Chapter One
One Week Before Christmas

Two inches of snow lay lightly on the rough-hewn wood planks that creaked under Michael Bellemare’s boots. Crunching his way to the second story of The Fort building, he paused on the landing with a sigh. The crisp scent of freshly fallen snow filled his nostrils as he turned to appreciate the view.

Lily Rock rose majestically in the background, the white cap pointing upward. This is as good as any place to get through the holidays. Michael wrapped his arms around his chest, heaving another deep sigh.

Since it was the week before Christmas, fairy lights twinkled on both sides of the town. Mostly from shop windows, outlining the variety of candy canes and snowmen and snow-women filling the windows. A twenty-four-hour lights-on policy had been adopted by the town council three years ago. That was an exception granted because people flocked up the hill from Los Angeles, taking a day trip to shop and visit Santa. The week before Christmas was the most celebrated and lucrative week of the year, especially for shop owners.

Michael lay his arms on the banister, leaning forward to look at his latest project. He’d planned and supervised the building of the constabulary across the street, finishing the first phase of construction just in time for the new police officer, Janis Jets, to move in.

He shook his head at the sound of a moan from a loudspeaker, then a series of scratches and scrapes. Without turning around he knew what to expect. Oh oh, here it comes. A loud click was followed by the sound of chugging, imitating a train making its way down a track. Then a voice shouted out, “All aboard!”

Michael felt his nerves twinge and his gut clench. He shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. Don’t bite the hook, he repeated to himself. That’s what he said every time he felt unsettled, especially as of late. A Buddhist pal of his taught him the phrase. He remembered the words exactly: “There’s no sense in getting all worked up over the small stuff. Which means the big stuff doesn’t matter either. Just don’t bite that hook.”

“Don’t bite the hook,” he repeated under his breath. Michael turned from looking at the constabulary to face the storefront. Old Toy Trains, the most opulent shop in town, looked so out of place. Where other businesses seemed low-key and frontier, this one looked as if it belonged in Beverly Hills.

The large window with a stack of boxes holding expensive toy train sets stood alongside a tree with personalized ornaments. One side of each ornament held the store’s logo, the other a personalized name. He knew that Betty King, the store’s owner, asked a good price to write a name on the back of the ornament. People collected them every year.

In front of the display window, Betty King had placed a wrought-iron bench. She encouraged people to sit there, close to the entrance door. To make it comfortable in cold weather she’d added an outdoor heater, shaped like an old-fashioned street lamp. She’d wound a red ribbon on the pole as a Christmas decoration. Supporting the pole was a large metal canister with a door; tucked inside was the propane tank.

Michael moved closer. Standing to the side of the bench, he looked more closely at the Christmas decorations hanging from the display tree in the window. Familiar names met his eyes. There were several Lily Rock residents with their names on the bright bulbs.


Some people probably order one of those months ahead of time. He looked down, seeing glass jars filled with old-fashioned Christmas candy. Lined up against the window, they made him shudder. Michael’s teeth ached at his memory of the sugary crunch and how he used to bite into pieces over and over as a kid.

Removing his gaze from the window, he turned toward the entrance of the shop. A nutcracker loomed over him. The most over-the-top notorious Christmas decoration in all of Lily Rock. The twelve-foot-tall gigantic statue stood at attention. Dressed as a train conductor, the nutcracker stared straight ahead. Michael scowled. That silly oversized shop advertisement for Old Toy Trains had become a bone of contention in Lily Rock right from the beginning.

It looked intriguing and festive, that wasn’t the problem. Complete with blue striped hat, bib overalls, brown boots with lug soles, and an old-fashioned lantern clasped in one fake hand, the nutcracker attracted children and adults, captivated by its presence.

It wasn’t the visual that had caused the controversy. A loud scratching sound came from the nutcracker, making Michael stare at its mouth. The jaw began to move, exposing a line of very white and even teeth. Then a recorded voice, loud and sonorous, belted out the call: “All aboard!”

That’s twice in about ten minutes. The town council told Betty it could only make the announcement once per hour. Somebody needs to adjust the timer. He’d been at the meeting when residents first complained.

