Candy Slain

by Chelsea Thomas

  I bit my thumbnail. “Do you think…”

  Miss May exhaled. “He’s dead.”

  Teeny threw up her hands. “There you go. You said it. Now I’m feeling all worked up.”

  “You’re already feeling worked up,” I said. “You just said you were suspicious not delicious.”

  “I know. But I’m not a real sleuth. My goosebumps don’t mean diddly squat most of the time. Miss May is the queen of the sleuths. You are both the queens. If you think the guy is dead, the guy’s dead. Might as well call the coroner now. Poor guy. I know, not everyone liked him. But he looked just like Santa. This is so depressing.”

  “Please don’t get ahead of yourself,” Miss May said. “No one is officially dead. No one is officially missing. Let’s look around real quick. See what we can find.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” I said.

  “You said you saw him storm away from town hall?” Miss May asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Maybe around 3 PM.”

  Teeny shook her head. “I saw him at 4:30 PM. Marching straight into town hall. And he didn’t seem happy.”

  Miss May looked up at the steps to the front door of town hall. “Let’s get in there and see what we can find.”

  The door to town hall creaked as Miss May opened it and slipped inside. Although there were still quite a few people making their way out of Christmas Village, town hall was empty and dark.

  Town hall was one of the older buildings in Pine Grove, a series of offices arranged in an old farmhouse. We were in the foyer. A large staircase went upstairs. And doors on either side of the foyer led into the offices.

  We heard a thud from upstairs. I tensed. “What was that?”

  Teeny bit her finger. “It sounded like a sigh. Not a good sigh. It sounded like an exasperated exhale of the dead.”

  Miss May chuckled. “What has gotten into you tonight with these catchphrases?”

  Teeny shrugged. “I have a way with words lately. I’ve been eating a lot of cheese.”

  A man’s voice rang out from upstairs. “Not a sigh of the dead. Just the old janitor cleaning and cleaning and cleaning. Sometimes feels like the cleaning never ends.”

  An older man, about 70, descended the stairs one at a time. He dragged a trash bag behind him and there was a new sigh with each step he descended.

  “Steve. I haven’t seen you in forever. Still working town hall?” Miss May knew everyone in town. Including creepy janitor Steve. “I thought you retired to Florida.”

  “I did,” said Steve. “Spent up all my money before I died. Now I’m back. I don’t complain. Honest work feels good.”

  Miss May nodded. “You’re right. That’s good perspective. Still, I’m surprised they have you working during the celebration.”

  Steve grunted. “Filth doesn’t take days off. So neither do I.”

  Steve exited out the back. As soon as the back door closed behind them, Teeny turned to me and Miss May.

  “OK. Steve is the killer. Orville Starr was in that bag. For some reason, Steve killed Santa. Case closed. Let’s call the cops. Get out of here.”

  Miss May rolled her eyes. “Steve is a sweetheart. He just has an… odd energy. Come on. Let’s look around.”

  Miss May tried the door to the mayor’s office. The lights were off and the door was locked. She tried a few more doors. They were all locked. “I don’t know. I expected these doors to be open,” said Miss May.

  I shrugged. “Sometimes they are.”

  “Why don’t we check out back?” I nodded toward the back of the building. Town hall had a large backyard. A gazebo stood in the center of the yard. In warmer months, the gazebo was home to fun barbecues in town events. But it looked lonely and desolate on that cold winter night.

  “Looks creepy,” Teeny said. “And did Steve go out that way?”

  “I’m telling you, Steve is harmless,” Miss May said. “He’s a good guy.”

  Teeny grumbled. “OK. Let’s go outside.”

  A few seconds later, we stood, huddled together in the backyard. The depth of the darkness back there surprised me. I’d expected more light.

  “It’s too dark out here to see anything. Maybe we should come back in the morning,” I said.

  “Morning sounds good to me,” Teeny seconded. “Make some cinnamon buns. Get a nice cup of sugary coffee. Wait for the ghouls and goblins to go back into their little caves. I like the idea of morning.”

