Candy Canes & Corpses

by Abby L. Vandiver

  I looked at Ruby with panic in my eyes, and more of it in the pit of my stomach.

  What just happened here?

  “Thanks so much for bringing Lucille to see me, Ruby. Oh – and thanks for volunteering to be my Assistant Producer, Miss Owana.”

  Chapter Four

  I don’t even remember sleeping. I guess between the stress of becoming the producer for the town’s big parade and my excitement to find that Santa suit, I was getting a little scatter-brained. And the funny thing was, I didn’t feel tired or stressed out at all.

  Next thing I knew, I was at the diner watching Junior and his dad chomp down pancakes by the plateful along with enough sausage and bacon to make the average person sprout a curly tail.

  “Day’s a wasting,” I said to Junior. “Get a cup of coffee to go, and let’s hit the road.”

  He looked at his watch. “It’s just 7:15, Mercy. Most places won’t even be open yet.

  I gave him the eyeball of death.

  “But I’m ready,” he said. Crumpling his napkin and tossing it on his empty plate. “I’m all coffeed out though. Let’s take my Rav. I don’t think your little roadster will do too well driving through that swamp.”

  I thought his dad was going to spit coffee across the counter. “Now, why on earth would you two be driving through a swamp in the middle of winter in Kentucky?”

  “Oh, we’re not going in the swamp, Jake.” I don’t think. “We’re just going out by the river. Come on, Junior.”

  I turned on the radio in the car to get some music, but the news was on.

  “Oh, they’re talking about the murder of Ed Greely.” I turned the volume up a little.

  “They’re calling him the Candy Cane Killer. But there are still no suspects in the unusual murder of Channel 7 anchorman Ed Greely in Paint Creek last night. In a news conference this morning, Sheriff Hayes said that the victim’s name had been engraved on the blade of the murder weapon.”

  “The Candy Cane Killer,” Junior said. “That’s kind of catchy. If I was going to get murdered, that’s who I’d want to kill me.”

  Junior was one of a kind.

  We were almost to the old bridge over Paint Creek, just outside of town, when I decided I’d better take a look at Cupcake’s business card. Maybe there was an address.

  The clear red plastic felt warm in my hand. I could have sworn this card was green with a red ribbon. Now, however, it was red with a green ribbon. It said, Ferdinand’s Mystical Emporium, Next Right Turn.

  “That’s odd,” I mumbled to myself.

  “What’s that, Mercy?” Junior asked. “There’s the old windmill. We’ll be crossing the bridge in a second.”

  As we bumped across the old wooden bridge, the card seemed to get brighter. Turn Right 50 Feet, the card said.

  I’m losing my mind.

  Then the card started flashing and displayed only a large white arrow.

  “Here,” I told Junior.

  I’m not sure if he turned the wheel or if it turned by itself, but soon we were bouncing off the road, blinded by bushes and the low-hanging branches of a weeping willow tree. I was sure we would soon be dead or stuck in the muck forever. Then, suddenly, after a couple more bumps and thuds, we were on a bright, wide gravel road that went perfectly straight ahead into the rising sun.

  “Huh.” Junior scratched his head. “I spent a lot of years catching frogs right here when I was a kid, but I never knew this road was here.”

  Exactly one mile later, we pulled up in front of the little shop. It was sitting all by itself in the middle of nowhere, and ours was the only car there.

  Junior pointed to the door. “The sign says Open.”

  The wooden structure looked like something out of the old west. It had a wide, open front porch, the whole width of the storefront, with rails around the front and sides.

  “I guess this is where people tie their horses,” he said with a smile filled with child-like wonder.

  The long metal sign above the door was very decorative and nicely painted. It just said Emporium in large red letters, and beneath the name it said, We sell everything – Just ask!

  The bell above the door jingled as we entered. There was a man with spectacles behind the counter, leaning on one elbow and working on some papers on a clipboard. He was dressed in a white shirt with black suspenders attached to his black slacks.

  “Looks like we’re the only customers, Junior.”

