Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nick decided that if we were going to talk about the case, we’d at least do it by the fire. We were done eating, and the dishes could wait. Holly uncorked the wine, and we each took a glass into the living room. Nick and Holly sat on one couch, and Ellison and I took the other.
“For real, you guys can’t share any of what you are about to hear with anyone,” Nick said, his eyes intense.
“Scout’s honor.” Ellison held up what looked like the Vulcan salute from Star Trek, but I wouldn’t call him out.
“I promise,” I said. “Now what’s going on?”
Holly crossed her legs and smiled smugly. “Mr. We Don’t Have a Serial Killer, You’ve Just Been Watching Too Many Murder Shows has joined Team Serial Killer.”
“Not necessarily,” Nick said. “Dennis Sudbeck, the man who died in the shower, still could be an accidental death.”
“But Mary—” Holly started.
“Was murdered,” Nick admitted. “But that doesn’t mean the same killer took her life and Isabella Redstone’s.”
Ellison put his wineglass down on the coffee table. “Wait a minute. Back up. How do you know Mary was murdered?”
Nick leaned back into the couch cushions. “The autopsy results came back last night from the state medical examiner. She didn’t die from the blow to the head. She drowned.”
Ellison’s brow furrowed. “She could have fallen, hit her head, and drowned because she was unconscious.”
“Except that there was bruising on and around her neck consistent with pressure, with a struggle,” Nick said. “Someone held her down.”
Holly took a sip of wine. “They probably wanted to kill her with a swift hit to the head, but when that didn’t work, they used what was available. The creek.”
I held back a shudder. I could picture it perfectly in my head. Mary must have been so scared.
Nick put one arm up on the back of the couch and around his wife. “Her daughter and son-in-law live in Connecticut. They were notified about the autopsy results this morning, and they’re very upset—obviously. They don’t feel like the case has been given priority.”
Rightly so, I added silently.
“They’re threatening to go to the press,” Nick continued. “But until the press gets a hold of it, we need to try to keep this under wraps.”
“Why not warn people?” I asked. “If we have a serial killer—”
“Because we may not,” Nick cut in. “Mary and Isabella could be completely unrelated. We don’t want to set off a panic and destroy tourist season. Our small businesses depend on visitors. Besides we have no hard evidence that links the cases.”
He was starting to sound like Carol. “We have TheChristmasKiller,” I pointed out. “He or she posted again, claiming there will be more murders.”
I waited for Ellison to ask what fresh hell this was, but when I looked at him he just said, “Nick told me.”
“Is there anything you two don’t tell each other?” I asked.
Holly laughed and said, “Sadly, no.”
“So just another generic message,” Nick said. “Nothing that could tie the commenter to the crimes?”
“Other than calling themselves TheChristmasKiller, no,” I said sarcastically.
“But, again, anyone looking for attention or looking to cause trouble for the town could make those comments. That doesn’t mean—”
I put up a hand, not wanting to listen to this spiel again. “I know, I know.”
As if sensing my irritation, Ellison said, “Let’s spitball for a minute. What if we do have a serial killer? Let’s say they killed all three people, and they’re planning more. What do we know about them?”
Holly inched toward the edge of the couch. “Oh, I like this.”
I thought for a moment. “They want us scared. If it is the killer playing with us—with the social media comments and the creepy snowman—they’re not saying what they want. They’re just making threats and trying to keep us looking over our shoulder.”
“So, what’s the motive?” Nick asked.
“Serial killers don’t have a motive,” Holly said matter-of-factly. “It’s a compulsion.”
“Yeah, but usually there’s a pattern,” Ellison said. “There’s none here. The killer has murdered men and women, young and old. No common murder weapon or place.”
“Lots of serial killers choose their victim at random,” Holly said. “They see an opportunity and they take it.”
That made sense too. Especially in Mary’s case. Someone could have been walking the creek path, seen her all alone, and bam. But Dennis died in his hotel room. And the theatrical display of Isabella’s body took some planning.
Ellison rubbed the stubble on his chin. “There has to be something we’re not seeing. Something we’re not putting together.”
“They’re jerks,” I said.
Three very confused faces turned toward me.
I explained, “That’s what they have in common. I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead and all of that, but isn’t it true? I know Isabella was a terrible human. Carol mentioned that Mary had attitude problems.”
“And that Dennis man was a grump,” Holly said, draining the last of her wine. “He was complaining at every business he went into.”
“So someone is killing jerks?” Nick asked, trying his best not to laugh at my suggestion.