The Old Rockers, Lily Rock’s oldest inhabitants, were the first to make an official complaint. They marched to Betty’s shop the week before Christmas and demanded that she stop the racket.

“This is noise pollution,” Skye Jones said, pointing a finger at Betty.

“Nobody wants to hear your recording,” Doc told her in no uncertain terms.

Betty bit her bottom lip and nodded. “We’ll see about that,” she told them smartly, before closing her door and turning the sign in the window to Closed. Later that week more complaints came in at the town’s monthly meeting.

“That thing gives me the creeps,” one woman claimed.

“It’s as if her shop is the only one in town,” complained the man who ran the candy store.

The intrusive loudness, the frequency, and the sheer audacity of Betty King’s advertisement, that was what annoyed the residents of Lily Rock, so the town council made their decision. “Only once an hour, the week before Christmas, then shut it down.”

Even tourists were a bit shocked the first time they heard the ear-splitting announcement that spewed from the nutcracker’s lips. But no amount of complaining got Betty to back down. “I need to advertise my shop the week before Christmas,” she would explain. “I get most of my sales at that time, and I think it’s a festive way to bring people to my shop.”

Over the last five years Lily Rock residents had grown accustomed to the hourly interruption the week before Christmas. But that didn’t mean they liked it. There was something odd about hearing a fake conductor announcing a train that didn’t really exist. For Michael it was the sense of being late. The announcement made his heart race as if he had to catch a train, even though he knew it was all pretend. He’d mentioned that to Arlo, the co-owner of the new brewpub one day, when they were looking over the project plans.

Arlo shook his head. “She just makes the recording louder every year.” The two men sat at Michael’s architectural drawing table.

“I’m surprised the Old Rockers didn’t order her to stop,” Michael said.

Arlo shrugged. “Let’s talk about the outdoor seating,” he’d said, changing the subject.

At the time Michael wondered if Arlo knew more than he was saying. But instead of asking, they got back to the plans, making last-minute decisions before they broke ground.

Today the ringing in Michael’s ears felt particularly annoying. He slapped his gloved hands together for warmth, waiting for the sound to go away. Walking away from the storefront, he leaned over the railing once again, resisting the urge to keep complaining.

In front of him, a snow plow rumbled past. It stopped in the middle of the road as the man behind the wheel waved at Michael.

“Hey, Brad.” Michael waved in return. That kid has more jobs in this town than a dog has fleas. Probably a good thing. Plowing snow will keep him in weed money for the winter. With one last wave Michael walked toward the Lady of the Rock gift shop. Meadow McCloud had sent him an early morning text:

Do you have time for a visit this morning? Lady of the Rock by nine?

Michael rarely refused Meadow, especially when it was only a week before Christmas. Lots of things came up last minute this time of year, no matter how detailed the planning. He’d made himself available on short notice. It kept him busy and stopped him from getting depressed.

And it wasn’t just Meadow he wanted to see. Maguire, a year-old labradoodle and Meadow’s constant companion, made an early visit sound agreeable. He fingered the dog treats in his pocket as he reached out to open the door to Lady of the Rock.

Maguire had curled up in his bed, near the cash register of the shop. Michael felt his mood shift, calling out, “Hey, buddy.”

Maguire stood and his tail wagged. “Bork,” he said in greeting. Then he dove under the counter. Only his rear end and tail could be seen. Then he backed out, showing a tennis ball in his mouth. He trotted to the door, dropping it on Michael’s soggy boots.

Michael bent over to pick up the ball as a voice from the back of the shop called out, “Good morning, dear.” She’s so cheerful all the time. He tossed the ball for the dog, standing to his full height. Maguire bounced the ball on his boots.

Michael sat down on a stool and then tossed the ball across the room, watching as the dog scrambled past the crystals and books to get to his prize. As Maguire bounded back, ball in his mouth, he dropped it at Michael’s feet again. Meadow appeared from around the corner.

“That’s enough, Maguire,” she said in a stern voice. “No one has the energy to play with you nonstop. Now go to your place.”