  “I don’t see anything that looks like a Santa suit, though, Mercy. Looks like a lot of old used books and rusty tools and junk.”

  The man looked up at us but didn’t smile. He looked at us both, up and down, several times.

  “Let me guess,” he said, rubbing his chin, still looking at me and Junior, and then me again.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  He waved his hand, indicating that I shouldn’t bother him while he’s thinking, I guess.

  “Are you Ferdy? I’m looking for Ferdy.”

  He nodded. “I’ve got it!” He announced with a triumphant smile. “You are here for a lamp! The wishing lamp of the genie of Araby!”

  I looked confused, and shook my head.

  “No…no,” he said, scratching his head. “Let me think…let me think…let me think. Aha! You want a chicken that lays golden eggs! That’s it!”

  “No, sir. I…”

  “A mirror that will tell you you’re the fairest in the land?”

  “No,” I said, handing him Cupcake’s card, which was green again. “I’m looking for…”

  “Ahhhhh!” He said with an enormous smile, turning his gaze to Junior now. “You’re the one! You’re here for Santa’s suit. I’ll get it for you.”

  He quickly disappeared into the back room, and Junior and I looked at each other.

  “I hope it’s a good suit, Junior.”

  “As long as it’s red with white cuffs and stuff.”

  The man came back out with a large red box, perhaps two-and-a-half feet square, and 18 inches deep. There was a red and green ribbon around the box, culminating in a bow at the center with several shiny bells attached.

  He blew some dust off the top and slid the huge carton across the counter. It looked like a Christmas gift, and I was eager to see what was inside.

  “Can we open it?” I asked, already reaching for the ribbon. I looked at Junior. “In a box this big, it’s not going to be one of those flimsy suits. I’ll bet it’s a good one.”

  The man grabbed my wrist to keep me from sliding the ribbon off. “Santa must open the box,” he said.

  Junior slid the ribbon off quickly and lifted the cover. His eyes went wide, and my jaw dropped. It was almost as if angels started singing and beams of light shot out from the box around the lush red velvety suit. Junior looked at me, and I nodded for him to take it out.

  He picked it up by the shoulders, and it unfolded for all of us to see.

  “Oh, my Gosh!”

  I was amazed to see the thick, luxurious, velvety fabric, the brightest red I’d ever seen.

  “Is that white trim real rabbit fur?” I asked Ferdy.

  “Ermine, Ma’am, yes.”

  “And look at those shiny brass buttons!”

  “24-karat gold electroplate.”

  The pants were the same fabric, and there was a 4-inch wide black leather belt and pointy Santa cap beneath them. On the bottom of the box was a pair of black leather boots with gold buckles.

  “What size are the boots?” Junior asked.

  “They’re your size,” the man told him with a confident grin.

  “This is the most magnificent Santa suit I’ve ever seen!” I said, rubbing the plush fabric on my face.

  “It’s not a Santa suit, Miss – this is Santa’s actual suit. The real one.”

  I rolled my eyes just slightly. “Well doesn’t Santa need it?” I asked, trying to hide my sarcasm.

  “He’s Santa,” Ferdy said pointing to Junior.

  Junior wasn’t one to show excite
ment, but he was beaming now. “Can I try it on?”

  “It’s required, actually,” he said, gesturing toward the changing room. “We have to make sure it works.”

  “Works?” I asked, a bit confused. “You mean fits.”

  “Of course, it will fit, Miss. The question is, is this man the one? Will the suit accept him as Santa.”

  “Be right back,” Junior said disappearing into the dressing room with the suit.

  Everything was most unusual, yet it all seemed perfectly normal somehow.

  “Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho!”

  Junior’s boisterous voice boomed from the dressing room.

  “It sounds like Junior is filled with the Christmas spirit,” I said to Ferdy, who was working on his clipboard again.

  “Well, I should think so. After all, he is Santa Claus now,” he said without looking up or cracking a smile.

