A grinch is spoiling the holiday cheer and causing fear in the second Year-Round Christmas mystery from the author of Rest Ye Murdered Gentlemen... It’s Christmastime three hundred sixty-five days a year in Rudolph, New York, and as Christmas Day approaches, shop owner Merry Wilkinson is enjoying a rare evening off at the Yuletide Inn when she runs into owners Grace and Jack Olsen. With Jack's health failing, Merry is relieved to hear that his son Gord will be taking over the day-to-day running of the Inn.  But then Gord reveals that his new plans have no room for Christmas at the Inn, and Merry and the other shopkeepers start to fret about the effect a bland franchise hotel could have on their livelihoods.  When Gord is found stabbed to death, there’s an entire town of potential suspects—and it’s up to Merry to find whoever brought homicide home for the holidays... Praise for Rest Ye Murdered Gentlemen “Delightful...a humorous tinsel-covered tale that made me laugh out loud even while keeping me guessing.”— New York Times bestselling author JennMcKinlay “A fun Yuletide-themed cozy with an appealing amateur sleuth.”— Library Journal   “Delightful...[A] humorous tinsel-covered tale that made me laugh out loud even while keeping me guessing.”—Jenn McKinlay, New York Times   “Witty writing, an unexpected solution, and truly likable characters ensure that the appeal of this holiday-themed series will last long past the Yule season.”—Kings River Life   “Delaney has given us a story full of holiday cheer, an exciting mystery, wondrous characters all in a place I would love to really visit. Its charm just lit up my day. This is one mystery you shouldn’t miss this holiday season.”—Escape with Dollycas   “I delved right into this story—it grabbed me in and wouldn’t let me go.”—Socrates’ Book Review   “Vicki Delany does a masterful job of creating an inviting fictional small town that is all about Christmas.”—Open Book Society   “Ms. Delany has started a promising new series with Rest Ye Murdered Gentlemen .”—Fresh Fiction Vicki Delany is the national bestselling author of the Year-Round Christmas Mysteries, the Constable Molly Smith Novels, the Sherlock Holmes Bookshop Mysteries, and, writing as Eva Gates, the Lighthouse Library Mysteries. Chapter 1 Decisions, decisions. Did I want hearty, traditional winter fare or something to remind me of summers at the lake? Prime rib with roasted vegetables or grilled salmon with rice pilaf? "You have to make up your mind sometime, Merry." Vicky handed the waitress her menu. "I'll have the lamb shanks, please." "That sounds good," I said. "Me, too." "You always have what I have," Vicky said. "That's because I can't decide for myself." The waitress returned with a bottle of nice red wine and went through the ritual of opening and tasting. We were savoring the first sips when she came back, bearing an overflowing platter, and placed it on the table. Charcuterie: a selection of cheeses and paper-thin slices of cured meats with an assortment of pickles and nuts served with hunks of freshly baked baguette. "That looks delicious," Vicky said, "but you have the wrong table. We didn't order it." "Compliments of the chef," the waitress said with a grin. "Nice." I picked a tiny knife off the tray and sliced myself a sliver of creamy blue-veined cheese. "I heard they hired a new chef. My mom says the food's improved dramatically. Is that why you wanted to try it? Wow, this is marvelous." I let the deep, sharp flavor linger in my mouth. My taste buds did a happy dance. Then I noticed the slight flush on my best friend's face. "Oh," I said. "I get it." Vicky Casey and I were at the Yuletide Inn for a special treat of a fancy dinner. It was a Tuesday night in mid-December, and both of us were run off our feet at work, but Vicky had convinced me (without much difficulty, I will confess) that we needed a break in the midst of the madness of the Christmas rush. I own a shop, Mrs. Claus's Treasures, in Rudolph, New York, which we call America's Christmas Town. Vicky's the owner and chief baker of Victoria's Bake Shoppe. It was her idea to have a special girls' night out, to relieve some of the stress of the season. Judging by the high color of her cheeks, clashing dreadfully with the lock of purple hair falling across her forehead, Vicky had an ulterior motive. "Evening, ladies," said the deep voice of the ulterior motive. A man stood beside our table, dressed in a chef's uniform of white jacket and gray striped pants. The logo of the Yuletide Inn was embroidered onto the jacket, with his name written in script beneath. Mark Grosse, Executive Chef. Every woman in town was gossiping about this man. For once the gossip was understated. He was tall and lean, with dark hair cut short, enormous brown eyes specked with bits of green, high cheekbones, and blindingly white teeth. "Hi," Vicky squeaked. "Thanks for this." "I hope you enjoy it." He smiled at her