Candy Slain

by Chelsea Thomas

  Miss May stopped at a traffic light. “Why would such a popular and successful Santa Claus live in this type of neighborhood?”

  “I still want to know why he kept an address in Philadelphia if he had a job in Pine Grove?” Teeny said.

  Miss May shrugged. “It’s seasonal work. I doubt he moves every time he gets a job as Santa.”

  The GPS let out a small ding. “You have arrived at your destination.” Miss May stopped the VW van in front of a small, white house. I would’ve called the place a cottage but that would’ve been an insult to the quaintness of cottages. The place had peeling paint. The front yard had been littered with children’s toys. Each window was caked with a thick layer of dust and grime. We sat and looked at the house for a long moment.

  “This can’t be the house,” said Teeny. “It’s the polar opposite of the North Pole.”

  “Technically that’s the South Pole,” I said. Miss May and Teeny glared at me. “Sorry.” I mimed zipping my lips.

  “It does seem odd,” said Miss May. “Orville Starr was a single man, as far as we know. There shouldn’t be any children’s toys in his yard.”

  I rubbed my chin. “We need more information.”

  Miss May looked back at me. “You’re right about that.”

  Miss May knocked on the front door with three, resounding thuds. No one came to the door. She cupped her hands and squinted through the side window.

  “Can you see anything?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “The windows are too dirty. Gross.”

  An elderly male voice boomed from behind us. “Can I help you ladies?”

  Funny how when we went snooping around stranger’s houses, the neighbors always seemed to notice. We turned back toward the voice. There stood a man in his mid-40s. Over 6 feet tall. Bald with a goatee. He was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and jeans. Didn’t seem to mind the cold. In fact, he seemed downright comfortable.

  Miss May smiled. To this day, I’ve never seen her intimidated by anyone. “Wow, you must be cold.”

  “I don’t get cold,” the man growled. “Never have, never will.”

  Miss May chuckled. “Lucky you. We’re looking for Orville Starr.”

  The scary bald man ran his tongue across his teeth. “Don’t know him.”

  Miss May nodded. “I see. Well, if you did know him, I would tell you…we’re not here to cause any trouble.”

  “Only people who say that are people who cause trouble everywhere they go. At least in my experience.”

  Miss May shrugged. “It sounds like you’ve had quite a few unfortunate experiences with strangers.”

  The man crossed his arms and glared. Miss May crossed her arms and glared.

  Teeny stepped forward with her trademark nervous smile. “Orville died. We’re to wrap up his estate. I’m his sister. Yup. Sister Pam. Half-sister, really. It’s a long story. Our family’s weird.”

  The man did not move. His arms remained crossed.

  “I’m sorry about that,” said Miss May. “Pam has been so upset since Orville’s passing. She’s been babbling incoherently for days. Isn’t that right, Pam?

  “Yup. I’m not making any sense. Zero. Zilch. Nada.” Teeny smiled.

  Miss May took a step toward the bald man. “Is there any way you can find it in your heart to chat with us for just a few minutes?” She removed a twenty dollar bill from her purse. “Or maybe twenty?”

  Miss May handed the money to the man. He pocketed it. “I don’t want to chat for twenty minutes. But I suppose I could chat for fifty.”

  Miss May handed the man another wad of cash. “That’s so kind of you. I love when people are generous with their time.”

  The man counted the money then looked back up at Miss May. He laughed in her face. “You three are pretty silly. Orville Starr hasn’t lived at this address for years. You just paid me for information you could have learned by reading the name on a piece of mail.”

  “I suppose we are a little silly,” said Miss May.

  “Silly with sadness. Because he died and stuff.” I cringed. Sometimes I really wished I could just keep my mouth shut.

  “We all know the guy isn’t dead,” the man said. “You should especially, sister Pam.”

  Teeny shrugged. “Half-sister. And he seemed pretty dead to me.”

  “Yeah. You think he died. Have you seen the body?”

  Miss May and I exchanged a look. “We haven’t seen the body. No.” The image of Orville’s body, candy cane protruding from his neck, popped into my head. I shoved it away and tried to run with Miss May’s lie.