  A few seconds later, Junior came out, looking like St. Nick himself. His belly was bigger and rounder, and his black beard and hair were white as snow, with no sign of powdery fallout.

  “Ho ho ho!” he said walking right up to me. “Why, it’s Mercy Howard! Still as pretty as the day I brought you those Rossignol Avalanche Hyper-glide snow skis – oh! And Malibu Barbie and GI Joe with the Kung-Fu grip. I hope you liked them.”

  “Junior, I got those when I was 8! You were born when I was 8. How…?”

  Ferdy looked at me oddly. “GI Joe?”

  “Well, Ken was never my type, and I was kind of a tomboy. I mean…no, of course not. He’s making that up!”

  “Right, mmhm.”

  Junior winked at me and whispered, “I guess we’d better not tell him about those Eagle Crest High School romance books, hey, Mercy? Ho ho.”

  “Junior! Those weren’t romance books. They were Christian books for young ladies…girls…lady girls.”

  It was time to change the subject.

  “Junior, I didn’t see a fake beard in the box. How did you get your beard and hair so long and white?”

  Ferdy rolled his eyes.

  Junior sat down in an antique rocking chair next to us and pulled me onto his lap. Oddly, it didn’t seem weird at all. “Don’t you believe in Santa anymore, Mercy?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. It’s a shame. All the joy of Christmas goes away when a little girl stops believing. How can we fix this? Aha! You don’t think Santa’s beard is real? Do you see any strings around my ears to hold up a fake beard Mercy? Do you?”

  “Well, no. That’s why…”

  “So, what are you waiting for? Give it a yank. Well, go ahead. Pull it!”

  So now I’m little Natalie Wood in Miracle on 34th Street?

  I pulled it – hard.

  “Ouch!”

  “Seems the suit is working,” Ferdy said.

  Junior was still in full character as we got up from the chair. He leaned back on his heels and slapped his belly with both hands, ho-ho-hoing as he did. Then he leaned forward.

  “So, tell, me, Mercy, what would you like from Santa this year?”

  “I think we should just go, Junior. You’re probably getting hungry by now, and I didn’t eat any breakfast. I could use a Kit Kat bar right about now to tide me over.” I actually wasn’t hungry at all, but I figured I should be.

  He reached into his front pocket and pulled something out. “Here you go, young lady. One Kit Kat bar.”

  He gave me the candy bar, but nothing seemed to faze me anymore.

  “Thanks.”

  Then he went back into the dressing room to change, laughing all the way.

  I looked at Ferdy now. This fabulous suit was going to cost me a fortune. “So, how much do I owe you?”

  He held up Cupcake’s green calling card. “Paid in full.”

  “But…”

  “Off with you now! I’m expecting an ornery river troll looking for a billy goat to eat.”

  A blink or two later, and we were back at the diner.

  “Deloris, did you put LSD in my coffee this morning?”

  “Whatsa matter, Merse? Your eyeballs playing tricks on you?”

  “Something like that.”

  She had the little TV turned on to follow the news of the Candy Cane Killer, and she turned it up as the noon newscast began.

  “McLean County Sheriff Brody Hayes has released four people after questioning, as the dragnet for Ed Greely’s killer comes up empty,” Maria Brown-Calderone said to the camera. “More interviews of potential suspects are expected throughout the day.”

  “Sounds like Brody is going to be busy all day,” I said glumly. I was getting bored and needed a playmate. “I wish the snow had stayed around longer. I was hoping for a white Christmas. Maybe Ruby can come out and play.”

  “This just in,” Calderone said, pressing her fingers to her earpiece and listening to the producer. “Breaking now! Another victim of the Candy Cane killer has just been discovered, this time on the state college campus in Calhoun. Mass Communications Professor Andrea Hern has been found, stabbed and placed under the campus Christmas tree in front of the student center. Like Greely, she had a candy cane sword through her heart. This is the second in what looks like a series of killings, presumably by the so-called Candy Cane Killer.”

  “Oh, no! This can’t be happening.”

