Candy Canes & Corpses

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “Lock the doors!” Ted Burton called out, and a security guard began to talk into his walkie-talkie.

  “She’s up there?” Sandy asked. Coral nodded. “Shes…”

  “I think she’s dead,” Coral repeated, eyes wide.

  “We need to phone dad,” Sandy said. “He’ll get someone to pick us up. Maybe we can even get a taxi. This is an emergency.”

  Coral nodded frantically and Sandy began to pull her through the crowds, until Ted Burton’s velvet tones rang out from the microphone again.

  “We have an emergency to deal with, I’m afraid. Can I ask everyone to stay where they are until the emergency services arrive. The use of mobile phones is prohibited until further notice.”

  “This is bad,” Coral said. Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “This is really bad.”

  Sandy closed her eyes and wished that their father had decided they were still too young to be out without him.

  Chapter Three

  Once the paramedics arrived, the atmosphere shifted. The uniformed medics spent a few minutes working on the body that lay on the stage, and since the crowd couldn’t see the body, it wasn’t until the paramedics dropped their equipment and began checking for a pulse that the public realised the severity of the situation.

  When a blanket was draped over Sharon Major’s body before she was stretchered away, a morose silence fell. Coral had begun to gently weep into the sleeve of her shell suit and, as awful as the thought was, Sandy wondered what exactly she’d seen when she’d been elevated above the crowd. Sandy had never seen a dead body. She didn’t want to, exactly, but she also didn’t want her worldly-wise sister experiencing everything first.

  Ted Burton had paced the stage throughout the time the paramedics were in attendance, but once they had left he sprung into action. He gathered the security guards together and the three of them huddled, then he emerged and approached the microphone.

  “It’s with deep regret,” he began. His voice broke with emotion. “that I have to announce the passing of our friend and mayor, Sharon Major. At this time, we are waiting for police assistance and I have to insist that everyone remains in the centre until that time.”

  “Police? You think it’s suspicious?” a voice called from the crowd.

  Ted took a deep breath. “At this time, yes, yes, it appears that way.”

  “Can we keep shopping?” another voice came.

  Ted pulled a face. “I can’t force individual stores to close. It will be the decision of each shop whether they remain open or close. What I can say, on police guidance, is that nobody is allowed to leave the centre. We have everything we need in here, including a medical team. If anyone needs assistance, please treat the Customer Service desk as an emergency checkpoint. I will personally man that point until the police arrive.”

  The crowd murmured approval at this answer and began to disperse. Ted Burton was calm under pressure, his relaxed demeanour betrayed only by the gleam of the strip lights that refracted from the beads of sweat on his brow.

  “What shall we do?” Sandy asked. The colour had returned to Coral’s face and she tilted her head towards The Bakers’ Oven. “Food? Seriously?”

  She shrugged. “I’m hungry, sis. Trauma does strange things to people.”

  The shop was empty, everyone else’s appetites apparently a little more delicate than Coral’s, but without orders from the company HQ to close, the hair-net women set to work and rustled up two chip cobs. Coral soaked hers in vinegar while Sandy sprinkled salt on hers. They weren’t allowed salt at home, but not because of any health concerns. The old tub had been used months ago and it had never been replaced. It was never enough of an essential to make it onto a shopping list.

  When they emerged from the shop, the crowd had gone. Only a few stragglers remained, people who didn’t know what to do, and one elderly woman who appeared to be so deaf she’d missed the announcement entirely and was probably still waiting for Sharon Major to walk out and turn on the lights.

  Ted Burton stood nearby with the two security guards. “You didn’t see anything?”

  “We’ve already told ya, there weren’t owt to see.” one of the guards said.

  “Yeah,” the other agreed.

  “The police will want to talk to you, so you just tell them that and that’s all you can do,” Ted encouraged. The guards nodded.

  “Can’t say it’s a surprise,” the second guard muttered.

  “Keith, ya can’t say that about a dead woman,” the first scolded.

  Ted tilted his head to one side. “She had her enemies, nobody can pretend otherwise.”