  “Yup. That’s his move. He’ll pop up again in a couple months. Maybe a year. Maybe a decade. Heck, I assumed he was ‘dead’ until the moment you mentioned his name.”

  “Did you know him well?”

  “Knew him like a nosy neighbor.”

  “You’re lucky,” said Teeny. “I would love to be neighbors with Santa Claus. Did you ever get to see him do his thing? At a local mall or something?”

  The bald man laughed. “What are you talking about, Santa Claus? Orville Starr was no Santa! He was just some out-of-workguy with a shaved face. Lived here for years. Then one day he disappeared.”

  Miss May nodded. “Peculiar.”

  We thanked the scary man and walked back to the car. I clenched my fists as we walked, white-knuckling the air. Our mystery had just deepened. Orville Starr was a man with secrets. I wondered what he had been running from. And had it finally all caught up with him?

  23

  Run, Run Reindeer

  “I’m thinking there’s something suspicious about Orville’s past.” Teeny slid into the booth Miss May and I were sharing at Taco, Taco, our favorite highway Mexican restaurant.

  We had stopped there on our way back from Pennsylvania and had just taken a seat with three Taco, Taco burritos, a couple sodas, and nachos with extra hot melted cheese.

  Miss May laughed. “That’s a safe assumption.” She ate a chip. “His crazy, scary neighbor just told us that Orville’s previously faked his own death.”

  Teeny shrugged. “I’m just saying.” She sipped her soda and the straw gargled.

  I laughed. “How are you already at the bottom of your soda?”

  “Triple cherry cola is water to me. Sugar water. Brown sugar water from the gods.”

  My mind flashed to a childhood memory. The last time I had been to Taco, Taco with Miss May and Teeny, on the way back from a road trip down to Delaware. We had spent the weekend at Dewey Beach. I’d been sunburned but happy. We all were — although Miss May and Teeny’s sunburns had quickly faded into nice tans, while mine had turned blotchy and peeling.

  I looked around the restaurant. There was a young family across the room, biting into their gooey burritos with big smiles. I settled further into my booth.

  You wouldn’t think it, but fast food places can be so homey. We didn’t eat at them much when I was a kid. Only on road trips or other special occasions when there was nothing else around. I think that’s why I loved being at Taco, Taco that day. Even though the topic of conversation was grim.

  I took a sip of my own triple cherry cola. “Seems we can conclude the murderer was probably someone shady from Orville’s past.”

  Miss May held up a finger. “Learning that Orville had a dark past doesn’t exonerate Jennifer. Or Dee Dee for that matter. We need actual proof that demonstrates my sister’s innocence.”

  “We need to find who really did it.” I said.

  “Still,” said Teeny. “This is a good development. Something happened in Pennsylvania. Orville fled. He danced out of this place like Cary Grant on the ceiling.”

  I dipped my burrito in salsa. “Maybe whatever he was running from caught up to him.”

  Teeny crossed to the nearby soda machine. She called back over her shoulder. “Makes me think of that sneaky, evil little elf again.”

  Miss May nodded. “I thought that. But I still don’t think Lincoln killed Orville.”
/>   Teeny slid back into the booth. “Why not? He’s clearly a bad little man.”

  “We get it, Teeny.” I said. “You don’t trust short people, despite your name.”

  Miss May nodded. “And your stature.”

  “Frankly, I take it a little personally,” I said. “I’m barely taller than you are.”

  “You’re not taller than me!” Teeny said.

  “Why do you suspect Lincoln?” Miss May asked.

  “The guy is a little sneak.” Teeny took a big gargle of her soda remnants. “Oh boy triple cherry cola takes me home.”

  I turned to Miss May. “Why don’t you think it could have been Lincoln? Teeny has a point, the guy did seem suspicious.”

  Miss May sat back. “Think about it. The day after Orville was murdered, Lincoln showed up and started a fight at the most popular restaurant in town.”

  Teeny smiled. “You think my place is the most popular restaurant in town?”

