been reported missing and that’s how I learned that my grandma was a female serial killer.