  Miss May nodded toward the gazebo. “What’s that? Do you see that? I think someone was in the gazebo.”

  I squinted into the darkness. “I don’t see anything.” Miss May took a few long strides toward the gazebo. Teeny and I exchanged a scared look and followed.

  Miss May stepped into the gazebo and immediately gagged. She covered her mouth as if she had seen something horrible.

  I rushed toward her. “What is it? Are you OK?”

  Miss May and I had discovered quite a few grisly scenes since I’d moved back to Pine Grove, but I’d never seen her react so strongly. She had an iron stomach and an unflinching stoicism… or at least most days she did. But at that moment, she had lost her composure.

  Miss May pointed across the gazebo. “Orville.”

  I looked over.

  Orville Starr was on his back, on the floor of the gazebo. A candy cane protruded from his neck and blood flowed across the wooden slats of the gazebo floor and onto the snow below.

  Teeny and I covered our mouths in unison. Like a choreographed response to unthinkable horror.

  “Call the police. Call Wayne,” said Miss May. “Now.”

  4

  Silent Night

  Ten minutes later and a dozen cops trawled the back lawn, hunting for clues. Pine Grove had received extra money from the state in the past month or two, specifically designated for adding extra officers to the police force.

  Probably had something to do with the recent murder that had occurred in town. Or that other murder. Or that other murder. Or it could have been that other murder. You get the point.

  The state felt we needed more police. But the officers we ended up with were, what’s a nice way to put this? They were inept.

  And that’s saying something, because the cops we already had in town were pretty inefficient. Chief Sunshine Flanagan was tough, I guess. She certainly had perfect red hair and long legs, and her uniform fit like a glove. Not that I was jealous or anything. Just observant.

  And Detective Wayne Hudson had a good head on his broad, strapping shoulders. He was handsome, with deep, blue-green eyes and a wide, toothy smile. OK, maybe I used to have a crush on Wayne Hudson.

  But I digress. For the most part the police force had always behaved like misguided truffle pigs, hunting for truffles in the sand. Or inside a mall. Or some other place where truffles don’t grow.

  The new cops were no better. As I watched them crisscross the back lawn where we had only moments earlier discovered Orville’s dead body, I was once again reminded of the aimless truffle pigs.

  Want to know what’s even worse? The only thing the new set of police officers managed to do with any reliability at all was issue parking tickets. I had received five tickets in the prior week for parking on my own street, and that was the norm rather than the exception. OK. I’m whining. As the silly, aimless, I’m not going to say dumb but dumb, police officers hunted for clues, Miss May, Teeny and I hung back to discuss the case.

  Miss May shook her head. “What’s it been? Less than a month since our last dead body?”

  “It’s getting hard to keep track,” I said. “But yeah. It’s been about a month.”

  “So sad.” Teeny wrung her hands. “And a little scary. These cops look clueless. And also young. I think that one’s still wearing diapers.”

  “A few clues are all we need.” I turned to Miss May. “We’re going to investigate this, right?”

  Miss May bit her lip. “I was thinking about that. I’m not sure.”

  Teeny threw up her ha
nds. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not sure? This is your job.”

  Miss May winced. “Technically my job is to run the orchard. And we’re in the middle of our busy season.”

  “The people of Pine Grove can just get their Christmas trees at the grocery store. This murder needs to be solved,” Teeny said.

  “What grocery stores are you going to?” I asked.

  “There grocery stores that sell Christmas trees. I’ve seen it.” Teeny crossed her arms.

  “Even if the people of Pine Grove did get their Christmas trees at a grocery store,” Miss May said, “that’s not an option I can consider. We’ve been so distracted with these murders the past year… This has to be a good season. We need to sell those trees.”

  “Is the orchard struggling?” I asked. “I just got here. I don’t want us to shut down!”

  Miss May held up her hands. “Don’t be so apocalyptic. I’m just saying… It would be good to have a good season. That’s true every year. Especially this one.”

  “Still,” Teeny said. “This town needs you. There’s another murder. And it was our Santa, no less.”

