I sent the message to Evan as the pieces of a stronger Meg-centric theory began to form. Why was she still in town? And why was she in Cookie’s neighborhood?

  Libby reappeared to top off the drinks, then winked and rushed away.

  “I’ll fill her in later,” Ray said.

  I returned my attention to Cookie. I hated the thought of her being afraid and alone again. She’d chosen to leave the inn without telling me, but what good was I if I hadn’t even known she’d left? What if something had happened to her? This was just like Cindy Lou Who all over again.

  The Hearth’s door opened, and I turned on instinct.

  Evan walked in, expression pained and eyes on Cookie.

  A deep sense of foreboding washed over me, and I went to meet him halfway.

  “Hey,” I said brightly, ignoring the generally bad vibes rolling off him. “What’s up? Did you get my text about Meg?”

  He shook his head, then slowed his steps. “I’m here to talk to Cookie.”

  I frowned but followed him to her.

  Ray, Fay, and Pierce all suddenly looked as stressed as I felt.

  Cookie looked up from her list and smiled. “What’s cooking, Sheriff?”

  Evan removed his hat and held it against his torso. “I’m afraid my department received a call about your trash bins.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Was it the home owner association? I didn’t think they’d stoop to calling the cops.” She checked her watch. “I can’t believe the trucks have had time to come past yet.”

  “I’m going to need to talk to you about this at the station,” Evan said, offering a hand to help her down.

  “Wait a minute.” I jammed a hand between them. “What’s this about, specifically? Who called? And why?”

  Libby returned and dropped her order pad on the counter. She hooked a hand on one hip. “What’s going on?”

  Evan regarded his sister and our little circle of friends. “Someone called in an anonymous tip suggesting Cookie tried to conceal evidence in the murder of Karen Moody. The tipper said we’d find everything in her trash bins if we beat the trucks to the pickup. I assumed it was nonsense, so I sent a deputy to check it out. I was on my way here to see how Libby was feeling when my deputy called.”

  “And said what?” I asked softly, checking first for nearby listeners and lookie-loos.

  “There were a number of printed materials hidden inside a takeout bag, most with Karen’s articles or photos. All with angry sentiments scribbled over them. The images had heavy X’s drawn across Karen’s face and smaller ones over her eyes. Deep scratches ripped through the paper at her throat. Notations regarding the fight, indicating Karen had said something unkind about Theodore, which incited the argument that resulted in Cookie’s humiliation and desire to confront her about it.”

  “I never argued with her,” Cookie said. “I didn’t even talk to her before she died.”

  Evan nodded slowly, understandingly, but his expression grew infinitely more grim. “Not according to the bag of papers.”

  Pierce stood, straightening his sweater and shrugging into his coat. “Delores, you shouldn’t say another word.”

  “What does this mean?” Fay asked, pulling her coat on as well.

  Pierce fixed Evan with an evaluating look. “You believe Ms. Cutter confronted Karen on the night of her death during the time Ms. Cutter was unaccounted for, and that encounter ended in Ms. Moody’s death.”

  Evan looked ill. “I have to fully explore every angle. This new evidence is something I can’t ignore.” His green eyes found me and pleaded for understanding. “If I don’t do this, it will be argued that I’m not doing my job, that I’m playing favorites or doing favors. This town has to trust me. I can’t be your sheriff if I can’t be trusted.”

  “Those papers were planted,” I said stubbornly. “And if you’d read my text, you’d know that Cookie saw Meg Mason in her neighborhood when she went to put the trash out a little while ago. Meg could’ve easily planted that material after scaring Cookie away by pretending to follow her, then called the sheriff’s department to be sure someone found it before the trash was collected.”

  Cookie slid off her stool as a handful of other guests began to take notice of our tense and hushed words. She moved to Pierce’s side as he fished a set of car keys from his coat pocket. The heartbreak on Cookie’s face stung my eyes and wedged a brick of emotion in my windpipe.

