Curse of the Candy Corn Queen

by Rena Marin

“Not if it means losing someone else,” Caleb answered flatly as he rose to his feet. “I’ve spent the last year of my life trying to keep this town from taking anyone else from me. I’m not letting it get her, you, or the twins,” he finished as he started to walk away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “All this started with Rheanon Nichols. She and I need to have a talk.”

  “You want me to tag along? Maybe I can help?”

  Caleb whipped around with anger etched on his face. “You stay as far away from this as you can. You hear me. Talk to Mia, get her to back off then stay off the radar until this is over. I can’t have you in this, Austin. Not you; got it!”

  With a nod of understanding, Austin sat back and watched his older brother peel out of the driveway like a man on a mission. He hated seeing Caleb so worked up but understood where he was coming from. Instead of giving his brother more to worry about, he did what was asked of him and sent Mia a text telling her they needed to talk.

  ***

  Rheanon paced the floor of her two-story colonial, waiting for the next shoe to drop. She had no doubts the police would be on her doorstep at any moment. How could they not be? Everything about the pageant reverted to her. She was the last surviving queen. She oversaw the new pageant and the new girls. She knew more than anyone else would about what was happening.

  “Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”

  Hearing the voice call from the kitchen, she froze in place then slowly turned her head. The anger pulsating from her was enough to make anyone take a step back. It had no effect on the hulking man standing in her kitchen doorway though.

  “Kirk, you can’t just come in here like that!” she scolded as she rushed toward him. “If anyone sees you here, we could end up in a world of trouble.”

  “I’m sorry, Rheanon, I just wanted to check in on you, that’s all.”

  She shook her head slightly. “You never learn, do you?”

  He smiled then chuckled under his breath. “No, I guess not.”

  “Sit down at the table,” she instructed before rushing into the living room to draw the shades, so no one saw him inside her home. “We do have things to talk about.”

  “Am I in trouble?” he questioned as he scuffled across the hardwood floor to take a seat like he was told.

  Making her way toward the kitchen, Rheanon rolled her eyes then placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t know, Kirk. I need the truth from you then we’ll decide.”

  “I’d never lie to you, Rheanon.”

  She smiled. Annoying as he was, Kirk could be endearing. He was the boy who loved her from afar all through high school. He wasn’t the smartest, and definitely not the best-looking guy in their grade, but he had something none of the others possessed. Loyalty. She couldn’t flaunt their friendship to the world, and he understood that. He was happy just being a part of her life.

  “I know you wouldn’t. I need to ask, though. Did you hurt either of those girls? Did you think you needed to do it for me?”

  “Gosh, no, Rheanon. The only girls I’ve ever hurt were the ones we took care of. You know the ones who got in your way of staying queen. You told me it didn’t matter anymore and that you were ready to pass the reigns. I listened. I always do. I still think you’re prettier than all of them put together, but if you want a new Candy Corn Queen, that’s what I want.”

  Sinking down into the chair across from him she sighed heavily then ran her fingers through her jet-black locks. “Then that means someone else is stalking the girls. That also means, I could be in danger.”

  “No, no way!” he demanded leaping to his feet. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ll break them all like toothpicks,” he roared as his sweet, simple face twisted into a grimace of rage and hate. “Anything for you!”

  She winked at him then patted his hand with her own to settle him. “That’s my boy,” she smirked, the fear of whomever was killing the contestants diminishing at the sight of her own, personal, bodyguard ready to destroy anything that tried to hurt her.

  Chapter Ten

  Mia looked down at her phone, realizing the text from Austin that they needed to talk had come in over twenty minutes ago. Quickly shooting him a text back so he wouldn’t be worried, she turned back to Chelsea. The way she had come slamming back into the shop after talking to Caleb had confused her and scared Shelly, who made a hasty exit, saying she had a class to get too. Chelsea hadn’t even noticed that the scared girl was more eager to get away from them than she was to get their help.