  “Not the point,” said Miss May. “If Lincoln had committed murder the prior night, why would he show up the next day and instigate a public fight?”

  I nodded. “Good point. Also, his shortness is also kind of a mark in his favor. He couldn’t have reached Orville’s neck for stabbing unless Orville was already sitting or squatting.”

  “Maybe he had a ladder,” Teeny said.

  “Teeny,” Miss May wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t think Lincoln carried around a ladder so he could commit murder. I’ve been thinking about the other objects we found in Orville’s car.”

  Teeny nodded. “The gun. I still see when I close my eyes. A harbinger of doom and death.”

  Miss May held up her hand. “I’m not talking about the gun. I’m talking about that Mrs. Claus costume. The costume was in the trunk, all pressed and ready to wear. But no one had any idea Orville worked with a lady Santa?”

  I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “No one mentioned her at all.”

  Teeny shot straight up. “Oh. Maybe Mrs. Claus was also killed. This could be the part of the investigation where we find a second body. We almost always find a second body.”

  Miss May shrugged. “Let’s hope not. I was thinking more like, Mrs. Claus could have been the killer.”

  Teeny gasped. She covered her hands with her mouth. I sat back and shook my head. “That’s a good theory. Spouses kill each other all the time. I mean, not all the time. But the cops always say, the spouse is a prime suspect. And even if they weren’t actually married, business partners often get in violent disagreements, too.”

  Miss May touched her finger to her nose. “Yup.”

  “But before we pursue this theory we need to find out if there really was a Mrs. Claus,” I said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Miss May.

  Once we got back on the highway, Miss May called Linda Delgado. The mayor still hadn’t returned to the office, but Deputy Mayor Matt patched us through to Linda’s personal cell phone. Miss May spoke to Linda for a few minutes. At first, my aunt expressed concern for the mayor’s depression. Then, Miss May moved on to the real point of her call — the mystery of Mrs. Claus.

  Linda informed Miss May that indeed Orville had come to town with a female coworker. He had pitched Linda on the benefits of having both Santa and Mrs. Claus at local events. And he had even convinced Linda to pay double for Santa plus the missus.

  Then, Mayor Delgado told us that just a few days before Orville’s first Santa appearance in town, he’d called and told her that Mrs. Claus had fallen ill. Orville had said Mrs. Claus would not be able to attend any of the local events and he asked Linda to help him find a replacement.

  As soon as Miss May hung up, Teeny and I barraged her with questions.

  “Do you think Orville killed Mrs. Claus?”

  “Do you think there really was a Mrs. Claus in the first place?”

  “Do you think Mrs. Claus is alive? If she is alive, what’s the likelihood she’s the killer?”

  Teeny and I stepped over one another and our questions got louder and louder. Finally, Miss May held up a hand to stop us. “Ladies. Ladies.”

  Teeny and I shut our mouths. Silence in unison.

  “All we have is an empty costume. The mayor has no idea where the Mrs. Claus is, or who she is for that matter. Linda never met Mrs. Claus. She doesn’t know if Mrs. Claus even existed in the first place… Orville could have been lying. We have no way of finding this woman. We need to talk about how we might be able to identify and locate her.”

  Teeny waved a dismissive hand at Miss May. “Please. I’m way ahead of you on this one, girl.”

  Teeny pulled out her phone and placed a call. She put it on speaker.

  “Big Dan’s Auto Repairs. I’m here for another thirty minutes then I’m headed to lunch.”

  “Dan. It’s Teeny.”

  Big Dan’s voice got high and apologetic. “Oh. Hi, Teeny. Sorry about that. I get grumpy around lunchtime and probably shouldn’t answer the phone that way.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Head over to my restaurant and you can have lunch on us today.”

  “That sounds good,” Big Dan said. “Life is all about who you know.”

  “Sure is, Big Dan. That’s actually why I’m calling. We need your help with this investigation.”

  Miss May turned to Teeny. “We do?”

  “You do?” Big Dan asked.

