The front office of the community center buzzed with tense energy. The Christmas lights that twinkled around the office windows, casting a warm glow, felt anything but warm or festive.

Officer Harris sat across from both Mrs. Claus and me, scribbling notes in his notepad. His expression, which was usually composed, now looked exhausted, probably from the chaos of the night.

The police radio on his shoulder crackled now and then, a grim reminder that things were moving fast out there, but we were stuck in here recounting the night's events.

“So, you were in the kitchen during most of the afternoon?” Officer Harris asked, turning his sharp eyes to me.

I nodded. “Yes, we were finishing baking the cookies for the contest. Tim was helping Jared and I in the shop when Mrs. Claus came in to share some, well… local gossip.”

I gave Mrs. Claus a polite smile, hoping to avoid an outburst from her. As she was already tapping her gloved fingers on the desk, a sure sign of impatience.

“And that was when she started talking about seeing the ghost of Frau Perchta,” I added.

Officer Harris scribbled something down. “Right. The 'ghost' and the 'Perchten.' Both of which you and Jared saw chasing the moment the scream was heard?”

“Yes,” I replied, “but only the Perchten. I never saw any ghosts. That was just what Mrs. Claus had said to me before we left my shop to come here.”

“Alright.” Harris flipped to a new page in his tiny notebook, then glanced at Mrs. Claus. “Mrs. Claus, you said you clearly saw the Perchten. What can you tell me about him?”

Mrs. Claus leaned in, her eyes narrowing with the righteous certainty of someone who had never been wrong a day in her life.

“I told you, Officer Harris, it was him! The Perchten! The little beast had a knife, covered in blood! He was standing right there next to the mayor's body. Plain as day. I don't see why we’re sitting here while that dangerous little creature is still running loose out there.”

Harris cleared his throat, obviously not used to her brand of intensity. “And you’re absolutely sure it was the Perchten? Can you describe him again?”

Mrs. Claus waved a hand, dismissively at Harris.

“Oh, yes. Dirty, scruffy, a nasty little man with a beard that looked like it hadn’t seen soap in years. Dressed in those ridiculous clothes. Like he stole them from that little shop over there in Boston. What is the name of it…”

She rubbed her chin in thought then her eyes lit up and said, “ I remember now. It was Folk & Fable! Yes that was it. You should go ask them if any of their displays walked off. But this beastly little creature was dirty, I’m sure they wouldn’t want their clothes back after he was wearing them.”

Mrs. Claus had begun working herself into one of her classic fits. I could sense the looming threat of her iconic temper and shot Harris a warning look.

“It was him, alright. Now, I don’t see why you’re wasting time asking me these questions when you should be out there catching the evil little beast before he slips away.” Mrs. Claus sapped at Harris.

Harris jotted something down before sighing softly and rubbing his eyes.

“We'll do our best, Mrs. Claus. I just need to get a few more details before I can move forward. Now, for the report, can you please give me your full name?” he asked in a calm tone.

Mrs. Claus’ eyes widened, and she puffed out her chest, clearly offended.

I thought she might explode for a moment and braced myself.

When she spoke at last she said, “My full name? Officer Harris, you know perfectly well who I am. Everyone in this town knows who I am. Why, I’ve been living here since before you were even born.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, thankful her outburst hadn’t been worse.

Having been on the receiving end of Mrs. Claus’s ire before, I could see clearly where this was going though, and I couldn’t help but to feel a pang of pity for Harris. To his credit though, he handled the situation as well as anyone could.

Harris blinked, clearly trying to remain as professional as he could. However, I could see the exhaustion in his posture.

“I understand that, ma'am, but for the sake of the report, I really do need your full name please.”

With an indignant huff, Mrs. Claus folded her arms and sat up even straighter. “Patricia Beatrice Claus. But I don’t see how that’s relevant, young man.” She huffed indignantly.

“Thank you Ma’am.” Harris said politely.

“Now, If you’re finished with me, I’d much prefer to be on my way and let you get back to finding that vicious little beast before he kills anyone else.” Mrs. Claus snipped sharply.

He quickly scribbled down her name, trying to remain calm. Then looking up and realizing she wouldn’t be of any further help, he dismissed her, “Thank you, Mrs. Claus. You’re free to go.”

“About time,” she muttered, shooting me a withering look that seemed to say, I told you so.