  Patting Chelsea’s arm, Mia had taken the time to get Shelly’s cell number and address promising to call her if they found out anything at all about the latest murder. Watching the girl scurry to her car and peel out of the parking lot, Mia bit her lip wondering if it had been the right decision to let her go. Shaking her head, she turned back to her friend, who was pacing the floor angrily, muttering to herself about ungrateful deputies and something about blue eyes.

  With a heavy sigh, she realized that she was going to have to talk to Austin later. Refilling their mugs of coffee and turning up the heat against the chill that had pervaded the room, Mia slowed Chelsea’s stride by pressing the hot mug of coffee into her hand.

  “What the hell happened out there?” Mia asked, finally settling down on the couch herself after realizing Chelsea wasn’t going to quit wearing a hole in the floor but instead drank her coffee as she paced, the contents sloshing every time she made a sharp turn to go back the other way. Patting the cushion beside her, Mia spoke up again, “Come sit down and tell me what happened. You’re spilling coffee all over your new floors.”

  Chelsea looked down at her feet, groaned, then plopped down on the couch beside Mia. “He actually had the nerve to threaten to arrest me if we didn’t withdraw from the contest. Like he owns me or something. What right does he have to tell me what to do?”

  “Well, he is in law enforcement,” Mia tried to defend Caleb, but stopped when it earned her a dirty look from her friend. “I guess that tells me what Austin’s text was about,” she added, a grimace on her face.

  “See? Now he’s pulled you and Austin into this.” Chelsea threw up her hands. “Can’t he see we’re just trying to help him?”

  Mia laid a hand on Chelsea’s, gently pushing it back down into her lap. “Can’t you see how much he cares about you? You’ve never been this close to a case before. Open your eyes, Chels, Caleb is hooked. You’re both hooked. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  Chels started to reply, then stopped mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open for a full second. “I think you might be right.”

  Mia didn’t say a word, just smiled. Maybe now her friends would finally realize that they had the right to be happy and together, just like everyone else in this town.

  ***

  Shelly tossed her car keys on the table with a clang, earning a dirty look from the librarian, who lifted a finger to her lips in the classic shh signal before going back to shelving books. Shelly gave her a weak smile then laid her purse softly on the table beside her keys. She was determined to find out something about the past Candy Corn Queen contests, and the local library seemed to be the best place to start.

  Soon she had the table loaded down with everything she could find on not only the deaths of the queens but with everything possible on the history of Dead Oaks itself. She was so involved in a book she had found on the founders of Dead Oaks, she started when the librarian announced that library would be closing in twenty minutes. Looking down at her watch, she realized she had been in the library for over three hours and still hadn’t learned anything that would help her understand the evil that plagued the town she now called home.

  Putting a book on the supernatural back on its proper shelf, she met with resistance, when she could have sworn there was no resistance before. Pushing a little harder, she heard a plunk on the other side of the shelf as something fell to the floor. Looking around sheepishly, expecting another reprimand from Mrs. R
eynolds, she rushed to the other side of the shelves to pick up the book. Only it wasn’t a book. It looked more like a journal of sorts.

  The book was made of expensive leather, but the edges were frayed and the pages so yellowed and brittle, she was scared to flip them in fear they would crumple under her touch. Starting to take the book to Mrs. Reynolds for safe keeping, she glanced down at the gold words embossed on the worn leather cover. What she saw prompted her to open it instead. Gasping with shock, she made her way back to the table. Checking first to make sure no one was watching her; she slipped the journal into her backpack to read when she was alone.

  After gathering her stuff together, Shelly made her way out of the shelves of books that were in the rarely used part of the library. She had taken so long to put away the research books and then deciding whether to take the journal or not, that everyone in the library was already gone. It was more than a little unnerving to be the last one in such a huge place. The lights switching off as she walked didn’t help the unease that was growing with every step she took.

