Connie’s Convenient
Convenience Store.
December 19th,
2015: 9:22 AM
“Deck
the halls with something something, fa la la la la, la la la la,” Tara Mason
heard a customer singing quietly to herself as they walked through the door,
letting in even more unwanted cool December air. Her cheery voice made Tara
angry, and she hated being angry, so she did her best to tune her out as she
set about putting various gift cards back on the display where they belonged.
It wasn’t as though Tara were a Scrooge or anything. Quite the contrary, Tara
adored Christmas. It was just this morning that she hated.
Tara was supposed to
have a really good Saturday. She was supposed to wake up at around nine in her
shitty-yet-charming bed in her shitty-yet-charming apartment, at which point
she would get up and go to the kitchen where Dylan, her boyfriend, would be
sitting at the table on his laptop, working on his third idea for a novel that
week, which he would undoubtedly rethink by the end of the day, which was kind
of annoying but also kind of cute. She was supposed to make eggs or pancakes and
they would enjoy a nice meal together and talk about how their Friday was
because by the time she’d gotten home last night Dylan was
already asleep. The two of them were supposed to spend a lazy afternoon
marathoning a couple episodes of The Americans, and then Tara would get
properly dressed and head down to the homeless shelter in downtown Cierto where
she would help set up the Christmas Gift Giveaway,and continue planning and
raising money for the Christmas Day feast. Then she was supposed to go home after
a long and tiring, but rewarding, day of work to find Dylan writing or reading
or something, and then maybe they’d play Mario Kart or play some music and that’d be fun,
they’d go to bed, and that’d be fun, too. It’d be a pretty great day.
What actually happened was
that she got a call at seven in the morning from Steven, a co-worker at Connie’s
Convenient Convenience Store, asking her to cover his eight-o’-clock shift.
Though, it was more like telling than asking really, because he threatened to
tell Connie about how Charles, their co-worker and one of Tara’s closest
friends, stored pot behind a lose brick in the back of the building, and about
how Tara had helpfully told him about the spot. Ever since he’d gotten in that
band he’d been more of a cocky dick than usual. Tara was in a band, too, but
she was only a normal amount of cocky and dicky, she was pretty sure. And of
course Connie would believe Steven because he was her favorite, and of course
she would lose her shit, so Tara had no choice but to take his shift.
And of course some asshole
had to choose that morning of all mornings to throw a brick through the window
and mess up the store. He didn’t even take anything!
The worst thing he did was light some scented candles, and he even paid for
those. Some stupid stoner or other dumbass kids, Tara assumed. So she got to
spend her morning talking to police officers and then, after being given the
okay, sweeping up glass and fixing displays with Connie instead of sleeping in
and spending time with Dylan. This didn’t make her happy.
So, when Connie’s
Convenient Convenience Store received its first customer about an hour and a
half into her shift, Tara wasn’t really in the mood for happy singing.
“‘Tis
the season to be jolly, fa la la la la, la la la la.” She looked about the
store to see that Connie had stepped out without telling her, as usual, so he hastily put the last of the iTunes gift cards in its
place and took her place behind the cash register in the front corner of the
store.
The customer, who Tara
recognized as a girl from her college, was of pretty average height and weight,
although perhaps just a little lacking in the weight department. Her dark face
was very soft, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail. Normally the jackets
and hoodies she wore were very plain, but today she was wearing a gaudy
Christmas sweater.
The girl, whose name escaped
Tara, spent a few minutes walking about the store with deliberation putting
careful thought into what looked like very mundane choices. She approached the
register with a degree of discomfort, carrying a straw basket filled with
items. “What happened here?” she asked as
she put her things on the counter, gesturing toward the shattered window, which
Connie had gotten part-way through boarding up before heading out to
who-knows-where.
“Some
idiots put a brick through the window,” Tara said. “And the fu-” she caught
herself - Connie had a strict policy on cursing. “They didn’t even take
anything, so far as we can tell. But they put a bunch of candles on the floor
and lit them, and they paid for them. Buncha weirdos, whoever they were.”
“Sounds
like a cult,” the girl joked. Tara didn’t laugh, but there was something
reassuring about the girl’s demeanor. She was awkward, but friendly. “Well…”
she said, after a silence, “you seem to have cleaned up the place well.”
Tara began taking items out
of the basket to scan them. It was filled with what few scented candles
remained in the store and two bags of popcorn. “Prepping
for a very strange romantic dinner?” Tara asked. “Points for originality.”
The girl laughed, and looked
embarrassed by it. “Just going to a friend’s place. He
said his new roommate had a weird obsession with candles.”
“Maybe
he’s part of the cult that threw the brick?” Tara asked, and the girl smiled.
As she was scanning the last item, something hit her. “Oh hey, so you’re into
Christmas and stuff, right?” The girl looked down at her sweater and affirmed
that she was. “Have you ever done anything down at the homeless shelter for the
holidays?”
“Oh,
uh, can’t say that I have,” she said.
“Well
hopefully I’ll be headed down there today after work and we need all the help
we can get with our holiday projects. There isn’t anything in the world that
can put you more in the Christmas spirit, I promise.”
She stared fixedly at the
counter for a few moments with a thoughtful expression. “Yeah,
maybe I’ll check it out,” she said cheerfully. “Sounds like it could be fun. I’ll
bring my friend around.”
“That
would be perfect!” Tara said before looking at the computer that was attached
to the register. “I’m Tara, by the way.”
“Katelyn,”
she replied.
“Seriously
that would be awesome. You don’t have to even help out today or anything, just
taking a look would be great. Your total will be $14.21, by the way.” Katelyn
went to slide her debit card, and as she entered her PIN, a message popped up
on Tara’s screen reading “Error: Seek administrator.” “Damn,” Tara muttered. “I
have to go track down the owner. I’ll be right back.” Katelyn nodded.
Tara had no idea where Connie
was, but she thought she’d try out back first. Sure enough,
Connie, a tall, thin woman with long dark hair, was standing behind the
building speaking to a police officer. The cops had supposedly left more than
twenty minutes ago.
“Close
the store?” she asked coldly. “Why would we have to do that? It was just some
vandalism, and we’ve got it all taken care of.”
“I
can’t say anything for certain until I talk to my superiors,” the cop said. “But
I have reason to believe there may have been a murder here.”
Connie’s
eyes widened. “A murder? In my store? What makes you say that?”
The cop held up his hands. “I’m
not accusing you, ma’am,” he told her. “But among the mess in your store, there
was a circle of candles, correct?” Connie confirmed that there was. “And would
I be correct in guessing that there were thirteen candles in this circle?”
Connie had counted as she cleaned them up. There were, in fact, thirteen
candles. “I thought as much. That was the call sign of a local serial killer.
We thought we’d caught the bastard, and this may just be a copycat, but we’re
going to have to investigate this.”
“Now
you look here!” Connie said, her hand curling into a fist, but as she finished
her sentence she noticed Tara standing in the doorway. The officer looked over
at her as well, a look of concern on his face.
“I,
um, I didn’t really hear anything,” she lied. “The register is acting up. I
need Connie when she has a moment.”
Connie looked between Tara
and the officer. “Excuse me, officer,” she said. “I’ll
have a word with your people later.”
The two returned to the
store in uncomfortable silence. When she closed the door, Connie stood still a
moment and took a gasping breath. Frozen with what looked like fear and anger,
Connie began to sob. Tara just looked at her, helpless and confused for several
seconds until Connie collected herself. “Forget
you saw anything,” she murmured weakly. “It’s not a big deal.”
They went to help the customer, and Connie didn’t speak to Tara for the rest of her shift.
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