She stood abruptly, smoothing down the front of her dress as if she had just triumphed in some great battle, and swept out the door, her presence as commanding as ever, leaving Harris and me to wrap things up.

And with her gone, the weight of what had happened settled back over the room. The mayor was dead, and nothing would be the same after tonight.

Harris let out a breath, rubbing his temples for a moment before looking at me. “I don’t know how you deal with this town.”

I offered a sympathetic smile. “You get used to it. Well… mostly.” I said with a shrug.

Officer Harris looked back at me, tapping his pen lightly against his notepad.

The tension in the room was palpable, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that had happened tonight pressing down on me.

I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Mayor Randall hadn’t just been killed, he had been brutally murdered. The image of the Perchten standing over him, bloody knife in hand, then fleeing the scene was burned into my mind.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Alright, Nora,” Harris began, his tone in his voice shifting to something less formal, “I need to ask you a few more questions. Specifically about the cookies that were stolen from your shop earlier today.”

I blinked, thrown off by the abrupt change in topic. “The cookies?” I asked, confused. “What does that have to do with anything? I thought we were talking about the mayor’s murder.”

Harris hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “It’s… related, I’m afraid,” he said, his voice low and calm.

“Related? How so?” I asked confused.

“I didn’t want to alarm you, especially in front of Mrs. Claus. But there’s something you need to know about what we found in the janitor’s office. Mayor Randall’s body... well, it wasn’t just that he was murdered.”

I sat up straighter in my chair, and suddenly, I had a very queezy sensation in my gut.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Harris glanced down at his notes before he read them to me aloud, “The mayor’s body was... Eviscerated, and had been stuffed with straw, like some sort of grotesque effigy.”

I felt a wave of nausea rising in my throat, and I had to force myself to stay composed. This was far worse than I had imagined.

“Stuffed with straw? Like…” I repeated, my mind racing.

Harris nodded grimly, but then he paused again, his expression softening. “And, well…”

He shifted in his chair again clearly searching for a way to be as gentle with his words as possible

“There were also some cookies. Gingerbread cookies, specifically. Hard as rocks.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Cookies?” I asked, completely baffled. “As in my missing Gingerbread cookies?!”

Harris gave a slight nod, clearly not wanting to upset me further. “Yes, Nora. Your cookies. Several of them were... placed inside the body.”

I sat back in my chair, feeling lightheaded. This was beyond anything I could have expected.

The thought of someone using my cookies, my Christmas cookies, as part of such a horrific act was almost too much to bear.

“Are you saying...?” I trailed off, not even sure how to finish the sentence.

Harris leaned forward, his voice softening. “No, Nora, I’m not saying you’re a suspect. I want to make that very clear. I was with there when the scream came from the janitor’s office. You were in my line of sight the entire time. There’s no reason to believe you had anything to do with this.”

I exhaled shakily, a small sense of relief washing over me. “But... my cookies...” I quietly muttered, still unable to wrap my mind around it. It made no sense to me. “Why would anyone...? Who else knows about this?!” I asked, my voice rising in panic again.

“I don’t know yet,” Harris said gently. “But I promise we’re going to figure it out. At this time, no one outside the department knows about your cookies, and that is how it is staying. Right now, I just need to ask these questions for the sake of the investigation. I know this is upsetting, but we need to get to the bottom of what happened to Mayor Randall.”

The mention of the mayor’s name jolted me back to reality.

He had always been such a prominent figure in the town, everyone liked and respected him. And now, this...

I shook my head, still trying to process it all. “So, what now?” I asked quietly.

Harris sighed, setting his notepad aside for a moment. “For now, you’re not under suspicion. You’re free to go once we finish here. I’m going to be honest with you, Nora. Things are going to get much more complicated from here on out.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair again before continuing. “Nora, you need to understand Whoever did this, they’re still out there. And you need to be careful. We don’t know if this creep has some sort of grudge with you, or just a sick sense of humor.”

I nodded slowly, though I still felt sick to my stomach. “I understand.”

Harris gave me a reassuring look. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. And I’ll make sure you’re kept in the loop. You’re not alone in this, Nora.”

The rest of the interview went smoothly and before long, I was out of the office.

However, in spite of Harris’s reassurances to the contrary, I felt more alone than ever.

