Curse of the Candy Corn Queen

by Rena Marin

  “After the initial shock wore off. At first, all she could do was stare down at Tori. It was strange.”

  “I’m sure she was in shock. It took her a few minutes to realize she needed to react for the sake of all of you.”

  “Yeah, I was freaked out. Some of the others who knew her better were crying. It was a mess. Then we had to stay until Deputy Rollins came. He finally let us go but took all our information in case he needs to speak with us again.”

  “Why would he need to speak to all of you again?”

  “I don’t know. He kept asking if anyone was out there with Tori. She went alone though.”

  “It’s that stupid curse. I looked for it online but can’t find anything about it. It’s just whispers and nonsense. You know how people are here in Dead Oaks. I’m sure he was just covering his bases, so no one would say the curse has struck again.”

  “It is weird though, Carmen. Think about it. We haven’t even started yet and a potential Candy Corn Queen is dead. Tori had a great chance. This whole town loved her. She was a sweetheart.”

  “I know,” Carmen sighed then shook her head. “It can’t be a curse though. It was an accident. We need to keep telling ourselves that. At least until we see something to make us think otherwise.”

  “You’re right,” Shelly sighed. “Besides, if the curse was coming after anyone, why not Miss Nichols. She’s the last surviving Candy Corn Queen.”

  Carmen nodded her head in response. Shelly had a great point. If the curse was real, Rheanon would be the one in the most danger.

  Chapter Six

  Finally taking a seat at his desk, Caleb leaned back in the leather chair that had quickly become a favorite. It came from Wicked Treasures and had been donated by a law office that closed its doors a few months ago. It offered quite a bit more comfort than the normal chairs floating around the station, which made him the envy of the guys and gals there. All four of them.

  Knowing his relaxation couldn’t last long, he sat back up and clicked his computer screen to life. As upset as he was with Chelsea, he still had to admit she was right about one thing; Rheanon Nichols was acting strange. Learning more about the woman in question wouldn’t hurt anything. Could he call her a suspect? No, but with one contestant already in the morgue being prepared couldn’t hurt anything.

  The search of the woman’s name popped her up immediately. The first thing he saw was information he already knew. She is known by most of Dead Oaks as the last surviving Candy Corn Queen and was recently announced as the coordinator for the revival of the pageant. Yeah, it’s all important information but not what he was looking for. When a familiar face filled the screen, he knew he’d hit pay dirt.

  “Well, well,” he muttered to himself then grinned.

  “What are you looking into, Rollins?’

  Sheriff Banner’s booming voice took Caleb slightly off guard. If there was one thing he had to give the old guy who was still running things in the town of Dead Oaks, it was his ability to strike fear in people by just being there.

  “Rheanon Nichols,” Caleb answered then shrugged. “She was acting a bit strange when I questioned her about the accident earlier.”

  “Makes sense. Finding dead bodies can do that to ya. Especially, when it’s not your first one.”

  Leaning back, Caleb looked up at the beast of a man. Sheriff Roy Banner was not a little guy. He was pushing 250 pounds and at least six foot three. His age was the only thing that slowed him down which is why most people in Dead Oaks were terrified of him.

  “What do you mean not her first one?” Caleb questioned wondering how much the sheriff would give him on the subject. He was good at holding back information if it happened to be part of the town’s notorious cover ups.

  “That little lady on your screen,” the man started with a shake of his head. “Rheanon Nichols was the one who found Mary Donovan’s body hanging in the auditorium. We didn’t broadcast that. We figured finding her best friend dead was enough to deal with. No one wanted to add the prying eyes of the town on top of it. The pageant was held on a Friday night that year. Mary’s body wasn’t found until Monday morning when Rheanon showed up at the auditorium to help start cleanup.”

  “No one reported Mary missing?”

  “Her dad was, well still is, one of the town’s most notorious drunks. He was on a bender and never realized she was gone.”

  “Old Frank Donovan was her dad?”

