The Maple Murders

by Micol Ostow

  Another disbelieving laugh—this time, Betty.

  Everyone’s skepticism about the festival was perfectly understandable, of course—I could hardly recall an event in this town’s recent history that hadn’t been sullied by spontaneous bloodshed. But, I don’t know, something inside me clearly yearned for the simplicity of a straightforward celebration. It had been too long since we’d experienced unbridled joy. I, for one, was throwing caution to the wind and choosing to embrace enthusiasm.

  “Normally, this is the sort of announcement we’d have made in person, rather than online. But in this case, the plans were only finalized yesterday at the Town Hall meeting, as Principal Weatherbee just explained. Your parents have already received an email from my office detailing the upcoming Riverdale Revels, and they’ve seen the same schedule you have. But I’m here to give you a little more context about the history of the Riverdale Revels and why we’re bringing them back some three-quarters of a century after they faded from practice.

  “As you know, our town was founded in 1941, but the early settlers of what would eventually become Riverdale arrived well before that. And while we’ve always been a town very steeped in tradition, believe it or not, there are a few that slipped off our collective radar for quite some time. The Riverdale Revels are just one of those traditions, and we’re so thrilled to be able to celebrate them now.

  “When the first settlers arrived in this area in the earliest days of the eighteenth century, they had no sense of how hospitable the banks of the Sweetwater would be. There was no guarantee of prosperity to come. The winters—as you all know well—were brutal, and it was grueling work to cultivate the land beyond Fox Forest into suitable homesteads.”

  I stifled a yawn, and I heard several others in the less-than-captivated audience do the same. I knew all about this; it was part and parcel of being a Blossom. Riverdale was the Blossom family, after all; its history begins with our own. But what of these Revels? Why were they so unheard of? It seemed so unlikely that my own family wouldn’t know about it. But then again, all too likely that Mumsie knew—but kept it from me, for her own odious, unknowable reasons.

  “But these early citizens persevered,” Mayor Lodge continued. “After a few successful harvests, they decided to commemorate the occasion with a festival, a celebration of the land’s bounty. They rejoiced, and feasted, in what would later be known as”—she took a deep breath for dramatic input—“the Riverdale Revels.”

  “Points for alliteration, at least,” Toni whispered. I squeezed her hand.

  “We don’t know much about the early Revels. Those chronicles were sparse, and very little concrete information remains. What we do know is that, while Riverdale Revels are a tradition dating back to our first settlers’ earliest harvests, before our town was officially founded, the event grew to a longer celebration, sometimes spanning a full week of feasts, concerts, and Town Hall dances.”

  From the back of the room, I heard Kevin Keller call out, “And a pageant?” The hope in his tremulous voice was simply darling. A few students whooped in response. Clearly Kevin and I weren’t the only ones excited for the festivities.

  Mayor Lodge must have thought so, too. She smiled. “Yes, the pageant. A later addition to the lineup and an event tailor-made for our Riverdale High students. I’m sure you’re all eager to hear more about it.” Kevin led the cheers that rose up from the crowd. I snapped politely, unwilling to break the connection with my beloved TeeTee to clap like a commoner.

  “At the center of the—well, pun intended, I suppose—revelry was the Miss Maple pageant. Originally, it was a traditional beauty pageant, but of course, with the advent of modern times comes modern ideals. So we’re giving Miss Maple our own twist. We’ve renamed it the Royal Maple pageant, and all are welcome to participate. We hope that many of you will.”

  The buzz from the crowd was building now, as many people starting whispering among themselves, already making plans.

  I raised my hand. “Yes, Cheryl,” Mayor Lodge acknowledged me.

  “Madam Mayor, according to the email, the Revels begins tonight. And the pageant will be held on Saturday—this Saturday?”

  She nodded coolly. “Correct. Tonight will be our kickoff event: the opening of the Jubilee time capsule.”

  I waved my hand, still focused on my own issue. “That hardly seems like enough time to perfect our acts. And to find the perfect formal wear!” I protested. Others murmured in agreement around me.