  “You gonna be Mayor now, then?”

  “I’d expect so. I’ll be happy to if that’s what the town wants.”

  “The town loves ya, Ted. It were always meant to be you.”

  “Look, let’s get to work. I’ll be at the service desk. You two, stay visible. A lot of people will be nervous. Make sure people see you, know you’re here to protect them. Good work, fellas.”

  Sandy and Coral grabbed an empty bench and sat in silence, listening to Ted’s conversation at first and then, when he and the guards moved away, focused on their food.

  “I can’t wait til I’m working full-time,” Coral said. “I’ll have one of these every day for lunch.”

  “You’d be the size of a house! And poor!” Sandy objected.

  Coral rolled her eyes and then grinned like a buffoon. “I think we should investigate.”

  “Investigate what? How many chip cobs it takes to burst out of your clothes?”

  “Investigate the murder, silly.”

  Sandy blinked. “Murder?”

  “Yes, murder! Sharon Major, killed today. What did you think had happened?” Coral asked, lip turned up. Not her best look.

  Sandy shook her head. “I just… I don’t know. I didn’t realise. She’s been killed?”

  “Yep.” Coral said.

  “And you think we should investigate? You are kidding, right?”

  “Let’s just take a look on the stage, see if we can find any clues,” Coral suggested. She tossed her food wrapper into the bin and waited for Sandy to get to her feet.

  “I think that’s an awful idea.”

  “You wait here then. I won’t be a minute.” Coral said. “Imagine the article I’ll be able to write! This is it, this is the start of my career.”

  Sandy groaned and got up. She couldn’t let Coral go up there alone.

  Even the old deaf woman had moved on, which left the path clear to sneak on to the stage unnoticed. The security guards were nowhere in sight.

  “I can’t believe they’ve just left the stage,” Sandy said as they crept under the barrier rope with none of Ted Burton’s finesse.

  “Marsden might be a bit more cosmopolitan than Waterfell Tweed, but they’re still not used to murders. They’ve got no idea what to do,” Coral said. She led the way towards the stage, Sandy close behind.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Sandy whispered.

  “Wait here, then,” Coral said as she began to climb the stairs. Sandy watched her sister survey the stage, then glanced behind. She could see someone walk towards them, still a distance away. She made a decision and took the steps two at a time.

  “We don’t have l-” Sandy muttered, stopped by the sight of the blood. She should have expected blood, of course. She’d watched enough episodes of Emmerdale to know that people usually left blood when they were murdered. She tried to look away but the sight of it was captivating against the dark stain of the wooden stage.

  Coral was at the back of the stage. She inspected the Christmas backdrop, her hand running the length of it.

  “What are you doing?” Sandy asked.

  Coral shrugged. “Checking for bullet holes, I don’t know.”

  “She was shot?” Sandy exclaimed. “I thought that was the murder weapon.”

  Coral followed her gaze to the large candy cane. It was one of two that marked the entrance to Sa
nta’s Grotto. About as tall as her father, who wasn’t a tall man, the top of the cane was smattered with blood and the end of it had been cut unevenly from its base.

  “You’re a genius!” Coral said, as a grin crossed her face. She looked past Sandy and saw the figure approaching. “We need to get down, someone’s coming.”

  Sandy nodded her agreement as Coral walked past her and down the steps. Sandy took in the scene one more time and a fleck of white on the floor caught her eye. She bent and picked it up, put it in her pocket and followed her sister.

  The person who had been walking towards them appeared to have no interest in what they were doing, and sauntered off into HMV.

  Coral pulled her sister in for a hug. “That was incredible! Imagine doing that every day, being at the scene for breaking news!”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Sandy said. She reached in her pocket and pulled out the paper. “I found this on the stage.”

  Coral grabbed it and held it out for them both to see. “It’s a bus ticket?”

  Sandy laughed. “Oh, I bet it’s one of ours.”

  They checked their bags. They each still had their ticket.