  She looked to me as she passed, the sheriff on one side of her and her attorney on the other. She didn’t have to say a word. She needed me, and I wouldn’t fail her.

  I would make sure the person determined to frame her for their own misdeeds was brought to justice.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I picked Caroline up at five o’clock. She left the employees in charge of her cupcake shop and joined me for an emergency road trip.

  “Thanks for coming,” I told her, typing the address of Meg’s Teddy Bear Inn into my phone’s GPS, then setting the device in my cupholder. It was already dark, thanks to the season, but Great Falls was only ninety minutes away. We’d get there in plenty of time to check out the inn and speak to the staff. Maybe even enough time to poke around the town a bit, the way Meg had been perusing Mistletoe all week. It was hard to know who might have some tea to spill on the local innkeeper, and as much as I hated to incite gossip, I was desperate to absolve Cookie. And more than that, to have the true killer identified and arrested.

  “Are you kidding?” Caroline said, dropping her designer handbag onto the floorboards near her matching leather boots. “This nonsense has gone too far. Poor Cookie! I mean, can you even imagine the things going through her head right now?” She fastened her seatbelt, then flipped her hair free. “She’s the kindest person I know, and she’s in police custody for murder? It’s ridiculous.”

  I glanced her way as I headed onto the highway, rushing to match my speed with the traffic.

  Caroline’s voice was an indignant warble, barely keeping the emotion at bay. I could understand why. Not only was Cookie Caroline’s dear friend and business partner, but it was only a year ago that Caroline had been in a similar situation.

  “What is Evan thinking?” she went on. “He knows she didn’t do this. He knows that,” she repeated. “So, what’s the point? How does this action help anyone or anything? Isn’t it his job to protect and serve?” She raked shaky fingers through long platinum waves, eyes misting with barely tamped frustration. “Who does this help or serve?”

  I considered her last question. Rhetorical as it had been, it was a good one. And it was possibly the question I needed to start asking. Who does Cookie’s incarceration serve? Because someone was actively working to set her up.

  I hit my signal and cruised into the opposite lane, taking another highway and following the ramp toward Great Falls. “As far as I know, she hasn’t been arrested,” I said. “They’re only holding her for questioning, and they can keep her for up to seventy-two hours.”

  Caroline huffed out an angry breath. “Your boyfriend is at the top of my list,” she said. “And it’s not a gift list.”

  I snorted. “I’m not happy about this either, but he’s just doing his job,” I said, repeating his words and trying to be positive for Caroline. “He’s following procedures like always. And we haven’t put any official labels on our relationship.”

  “Please,” she said, “that man is lost for you.”

  I did my best not to smile because we were on a serious mission. “Let’s go over our Meg-is-the-killer theory.”

  Caroline pulled in a long breath, then let it out slowly and folded her hands on her lap. “I checked out Karen’s terrible review of Meg’s inn after you called to set up this little excursion. And it doesn’t seem as if the inn is hurting for reservations. They hold multiple annual teddy bear conventions there, as well as birthday parties and other local events. There are a ton of good reviews. It seems to be a very community-centric business.”

  “I saw that too,” I said. “But I can’t be sure the article didn’t impact her number of out-of-town guests, which would make up most of her bookings between events. Did you read Meg’s comments and rebuttals to Karen’s review?”

  Caroline cringed. “I did, and yikes.”

  Based on Meg’s heated online exchange, she was more concerned about the way Karen had clawed at her grandma than anything else. She specifically protested all jabs at the teddy theme, the bears themselves, and the inn decor, which had largely been passed down with the property.

  “The fact that Meg was defending her family’s legacy, in addition to the business, brings a whole new level of motivation. For example,” I said, “I frequently run from spiders and jump at the sight of my shadow, but if a grizzly was coming for someone I love, I’d fight him barehanded to protect the other person.”

  Caroline sighed. “Even if it killed you,” she said sadly.

  “Yep.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  I turned to smile at her. “I know.”