  “Well, he wasn’t exactly our Santa. Wasn’t he a hired gun from out of town?” I pulled up a news article on my phone and held it out to Teeny. “See? Liz wrote about it. Apparently Orville was very successful. The mayor was excited when she hired him, like he was a real catch.”

  “That’s right,” Miss May said. “And that’s another reason to sit this one out. We don’t know who this Orville guy was. We don’t know what kind of shady character could have wanted him dead. Pine Grove has all these new police officers. Perhaps we should let them do their jobs. Stay out of harm’s way.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe you want to stay out of this case. You’re just playing devil’s advocate.”

  “I’m not saying we should stay out of it. I’m suggesting perhaps we take a less active role. And, honestly, we just don’t have personal stakes in this one. I know Orville was Pine Grove’s Santa, but I really need to think about the farm this time of year.” Miss May crossed her arms and I wondered if she really meant what she was saying.

  “You don’t think you have any personal stakes?” Teeny asked.

  Miss May shrugged. “We don’t.”

  Teeny pointed across the lawn. “You do now.”

  Miss May and I looked where Teeny had pointed. Chief Flanagan was in the middle of handcuffing Aunt Dee Dee over by the gazebo. Miss May threw back her head and sighed. “Can’t this chief ever arrest the right person?”

  Miss May charged toward Chief Flanagan with her hands on her hips. “Chief. What’s going on here?”

  Flanagan did not acknowledge Miss May. Miss May took another step toward the chief. “Sunshine. Dee Dee is my sister. Please.”

  Flanagan tightened the handcuffs. “Can I get a deputy over here? Please remove this woman from the scene.”

  Miss May laughed. “This is absurd.”

  Sunshine scowled at Miss May. “You’re correct, May. This is absurd. I am trying to work the scene of a murder and I have local interference. As I always do. I will not tolerate it.” Sunshine looked over at me and Teeny. “I won’t tolerate interference of any kind in this investigation.”

  Miss May spotted Wayne a few feet away and called over to him. “Detective Hudson. Can you help with the situation? My sister’s under arrest for a crime she didn’t commit. I’m just trying to talk some sense into the chief.”

  Wayne stammered.

  Flanagan cast an angry look in his direction. He took a step backward.

  Miss May looked over at her sister. “Dee Dee. How did this happen? What have I told you?”

  Dee Dee thrust her chin into the air. “I will not talk in the presence of the authorities. I know better than that. They will twist my words against me in the court of law. Those are the Miranda rights in this country.”

  I nodded. Dee Dee was Pine Grove’s most determined environmentalist, pro-freedom, anti-police, anti-government citizen. My heart filled with dread. Suddenly, it seemed likely that Dee Dee had interfered with Orville or done something to make herself seem guilty. I remembered her yelling at Orville about Fred the Tree. That was certainly conspicuous behavior, considering that Orville had turned up dead just a few hours later.

  “You’re a smart woman, Dee Dee. It’s wise to exercise your right to remain silent.” Half a smirk played across Chief Flanagan’s face. “Now let’s get you to jail so you can have some peace to go along with that quiet.” Flanagan looked over at Wayne. “Ready?”

  Wayne nodded and led Dee Dee over to a waiting squad car.

  Miss May hung her head and groaned, but she looked over at me. “Remember all that stuff I said about how we shouldn’t take this case?”

  I nodded. “Forget it.”

  5

  Are Ye Sleeping Maggie

  When we got back to the farmhouse, my cousin Maggie (Dee Dee’s daughter) was already there waiting for us. Back when we were kids, Maggie and I had been inseparable, and I’d wanted to rekindle our bond when I’d moved back to Pine Grove.

  But murder had a way of interrupting plans, so my intentions to renew my BFF-dom with my cousin had gotten off to a slow start. Especially after Maggie had suffered a heartbreak and a half during our first murder investigation. Still, Maggie and I shared the experience of weddings-gone-awry, and I felt a closeness with her that made it extra heartbreaking to see her hurt.