The dog looked at Michael. When he didn’t pick up the ball, Maguire’s head hung down. His tail drooped. He slowly walked toward his bed, then flopped down, resting his chin on his paws.

“Our boy seems restless,” Michael told Meadow.

“Well that’s fine. Most young boys and puppies get bored. He’s just going to have to deal with it. He caused me no end of worry a couple of days ago.”

Meadow had part-time jobs at Lady of the Rock and the Paws and Pines Animal Shelter. But her main job was being in charge of the town’s small library. Michael wasn’t certain if she needed the cash or if she just wanted to keep at the center of all the happenings in Lily Rock. Either way he ran into her every day in one place or another.

“Maguire goes with you to all of your jobs?” Michael asked her.

“He likes the animal shelter the best.” Meadow nodded. “But he has to learn to get along everywhere else. I can’t leave him at home. He’s torn up at least a dozen cushions in his crate.”

“Not when you’re at home,” Michael wondered.

“Just when I leave for a few minutes. He’s incorrigible.” Meadow cast a fond eye toward the dog.

“He’s just a puppy,” Michael offered as an excuse.

Meadow nodded. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Do you think you could take care of Maguire at least one day this week? It’s such a busy time of year and he’d appreciate hanging out with you rather than me. We’re getting on each other’s nerves.”

“Sure. Glad to help. I’ll keep him overnight too, just to give you a break. We can go for lots of walks in the woods.”

At the sound of the word “walk,” Maguire’s head jerked up. His tail thumped against the counter.

“Not yet, buddy,” Michael told him.

“I accept your offer,” Meadow said instantly. “Let me get his food and toys. I have them in the back. His lead is right over there.” She disappeared into the storage room.

Michael stood as Maguire ran to where the leash rested near the front door. Sitting down in front of it, he barked and then turned back to look at Michael as if waiting for a response.

Michael laughed. “Okay, just give me a minute. I want to…”

The sound of the conductor’s voice filled the air again. “All aboard!” came his call, followed by a fizzle and then a loud, high-pitched squeal. And then only silence. Michael checked his phone. Only 9:30. Three announcements in half an hour. 


Meadow came out from the back room with a bag of dog kibble. Flopping it at Michael’s feet, she looked at him with startled eyes. “Another announcement so soon?”

“Yeah, it’s getting ridiculous.” He shook his head. “Maybe I’ll take Maguire and mosey on over to Old Toy Trains and ask Betty what she’s up to. I’ll come by for the food later.” Maguire jumped to a sitting position, as if ready for a little excitement.

Michael walked toward the door, the dog close behind. Reaching for the leash, he clipped it on Maguire’s collar. He waved at Meadow and opened the door. Stepping outside, the cold stung his face. Maguire raced ahead, pulling on the lead.

“Okay, buddy, I’m coming,” he told him, closing the door.

Maguire put his nose down and shook his head. When he raised his head, snow stuck to his snout. Lifting one ear, he seemed to be listening. The hair rose on Michael’s neck. Something feels odd. Even Maguire thinks so.


“Let’s go,” he told the dog. Walking quickly, both arrived at the entrance to Old Toy Trains. Michael pulled Maguire in short, his heart pumping.

The twelve-foot nutcracker no longer stood at attention. Face planted in the snow, he looked ridiculous, arms at his side, still at attention. A panel from his back had sprung. Wires spilled out over his wooden legs onto the snow. Maguire growled, pulling at the lead. Michael inched closer, worried at what he saw.

The body of Betty King lay in the snow, one foot sticking out to the side, the rest of her buried underneath the ludicrous nutcracker. It was as if they were kissing, only there was blood next to Betty’s head.

Michael reached into his back pocket for his phone, dialing 911. “I need an ambulance at The Fort. Second story, the Old Toy Trains Christmas shop. There’s a body. I think it’s Betty King. She’s unconscious right underneath the nutcracker.” Then he hung up. A second call went to Janis Jets, the police officer in Lily Rock. “Get here quick,” he told her. “I think we have a problem.” He explained what he’d found.

“Death by nutcracker?” came her incredulous voice. “That’s gotta be a first. See you in five.”

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