  Mayor Lodge smiled. “I appreciate the concern, Cheryl. But I have no doubt you, of all people, will be able to pull something inimitable together in the allotted time.”

  “Why the rush?” Veronica called, challenging, from behind me. “The Jubilee has come and gone. No one mentioned a time capsule before now. I have to say, it feels a little odd that we’re hearing about all this so last-minute. Odd, and maybe … suspicious.”

  The mayor took a deep breath, clearly considering her response. “Well, Veronica, I suppose you’re not wrong. In fact, in 1941, upon the event of the town’s official founding, the town council sealed a time capsule with the explicit intention of its being opened seventy-five years later, during our Jubilee celebration. This was how they honored their very last Riverdale Revels.”

  “They just canceled their yearly festival?” Betty blurted, glancing first at Jughead and then over at Veronica.

  Mayor Lodge tucked her hair behind her ear. “They evolved,” she said deliberately. “The Revels was a celebration that commemorated a more tenuous, fraught time. Since the town was ushering in what they anticipated to be great vibrancy and less uncertainty, they thought the time capsule was a fitting tribute. Soon, many other traditions would take over. Our midnight New Year’s pancake breakfast, for one.”

  I stood up. I’d had enough. “And while normally I’d say, who doesn’t love a piping hotcake, fresh from the griddle, I think it’s time to lay off the interrogation mode, classmates. This is a gift festival. Let’s not look it in the mouth.”

  Around me, cheers swelled again. My dour, do-gooder cousin and her rejects-from-a-John-Hughes-open-call cohorts were clearly in the minority with their doubts and aspersions. The rest of us Bulldogs? We were ready to revel.

  Mayor Lodge gestured for us to quiet down. Slowly, we did. “Of course, the time capsule was intended to be opened at the 75th Anniversary Jubilee. But, well …” She shifted for a moment, seeming to consider something.

  She looked out at us, gaze set. “It’s no secret that at the time of the Jubilee, Riverdale was having a … rocky go of it. It was determined that it wasn’t the right time to open the time capsule.”

  “Interesting use of the passive, there,” Toni said. I elbowed her.

  “Since then, however, the”—she seemed to be grasping for the right phrasing—“the challenges we’ve faced as a town haven’t lessened.”

  “Uh, understatement,” someone heckled. The audience laughed, but it was uneasy.

  “There has been plenty to worry about and to stress over,” Mayor Lodge said simply. “And we in Town Hall thought—what better time to take a moment and recapture some of what makes Riverdale special? The founders wanted it this way, and it was our mistake to miss the specific milestone they dictated. But we’ll make our own milestone now: It’s the right time to bring the Revels back.”

  “Mayor Lodge, I couldn’t agree more,” Principal Weatherbee said, stepping up and smoothly taking over the podium once again. “Thank you so much for taking the time to come speak with our students. Students: Let’s show our dedicated mayor some gratitude, shall we?”

  Dutifully, we applauded.

  “There will be tables for signing up for the pageant located outside the cafeteria at lunchtime,” Principal Weatherbee went on, “alongside information and volunteer sheets for other events as well. It’s all in the welcome-letter packet that was sent to you this morning. We hope you’ll all loan your talents to as much of the Revels as possible.”

  “If you
can’t make it to the sign-up tables, but you still want to register for the pageant, just see me!” Evelyn Evernever hopped up from her own front-row perch. Her voice rang with energy. There was at least one student Mayor Lodge didn’t have to worry about bringing on board with this celebration.

  The assembly drawing to a close, I turned back to my TeeTee.

  “You’ve got a look in your eye,” she said, assessing me oh-so-accurately. “I recognize it.”

  “Who, me?” I winked. “I’m just excited for the Revels.”

  “You really want me to compete so badly that you’re willing to sit it out yourself?”

  I blushed. “Why, Antoinette, am I that transparent?”

  “Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll do it. You can … I don’t know, train me or mentor me, or whatever the right wording is for ‘guide me in the ways of pageantry.’ If you’re not weird about it.”