Holly shook her head. “That can’t be right. Ellison’s still alive.”
The three of them giggled at that, but I was serious. “I know it sounds silly, but it’s an idea.”
“There are also a lot of jerks in the world,” Nick said. “It could be a coincidence.”
Holly quickly dashed into the kitchen for another bottle and topped us all off. Settling back onto the couch with a mischievous grin, she asked, “So if the murderer is someone we know, who’s your guess?”
“No.” Nick waved his hands in the air, exasperated. “This is inappropriate now.”
Holly swatted his arm. “Don’t be the fun police. Ellison, you go first.”
“Suit Man,” Ellison said, too quickly. Like it was something he was already thinking.
Holly nodded slowly while rubbing her chin. “To ruin the town’s rep and get the land at a lower cost. I’ve thought of that too.”
“He’s got that whole sociopath look to him,” Ellison said, his lips turning down. “Never a hair out of place. He just rubs me the wrong way.”
“We can’t go arresting people because they rub us the wrong way,” Nick started.
“It’s a game!” Holly bellowed, putting a hand over Nick’s mouth. “Kelsey, you’re next.”
I thought for a long moment. “I think it’s someone we don’t know. Maybe a tourist on a longer stay who wants to ruin the magic we have here. Because why would someone who lives or works here want to destroy the town’s reputation and cause financial loss?”
“Minus points for not giving a name but bonus points for saying something that makes sense,” Holly said.
Nick crossed his arms. “I’m not taking a turn, so don’t even ask.”
“My turn, then.” Holly straightened her shoulders and paused for dramatic effect. “Sheriff Kris Whitman.”
“My boss?” Nick erupted. “You can’t be saying my boss is a serial—”
Holly and Nick yelled over each other, barely letting either finish a sentence.
“You have to admit he’s a creepy-ass—”
“You can’t say these things—”
“Something’s not right with that man—”
“Gonna get me fired—”
“Okay, okay.” Ellison held both hands out like he was trying to calm a schoolyard fight. “Why is he your choice, Holly?”
“Because of the deer story,” she said plainly.
Nick rolled his eyes. “I never should have even told you that.”
“What deer story?” I asked, since I seemed to be the only one who didn’t know it.
“You tell it, or I will,” Holly said.
Nick let out a sigh that seemed to come from his soul.
“One time we got a call that there was a deer stuck on the ice of the pond. We went out to take a look. The poor thing was shaking, cold and terrified. The ice all around it had broken. It had no way back to the shore. Kris just shrugged his shoulders and said that’s too bad. ”
I was never one to defend the sheriff, but this didn’t seem like a smoking gun. “I guess if he didn’t want to risk his life for an animal … it’s a little heartless?”
“We have a rubber boat that we bought for exactly this reason,” Nick said.
“Oh.” Well, that changed things a bit.
Nick continued, “I asked him if we should go get the boat and he said no. That we couldn’t risk personnel for a deer. I couldn’t understand it. Getting the boat out there wouldn’t have taken long. But he just didn’t care. It was like it was too much effort for him to save a life.”
“Maybe he’s just lazy,” Ellison said.
Holly raised a finger in the air. “Or he’s a sociopath.”
“What happened to the deer?” I asked, fully invested in this story now.
“I got the boat and saved it myself,” Nick said. “It would have been much easier as a two-man job, though, believe me.”
I’d had a distaste for the sheriff since the first night I met him, but this added a new layer. The fact that he couldn’t be bothered to save an innocent deer didn’t prove he was a killer of humans, though. But it was interesting.
Nick slapped his hands on his thighs. “So that’s the story, and that’s enough serial killer talk for one holiday when we’re supposed to be sharing what we’re thankful for.”
“So pious,” Holly said, rolling her eyes. “Refills anyone? I’m going to tackle the dishes.”
“No way.” I stood up. “I’ll do the dishes. You did all the cooking and hosting duties. You just relax.”
“I knew I liked this girl,” Holly said, already putting her feet up.
But Nick was shaking his head. “We can’t have a guest do the dishes.”
“Sure, you can,” Ellison said and stood up beside me. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ll help Kelsey, and our hosts can relax.”
We made our way to the kitchen, picking up serving dishes from the table as we passed.
Ellison clearly felt at home here and helpfully knew where they kept the containers for leftovers.
Completing domestic tasks with him was strangely romantic.
He had me thinking thoughts I hadn’t had in a while. Not just sexy ones.