Pretty Girls Die Last

by Lisa Mancini

  “Now it’s complete.”

  She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and began chanting over the doll.

  I invoke the wrath of the spirt world against this man who has revealed himself as a danger to women.

  I invoke the magical energies in the universe to curse Brandon Cambridge.

  I ask the Goddesses of Light and Darkness to avenge our friend’s death by punishing this man – Brandon Cambridge.

  I call on all the negative energy in the universe to punish Brandon Cambridge.

  I curse you Brandon Cambridge in the flesh and in the spirit.

  May all the ills of the world befall you.

  May you suffer as you have made others suffer.

  May pestilence sicken you. May your health fail you.

  May these pins inflict pain and suffering upon you as you have made others suffer.

  May you never know a moment’s peace.

  Anya inserted a large pin vertically though the head of the poppet. Another pin into the belly of the figure and another into the lower back. Then, a pin inserted into the bottoms of each foot.

  Laying it on her desk, she took a piece of paper and Arielle watched as she printed very neatly the name- Brandon Cambridge and folded the paper twice into a small square. She opened a drawer and pulled out a black candle in the shape of a man, genitalia, and all. She lit the candle and burned the square while repeating the chant.

  May you never know a moment’s peace.

  She dropped the remnants of the burning paper into a small black iron cauldron. She wrapped the poppet in a piece of burlap, stuffed it into her bottom desk drawer, and locked it. Then, she turned to Arielle.

  “I’m hungry. Let’s order a pizza.”

  She grabbed her cell and pressed speed dial and the ordered a small pepperoni for Arielle and a medium sausage and mushroom for herself. She pocketed her phone.

  “Thirty minutes. I’ll wait downstairs.”

  Anya left the room and Arielle remained standing by the desk still looking at the black candle and the grey ashes in the bottom of the cauldron. Where did she get a cauldron? Probably at that magic shop, she’s always talking about. For the first time since knowing Anya, Arielle was actually afraid of her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Local Boys Charged with Attempted Rape

  Freya Barrett

  A recent accusation of attempted rape has rocked the Agatha Falls community. Two local boys from Wainsbridge Academy have been accused of attempted rape. The accuser is a 12 year old student of St. Bernadette’s School for Girls. The alleged attack took place last summer at a party attended by students of both schools.

  The accuser, who will not be named in this article because she is a minor, said she was grabbed and thrown onto a bed by two boys on her way to the bathroom. The accused, Brandon Cambridge and Mike Chancellor are both 17. They allegedly attacked her and another girl, Sydney Sanders, the former Miss Junior Connecticut who was found drowned in Raven’s Pond on Halloween night.

  Ms. Sanders was able to get away and run for help.

  The accuser’s sister was also present at the party. She witnessed the attack and stated, “My sister was lying there on the bed and the boys were taking turns jumping on her. Her pants were pulled down. Her bra and panties were torn off. Her shirt was ripped in half and thrown on the floor. She was crying and they were laughing. If Sydney hadn’t told my boyfriend and me what happened, and we didn’t show up in time, my sister would have been raped.”

  Cambridge and Chancellor deny everything. Their defense counsel, Dabney Cohen stated, “These children are lying out of spite and jealousy towards these students. These boys are wealthy and popular. If anything happened between my clients and the accused, she consented to it. This is a case of he said- she said. Nothing more.”

  However, the police disagreed and found enough evidence to charge Cambridge and Chancellor with attempted rape. Both boys are now under house arrest. Both live in Agatha Falls and attend Wainsbridge Academy. Both are on the football team and serve as altar boys at Trinity Church.

  Earlier this week, emails, texts, and letters were submitted exposing threats and harassment against the accuser and Miss Sanders. The emails appear to have originated from Cambridge’s private computer. Since the murder last month of Ms. Sanders, the police have been unsuccessful in finding the perpetrator. Law enforcement is now reviewing the emails in hope of finding a connection between the attack and the murder of Ms. Sanders. Mr. Cambridge’s cellphone is now under review by the Agatha Falls forensics team.

