In the shadow of murder, secrets come to light.
Holiday festivities in tiny Anderson, Montana take an unexpected turn when a welfare check becomes a murder investigation. Stone County deputy Tom Edwards discovers the frozen corpses of a local couple bound to chairs at their home in the Moonlight Mountains. The couple’s son and daughter-in-law soon go missing, the only clue a puddle of blood. A tragic bus accident and embezzled church funds add suspects and complicate motives.
Stone County Sheriff Peter Elliott and his crew are once again faced with more suspects than clues and an increasingly hostile press in their struggle to solve these murders.
In the shadow of murder, secrets come to light.
Holiday festivities in tiny Anderson, Montana take an unexpected turn when a welfare check becomes a murder investigation. Stone County deputy Tom Edwards discovers the frozen corpses of a local couple bound to chairs at their home in the Moonlight Mountains. The couple’s son and daughter-in-law soon go missing, the only clue a puddle of blood. A tragic bus accident and embezzled church funds add suspects and complicate motives.
Stone County Sheriff Peter Elliott and his crew are once again faced with more suspects than clues and an increasingly hostile press in their struggle to solve these murders.
When trees and grasses go dormant and creek waters freeze and the land is covered with a thick blanket of pure white snow, a different kind of magic fills the landscape of the Moonlight Mountains. Quiet peace descends as those creatures who are able retreat to warmer climates. Others choose cozy dens and a deep sleep, to be awakened only by the loving kiss of spring. Left are the hardier of the animal world. Tiny chickadees, enormous moose, and resilient humans exchange their summer frocks for thick winter coats, indifferent to winter’s chill.
Feet on desk and head in hands, dreaming of white sand beaches and the warmth of the sun, Stone County Sheriff Peter Elliott barely caught himself from falling backward when his office door burst open, followed by a woman decked out in a full-length fur coat and matching hat. Sparkling diamond earrings peeked out from under a chic blonde bob. A stranger would have pegged her for a socialite stranded in a remote cow town. Peter knew better. Nancy May lived in the local senior apartments and spent her days drumming up excitement in an effort to stave off boredom.
“Peter! What are you doing sitting there? The light parade is tomorrow night and you missed dress rehearsal!”
Peter groaned. Every year while the rest of Anderson, Montana dusted off their Christmas decorations and practiced carols, Peter imagined ways to avoid the light parade. Tradition overruled personal preference and tradition demanded the sitting sheriff of Stone County lead the parade. On horseback. In full cowboy attire. The traditional outfit of wool and leather, handed down through many generations of sheriffs, reeked of the sweat of those past sheriffs and no amount of cleaning would diminish the odor. Peter would gladly pay for a new period designed costume, but was unanimously voted down by the parade committee. Tradition was tradition and for him to not wear the traditional outfit would bring bad luck . . . or something. Peter never did get a straight answer on that decision.
The clothing issue was a minor one. Peter could tolerate a musty outfit for a few hours once a year. What he objected to was the horse. He had no problem with horses in general. He had no issue with other people riding horses. Peter had issues with riding horses himself.
Decades earlier, as a young teen, Peter took a job on a local ranch. The sadistic owner of the ranch derived great pleasure in tormenting the young men who had the misfortune of finding themselves in his employ. Pegging Peter as an easy mark, the rancher picked a green-broke, young stallion from of his herd, saddled and bridled the skittish horse out of Peter’s sight, and ordered Peter to mount and ride. Peter managed to get set in the saddle before the horse began to buck. He landed in a ditch across the road, miraculously intact. The horse turned tail and galloped into the next county. Peter handed in his spurs and swore he would never get on a horse again. Then he became sheriff.
“Can’t you find someone else to lead the parade, Nancy?”
“Tradition is tradition, Peter. You have to do it.” She dropped a worn blue duffel bag onto his desk. “If this is about the stinky clothes, I sprayed them with my best perfume this morning.” She unzipped the bag. “Sniff. All you can smell is perfume.”
Peter stifled a gag. “They smell like a hobo in a flower shop.”
“Oh, don’t be so picky. It’s only for a couple hours. Besides, good news, Bert Smells has offered the use of a horse this year. A young and frisky one, not like that big lumbering thing you usually ride. Bert was so excited about you riding his new horse, he couldn’t stop laughing.”
“I’ll bet.” Bert Smells ran on the wrong side of the law on a regular basis and would be thrilled to see Peter lying in a ditch.
Peter thought fast. “Y’know, Nancy, I hate to disappoint Bert as excited as he is about the parade and all, but you know Seth Geary donates the horse every year. It’s tradition, and tradition is tradition . . . besides, I promised him last year we would keep using his horse.”