  The sheriff nodded his head in answer. “His drinking got worse after we buried her.”

  Caleb looked back at the screen. No one could deny Mary’s beauty, but he couldn’t help but wonder how the daughter of a town drunk won the pageant. In his experience, the underdog wasn’t the most likely of choices in these situations.

  “No one expected Mary to win,” the sheriff offered as he pulled one of the old chairs over and lowered his sizeable backside down into it. “Rheanon had won the year before and was considered a shoe-in. People in a town like this talk though. They went on about how the Nichols girl had changed since she won. She stopped helping in the community like she once had. She started dressing different, wearing her makeup darker. Everyone noticed it. I guess the townsfolk decided if their queen was going to turn her back on them, they’d find another queen. Mary was the sweetheart.”

  Caleb knew exactly what the sheriff was hinting at. It wasn’t the citizens of Dead Oaks who decided Rheanon Nichols had run her course as Candy Corn Queen. It was the mayor and other powers that be, at the time. They’d deemed her unfit to wear the crown and wanted a new face to show off around town. It’s the way things work in a small town.

  “Was Rheanon ever a suspect?”

  “No, not really. Mary Donovan was hanged. Whoever did it snatched her from her house, transported her back to the auditorium and had the strength to hold that rope until the poor girl died. None of us felt as though Rheanon had the strength to do it.”

  “Someone could’ve helped her?”

  “That was our thoughts too, but her boyfriend at the time had an alibi. He was out of town visiting a college. We couldn’t connect her with anyone else. To be honest, half the town didn’t have alibis, the other half wouldn’t have had a motive or the ability. It was a dead-end case when it started.”

  “Is that why the pageant was put on hold?”

  “Yeah,” he said scratching his balding head. “The girl wasn’t even in the ground before the rumors started. The Curse of the Candy Corn Queen was everywhere. Even the paper wrote about it until the mayor demanded they take it down. It was a mess.”

  “You don’t think there’s a curse?”

  “Rollins,” he started then sighed heavily. “I admit there’s something wrong in this town. I do what I’m told, when I’m told. That’s the part of this job I don’t like. On this one though, I agree with ones who were in charge back then. A man killed Mary Donovan; it wasn’t a curse.”

  “What about the queens that followed?”

  “Those are all stories for another time,” he said getting to his feet. “But when it comes to the Candy Corn Queen, I haven’t seen the first thing to make me think any of it has to do with supernatural mumbo jumbo.”

  Caleb watched the man walk away. This wasn’t like the other strange cases he’d worked the past year in Dead Oaks. The sheriff wasn’t hiding anything and was being completely honest about how he felt. Looking back at the screen, Caleb shook his head. Could the person who killed Mary Donovan still be in Dead Oaks? Are they still trying to stop the crowning of a new Candy Corn Queen?”

  ***

  Christina Burke hurried across the parking lot for her car. She hated it when the boss made her stay after hours. Closing the shop and wandering around in the parking lot alone wasn’t among her favorite activities. It didn’t help that her manager forced them to park at the far end of the lot, where it seemed to be darker, so customers didn’t have to walk too far. Sure, it was great for customer service but sucked for whoever was left at closing.

>   The auditorium looming next to her was only making things worse. The stupid thing could be seen from all over Dead Oaks, but she just had to work directly next to it. Sure, she wasn’t there when poor Tori fell down the stairs, but she’d heard about it. With all the curse talk she and her friends had done over at Carmen’s place a couple of night ago, she’d been debating whether she wanted to continue with the pageant. With Tori dead, the building and the pageant did nothing but give her the creeps.

  Reaching her car, she scolded herself for not paying the extra money for the one with keyless entry. In situations like this, she could hop into the safety of the car and be on her way in a flash. Instead, she wanted to be thrifty. Now, she had to stand in the parking lot and fumble her key into the door all while fighting her trembling hands.

