Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
I woke early Wednesday morning with visions of to-do lists dancing in my head rather than sugarplums. I had a lot I wanted to accomplish at work, and then I had to get to the store to overthink which bottles of wine to bring to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.
When I headed downstairs, I saw that I wasn’t the only busy one.
The check-in line stretched almost to the door.
Beads of sweat were forming on Grace’s forehead at the desk.
“We’re out of bagels!” Rudy yelled as he hitched his backpack up on one shoulder and headed to the door.
“Half day, right?” Grace asked. “You’ll be home right after school?”
“Yes,” Rudy grumbled.
I felt like I should help in some way, but I couldn’t unclog toilets or check in new customers. And I didn’t work here. Though I felt like I was going to live at the inn forever based on the meager rental listings. My apartment rental app hadn’t given me any notifications in a while.
The breakfast area was equally busy. I felt lucky to snag the last blueberry muffin. I filled up a mug with coffee and glanced around. One empty table called my name. But my heart stuttered as Aaron walked in, saw me, and stopped in his tracks.
I was glad to see him, actually. I’d been so taken off guard last night, but I had had time to sort through my feelings and thoughts.
I wanted to have that conversation that I couldn’t put into words before.
That, as cliché as it sounded, I wanted him as a friend.
I knew he wanted to blame Ellison, but the truth was that whatever happened with Ellison and me had no bearing on my decision not to pursue a relationship with Aaron.
When it feels right, it feels right, and with us it just didn’t.
But Aaron, refusing to even give me eye contact, turned and ducked out.
Okay, maybe it was too soon for that conversation.
I picked at my muffin, my roaring appetite now down to a light rumble.
Aaron had looked so pained. I hated that I’d hurt his feelings.
And I hoped that he didn’t feel that I’d led him on.
The truth was that I hadn’t known how I’d felt about him for sure until that unexpected kiss.
Then it all clicked into place. I savored the last sip of my coffee, then cleaned up my table and headed to work.
The sky was a clear bright blue, but the air was so cold it felt like a thousand tiny knives stabbing my pores.
I lifted my scarf and wrapped it around the lower half of my face.
Between that and my woolen hat, I’d make it to work without becoming a human popsicle.
Albeit with my hair and makeup in need of some touching up.
Carol and I got to the front door of the town hall at the same time. She wore no hat or scarf, just a black wool coat and leather gloves. And she didn’t even look cold. Only a touch of peach dotted her cheeks.
She did a double take at the sight of me. “You look like you’re about to rob a bank.”
I pulled my scarf down to show my face. “It’s freezing out today.”
“Then let’s head inside,” she said, making a rush motion with her hands.
But as I turned toward the door, I stopped in place. A sign was taped to the glass. The number three was centered in large font. Beneath it in small letters read, “I’m not finished.”
My throat squeezed tight. This was from TheChristmasKiller. I knew it. And he or she was openly admitting that Mary and the man from the inn were murdered too. There had been three murders. Christmasville had a serial killer. And he or she was making sure we knew it.
Carol reached over my shoulder and ripped the sign down.
“Hey!” I screeched. “We need to give that to the police! They could check it for fingerprints.”
“It’s just a sick joke,” she said dismissively as she tore the paper into pieces.
“You don’t know that,” I said, my mouth open in shock. “You’re destroying evidence.”
“I destroyed an immature, nasty message left on the town hall door. I will not have some scoundrel scaring the people in my town.”
She unlocked the door and pushed by me, heading into the lobby.
I followed her in, not ready to give up. “But the police—”
“Could do nothing,” she interrupted, spinning around to face me. “There are no security cameras out there. I don’t even know if this would count as vandalism. Nothing is damaged. The police are busy trying to solve the murder of that out-of-town influencer.”
“Which that paper could have helped with if it’s the same person!” My voice rose a bit too high, and I could tell from Carol’s expression that I was walking a thin line.
She continued marching to her office, then stopped in the doorway, and turned to look at me.
“Or the police could have wasted their precious time and resources hunting down a nutjob looking for attention while the real killer is out there not advertising themselves on the town hall door,” she said calmly. “Really, Kelsey. Think it through.”
Then she closed her office door, effectively closing the conversation.
I was self-aware enough to know that my knee-jerk reactions lately mostly involved panic.
But I really didn’t think this was a decision for us to make.
She should have shown the note to the police.
If they decided it wasn’t worth their time, then fine.
But it wasn’t worth chasing her into her office to argue my point.
