Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
After a productive afternoon at work, I ate a quick dinner in my room. As much as I’d never enjoyed cooking, I was starting to get sick of takeout. I really needed my own apartment soon. I changed into warmer layers for my night outside, unplugged my phone from the charger, and headed downstairs.
The lobby wasn’t as busy as it had been over the past day or two, but the inn had nothing on the schedule for this timeframe.
People were either out at dinner or already strolling Main Street in preparation for a night of live music.
Rudy and Jack sat in the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace, eating slices from a box of takeout pizza.
Even though he was much older and not family, I was glad Rudy had Jack in his life.
No one could replace his father, of course, but it must have been nice to have Jack around all the time.
“Hey, guys!” I said, stopping by. The fire crackled and cast enough heat that I felt it several feet away.
“How’s your day going?” Jack asked. His face looked even more tired than normal, and his cane rested by the edge of the chair.
“Pretty well,” I said. “I’m heading out to take photos of the concert.”
“I’m going too!” Rudy piped up. “My friend Joy is the youngest singer in the choir.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I’ll keep an eye out for her.” I slipped on my gloves, ready to head out, when Grace appeared by my side.
“Did you pick up that grocery order?” she asked, out of breath. A few beads of sweat glistened on her brow. She’d probably been busy doing the jobs of three full-timers at once.
“I’ll do it in the morning,” Rudy said, picking up a new slice and taking a bite.
Grace pressed her fingers against her temples. “The order includes things we need for breakfast. That’s why I asked you to pick it up this afternoon.”
He slumped in his chair. “I was going to go to the concert.”
“You still can. There’s plenty of time. The grocery order is ready, it will take you ten minutes to pick it up.” She turned her attention to Jack. “Did you get that new towel rack from the hardware store?”
“Oh, uh, I didn’t get around to it,” Jack said guiltily.
“Well, room nine has no towel rack since their old one pulled out of the wall. I told the couple I’d have a new one installed today.” Frustration edged her voice.
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll head out right now.”
Grace marched off without even saying hi to me, but I wasn’t insulted. She barely had enough time to breathe lately. I gave the guys—who stood and began cleaning up their pizza crumbs—a short nod and headed out.
When I reached Main Street, my eyes widened.
The sparkling lights seemed to glimmer even brighter than normal, strewn on every lamppost, telephone pole, and building.
The closed-off street was jam-packed with people.
Varying smells—from coffee to chocolate—carried out the doors and on the wind.
People carried warm drinks and sugary treats, stopped to admire window displays, and—my personal favorite—posed for photos.
I grabbed two coffees from a street vendor and wove my way through the crowd looking for Carol.
Both ends of the street were blocked off with orange cones and bright yellow barricades.
It felt kind of fun to walk right down the middle of the road.
The merry feeling was contagious. Every person I passed had a smile and a cheery glow.
Carol stood on the town hall steps, surveying her domain with a smile on her face. The Santa ice sculpture had arrived and looked even better than I’d expected. Reflections of twinkle lights shimmered off of his pudgy ice cheeks.
“Everything looks great,” I said, handing Carol a coffee.
She gladly took it and tapped my cup in cheers. “We should close the street every year for the concert. Make it a new tradition.”
“Or a holiday stroll or sidewalk sale,” I suggested, knowing Dorothy would blow her stack if we did this to her choir every year.
Carol took a sip and nodded. “Great idea. Love that.”
Sheriff Kris walked by slowly, hands behind his back in an attempt to look casual. He nodded at people as he passed. Nope, not on the lookout for a possible serial killer. Just normal crowd control!
“Carol,” he said as he passed by us.
“Kris.” She returned the greeting with equal enthusiasm.
I didn’t get a greeting. But that was fine. Any other interaction I’d had with him was either creepy or ended with him accusing me or a friend of murder. I gave him the stink eye behind his back.
Nick, on the other hand, I liked. I spied him by the blocked-off end of the street, arms crossed, keeping an eye on everything.
“I’m going to wander,” I told Carol.
“Get good photos!” she said with a wave.
I took one of Carol herself beside the ice sculpture before I moved on. Then I posted it to our story with the text, “Mayor Carol is ready for the Holiday Concert!” over the image. The crowd seemed even thicker now as I meandered through.