  It has also been alleged that rape parties occur and young girls as young as 12 have been assaulted. These parties are given by students of Wainsbridge and the young female students from St. Bernadette’s are often invited. One Wainsbridge student who asked not to be named in this article stated, “We like the girls from Bernadette’s because their clean. You know- virgins!”

  Requests for an interview were ignored by the administration at Wainsbridge Academy. But Sister Evangeline from St. Bernadette’s School for Girls said, “God sees all. He knows the truth. If these men think they can get away with this they are wrong. They may be able to beat a court of law. But God will not let this go unpunished.”

  If anyone has any information about the murder of Sydney Sanders, please contact Detective Dianna Ramirez at the Agatha Falls Police Department. If anyone has been raped or assaulted at any of these rape parties, please call the rape hotline. If you would rather speak to me personally, please call me at the Beacon. You are not alone.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The snow fell in big flakes covering the front lawn and sidewalk. Freya had removed her thirteen Jack-O-Lanterns last week and smashed them in her back yard for the forest animals to eat. She noticed the remnants of seeds all over her yard and smiled to herself. No wonder her cat, Dexter had gone crazy all week in his window tree. The squirrels and chipmunks must have had a feast with all the pumpkin seeds. But Freya didn’t care about the mess.

  Today was Thanksgiving. And Freya was spending it with her friend Ali and her dad. They were eating at the new Canterbury Club. She thought of it as new because it had been totally remodeled since the fire last year. She still had nightmares of being caught in that fire.

  She looked forward to dinner with her friend Ali. She’d also be seeing her other friend, Enid Prager Jones tonight. She was the local historian who was helping Freya write her first book. The Canterbury Club was located on the outskirts of town at the local country club. Ali Park, Freya’s best friend since high school was a member, as was her father, Dr. Park. An urologist, he was well-known throughout New England as a premier urology specialist.

  Freya waited by her front door. She periodically glanced out her window for her ride. Enid was picking her up today. Her brother Jake was eating Thanksgiving dinner with his fiancé’s family. He worried when he told her he’d be eating somewhere else this year. But Freya wasn’t hurt or even bothered by it. Things had changed. Jake was getting married next June. Freya now lived in her own home. They weren’t kids anymore. They were adults and they lived adult lives.

  A shiny navy blue Ford SUV pulled up in front of Freya’s house. It certainly wasn’t Enid. She drove a 1930’s style Bentley. You couldn’t forget the lovely car once you saw it. This definitely was not Enid. The SUV parked and a tall man wearing a charcoal grey overcoat got out of the vehicle. His hair was brown and he appeared to be in his late twenties. He was lanky but muscular in build. Freya was shocked when she saw him. She immediately opened the front door and walked outside despite the cold.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He looked at her skeptically and sized her up. She was going out for the evening, that much was obvious. She was wearing a knee length black velvet wrap skirt with black tights. A black lace blouse and black ankle boots completed her look. Her hair was down and freshly washed and blown dried. She wore a long red silky scarf loose around her neck. Her usual wardrobe consisted of jeans, khaki
s, and casual tops. He smiled and winked.

  “Are you going out with your other boyfriend? Should I have called first?”

  He was joking but Freya didn’t see the humor in it. She was ready for him. She had planned exactly what she would say if she ever saw him again.

  “Actually, a phone call would have been nice. After all, you were gone, what, almost an entire month without calling me? I would have thought my boyfriend would at least call me, say, once a week. So, yeah, you should have called me. But since you didn’t, I made other plans.”

  Before he could respond, a black Boucheron Bentley pulled into her driveway. An elegant woman dressed all in red and wearing a small fur stole got out of the car. She reminded Freya of someone from a 1930’s movie. Enid loved old movies and right now, she looked like she had walked out of William Wyler film.