  Finally getting the door opened, she climbed inside and started the engine. The familiar hum was soothing. It was easy to notice winter wasn’t far away. The air at night had already turned cold, making the heater a must for the drive home. She turned the knob to hot, knowing it would take a few minutes for it to warm up to the temperature she preferred.

  While she waited, Christina chanced a look over at the auditorium. In her mind, she could see the stairs, the stage, the offices, all the important features inside. In the light of day, the place was nothing more than an old building to be used for whatever popped up in town. At night, it was nightmare inducing. The darkness seemed to engulf the place. As a kid, it always made her think of ghosts and monsters. Now, as an adult, it simply reminded her of all the bad things Dead Oaks was known for.

  Movement in one of the rooms on the top floor made her jump with fear. There were no lights on, but she knew without a doubt, something had passed by the window. If she had to guess, using only her memory of the inside of the building, she would suspect the window to be the one from Miss Nichols office. Feeling her nosiness kick in, she leaned forward trying to make out what she saw. There it was again. Someone was up there.

  Reaching into her passenger seat, she grabbed her purse. If Miss Nichols were working late on pageant stuff, the light would be on. In Christina’s mind, she knew someone was up to no good. Letting the authorities know was the best solution. She could report seeing someone, then head home and leave the Sheriff’s Department to deal with the intruder.

  Leaning back against her seat, she started to dig. Not finding her phone, she quickly checked her jacket pockets. Nothing. Her skirt didn’t have pockets, so she knew instantly what she’d done. “Dammit!” she snapped to herself in the silence of the warming car.

  There was no way she was walking back across the parking lot, especially with an intruder in the building next door. She couldn’t leave her phone though. Her entire life was on it. Pulling the car into drive, she pulled up in front of the building. The sign that read, Bob’s Antiques, was turned off but the sidewalk lights were still burning.

  Work keys in hand, she hopped out of the car, leaving it running for her return, and raced to the door. This time, she was much quicker. The lock on the shop door was not as small as the one on her car and made access simpler. Once inside, she didn’t bother with lights. No, she knew every inch by heart. Bob Wilson had hired her at sixteen to help at his store. During her five years of employment, she’d learned every nook and cranny of the place.

  Hurrying down the main isle, the sound of the front door opening froze her in place. Slowly, she turned, her entire body trembling at what she may find. Someone was standing just inside the door. The person was dressed all in black with a dark ski mask covering the face. The only thing Christine could make out wer the dark blue eyes staring out the opening at her.

  “What do you want?” she called out hoping whoever it was would get frightened and run back out the door. It didn’t work. Instead, he or she broke into a run, coming straight for her.

  With a screech of terror, Christine raced down the nearest isle. Her knowledge of the store, even in the dark, could be used to her advantage. Whoever the person in black was, they wouldn’t know the ins and outs like her. There was no way. The only person who would was Mr. Wilson and the intruder was far too skinny to be her overweight boss.

  Crouching low in hopes of avoiding being seen, she wound her way around display tables. Behind her, she could hear things being knocked down and broken by her stalker. She needed a plan. The main office wasn’t an option. Yes, her phone was in there but the lock on the door was broken and had been for years. It would do her no good to hide in there. Getting back to her car was the smartest bet. It was the only way she could guarantee she’d outrun the person behind her.

  The sewing isle was the last one between her and the exit. Moving slowly, she heard footsteps and wiggled herself behind an old Singer sewing machine for a hiding spot. Using her hands, she covered her mouth in hopes of hiding her panting breaths. She knew nothing would stop her racing heartbeat that was pounding in her own ears.

  The silence was horrifying. She knew whomever was chasing her had been right behind her. Now, she had no way of telling exactly where. The intruder wasn’t moving or had changed tactics and were using stealth to make the situation worse. How long could she wait though? The car was running, waiting on her to make her escape. Lingering would make matters worse, wouldn’t it? It would give them a chance to find her. She knew what she needed to do. Taking a deep breath, she leaped to her feet and ran. She moved like lightening, not bumping or banging into one item as she easily raced through the store.