  Maggie, with her soft features and shiny brown hair, had such a sweet look about her most days. That day, she was huddled on the farmhouse porch, looking small and helpless. I took a deep breath and tried to steel myself. Somehow, my habit of empathy-crying didn’t seem to make people feel better.

  Miss May hopped out of her yellow VW bus and gave Maggie a big hug. “Hey. It’s OK. We’re here.”

  Maggie shook her head. “My mom was arrested.”

  “I know. But we’re going to figure it out,” Miss May said, her tone smooth and reassuring.

  I sat beside Miss May. “We always do, Maggie. You know that. We’ve never failed to crack a case yet.”

  Maggie nodded. She was just a few years younger than me but in that moment, she seemed so much like a little girl.

  Maggie sniffled. “OK. I know. That’s why I’m here.”

  Miss May’s tone was cautious but sweet. “You want to help with the investigation?”

  “I don’t want to get in your way. But my mom called me. She has information. I don’t think she could say much over the phone, but it seemed like she wanted me to pass the message on to you.”

  Miss May nodded. “That makes sense. She used you as her only call because she doesn’t want the police to know she’s involving me and Chelsea in the investigation.”

  “Also, Maggie’s her daughter,” I said. Sometimes, in spite of her loving, maternal nature, Miss May could stray toward emotionally dense.

  Miss May held up a hand. “Of course, of course. Anyway, what did Dee Dee say?”

  “A lot of the policemen were talking, chatting about the crime when they arrested her.” Maggie dabbed at her eyes. “So Mom has a pretty good idea of why it all happened.”

  Miss May leaned forward. “Is it because she was arguing with Orville about the trees?”

  Maggie nodded.

  Miss May huffed. “I wish my sister would just relax with that stuff. Christmas tree farms don’t do much damage to the environment. Every tree we sell, we replace with a new one. And if the trees are grown ethically, there’s little harm done.”

  “I’ve tried to tell her that,” said Maggie. “And I told her how much I’ve always loved getting Christmas trees here at the farm. But this is her new cause. The reason for the season or whatever.”

  “What else did she say?” I asked.

  “Apparently, I’m not sure, it was a little unclear...” Maggie hesitated. “But she mentioned something about a candy cane?”

  Miss May hung her head. “Those candy canes.
She’s had a candy cane in her mouth every time I’ve seen her for the past two weeks.”

  Maggie nodded. “I know. But what does that have to do with this?”

  Miss May cringed. “It’s not pretty.”

  “Tell me.” Maggie looked at us, eyes wide and imploring.

  “Orville was killed. Stabbed in the neck.”

  Maggie covered her mouth. “With a candy cane?”

  Miss May nodded.

  Maggie let out a stunned gasp. “No. No. No. That makes Mom seem… so guilty.”

  “It’s OK. A lot of people have been eating candy canes,” Miss May said. “It’s the holidays.”

  “No one has been eating as many as Aunt Dee Dee,” I countered. It was true. The woman had been going through at least a 12-pack a day.

  Miss May turned to me. “Can we stay optimistic, Chelsea?”

  “I am optimistic. I’m just saying. She cleaned out the drug store down the street.”

  “Hold on.” Maggie chewed on her fingernail. “Does this mean… Do you think my mom was framed? Someone killed Orville with a candy cane so the police would think it was Mom?”

  “That’s a possibility,” Miss May said. “But not very likely.”

  “So what’s your theory?” I asked.

  “A lot of people hated Orville Starr in this town. Dee Dee was one of them, sure. She bothered people. But I can’t think of anyone who would’ve wanted to frame her. Other than Orville, maybe. But he’s the victim. Pretty extreme lengths to frame someone for your own murder.”

  “So you think it makes more sense to focus on suspects who would have wanted Orville dead rather than suspects who would have wanted to frame Dee Dee and send her to jail,” I asked. I couldn’t help it… even though we were dealing with a gruesome Santa murder, my investigation hat was planted firmly on my head and my brain was whirring with ideas.

  Miss May nodded. “Exactly.”