And then, after e-mailing my ever-growing list of people who needed to be informed of every single change in the schedule, and recruiting one of them—the office manager at the Unitarian church—to print out and drop off some signs that would tell anyone who showed up at Trinity where to go, I curled up on the most comfortable-looking couch. Napping was probably not going to happen, but at least I could rest my eyes. Yes, lovely to rest my eyes, and …

“Meg?” I woke with a start to find a uniformed deputy looming over me.

Chapter 25

Evidently I had napped. For two hours, unless my watch was wrong. The room was empty except for me and the deputy. It was Sammy Wendell, one of Rose Noire’s many beaus.

“Meg?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I was fast asleep. I gather the chief wants to see me.”

“No, the chief just took off,” Sammy said. “We’re locking down the building. I’m afraid you need to leave.”

“Locking down the building? For how long?”

Sammy shrugged apologetically.

I followed him out. Our steps echoed in the empty building. It was so quiet that I started when I heard the sound of hammering coming from downstairs.

“One of the Shiffleys is boarding up the basement door,” Sammy said. “The one the firefighters had to break to get in.”

Out in the parking lot I could see groups of people. Some were standing and staring at the silent, empty church, as if unwilling to accept that the drama was over. Others were turning to leave and climbing into their cars. I saw Riddick standing on the sidewalk, wringing his hands and leaning forward slightly as if poised to run back into the church if the chief changed his mind and took away the crime scene tape.

Robyn, Mother, and several ladies I recognized as members of St. Clotilda’s Guild were standing in a cluster. Robyn was holding open what appeared to be a prayer book.

“If you’ve been reduced to holding services in the parking lot, maybe it’s time I woke up and got back to my job,” I said.

“The new schedule’s fine,” Robyn said. “We’re just making plans for the Restoring of Things Profaned. Though I think we’ve done all we can do until we learn when we’re getting the church back.”

“Poor Horace is still in there working,” Mother said.

“And covering every inch of the inside with that horrible fingerprint powder,” one of the ladies exclaimed.

“Which we all think should be cleaned up before we have the ceremony,” Robyn said. “Of course, that’s not liturgically necessary.”

“But it just won’t really feel restored if we don’t,” one of the ladies said.

“And it’s going to be difficult, first getting out the news about the cleanup, and then the ceremony,” Robyn said.