  “Erik! Welcome back! Where have you been? It hasn’t been the same around here without you,” she said as she threw her arms around him. He hugged her back and they quickly walked into Freya’s house.

  “Oh, it’s cold! I should have worn something warmer.”

  “Enid, you look great. Come inside and warm up a bit,” offered Freya.

  Still ignoring Erik, she went into her kitchen to get Enid a hot coffee. Erik followed. She began the coffee and assembled a tea tray. Erik watched in silence. When the coffee was done, Freya carried the tray into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. She poured two cups and offered one to Enid and the other to Erik. After a few awkward seconds, small talk began.

  “So, Erik how was your trip?”

  “Thanks for asking Enid, it was great. How about you? How’s the new book coming along?”

  And it went like that for a few more minutes until Erik turned to Freya. She looked him square in the eye.

  “Where’s your truck?”

  “Traded it in.”

  “Why?”

  “It was time.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Enid, sensing an argument, suggested they leave for the restaurant. Erik followed them.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  Enid explained their plans.

  “The Canterbury Club. I’ve never been there before. Is the food good?”

  He bantered with Enid until they reached the driveway. Then, he looked at Enid and she looked back at him and gave a little nod.

  “Freya, why don’t you ride with Erik tonight? My heater isn’t working very well. You know how old cars are. I’ll meet you at the club. Toodles!” She jumped in her vehicle before Freya could respond. She roared off leaving them alone on the snow filled driveway. Erik extended his hand.

  “Shall I escort you to my new vehicle?”

  Freya walked ahead of him. He opened the door for her and she got in the passenger seat. He got into the driver’s seat and fiddled with the seat belt. He took his time as he arranged the belt. After he was satisfied with that, he moved on to the GPS. Finally, Erik broke the silence.

  “I read your article. It was great.”

  She said thanks but offered nothing more. He turned to her. “Freya, I admit it, I suck at communication. I’m sorry I never called but I was extremely busy. My grandfather died and left me as the executor of his estate. I texted you every week though so it’s not like I totally ignored you,” he said defensively.

  “Erik, if I went away for a month and never called you and only sent a weekly text giving only the skimpiest of messages, you’d be pissed. So don’t give me any crap about you being busy. I’m busy too. The whole world is busy,” she answered hotly.

  Taking a deep breath and counting to ten, she calmed herself down enough to attempt a civil conversation. After all, he did apologize and today was Thanksgiving. Not being one to hold a grudge, she patted his arm casually.

  “Just forget it. Today is a holiday and I’d like to enjoy it. So, you liked my article? Well, I’m happy to say that I received a nasty letter from one of the accuser’s lawyers. My boss at the paper said not to worry though. He gave it to the legal department. I didn’t do anything illegal or unethical. But I’m happy knowing I shook up their beautiful little world. Why do the rich think they can do anything and get away with everything? Why are they not expected to be accountable like the rest of us mere mortals?”

  Her diatribe ended, she exhaled and turned on the radio. Christmas music was playing.

  “Because they can.”

  “What?”

  “I said, because they can. The rich can and do get away with everything. Look at the President. Look at what he has done. Look at his family. Very rich people live a different life than the rest of us. But it’s our fault because we live in a celebrity culture. In this country, the rich are treated like celebrities. They get away with it because we let them.”

  He was right, thought Freya. Her friend Ali called it the Kardashian effect. If a person was a big enough celebrity, they got special treatment. Well, Brandon and Mike are not getting away with this.

  They arrived at the Canterbury Club. Freya spotted Enid’s car immediately in the lot. They walked to the front entrance and admired the new décor. The club had only been partially destroyed by fire last year. But, the owners decided to take the opportunity to remodel and expand. The new design was Spanish revival. An odd choice for a New England club but it worked.

  The look was classic but distinct. Curves and arches, a white stucco exterior and lots of hand-painted tile. Four large tower-like chimneys emerged from a roof covered in terracotta tiles. The front door was wooden and covered with an iron scrolled decorative gate. The entry way was enhanced by a scrolled stair railing leading to the second floor restaurant. She and Erik entered the large room and looked around for their friends.