  We made a loop around town when we arrived in Great Falls. The whole place had a rustic, mountain vibe. Lots of exposed beams and logs were used in the downtown setting, and a gratuitous amount of evergreens were draped in colored lights.

  A pint-sized billboard on a hillside at the edge of the shopping district contained the Teddy Bear Inn’s logo and a giant arrow pointing the way.

  I hooked a right and headed up the mountain.

  The dark ribbon of road wound upward into the night until I wondered if we would reach the moon. Eventually, the asphalt narrowed and gave way to gravel beneath my tires, and our destination appeared.

  The massive log cabin was seated atop another, smaller hill at the end of a long drive. Bathed in outdoor lighting, and larger than I’d expected, the inn was surrounded by a circular patch of flat land and backdropped by infinite towering trees. The snow-covered lawn was crisscrossed in footprints, and four vehicles were lined up in the parking spaces of a small adjoining lot.

  Caroline and I took a cobblestone path to the inn’s front door. We were guided by a bordering row of stumpy, bear-shaped lanterns.

  Caroline stopped short of the porch, where bear pendants and flags swung merrily from the rafters and handrails. “Whoa. This is a whole lot to take in.”

  “Yeah,” I said, my gaze stuck on a gigantic red sleigh beside the inn. At least eight feet tall and anchored in place by ropes around stakes, the sleigh was filled with bears. A huge teddy sat up front, hands on reins attached to nothing. Crimson bags and open gift boxes were clustered in the backseat, each overflowing with bears of every size.

  I took a picture of the sleigh, because words would never do it justice, then marched up the steps to the inn’s front door and ushered Caroline inside.

  The lobby was vast and scattered with people. Families in ugly Christmas sweaters played chess on table tops before a roaring fire. Children pushed oversized checkers across a burlap rug, groups worked puzzles, and individuals read in cozy nooks. It was a happy holiday scene complete with all the glassy, black-eyed teddy’s looming and lurking on every flat surface.

  “Merry Christmas!” a cheery voice called from behind a big log desk. The woman wore a red turtleneck topped with a green plaid vest and a headband with bear ears on top. Her name tag said “Josie.” “Are you two ladies checking in?”

  “Hello,” I said. “We’re actually here to speak with Meg Mason. Is she in?”

  Josie’s smile fell into a dramatic pout. “I’m afraid not, but I would be happy to help you with anything you need.”

  “Will she be back tonight?” I asked, ignoring the weird singsong tone in Josie’s voice.

  Her bottom lip protruded. “Yes, but I have no idea when, or if she’ll come here before heading home.”

  “She doesn’t live here?” I asked.

  “No.” Josie smiled. “This is a business like any other. Staff covers all shifts. Every bedroom is available for guests. I can take a message, let her know you dropped by, if that will help.”

  I waved her off with a smile. “No, that’s okay.” I looked around for something to use as a segue to the topic of Karen Moody’s review and the resulting impact, but came up short.

  Caroline stepped forward, one arm outstretched. “I’m Caroline West,” she said proudly, in the confident, media-friendly way she’d been raised. “I’d love to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind. We’ve been following the work of a critic for New England Magazine and think you may have some insight.”

  Josie’s brows pulled together. “You’re reporters?”

  “Researchers,” I said.

  Caroline nodded. She looked Josie over carefully, then amended our claim. “We’re top-tier investigative researchers,” she said coyly. “And if you can help us blow the top off this cover-up, we can get your photo in the finished article, with full credit for your insider information.”

  “Ooh,” Josie cooed, eyes widening. “What cover-up?”

  “We think,” Caroline said, passing off a deliberate stall as a dramatic pause, “that a certain critic gave consistently bad reviews in return for higher readership and payoffs by the various businesses’ competition.”

  Josie lifted the receiver on her desk phone and called someone to cover her position. Then, she led us to an office near the back of the first floor. “So,” she said, plopping into the chair behind a cluttered desk and motioning Caroline and me to take the seats across from her. “What can I tell you about Karen Moody?”

