“You believed them, then?”
“Yes,” I said. “They had no idea anyone was listening, and they sounded utterly truthful. They were both reproaching the other for committing the duck prank—doing something so stupid, something that was likely to get them caught, after they’d agreed to lie low.”
He pondered for a few moments. I glanced down the hallway and saw that a couple of the deputies were looking at us, obviously impatient, but not about to interrupt the chief when he was so intent on a conversation.
“Anything else?” he asked.
Should I tell him about Rose Noire’s premonition of danger in the church and her suspicions of Lightfoot? He’d probably only find it annoying. And what good were premonitions about something that had now already happened? I shook my head.
“Keep this to yourself for now,” he said finally.
I nodded.
“It’s possible that whoever did this is hoping the blame will fall on the boys,” he went on.
“And you want the real culprit to think that he’s succeeded so you can catch him off his guard. Or her.”
“Or them,” he added. “Precisely. So tell no one.”
“Not even Michael?”
He frowned for a moment.
“I think we may rely on Michael’s discretion as well,” he said finally. “But no one else.”
“Especially not my dad,” I said. “Who would probably manage to tell the whole county within a few hours—swearing them all to secrecy, of course.”
That got a slight smile out of him.
“Speaking of your father, I need to talk to him. Stick around, if possible. I may need your help to sort out what went on here.”
With that he started down the stairway toward the basement. I headed back for the parish hall, to wait with the others there. Just as I was about to enter it, Horace dashed through the front door. The deputies in the vestibule pointed him toward the stairway.
He waved to me before disappearing into the basement.
In the parish hall, four of the watch members were once again playing Parcheesi at one of the long tables we used for meals, while the older woman was seated a little farther down the table, reading an Agatha Christie paperback.
They all looked up when I came in.
“The investigation continues.” I slumped in a chair at the same table, but at the far end from the Parcheesi game, and closed my eyes as if too exhausted to speak. I wasn’t sure they knew about Vess’s death, and if they didn’t, I was sure the chief would want to break the news himself and watch their reactions.
A few minutes later the chief came in, accompanied by Robyn. Several deputies came in after him and stood along the wall.
“Are all of you okay?” Robyn exclaimed. The chief stood by watching while she went around to give each of the watchers a few words and a quick hug. She ended up with me.
“So sorry,” she said. “I have a feeling we’re going to be rearranging again.”
I nodded.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the chief said. “I want to have a brief word with each of you. But first, I have to tell you that tonight’s incident is more than just a prank. There’s been a murder.”
The watch and Robyn all reacted with gasps and exclamations of “Oh, no!” or “Who?”
I just watched, trying to detect any false notes in their reactions—probably just what the chief and the deputies were doing. Maybe the chief spotted something suspicious but I didn’t.
“We’ve identified the deceased as Mr. Barliman Vess,” the chief added.
I don’t think I was imagining the looks of relief that crossed all of their faces—quickly replaced with looks that clearly said, “Of course, it’s still a terrible thing.”
“May I remind all of you not to discuss what you heard and saw tonight until after I’ve interviewed you?” the chief said.
The watchers and Robyn all murmured their agreement.
“You, too, Ms. Langslow,” the chief added. “Michael asked me to tell you that he’s heading home and will see to the boys till you get back.”
I nodded. So much for going home and catching up on my sleep.
The chief left with one of the watchers—the Christie reader—while the Parcheesi players seemed to have lost interest in their game.
“What on earth was he doing here?” one of them asked. “Sorry, forget I said that,” he added, glancing up at the deputy.
“We could talk about what’s going to happen with our Christmas services,” the remaining woman watcher said. “That’s not against the chief’s orders, is it?”
The deputy shook his head.
“That will depend on how long the church is unavailable to us,” Robyn said. “If it continues to be a crime scene after today, we must trust Meg to find us a solution.”