  Flinging the door open, she burst out into the night air, racing around to her waiting car. The sound of the door slamming behind her brought another cry of terror from her lips as she pulled the car into drive and screeched her tires as she gunned the car through the parking lot.

  The closer Christine got to her apartment building, the safer she felt. When she was home, she would use the landline and call the police to tell them what had happened. She could go back and get her phone once they secured the shop and checked the auditorium. Until then, she was staying put. As for the Candy Corn Queen pageant, she was out. There was no way she’d allow herself to go back to that auditorium. Hell, Mr. Wilson would be lucky if she came back to work.

  Pulling in front of the building, she turned off the engine and leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Her adrenaline was still pumping. She needed to get a hold of herself. “Thank God, it’s over,” she whispered to herself as a shift in the car made her eyes pop open.

  Before she could react, an intense pain shot through her neck. She clutched at her throat, feeling something sticking out. Looking into the rearview mirror she saw the familiar blue eyes staring at her. She tried to speak but only blood gurgled from her mouth. In the mirror, she saw a knitting needle protruding from her throat. As she tried to fight through the pain and taste of blood in her mouth, she watched as the person in the backseat leaned forward, grasping the needle. Maybe the killer had a change of heart, she thought to herself as the needle was slowly pulled free of the wound. In a flash, the same hand that offered her a moment of hope, took it all away as the needle was plunged repeatedly into her neck. The blue eyes staring at her in the rearview was the last thing she saw before she slipped away into the chill that was once again filling the car.

  Chapter Seven

  “Okay, girls, today will be our first real practice. I know we only have a couple of days to work on this, but I think we can do it,” Rheanon announced to the diminished sea of contestants in front of her. “Millie, come on up here with me and let’s show them how it’s done.”

  Chelsea and Mia stood at the back of the group, watching as the ever full of herself Millie Larson pranced her way onto the stage.

  “Some of the girls must’ve quit,” Mia whispered trying to avoid being heard by anyone other than Chelsea.

  “Yeah, I noticed we have fewer today. I guess what happened to Tori spooked a few.”

  “I wish it had spooked you,” Mia added with a cut of her eyes.

  “I don’t
scare that easily. Neither should you,” Chelsea scolded as she eyed the group of ladies. “Carmen’s friend Christine isn’t here. I was hoping maybe Carmen would back out too,” she noted as she watched Carmen. It was clear she was looking for her friend to arrive.

  “Now, once on the stage, all of you will stand here poised and proper. I want smiles but no waving. That’s tacky and my pageant is anything but tacky.”

  Chelsea decided there was no time like the present to ask about the missing contestants. “Did we have several quit the pageant?” she called out from her spot in the back.

  The look of annoyance on Rheanon’s face was undeniable. Still, the woman knew the question deserved an answer. “Yes. I’ve been contacted by four contestants letting me know they decided to drop.”

  “We have five missing,” Chelsea pressed.

  “Yes, Christine…uhm…Burke. I haven’t heard from her, so we’ll just assume she isn’t cut out to be Candy Corn Queen.”

  Before more questions could be asked, a high-pitched screeching echoed from the back of the room. The girls turned abruptly, only to find a man pushing a cart. The wheels clearly needed to be oiled or repaired. The sound was worse than nails on a chalkboard.

  “Kirk, you’re interrupting practice,” Rheanon screamed out at him making the beast of a man freeze in his footsteps.

  “Sorry, Rheanon. These are the props you wanted brought in,” he answered meekly. It was clear, although he was a big man, he was terrified of her.

  “Who is that?” Millie asked, her nose automatically turning up in disgust of the man who’d interrupted her moment to shine.

  “Kirk Hale. He’s no one,” Rheanon told the crowd then smiled. “Just ignore him.”

  “Great, some perv to stare at us,” Millie continued as she threw her hair back and began to saunter across the stage again in demonstration of how the girls were expected to walk.