Gazing around, I looked for anyone suspicious.
It wasn’t like serial killers had a uniform.
As much as they enjoyed playing with me anonymously online, they weren’t going to show up here wearing a T-shirt saying, “It’s me!
” But maybe I’d get a bad vibe from someone hanging out alone, on the outskirts, hat hung low, wearing sunglasses at night.
Before my imagination ran wild, I reined it back in. I did not have serial killer radar, and catching this person wasn’t my job. Not ending up their next victim was definitely on my task list, though.
I’d reached the end of the blocked-off area and decided to make a quick visit with Nick.
“Hey, Kels,” he said as I approached.
“Everything look okay?” I asked, my unease palpable.
He nodded. “So far, so good. Though I don’t think our … troublemaker … would do anything in a crowd this big. All their other … acts … were done in private.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You don’t need to use alternate words. People know what’s happened.”
He shrugged and crossed his arms. “Still, best not to remind them.”
An older woman in a fur-lined hat stopped by us, “Officer, when is the concert starting?”
“Any minute, ma’am,” he said with a smile.
She walked off, pleased and looking forward to a festive night.
Even if she was a tourist from far away, she must have heard about Isabella’s murder; it had made national news.
But she didn’t know that Mary was also murdered.
None of these people did. And that made me uncomfortable.
Were we knowingly putting them in harm’s way?
Didn’t they deserve to have all the facts to make a decision for themselves whether or not their weekend away was worth the risk?
Nick would only say that it was commonplace not to share every detail with the public from an open investigation.
That it was irresponsible to the townspeople who needed the tourists to make the leap and assume the cases were related.
So I didn’t bother bringing up the guilt that rolled around in my belly.
That I knew something all of these people didn’t.
“Is Holly around?” I asked. I could hang with her for a bit during the concert. Crack a few jokes to ease my anxiety. I always felt better around Holly.
But Nick shook his head. “She’s at the café.”
“I thought she only opened for breakfast and lunch.”
“Usually. But with all of these people steps away, she couldn’t resist the siren song of cash.”
I snorted a little laugh and turned to go. “All right, I’ll leave you to it, Officer.”
“Kelsey …” His voice was different. Stronger.
I stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”
“If you do see anything suspicious, let me know.”
As confident as he’d wanted to seem that the killer wouldn’t strike, it was obvious that he wasn’t sure.
“Will do,” I promised, and immersed myself back into the crowd.
I moved up onto the sidewalk and took a video, panning the masses. I rewatched it and decided to hit discard. The visual was pretty, but it would be much better with the audio of the choir in the background.
Speaking of, the crowd parted as a group of men and women came down the middle of the street, single file, led by Dorothy in the front.
The women wore red dresses, and the men were in black suits.
They seemed to range in age from teen to elderly.
They stopped in front of the town hall, where Carol was clearing people from the steps to make room.
At Dorothy’s cue, they lined up immediately into three rows, tallest in the back. Dorothy might not win any personality awards, but she ran a tight ship. A moment later, after more hand motions from Dorothy, the choir began “Deck the Halls” in perfect harmony.
I took a few close-up shots, then moved back to my position on the sidewalk to record the crowd enjoying the evening. Every face was turned toward the choir except one.
Aaron was watching me.
Flustered, I looked down to rewatch the video. Good enough, I figured, and posted it to our story. By the time I looked back up again, Aaron was gone.
I made my way to the sidewalk and peeked into the window of Holly’s Bakery.
She gave me a big wave. Her line ran halfway to the door, but she looked delighted, not frazzled.
I moved a few businesses down to Snow Village Books next.
Alma occupied the register. Only one person was in line, but several customers milled about the store. I didn’t see Ellison anywhere.
He was probably helping someone in an aisle or grabbing stock from the back. I saw a flash of flannel out of the corner of my vision and hurried past the window. I didn’t want him to think I was spying. He’d had enough of that from his ex.
The choir started “Winter Wonderland” next and seamlessly moved from the town hall down the street to stop in front of the Silver Bell. A crowd followed them, faces gleaming with holiday cheer. I raised my phone and recorded a few more clips.
A tap on my shoulder startled me, and I spun around to face the last person I wanted to see.