As I left the interview, my head spun with a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and disbelief.

The details of the murder that Harris had shared with me, the fact that he had been gutted, the straw and my own magically messed up cookies stuffed inside the mayor’s body.

The whole situation felt like some twisted nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

I could barely hold myself together as I made my way out through the front offices of the community center, my hands trembling and my eyes blurring with tears.

Jared was waiting for me just outside the door, his face etched with concern.

The moment I saw him, the walls I’d tried so hard to keep up came crashing down around me.

I rushed to him, throwing myself into his arms as the tears finally broke free. “Jared... it’s awful,” I sobbed against his chest, my voice barely audible through the lump in my throat.

He wrapped me in his strong embrace, and held me tightly, as though his arms alone could protect me from the horrors of the night.

“It’s going to be okay, Nora. I promise,” he murmured softly into my hair, his voice calm and steady.

But I could hear the tension in his words, the uncertainty he was trying so hard to hide.

I nodded weakly, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. Everything felt so surreal, so impossibly wrong.

I realized then that I was still holding the little wooden trophy I had won. It’s carved wooden face smiling at me. Almost as if it was mocking me.

Looking at it, I couldn’t help but to suddenly feel sick, and I couldn’t help but to wonder if it had even been worth it?

Looking around at everyone else in the lobby, huddled together in their little clusters, as they whispered to each other, I was suddenly very and acutely aware of the stupidity of the tiny trophy.

It had no meaning anymore except as some morbid reminder of the night’s horrors.

I threw the thing away. I know the townsfolk wouldn’t see it as any thing else. And I personally didn’t want to remember this horrible night ever again.

Jared gently turned and guided me toward the van, keeping his arm around my shoulders as we walked through the lobby.

Around us, the community center buzzed with a mixture of shocked whispers and quiet sobs.

The townsfolk, usually so jovial and familiar, were now huddled in groups, talking in hushed voices as police officers conducted interviews nearby.

Every face I passed was pale, wide-eyed, and full of confusion and horrified disbelief.

As we stepped outside into the cold night, the sound of raised voices drew my attention to the parking lot.

There, near the side entrance, George, the bookshop owner, was having a heated argument with Mitchell, who ran the Black Dog Coffee House with his wife.

“You’re nothing but a bloody leech, George!” Mitchell snarled, jabbing a finger in George’s face.

“You’ve been riding my coattails for months, trying to steal my business with that fancy coffee bar of yours. You think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

George’s face reddened with anger, his thick mustache bristling. “I’m running my own shop, Mitchell! You don’t own the coffee business in this town. Maybe if you weren’t so insecure, you’d see that there’s enough room for both of us!”

Their argument escalated, voices growing louder as they took aggressive steps toward one another.

It looked like they were about to come to blows when Mitchell’s wife and Julee, the young barista George had hired, came rushing over with two officers.

Harris and a female officer I didn’t recognize quickly stepped in, physically separating the two men before things could get any worse.

“Enough!” Harris shouted, his voice hard and sharp. “Both of you, go home. Now.”

The female officer added, “Cool off before you two do something you’ll regret. We don’t need more trouble tonight.”

Mitchell’s wife tugged on his arm, urging him to back down, while Julee did the same with George.

After a tense moment, both men grudgingly walked away, muttering under their breath, but the confrontation was over.

As Jared and I climbed into the van, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything in this town was unraveling.

The drive home was quiet, the weight of the night hanging between us like a heavy fog.

I stared out the window, my mind replaying the events over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Harris had told me.

Once we were home, I sat down heavily on the couch, my hands still shaking.

Jared brought me a hot cup of tea and sat down beside me, his arm around my shoulders again, his presence grounding me. “Nora, talk to me,” he said softly.

I took a deep breath and told him everything. How Harris had explained the way the mayor’s body had been found, eviscerated, stuffed with straw, and the cookies... my cookies. The horror in Jared’s eyes mirrored my own.

“Do they think you’re a suspect?” he asked, his voice tense with worry.

“No,” I whispered, my throat tight. “Harris said I’m not. He said I was in his line of sight when it happened. But, Jared, it’s so... awful. I don’t understand how any of this could be real.”

He held me close again, whispering, “We’ll get through this, Nora. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

But deep down, I wasn’t sure anything that could make this right.