  “So, hold on, whoever left this was on the same bus as us?” Coral asked as the realisation dawned on her. The ticket read today’s date. The route was Waterfell Tweed to Marsden. And the girls knew well enough that it was a once-a-day service.

  A chill ran through Sandy’s spine as she tried to force herself to remember the faces of the people who had ridden into Marsden with them earlier that day.

  “We were sitting right there near the killer.”

  Chapter Four

  They found Dorie Slaughter in Boots, where she had a basket full of beauty products included in the festive 3-for-2 offer. She beamed at them.

  “Girls, are you ok?” she asked. It was hard not to open up and tell her everything, but as soon as they’d realised someone from their bus had shared the stage with the murdered mayor, Dorie had been the first suspect they’d thought of.

  Sandy nodded. They’d decided the best approach with Dorie would be to appear vulnerable. They couldn’t have her realise they were actually murder investigators. “Can we stay with you for a bit?”

  “Oh, of course,” Dorie said as she picked up a nail varnish. “Terrible business but it’ll all be sorted. You here Christmas shopping? Your dad didn’t join you?”

  “He said we could come on our own,” Coral said. “I wish he was here now.”

  Dorie shook her head and winked. “Men are no good in emergencies. We’re better off without him.”

  Sandy tried not to laugh. That was probably true. She felt guilty for the thought as soon as it had emerged. It was unfair to think such things. He’d done right by her and Coral since their mum had died. He’d even learned how to do their hair. Picked up one of those doll heads, he had, at a car boot. Sandy had caught him practicing on it late one night when she was little, making a mess of a plait. He didn’t know she’d seen.

  “Where do you need to go?” Dorie asked as she paid for her items at the checkout. Her haul included two men’s fragrance sets. They’d be for her son, Jim. Sandy couldn’t imagine living in a house where fragrance sets were given as Christmas presents. It was one of those things, like having a car or going abroad, that other families did.

  “I wanted to go to the craft shop, but it’s closed down,” Sandy admitted.

  Dorie pursed her lips. “Yes, well, let’s go to Partner’s, eh girls?”

  Sandy nodded. Partner’s! She’s seen the adverts on TV but had never been in one. The three of them walked across the centre when Sandy realised how many carrier bags Dorie had.

  “Shall I carry one of those for you?”

  Dorie looked her up and down, red lips in a frown. “Do I look like an old woman to you?”

  Sandy felt herself blush. Dorie did look like an old woman to her, but she wasn’t about to admit that. Sandy knew she was over fifty. She’d had a big party. Everyone had been there.

  “Just trying to help,” Sandy said. She tried to meet Coral’s gaze, but her sister had turned away to stifle her laughter.

  “Save it for twenty years’ time. Now, here we are,” Dorie said. She lead the way into the stationery shop and Sandy selected the craft materials she needed.

  “What do you think happened to the mayor?” Coral asked. She had no patience for small talk and not as much of a soft spot for Dorie as Sandy had.

  “Well, she was killed,” Dorie said, her voice tight. “You realise that, don’t you? I don’t want to scar you, but you should know.”

  “Oh, yeah, we know that,” Coral said, then remembered their cover. “It’s so scary. What if other people get hurt?”

  “Girls, the Mayor was a very unpopular woman,” Dorie said as they approached the tills. A line of people buying wrapping paper and last-minute cards weaved around the store. A grubby-faced toddler in a pushchair hungrily devoured a sausage roll, pastry flakes coating his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles jeans and the buggy beneath them. “I’m sure whoever hurt her has no interest in harming anyone else.”

  “Who could do such a thing?” Sandy asked. She watched Dorie’s face for signs of guilt. She’d watched a programme on the subject a few weeks ago when she’d been off school with stomach pains. Excess emotion and shifty body language, they were the only two she could remember. Dorie was free of both. She pursed her lips, clearly conflicted about how much to share with the teenage girls. They were still children, really. But the force to gossip was strong with that one, and Sandy saw the glint of mischief in her eyes as she reached her decision.