  “Just what we need,” Deloris said, shaking her head. “We’ll have the whole area in a panic, right before Christmas while people finish up their last-minute shopping. Everyone’s going to be afraid to go outside.”

  “This is just terrible,” I said getting up from the counter. “I’m going to help Babs and Smoke make the rest of the empanadas for the festival tonight; then I’m going to call Brody and see how he’s doing. Maybe I’ll wait an hour, since he’s got another murder now. Did you make your punch, Deloris?”

  “All done. There’s a small pan on the back burner with a a cup or two for you.”

  “You’re the best,” Deloris,” I said, slipping through the swinging doors to the kitchen, but I could still hear Deloris’s response.

  “Yeah, I know that, Merse. I know that.”

  Chapter Five

  I had been at the diner most of the day going over the notes from Lucille Gildemeister on the Parade. I contacted everyone who had signed up to enter a float, car, group, or marching band in the parade.

  Ronnie Town from Town’s End Hardware was the only one who said he was dropping out. He just hadn’t had the time to work on his float. But I talked him into renting a convertible with a sign for his business on the doors, and I lined up a couple of the Christmas Angel runners-up to sit in the back and wave. The parade was at night, so he was required to decorate the car with a few strings of Christmas lights. He had paint at his store for the door signs that would glow in the dark.

  The volunteer fire department was glad I reminded them about the parade. They were going to take the big ladder truck out and throw candy to the kids, which they hadn’t bought yet.

  77 exhibits in all were set for the parade, and I had to inspect every one of them before Christmas Eve. The Parade of Lights would start at the Town Square, go through Paint Creek all the way to the East End Shopping Center, and then come back using a different route, ending with a full circle around the festival grounds.

  “I better check in with Babs at the festival,” I said to Deloris.

  “She’s doing fine, Mercy. She’s got 300 empanadas, a tub of coleslaw, and a dozen bags of French fries, and it’s only five o’clock. Things don’t really get into gear there until Santa arrives at 7:00.”

  “You’re right, of course, Deloris, but…”

  She gave me her knowing look. “But you just want to go to the festival and immerse yourself in Christmas.”

  “Maaaaybe. I sure hope we get a nice snow fall for Christmas. I love white Christmases. I’m going to call Ruby and see if she wants to go.”

  It was nice having a best friend who was off for all the holidays and summers. Ruby was the history teach
er at the high school, and they started their Christmas break a few days ago. And she loved Christmas just as much as I did.

  I had to wait for her candy-cane-shaped Danish to come out of the oven, and she wanted me to stop by to look at it. She was just taking it out when I let myself in the side door by her kitchen.

  “Mmm, that smells wonderful, Ruby!” It really did.

  She waved me over to the table. “Come take a look, Mercy.” I could see she was excited about it.

  “Oh, my goodness, Ruby! You are a master baker and an artist too.”

  The cookie sheet had a cane-shaped pastry, perfectly browned, with diagonal stripes showing the red cherry filling.

  “There’s brown sugar and cinnamon under the pastry strips between the cherries,” she said. “When it cools, I’ll drizzle white icing there between the rows of cherries, so it will look like a real candy cane.”

  “It already does,” I said. “Will there be peppermint in the icing?” I raised my eyebrows a couple of times.

  “Oh, what a good idea! There will be now! But I’ll need to get some peppermint extract.”

  “Or we can crush up a couple of those candy canes that Deloris passes out to the kiddos. Let’s go!”

  The tree was lit, and the sky was almost dark when we arrived at the town square.

  “Oh, wow, Ruby! Look at that. Children are holding hands all around the Christmas tree. That song they’re singing sounds familiar.”

  Fah who foraze! Dah who doraze!

  Welcome Christmas, come this way!

  Fah who foraze! Dah who doraze!

  Welcome Christmas, Christmas Day!

  “Of course, it does, Mercy. It’s from the Grinch. They have a whole Who Village on the west side of the park, complete with a green Grinch – after he found the Christmas spirit, of course.”