  I squealed. “Oh, merveilleux! It will be grand. And it’ll be a formidable addition to your college transcript when you emerge victorious.” I could see it now: my beloved, onstage, resplendent in a crown and that killer smile of hers. “I do so love an opportunity to be opulent. I promise, I will carve you like a modern-day sapphic Pygmalion.”

  “No, see—already a little weird. I’m open-minded, but I’m nobody’s Eliza Doolittle.”

  “Of course you’re not,” I said, kissing her. “Even if you are my fair lady.”

  Betty:

  V, you weren’t at lunch. Kevin was asking if you were gonna sign up for the Revels. Evelyn’s been at that registration table for three periods now. No idea how she even got out of class.

  Veronica:

  And students are clamoring to put their names down, I gather?

  Betty:

  It’s not NOT popular. Let’s put it that way.

  Veronica:

  I have some other ways I could put it. Went off-campus for lunch to talk to my mother. Stay tuned.

  Betty:

  Good luck!

  VERONICA

  Riverdale’s Town Hall, where the mayor’s office was located, was nothing short of a small-town architectural gem: soaring ceilings, antique wood polished to a gleam, and cavernous atria—all the better for a dramatic entrance. Which was precisely what I was going for. I stormed into my mother’s office, shoving my way past her anxious assistant, heels clacking purposefully on the tiled floor.

  “Veronica.” My mother gave me a tight smile. “This is a surprise. Shouldn’t you be in school … where I last saw you?” Everything about her perch behind her desk in her mayoral office was full-on extra: imposing, imperious, and impeccable. Her eyes were intense, boring into me, rimmed by a pair of tortoiseshell Dolce & Gabbana glasses that perfectly played up her prim-but-chic silk Celine blouse.

  I waved an arm as I settled into the seat across from her so that we were positioned like two cardsharps on opposite sides of a poker table.

  “Fear not, your daughter is no truant,” I said. “It’s my lunch period, so I thought it would be a good time to pop out to talk to you about this latest … travesty to be visited on our student body.” I drummed my fingers against the desktop, waiting for—I don’t know, some sort of defensive explanation.

  She raised an eyebrow, offering nothing. So it was going to be like this?

  “I’m sorry,” I said, briefly reconsidering my tact. I swallowed, forcing back bile. “It’s possible I’m overreacting.” I thought about it again, and my heart rate instantly kicked up a few paces. No, not overreacting.

  “No, I take it back. I’m definitely, emphatically not sorry. Mom … a pageant?”

  Still nothing, not even a microexpression. No wonder she and my father were such skilled negotiators.

  “Pageant,” I repeated. “Did I accidentally stumble into a late-nineties rom-com? Next thing you’re going to tell me we’re doing a shopping spree at Riverdale Mall.” I shuddered.

  My mother finally turned her attention from the giant computer monitor she’d been hiding behind. She sighed.

  That sigh gave me pause. I daresay I might have been better off when she was still hiding behind her monitor, playing coy. But no: I was here on a noble mission. And my mother should have known: My steely gaze is every bit as practiced and as formidable as hers. I steadied it at her now, crossing my arms over my chest and awaiting her reply. Don’t blink, I thought, willing it. It was easier said than done, but I’m no novice when it comes to psychological warfare.

  “Don’t be silly, Veronica; I know you’d never shop at a mall.” She smiled at her own joke.

  “But yes, mija,” she went on. “A pageant. I don’t understand why you’re making such a production out of this. It will be fun! You and your friends might even enjoy it! It’s a small, nostalgic part of a bigger celebration.”

  “It’s sexist and archaic.” For starters. Also: tacky, but TBH that was lower on my list of complaints.

  “Oh, come now, Veronica. No one’s challenging your … sense of female empowerment. You’re being too dramatic. It’s not like you’ve never paraded your … assets onstage before. Need I point out: You’re a River Vixen.”