  “Don’t be silly,” she muttered to herself, “the lights must be on a timer.” That didn’t explain the fact that they were flickering off and on, then back off again, but she had to tell herself something to keep from running pell-mell through the library. The last thing she needed was to catch her foot on one of the chairs sticking out from under the tables that dotted the area. She could see the headlines now, “Local college student breaks neck because lights flickered in the library.” Just the thought caused her to giggle, making her feel instantly a little bit better, that is until the lights went completely out plunging her and the library into complete darkness.

  Trying not to panic, Shelly felt for the wall to guide her through the room. She could vaguely see the streetlights outside of the library in the distance. Cursing when she stubbed her toe on a chair, she held her breath when she heard what sounded like footsteps behind her. Standing completely still, she strained her ears to catch any little sound that might indicate someone was in the deserted library with her. It occurred to her fleetingly that the librarian should at least still be there. Where was she?

  A shadow darted across the aisle in front of her, causing her to scream and give up all pretense of bravery. Dashing for the door and the comforting light she could see in the distance, she knocked over chairs and books as she went. A short burst of maniacal laughter echoed through the library. Shelly looked back over her shoulder, tripping over something in her path.

  Going down hard on her chest, she lay stunned, the breath leaving her chest. The sudden silence after the laughter was deafening. With a couple of flickers, the lights came back on. Breathing a slight sigh of relief, she turned to see what had tripped her.

  Letting out a scream that would certainly be heard outside, she looked down and saw blood on her hands and shirt. She had tripped over the body of Mrs. Reynolds. Her throat had been slashed from ear to ear, giving her what looked like a grotesque smile. Blood dripped from her throat onto the wooden floors below spreading in an ever-widening circle around them.

  The touch of a hand on her shoulder was too much for Shelly. She hopped up with a primal scream, her fists flying. She was not going to die without a fight.

  Chapter Eleven

  Seeing the old woman sitting behind the desk inside her office, Caleb moaned slightly. Talking to Stella Benson wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. In all honesty, he thought she was a bit uppity and the way she looked down on some of the people of Dead Oaks annoyed him. The real reason she was useful though was that nose of hers that stayed in the middle of everything in town.

  Offering a slight knock, before letting himself in, Caleb emerged into the room then took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

  “I assumed you would be here eventually, Deputy Rollins. Have a seat.”

  With a nod of his head, Caleb took one of the comfy chairs across from the woman, his eyes never leaving hers. The last thing you wanted to do when dealing with Stella was show weakness. She had a way of chewing people up and spitting them out when she wanted. Like the town itself, the owner of the paper had a reputation.

  “You came to us wanting help. You talked of the Candy Corn Queen and a curse. Why would you do that when you know those deaths weren’t related to Dead Oaks?”

  The old woman smiled then leaned back in her chair slowly. “Everything is related to Dead Oaks, Deputy. It may not be the supernatural presence in this town killing girls, but this town has a way of seeping into the minds of people. Those people end up doing things you’d never expect. Yes, I used the curse to get yours and Miss Bishop’s attention, but I knew once you opened your eyes, you’d see something wasn’t right. Was I wrong?”

  “No, you weren’t wrong,” Caleb answered then glanced out the window of the office where Carmen was busy filing paperwork. “I see you’re keeping her close. That’s smart.”

  “I can’t lose her, Deputy. I won’t, will I?”

  Leveling his eyes back at the formidable woman, Caleb shook his head. “No, and I have people I don’t want to lose either, so why don’t you tell me everything about Rheanon Nichols.”

  “Ah, the one suspected of killing Mary Donovan,” she answered as she opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file. “I suspected you’d want more information on her, so I gathered what I had on file. They never could figure out how she could hang that girl alone. She must’ve had an accomplice, but they couldn’t finger one.”

  “I know about the Mary Donovan murder. My question is the others. How she could be a part of this and not get caught for so many years.”

  “The accomplice?”

  “That’s my thinking,” Caleb muttered as he flipped through the pages. “Before Mary Donovan’s death, the girl seemed to be normal. I wonder what happened.”