  “There’d be a queue as long as this if you stuck ‘em all in a line!” Dorie stage-whispered. “The assistant hates for her a start. Not to mention all the good people who’ve lost jobs because of her.”

  “The assistant? You mean Ted?” Sandy asked.

  “He wanted the job, didn’t he,” Dorie said. “You girls probably don’t keep up with all the news. Did you see the memo that was leaked in the paper this week?”

  Coral, to her dismay, had to admit that she’d seen no such thing. The difficulty with being a teenage girl was that she sometimes forgot her career ambitions and became focused on how to sneak her Tamagotchi into school and keep it alive during lessons without being given detention.

  “Well, it was from Ted Burton to Sharon Major, and it were all spot on really. I mean, it’s done the bloke a favour for his career really. If one letter could sum up the way the town feels, this were it. And he sent it to her, expressing his concerns really that she were driving independent shops out of the town and all that. Someone leaked it to the press.”

  “So, that’s good?” Sandy asked, not following.

  “Not now she’s been killed. It puts Ted firmly under suspicion. I mean, I were talking to him about it today, and he said she’d basically closed down, wouldn’t discuss it with him.”

  “You know him, then?”

  “I know everyone, don’t I? Must sit next to him four days a week on the bus. At first he’d not tell me anything, but then I think he realised how much I know, and how discreet I can be. We have a nice chinwag now.”

  “On the bus?” Sandy asked. Her eyes widened as she realised the significance of what Dorie had said.

  Dorie nodded. “He can’t drive. He’s got some health thing, can’t remember what he called it. He’s as weak as a fly most days. Brilliant mind but the body isn’t willing. Shame really.”

  The cashier called Sandy forward and she put her cards, decoupage magazine and sticker pack on the counter and asked for a carrier bag while Coral and Dorie waited off to one side.

  By the time she rejoined them, Dorie had gone.

  “I told her we’d be alright now,” Coral said, then draped her arm through Sandy’s. “Plus she said her next stop was the underwear department in BHS. I couldn’t face undie shopping with Dorie Slaughter!”

  Sandy shook her head. “You are mean, Coral. Dorie’s nice.”

&n
bsp; “I’m not saying she isn’t, but I don’t need the image of her in her smalls burnt into my mind forever.”

  “I hope I look like her when I’m old,” Sandy murmured. She couldn’t imagine holding down a job that required her to dress in such an elegant way. Sure, she was clever, and occasionally at school there were whispers of University, but there seemed to be so many unknown steps between her and there.

  “Where next?” Coral asked. They emerged from the shop back into the heat of the centre and saw Ted Burton stand at the customer service desk. “What do you reckon’s wrong with him?”

  “No idea,” Sandy said with a shrug. “Sounds like he’s a suspect, though.”

  “Definitely,” Coral agreed. “I didn’t know he lived in Waterfell Tweed. Dorie said he likes to keep a low profile. She’s not kidding!”

  “Think he’ll talk to us?” Sandy asked. They stood together away from the customer service desk and looked at each other. Getting Dorie to speak was never hard. But a grown-up who they didn’t know? That was another thing entirely.

  “We need to think about our strategy.” Coral said. Strategy was her new favourite word. She included it in every piece of essay homework and as many conversations as she could. “We can’t just barge up to him and demand he tell us what he knows.”

  “Well, we are students. Public servants always want to help students, don’t they? Or is it part of their job that they have to?” Sandy asked.

  Coral tilted her head to one side, intrigued.

  “What if we quiz him as if we’re considering a future working for the council?”

  “Hmm,” Coral murmured. “It could work. We need to get him on his own, though. Not while he’s there in front of everyone.”

  “How do we do that then?” Sandy asked. He’d made it clear he was going to be at the desk until the police arrived. She couldn’t imagine them changing his mind on that.

  “I don’t know,” Coral said. “Let’s go and get the rest of our shopping. I still need a bra.”

  Sandy groaned. She’d forgotten all about her sister’s mission to find a new bra but trudged along with her. The alternative was to wait somewhere for her, alone, and Sandy couldn’t face the thought of that.