  “Gloria Steinem called; your betrayal of second-wave feminism is complete,” I snapped. The River Vixens weren’t tacky; they were tradition. It was completely different on so many levels.

  “Mom, it’s the twenty-first century. You of all people should know that cheerleading is, at long last, finally recognized as a legitimate sport: one which requires training, endurance, and athleticism. Perhaps, yes, once a upon a time, cheerleaders were denigrated as purely ornamental, a decorative backdrop to the masculine pursuit of alpha-male sport. Little more than a halftime show at best. But that’s changed. We compete now. The Vixens won our last tournament. With choreography I helped arrange. You know that.”

  Even understanding how Mom tended to fall in line with my paterfamilias, in the most stereotypically nuclear-family pattern, this stance felt off-brand for my mother, a workingwoman who was actively involved in both big business and politics, after all.

  She took off her glasses and rubbed at her temples. “Okay, I apologize. I certainly didn’t mean to imply anything about your feminist ideals, Veronica. You know I’d never objectify my own daughter.”

  Of course not. I had to roll my eyes. “Well, there was the time you asked me to use my feminine wiles to influence Archie’s decisions, if I recall,” I reminded her. “Also, when you and Daddy asked me to escort that world-class sleaze Nick St. Clair around Riverdale because you two wanted to be in business with his parents.”

  I wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. None of the Lodges enjoy being put in our places. I could see the flicker of annoyance cross her perfectly chiseled cheekbones.

  “Fine,” she snapped. “Never say never. But this pageant is happening, mija. Saturday. Tonight we’re kicking off the Riverdale Revels by opening a seventy-five-year-old time capsule in Pickens Park, and you will be by my side with a smile on your face through the whole overblown affair.”

  “A command performance.” I sighed. “Not to mention the after-party at La Bonne Nuit that I found out about via email, at the same time as every other person in this town.”

  “I am sorry about that. And of course, the mayor’s office will see to it that you’re reimbursed for all expenses.”

  “And I assume I’m expected to smile through that one, as well?”

  “Naturally. Think of what it would look like if the mayor’s own daughter didn’t join in.” Mom tapped her perfectly painted nails against her desk.

  “It would look like the mayor’s own daughter doesn’t believe in festivals that highlight chauvinistic, outdated traditions like beauty pageants. Honestly, it would probably play well with your more progressive constituents.”

  Mom laughed. “This is Riverdale, Veronica. Progressive or not, my constituents value tradition. It was some of my most progressive constituents themselves who rallied to have the celebration brought back and the time ca
psule opened.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Maybe you do, mija. But I don’t need you to believe; I just need you to behave. Right now, this town needs the Revels more than ever. Or should I remind you of how … tumultuous things have been even just in the time since we’ve arrived?”

  I shook my head. Of course she didn’t need to do that. Since she and I had moved to Riverdale, we’d seen the aftermath of a familial murder, a serial killer who’d terrorized our town (with a copycat or two thrown into the mix for good measure), and some mafioso violence (that may or may not have involved the Lodges, ourselves, though I, for one, wasn’t talking …).

  And most recently … my own Archiekins victimized by my daddy dearest, Fizzle Rocks on the street, and Gryphons and Gargoyles in back alleys and underground game rooms. All that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Tumultuous was beyond an understatement.

  “So that’s it, then? The pageant is happening.”

  “The Revels are happening; the pageant is happening; the unveiling and the after-party are happening, tonight.” Mom was resolute.

  “I hereby reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ later, when nothing good whatsoever comes out of all this.”

  “Your concerns are duly noted.”

  “But you won’t actually do anything about them,” I countered.

  “Correct.” She sighed again. If she were the type of woman who had to think about worry lines, I knew this conversation would be contributing to them. But things being as they were, she mostly just adopted an expression more suited to the “before” model in an aspirin ad.

  “Because there’s nothing to do,” she went on. “The Revels are another page from Riverdale’s history—and it’s time to bring them back. Slightly overdue, as a matter of fact, in terms of the time capsule.”