“You did? I wish you would have consulted me before making parade decisions. I am the committee chairwoman after all.”
“I know, I know, but you were out of town or something and it slipped my mind.”
“Well, okay. I’ll break the news to Bert. He’ll be so disappointed!”
Peter stood, gently took Nancy’s arm, and led her toward the door.
“Are you sure you’ll be ready for the parade?” she asked.
“I’ll manage. It’s the same route every year.”
“But, I have a special surprise this year. Don’t you want to know what it is?”
“Surprise me,” said Peter as he led her through the outer office and to the door.
A shock of red hair lit up the work table along the back wall. Full of restless energy, Deputy Angus McLeod was sitting at a desk typing reports, which ranked high on his least favorite things to do, making him easily distracted. “Where’d Nancy get that fancy fur coat?” he asked.
Blond and buff, in his mid-twenties, office clerk Travis chuckled. “She scored it out of an old trunk she bought at a barn sale. They sold it cheap because the trunk was locked and they didn’t have a key. Nancy wanted Peter to shoot it open.”
“Did you?” asked Angus.
Peter rolled his eyes. “No, to Nancy’s great disappointment, we managed to open it with a lock pick set. She was sure we’d find a skeleton and she’d have a cold case to solve. All she got was that fur coat and hat.”
“Someone’s treasure from a hundred years ago,” mused Angus, whose mother collected a wide variety of antiques.
“So, how’d the trespassing call go?” asked Peter, pulling up a chair.
“Not so good for the snowmobilers.”
“Do tell.”
“Out-of-staters. Three half-drunk old men. They told Seth they got turned around and didn’t realize they were on private property. He was pointing them in the right direction when he saw the cut fence.”
“They actually cut his fence to go through?” asked Travis.
“Yep.”
“What’d they cut the fence with?” asked Peter.
“Heavy duty wire cutters. One tripped in the snow getting off his machine to talk to Seth. The cutters fell out of his pocket. That’s when Seth noticed the fence.”
“So, they’ve done this before.”
“Probably. When they realized they were caught, they hopped on their machines and took off the way they came. Seth called it in and told me which direction they were headed.”
“Where’d you catch up with them?”
“The Black Pine trailhead parking lot. Seth met me there and ID’d them when they roared in.”
“Get any resistance?”
“They tried to lie their way out of it. Said they found the fence that way, then accused Seth of framing them. When that didn’t work, they sunk to ‘the land belongs to everyone’.”
“Where are they now?”
“Holding cells downstairs. I got tired of listening to them whine.” Angus reached under the table and pulled out an evidence box. “Seth grabbed the wire cutters before they took off.” He grinned. “Evidence.”
“Good job. Too bad we can’t make them repair the fence.”
“Yeah, bummer for Seth. I don’t blame him for closing off the trails to his land. It only takes a few hooligans like that to ruin it for everyone.”
“Speaking of Seth,” said Peter, “I need to chat with him about another matter.
After setting the scene of Christmas preparations in the small town of Anderson, Kit Karson plunges us right into the mystery with the bodies of Frank and Alice Celares found frozen in their home with no heat and the back door open. The house shows signs of being ransacked. Immediately, the staff of the Sheriff's Department begin the investigation. Potential motives are discovered including Frank's prior school bus accident in which three young boys died. A note on the church door stating, "She got what she deserved!!!" has the pastor worried that someone suspects Alice of stealing funds from the church's special offerings.
The novel proceeds at a steady pace with the various deputies pursuing interviews of the townsfolk and conducting a stakeout. At intervals throughout the story, the deputies report their findings to the sheriff and vice versa, frequently over a box of donuts. Included in the investigation team is the sheriff's dog Zack who does some "trailing" work, searching for missing people.
Also threaded through the novel are other incidents that divert the sheriff's attention, such as a riot at the local food market and his required annual horseback ride in the holiday parade. These events add a three dimensional feel to the lives of sheriff and deputies. Other aspects of people's lives don't stop just because they are trying to solve a murder. In addition, brief but well written descriptions of the town and the local townsfolk add depth to the story.
Overall, this was a great mystery. The author allows the reader to assemble the clues at the same time as the investigation team and doesn't hold back critical clues necessary to unraveling the solution. We also get glimpses into the lives and backstory of the sheriff's team which rounds out our familiarity with the characters.
Although it is part of a series, this book could also be read as a stand-alone story. There are some minor references to events in prior books, but they do not distract or confuse a reader that is new to the series. People who enjoy mysteries set in small US towns will find this an entertaining novel. It would be an excellent choice for fans of the Longmire series by Craig Johnson.