  I blinked, then traded a cautious look with Caroline.

  “Come on,” Josie said. “It’s no secret Karen was awful or that her reviews were unfair and intentionally mean. Or that she gave our inn a terrible review. And she was just killed. So, tell me the truth now. You’re cops, right? Trying to solve her murder?” She grinned and bobbed her head conspiratorially.

  “Private investigators,” I fibbed, knowing better than to impersonate an officer, but not quite sure why I hadn’t stuck to the researchers guise.

  She leaned forward over the desk and folded her hands on the giant paper calendar, apparently enjoying this. “Karen Moody nearly destroyed this inn and Meg’s family legacy along with it, so she is officially an enemy of mine. I would’ve lost my job if this place had gone under.”

  “Business has suffered then?” Caroline asked.

  Josie nodded. “Locals do what they can to help. We’re a close community. We host a lot of events now, and a bunch of people went online to leave positive reviews for the inn, even if they’ve never stayed here. Basically, the town is keeping this place afloat right now, but Karen called this place creepy and compared it to something from a second-rate horror film. Out-of-towners are steering clear.”

  Caroline shivered in my peripheral vision.

  “How is Meg taking all this?” I asked.

  “She’s bonkers with frustration.” Josie shook her head in apparent dismay. “She tried everything to get the review taken down or revised, but Karen wouldn’t return any of Meg’s e-mails or messages. Finally, she found a list of her upcoming reviews and made a reservation at the same inn where Karen would be staying. Some weird little Christmas village. She’d hoped they could talk there.”

  I tried not to frown at her description of my town and concentrated instead on the fact that my theory about her staying at the inn to talk to Karen was right.

  Caroline scooted forward on her chair. “How did that go?”

  “Terrible. Karen still wouldn’t talk to her, even when they shared meals across the table from one another. It was useless. Every time Meg got close to her, Karen walked away. She called Meg the night before she was killed and threatened to get a restraining order if Meg ever tried to talk to her again. Completely insane.” Josie mimed her head exploding.

  Another guest, Mary Hathy, had reported hearing Karen arguing on the phone with someone. I couldn’t help wondering if it was her call with Meg she’d overheard.

  “Meg even took her a gift,” Josie said, looking sadder now. “One of the original teddy bears made by her grandma. It was a touching and deeply meaningful offering, but Karen rejected it.”

  I frowned along with her, recalling the bear. “I’m really sorry to hear that.” Meg had told me the bear was meant for someone else when I’d thought it was a donation.

  Josie raised, then dropped her palms. “What can I say? Some people are truly awful. Her review turned Meg’s inn into a meme for middle-aged insanity.”

  I cringed, unsure what else to do or say. I’d confirmed the idea that Meg had reasons to lash out at Karen. Not only had business been negatively affected, but her legacy had become an internet joke. “I think we have everything we need now.”

  Caroline popped onto her feet beside me. “Yes, thank you so much for your time.” She shook Josie’s hand again.

  We saw ourselves out, hurrying back in the direction we’d come.

  “I hope Meg is officially at the top of your suspect list,” Caroline said as I shifted the truck into gear and motored down the drive.

  “She’s definitely not at the bottom,” I said.

  Karen’s ex-husband had dealt with the same problem as Meg, but he’d started over and seemed to be doing a lot of business now. Of course, maintaining that business might’ve motivated him to confront her and ask that she not review him again, or our town. And that conversation could have escalated.

  But Meg didn’t have the option of relocation like Steven had. Her life and legacy were here, and significantly damaged thanks to Karen.

  My thought was interrupted by a loud snap.

  Caroline and I looked through the passenger window as I turned onto the road in front of the inn.

  “Is that thing moving?” Caroline asked, gaze fixed on the giant sleigh filled with bears on top of the hill. “Swaying or wobbling?”

  I slowed, staring and unsure what we were seeing. It didn’t make sense for it to move. It had been anchored in the back on both sides.

  SNAP!

  The sound came again, and I realized Caroline was right.

 

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