Duck the Halls(46)

I could understand why Riddick was leaving, even though I was very much in favor of Robyn’s plans.

And it occurred to me that although very few people knew it yet, two of the most annoying people in my life right now—Riddick and Mr. Lightfoot—were probably leaving town soon. Could life get any better? Well, possibly if Barliman Vess decided to convert to one of the other denominations in town. Unlikely, and I didn’t really want to wish him on any of them.

And if Michael’s mother would go back to her long-standing tradition of taking a cruise to some warm climate for Christmas and showing up with armloads of presents for Epiphany, thus avoiding the dueling holiday dinner crisis we were having this year. But that was a problem for another day.

“Speaking of clearing out,” I said aloud. “Time we both did that.”

“Not quite.” She closed her eyes briefly, and I could see how tired she was. “I’m not leaving until the night watch gets here.”

“Night watch?”

“A small group of parishioners have agreed to stay here in the church overnight,” she said. “To guard against any more pranks.”

“Smart idea,” I said.

“All the churches are doing it,” she said. “Just until Chief Burke catches who’s pulling these pranks. And did you know the temple has a guard who stays there every night? Times being what they are I’m sure that’s wise, but isn’t it sad for a house of worship to have to do any of this?”

“Very sad,” I said. “How soon are our volunteer guards coming?”

“They were supposed to be here at ten.”

We both glanced at our watches. The volunteers were fifteen minutes late. And no doubt at this time of year Robyn had a busy day tomorrow.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as if reading my mind. “They should be here any minute.”

“I could wait for them,” I began.

“But you have Michael and those sweet little boys waiting for you,” she said. “And when I go home it’s to a cold house—my husband had to dash down to North Carolina to see about his great-aunt again.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “But he’ll be back for Christmas, I hope.”

“Of course,” she said. “And I rather think Matt will be bringing Great-Aunt Brynhild back this time—and not just for Christmas. But tonight I’m footloose and fancy free, so I might just stay here with the watch for a while. For the company.”

I wished her a good night and headed home, feeling reassured that Trinity was locked up tight and would soon be watched over by a vigilant group of parishioners.





Chapter 20


I got home in time to hear the last few pages of How the Grinch Stole Christmas and participate in the usual bedtime ritual—made somewhat more prolonged by the fact that the boys, who had only the vaguest idea of time, had to be told several times that no, Santa was not coming tonight. Soon, but not tonight. And perhaps they weren’t sleepy enough, given all the napping they’d done during the day to allow them to stay up for the concert. But once we were sure the boys were asleep, we assigned Rose Noire to keep an eye on them, and Michael and I retreated to the library to wrap presents.

It was going a lot slower than usual, thanks to my still wonky shoulder—in fact, half the time it was Michael doing the wrapping with me providing sage advice and an occasional finger to hold a ribbon in place.

As we wrapped, I told Michael about what I’d overheard after the concert.

“So we know who the pranksters are,” he said.

“One set of pranksters,” I said. “They didn’t do the duck prank.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe they just didn’t both do it.”

“Michael, they both denied it. Strenuously. And they had no idea anyone was listening.”

“Except each other. What if one of them did it, thinking the other would approve, only to find out the other was furious. Would he admit to pulling the prank? Or would he pretend to be baffled?”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember their voices.

“They sounded so sincere,” I said.

“So would I have at their age,” he said. “At least we have a better idea why they did it. Some kind of retribution against Lightfoot—I assume that’s who they meant by ‘Bigfoot.’”

“‘Mad at Bigfoot about the April thing,’” I repeated, as I collected a stack of presents Michael had already wrapped and moved them out of his way. A small stack, that I could carry one-handed. “I’m sure that’s what they said. What happened in April?”

“Easter? The New Life choir gave that big sunrise concert down at the lake. Did Lightfoot dislocate anyone else’s shoulder for the occasion?”