  “Yes. I need you head out to Orville Starr’s car. Turn on the GPS unit that he left in there. He was new to the area, so he probably used that thing a lot. We need to find out where he’s been going.”

  Big Dan placed us on a brief hold and came back to the phone. “OK I’m in the car. You’re right. He’s got a bunch of local addresses in here. The grocery store. The movie theater.”

  “Forget all the businesses. Are there any local addresses that show up more often than the others?”

  “Look at that. There sure is. He went to address on Division Street every day. Sometimes a couple times a day. You think he’d learn how to get there.”

  “It’s hard to learn your way around a new town, Big Dan. When I go somewhere new, I use the GPS for everything. Sometimes I use it in Pine Grove even though I’m from here,” said Teeny. “I get my left and right confused.”

  “You’re an interesting lady,” said Big Dan. He pronounced “interesting” like “inner-estin.”

  “I’m fascinating, aren’t I?” Teeny said. “Anyway, text me that address on Division Street, would you?”

  “You got it.”

  “Alright, bye Dan.”

  “Be careful out there, OK?” Big Dan said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Teeny blushed. “Well I don’t know about that. But we’ll stay out of trouble.”

  Teeny hung up the phone. Miss May and I stared at her, mouths agape. “That was amazing,” I said.

  “What a brilliant idea,” said Miss May. “Really astounding.”

  Teeny shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised I had a good idea. Bound to learn a thing or two hanging out with you girls all the time. Ready to hit Division Street?”

  Miss May stepped on the gas. “Let’s do it.”

  24

  Better Not Pout

  That night, after regrouping at the orchard, we headed out to the address from Orville’s GPS. The home was at the far end of Division Street, about fifteen minutes outside the center of town. Downtown Pine Grove was by no means hustling or bustling, but it was an absolute metropolis compared to the outskirts of the village.

  As soon as our single traffic light disappeared in the rearview, Pine Grove opened up into a vast expanse of old colonial homes, farmland and fields. We followed Commerce Street out of the center of town then picked up Division a few miles out. After a few minutes, the road turned from poorly maintained concrete to gravel and then to dirt.

  We travelled down the dirt road for about five minutes. Then, it began to rain. All at once, bathtubs of water crashed down from the dark gr
ay clouds and the dirt road transformed to mud.

  Miss May stopped driving. “The bus is not going to make it any further in this mud. The road gets even trickier up ahead.”

  “So you want to turn back?” Teeny looked skeptical.

  Miss May shook her head. “No.” She pointed out the front window. “See that faint, yellow light up ahead?”

  Teeny and I squinted.

  “Maybe. I think,” I said. “What is it?”

  “I think it marks the driveway we’re looking for. It’s been so long but I have a distinct feeling that I’ve been here before. I know that light.”

  I took a deep breath. “So let’s get out and walk. That’s what you’re suggesting, right?”

  “I’m not wearing my mud boots,” said Teeny. “May. Give me a piggyback ride.”

  Miss May laughed and got out of the car. Teeny whined and followed her. I hung back in the bus a few seconds after they departed. That soft yellow light in the distance had a haunting glow. I feared whatever we might find..

  A short trudge through the downpour and we found ourselves next to the light, at the foot of a long, gravel driveway. An old farmhouse perched at the top of the driveway. White with gray shutters and a big, wraparound porch. Miss May’s eyes danced when she saw the house. She smiled. “My goodness. Now I know where I am. This was a summer camp back when I was a kid. I came here for two summers. Totally forgot it existed.”

  Teeny nodded. “Camp Cherokee. You’re right. I heard this place was condemned.”

  “Doesn’t look like it,” said Miss May. “Wow. I remember there were chickens in the yard and a big pond out back. We had fun pushing each other into the pond, playing games and running around. Oh, to be a kid again.”

  “Chelsea’s still basically a kid. Maybe she can go to camp here this summer.”

  “Not sure they’re looking for any almost 30-year-old campers.” I started up the driveway. “Plus, this doesn’t exactly look like it’s still a functioning camp. Let’s go check it out.”