“Hey, girl!” It was my friend Aida Butler, one of the chief’s deputies, who was sitting behind the front desk. “What did you think of Kayla at the concert?”

I enthused for a while over the concert. I wanted to ask about her nephew Ronnie, but I couldn’t figure out a good way to bring it up. I settled for praising her daughter.

“I don’t understand why Kayla didn’t do the solo,” I said. “The girl who did it was okay, but Kayla’s better.”

“Yeah,” Aida said. “Of course, the soloist’s father is the church treasurer—maybe Lightfoot’s angling for a raise. Or it could just be that Kayla’s mouthy. And before you say it, yeah, she takes after her mother that way. She made the mistake of talking back to Lightfoot and now fat chance of her getting a solo while he’s in charge. And she’s not the only one. The man is ruining our choir.”

“Maybe they won’t renew his contract.” I was dying to tell her what Minerva had said, but I didn’t dare.

“Let’s hope so. Lord forgive me, when I heard about the murder, I couldn’t help wondering for a moment if Lightfoot was the victim. Not hoping, mind you, but wondering. And I wasn’t a bit relieved when I found out it was that harmless old man instead.”

“He wasn’t that harmless,” I said.

“A lot of people wished him ill, then?” Aida perked up as if she found this interesting news.

“The chief already knows that he was not well liked at Trinity,” I said. “I couldn’t stand him myself. But I didn’t wish him ill—just elsewhere.”

“Same with me and Lightfoot,” she said.

“Speaking of the chief, is he very busy?” I asked.

“I don’t actually know,” she said. “He’s over at your church—checking out whether Horace is finished and we can release it.”

“Great!” I said. “That’s actually what I wanted to ask him about.” Well, one of the things. “I’ll head over there now.”

“Don’t push him about it,” she said. “He knows you need the church back but he’s cranky as all get-out. See you later?”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said.

There were two police cruisers and several other cars in the Trinity parking lot. Vern Shiffley was on duty at the door.

“I dropped by to see if you had any word on when we get the church back,” I called out when Vern opened the door.

Before Vern could answer, the chief appeared in the vestibule.

“Meg,” he said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Vern held the door open, and I stepped inside. The chief led the way down the hall and into my temporary office.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Horace and I have been using your office while we’ve been working here.”