  “This town, detective, the darkness surrounding it. Imagine a young girl becoming Candy Corn Queen. All she can think about it the love and adoration she’s winning. Her heart would be set on keeping that, wouldn’t it?”

  “You think she’s turned to the evil in this town to help her keep her crown?”

  “It’s the only thing I can think of. Yes, I believe there was an accomplice, but I believe Dead Oaks, and whatever madness brings so much horror to this place has played a role. There may not be a curse, Deputy Rollins, but something dark plagued that girl’s mind back then. Why wouldn’t it be doing the same now?”

  “You have a good point,” he answered as he got to his feet. “But, I think I have a better one.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Girls can be cruel. Girls can be evil, and when they want something, some of them will do anything to get it. That’s what I think happened to her all those years ago. Her need to win, her desire to be remembered as the queen pushed her to kill.”

  “That may be true, but do you truly think she still wants to hold on to that title, even now?”

  “No. I think Rheanon Nichols killed our past queens. I think she has an accomplice lurking in the shadows that I’m going to find, but I don’t think she’s doing this now.”

  “Then what’s happening?”

  “We have someone new in the fold that wants to be Candy Corn Queen just as bad as she did back in the day. This one though, they aren’t taking any chances. They’re taking out the competition before there’s a chance of losing,” Caleb finished as he turned for the door.

  “My Carmen?”

  “If you really want to keep her safe, keep her as far away from all this as you possibly can until I figure it out.”

  ***

  Driving down Main Street, Caleb tried to keep his thoughts focused on the contestants. Two he could rule out. Chelsea and Mia had nothing to do with any of the things happening and were only part of the pageant out of Chel’s refusal to stay out of things. The others, though, any of them could be part of this.

  Slowing at the traffic light out in front of the library, he glanced over, quickly noticing something seeme
d off. The main doors were standing wide open and two cars were in the parking lot well after closing time. Deciding it may be a good idea to check in on Mrs. Reynold’s, he flipped on his turn signal, taking the next right when the light changed.

  As he neared the old, brick building that had stood in Dead Oaks longer than most others surrounding it, something inside didn’t seem to sit right. Mrs. Reynolds was a creature of habit. The library didn’t stay open after hours. She didn’t run around after work. Once she finished up her day, she drove the same route home to her two cats and annoying Pug every night.

  Putting the cruiser in park, Caleb climbed out, making his way toward the door. Knowing the library like the back of his hand after years of studying there, he knew to reach to the right for the light switch. Nothing. Quickly snatching his light from his side, he clicked it on, scouring the area by the door. “Mrs. Reynolds. You alright in there? It’s Deputy Rollins.”

  When no answer came, Caleb made his way farther inside. With her age, anything could’ve happened to the old woman. The only thing throwing him off was the extra vehicle outside, which, he wished he’d called in before entering the building. Pushing the thought out of his mind, he kept moving, slowly, his light darting from one side to the other as he went.

  Finally reaching the long isle between all the bookshelves, the light caught on a heap in the floor. “Mrs. Reynolds,” he called out again as he hurried over. His initial thought was of a heart attack or something taking out the old bird then he noticed the blood seeping from her body, forming its own vile puddle around her.

  Feeling no pulse, he rose to his feet, carefully unholstering his weapon from his side. Leveling it with the flashlight, he scanned the room again, careful to check each isle as he walked by. Being the library, there were so many places someone could hide.

  In the distance, he could see someone near the history section. “Don’t move,” he called out, hoping whoever it was wasn’t in the mood to put up a fight. Instead, they didn’t even acknowledge him. Keeping his pace, he moved closer, hoping no one else was lurking around. “Put your hands up,” he demanded. The person didn’t move. The instant his light struck the girl at the end of the bookshelf, he knew why. The girl, the one from the pageant named Shelly, wasn’t waiting by the bookshelf. No, she was impaled to it, a large hunting knife through her throat holding her in place.