By the time I reached the police station, I was elated from the sight of so many of my friends and neighbors enjoying their Christmas rituals untroubled by pranks. I was looking forward to my interview—I also had a lot of questions, and provided the chief was in a good mood and I was tactful about how I asked, I stood a good chance of getting answers to most of them.

I got a few of my answers before I even went in. As I parked in the visitors’ section of the station lot, I saw a Goochland County Sheriff’s Department car pull up by the front door. Horace and Vern Shiffley appeared to be watching this new arrival with interest so I went over to wish them good morning and see what I could see.

“Good news,” Vern said. “Our friends up in Goochland County have apprehended Jerome Lightfoot.”

“But is he still a wanted man?” I asked. “Now that we’re pretty sure he isn’t the killer, I mean.”

“Maybe he’s not the killer,” Vern said. “But he probably isn’t Jerome Lightfoot, either. He had several complete sets of identity papers with him, and they’re probably all false. But we sent in his fingerprints, so we should find out who he really is pretty soon. I’m betting the New Life Baptist Church won’t be the only place charging him with fraud.”

“Speaking of fingerprints,” I added. “If he’s not the killer, how did his prints get on the murder weapon?”

“He threw it at someone,” Horace said. “During one of his tantrums when the choir was rehearsing at Trinity. According to some of the ladies from the Altar Guild, at one point he started heaving anything he could find at people—not just the candlesticks but hymnals and flower vases and seat cushions. The ladies packed up everything that wasn’t nailed down and shoved it all in the sacristy for safekeeping. And according to them, Riddick was making himself helpful for a change.”

“So when he surprised Vess in the basement—” Vern began.

“Or arranged to meet him in the basement—” Horace put in.

“He brought along the candlestick,” Vern finished. “Knowing he could use it to frame Lightfoot. One of the ladies mentioned that she couldn’t find it Sunday morning to polish it, but she figured it had just been put away in the wrong place. Riddick had probably hidden it someplace to use when he did away with Vess.”

“Which is going to make it a lot easier to prove premeditation,” Horace added.

“You here to see the chief?” Vern asked.

I nodded.

“Wait here until they take Lightfoot through the lobby,” Horace said.

“Or whatever his name is,” Vern grumbled.

Given what the so-called Lightfoot had done to my shoulder, I thought this was good advice. I spotted several other familiar figures also watching Lightfoot’s entrance.