It felt like trying to explain calculus to a wall.
I retreated to my own office to cool down.
I checked my emails and responded to some messages from family.
My parents had been feeling a little guilty about tomorrow’s holiday, but I assured them that if my retirement gave me the chance to be docked in Fiji on Thanksgiving, I would do the same.
And I think they felt a lot better after hearing I’d made friends close enough that I’d been invited to their house.
Now, fully calmed down, I could focus on work.
I checked our analytics from the day before.
The numbers looked great, headed in the right direction.
I chose the best photo from the party last night, but I’d wait until a higher traffic hour to post. In the meantime, I could focus on the comments that came in overnight to see if anything needed attention.
And there it was.
There will be more …
It was a similar message to the “I’m not finished” threat on the door, which told me two things.
The commenter and the person who left the note on the door were one and the same.
And, two, they were warning us that there would be another murder.
That was, of course, assuming they were the actual killer.
To Carol’s point, would the killer really be advertising themselves on the door of the town hall?
There was a chance it was a completely different person.
Someone taking advantage of the situation to get attention or scare people.
I banged my fist on the desk. I felt helpless.
There was no point in showing Carol. She was lost in her own reality where none of this was happening, all to protect the town’s image.
Nick couldn’t help me unless the person told me something specific about the crimes that could prove they were the killer.
I could report them again, but I knew the end result of that useless endeavor.
The block option was the only one I hadn’t yet taken.
I took a screenshot of the comment in case I ever needed it.
Then I blocked the user completely. TheChristmasKiller would no longer be able to comment on our posts.
Of course, nothing stopped the person from creating an account called TheChristmasKiller2 and continuing the fun.
But part of me thought they wouldn’t go through the effort.
Whoever it was already got their point across.
And if their main motive was to scare me, mission accomplished.
A knock on my open door drew my attention. Carol stood with an almost contrite look on her face and a notebook in her hand.
“Do you have time to discuss some strategy?” she asked, her tone all business.
My hope that she’d changed her mind and was willing to discuss the town’s murder problem like grown adults deflated. But my job was still my job, and I had to do it.
“Sure, come on in.” I stood up and grabbed my bag off of my guest chair, making room for her.
She sat primly, holding her notebook on her lap. “We need to stoke interest in the upcoming holiday concert. It’s only two days away. And for our regular visitors, it’s a change of venue. So we have to make sure they know that without drawing attention to why it’s not in the park this year.”
I nodded quickly, jotting notes down as she spoke. “I can create a graphic advertising the time and place.”
“Make it seem like we changed the venue to support our local businesses. The shops and restaurants on Main Street are excited about the extra foot traffic. Many of them are staying open later for the night.”
Having the concert right on Main Street itself was definitely a win for them. It also seemed safer somehow. If TheChristmasKiller was telling the truth, and they were planning another murder, it would be quite difficult to do it in front of a hundred witnesses right in the middle of Main Street.
“I can work the extended business hours in,” I said. “Maybe in the caption.”
Carol traced a manicured fingernail along her chin. “Something about doing some holiday shopping before the concert and grabbing a candy cane cocoa after.”
“Sounds good.” I would definitely word it better than that, but the message would be the same.
“When will you post?” Carol asked.
I tapped the end of my pen on my notepad. “Probably later this afternoon. At lunchtime I’m posting a picture from the ugly sweater party last night at the Silver Bell.” I picked up my phone and swiped to the photo to show her.
She smiled genuinely. “That’s perfect. Great job.”
“Thanks.” Though the conversation would seem pleasant to any outsider, there was an undercurrent of immense awkwardness running underneath it. But it seemed like Carol was not the type to want to hash things out. She preferred to bulldoze past any uncomfortable issues and forget they happened.
She rose, dusting imaginary lint off of her trousers, and went to the door. “I’m tied up in meetings the rest of the day.”
“Okay. Just shoot me an email if you need anything.”
Carol nodded at me over her shoulder, her eyes soft. “I don’t want you spending any time on work tomorrow, Kelsey. Just schedule a post. A beautiful town image with a typical Happy Thanksgiving caption. That’s all. I’ll see you Friday.”
With that, she was gone. I thought that was her way of apologizing.
A small smile lifted my mouth. She may have been in complete denial about the situation, but she had good intentions.
She always did what she felt was best for the town.
I truly and completely hoped she was right.
TheChristmasKiller was some loser looking for attention. There would be no more murders.
But I felt in my heart she was wrong.