  “Freya! Over here!”

  She turned toward the voice and saw her friend Ali sitting with her dad at a large round table. Enid was there with Donal, her literary agent. They approached the table and sat down.

  The room was large but the décor added a cozy elegance with its muted tones and brightly colored Persian rugs. Wrought iron, Gothic candlesticks, oil paintings, and glazed, decorative Catalina tiles completed the look. The overall effect was striking.

  The table was set for six. A waiter in a bow tie and a black vest poured mineral water into a glass and asked Freya if she preferred something from the bar. Not yet 21, she politely declined. For the next hour and a half, she didn’t think about her job or school. She ate, visited with friends, and relaxed. At the end of the evening, Erik pulled her aside.

  “We need to talk.”

  Oh no.

  “About what?”

  “Can we talk at your house? It’s important.”

  He looked so serious. She told him yes. They could talk at her house. But her anxiety remained. Dessert was served and Freya only picked at her pumpkin pie. Ali kicked her under the table. When Freya looked up, Ali caught her eye. What’s wrong? Freya nodded but her friend knew better. Ali stood up.

  “Freya and I need to use the powder room.”

  “Oh, me too! I can’t wait to see their bathrooms,” said Enid.

  The new ladies bathroom was very different from the former one. Freya felt uneasy as she entered the room. The last time she’d been there, a fire had been set and she caught inside. The arsonist was also a killer she had been taunting with her weekly articles. It was only 11 months ago, but Freya still shuddered at the memory.

  The new bathroom design was also Spanish revival. Large ornate iron gates capped the two bay windows facing the forest. No longer a balcony outside, the windows occupied almost the entire wall of the room. Three wooden benches covered in brightly colored cushions stood against the remaining tiled walls. The four sinks were porcelain and the mirrors suspended above them were outlined in mosaic tiles. Three small mini chandeliers hung over them casting a subdued pink light. Soft classical guitar music was playing from somewhere overhead. She sat down on one of the benches. Ali sat beside her.

  “So, what’s up?”


  Freya told her. Ali nodded knowingly but listened and said nothing. She knew that sometimes the best thing friends could do for another friend was listening. When Freya finished, Ali took her hand.

  “Freya, just listen to what he says, okay? It’s probably nothing. You know how guys are. They don’t communicate like women. And don’t doubt yourself about your article either. You wrote the truth. You are exactly where you are supposed to be right now in your life. You own a beautiful home; have a great career, friends, and family. You have your health and my God, - your book – you are writing a book! And you are only 20 years old. Speaking of that – what do you want to do for your birthday. It’s seventeen days away.”

  Freya laughed out loud. “You counted? My God, you are too funny. It’s just another day.”

  Ali nodded vigorously. “No, 21 is a big deal. I am going to plan a girls night out. You, Lorna, Enid, Dolores, and me. Where is Dolores, by the way?”

  “Las Vegas. She’s spending the holidays with her relatives. Yeah, a girls night out sounds fun. Plan it and I’ll go. Thanks Ali.” Freya hugged her friend just as Enid emerged from the stall.

  “Can you believe Donal texted me to ask me what was taking so long? Men!”

  The three women returned to the table as Erik stood up. “You ready?”

  Freya said yes and conferred her good byes to Ali, Enid, Donal, and Dr. Park. She drove home with Erik. He talked non-stop about his family in Montreal. He sounded happy – a feeling he normally didn’t convey. Freya was worried.

  “So, have you ever been to Montreal?” he asked all of a sudden.

  Freya explained her last trip to Montreal consisted of a bus trip with Ali to the Botanical Gardens while in high school. He smirked.

  “That’s not the real Montreal. Do you think you could get some time off from work soon? I know school is over for the term. We could go up there and you could meet my family and see where I grew up. How about it?”