Rest Ye Murdered Gentlemen by Vicki Delany

were here. Something I need to talk to you about.” He glanced around, checking for eavesdroppers. The snow had stopped falling, leaving the air icy fresh and the trees lining the sidewalk laden with pure white powder. Cars drove slowly by, and a few pedestrians were window-shopping, but no one was paying any more attention to us. Up and down the street lights glimmered inside shops and businesses, warm and inviting. Victoria’s Bake Shoppe, in contrast, stood dark and cold in the center of the block.
    â€œWhat?” Vicky snapped. “I’m not giving a statement to the papers. Except to say that my bakery is totally safe and we follow the highest standards . . .”
    He lifted one hand. “Hold on. I know that. I got a call. An anonymous call, about fifteen minutes ago. I was toldthat Nigel Pearce had died from eating a cookie laced with GHB, a street drug, served at the post-parade reception Saturday night.”
    â€œSo,” I said. “We know that. That’s why the health department has closed the bakery.”
    â€œYou know because Vicky told you, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd Vicky knows that because the police told her, right?”
    â€œYeah,” my friend said. “I was taken down to the station earlier and questioned. My dad came with me and they told him what had happened. Why?”
    â€œAfter I got my anonymous call, I placed a call of my own to Detective Simmonds. She not very helpfully said the investigation was continuing, but she could confirm that at this time they were acting under the suspicion of homicide. She would give me no details of any suspects or of the cause of death.”
    â€œSo this person who told you . . .” I said.
    â€œWants to make sure the nasty details end up in the paper.”
    â€œThis caller,” I said. “Was it a man or a woman? Was there anything familiar about their voice?”
    Russ shook his head. “It was very muffled, as though they’d placed a piece of cloth or something across the receiver, like you see in old spy movies. Clearly, they didn’t want me knowing who it was.”
    â€œWhy would anyone want it in the paper?” Vicky exclaimed. “Not only will it interfere with the police investigation, but with only three weeks left until Christmas, if news like that gets around, it could ruin Rudolph. No one’ll come if they think there’s a killer on the loose.”
    â€œNot only a killer but one who struck at the town’s Christmas party,” Russ said. “While Santa bounced their kids on his knee and we passed out free gingerbread and cider.”
    Vicky and I stared at each other in horror.
    Russ’s face was grim. “I can only assume the ruin of Christmas in Rudolph is exactly what my mysterious caller wants to see happen.”

Chapter 7

    R uss had to get back to the paper. He wouldn’t report on the anonymous tip, he told us, but he couldn’t pretend Nigel Pearce hadn’t died in our town. He’d have to write up
something
.
    â€œTry not to worry,” he said. “I did some checking into Diane Simmonds’s background when she was hired and her record’s pretty solid. She was a sergeant in Chicago and a darn good one, if her solve rate is anything to go by.”
    â€œWhy do you suppose she moved to sleepy old Rudolph?” Vicky asked. Neither Russ nor I bothered to point out that suddenly, rather than being sleepy, it seemed as though Rudolph had become precisely the right place to be for a cop with a good solve rate.
    â€œSomething about a bad divorce and a nasty custody battle with a fellow officer,” Russ said. “She has the child with her, so I guess the custody case went her way.” He gaveVicky a spontaneous hug. “You take care, and try not to worry. I’ll let you know what I hear.” Then he hugged me. He didn’t let go as quickly as he had with Vicky. His arms were