“That’s for the choir to decide,” the chief said. “Though I do know Minerva has been saying for weeks that she could do a better job than Lightfoot even if she was blindfolded with one hand tied behind her back. Well, the place is all yours.” The chief stood up and rubbed his back as if it ached. “I’m going to break the news to Minerva and Reverend Wilson.”

I pulled out my cell phone. I should probably call a few people and tell them that Trinity was available. Or have a small celebration that I didn’t have to do yet another draft of the schedule to move all of Trinity’s many Christmas Eve events to someplace else. Or notify Randall and Aida that at least their nephews were off the hook for the murder.

No time to do any of it. I glanced at my watch and realized it was high time I headed home. Michael was performing his one-man show of A Christmas Carol in a few hours, and between now and then I had to get myself and the boys fed and dressed.

Probably best just to let today’s schedule run its course. And luckily I’d left tomorrow’s schedule alone, hoping that the chief would finish with Trinity today, so I didn’t have to rearrange that at all.

I turned out the light, left my office, and trudged down to the parish hall where the coffee machine was kept. I decided a little caffeine would help my trip home.

As I waited for the water to trickle down into my cup, I dug into my purse and dropped some change into the jar kept for that purpose. As dark and quiet as the church was, I could well imagine the ghost of Barliman Vess appearing to chide me if I didn’t.

I sipped my coffee as I headed back to the vestibule.

And just as I was about to go out the front door, I noticed that the lights were back on in my little office.

I walked down to it as quietly as I could, more than half expecting to find it filled with sheep or wombats.

Instead I found Robyn and Chief Featherstone.

“Oh, dear.” Robyn was shaking her head while looking around at all the furniture and boxes that filled all but the tiny space around my desk.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Hi, Meg. I’m afraid the fire chief isn’t happy with your office.”

“It’s a fire hazard,” Chief Featherstone said.

“It’s not Meg’s fault,” Robyn hurried to say. “She’s only been using it a few days.”

“I had a report last week that there were parts of the church that constituted a fire hazard,” Chief Featherstone said to me. “I told the reverend here that I’d try to put off inspecting it until after the holidays. But now, with what’s happened…” He shook his head.