“Yes,” I said. “Sometimes he’s the only one who can get that window in the kitchen to open when it gets stuck. And every year, the decorating committee nearly has a nervous breakdown until he figures out where the boxes of decorations have gotten to.”

“I was thinking more of the wisdom he must have learned from working with Father Rufus for so long,” Robyn said. “And his deep knowledge of the congregation. But yes, those things are useful. Although Randall Shiffley’s promised to find me a carpenter who can fix the window, and once we have that yard sale and clear out thirty years’ accumulation of pure junk, finding things around here won’t be nearly so difficult.”

I could understand why Riddick was leaving, even though I was very much in favor of Robyn’s plans.

And it occurred to me that although very few people knew it yet, two of the most annoying people in my life right now—Riddick and Mr. Lightfoot—were probably leaving town soon. Could life get any better? Well, possibly if Barliman Vess decided to convert to one of the other denominations in town. Unlikely, and I didn’t really want to wish him on any of them.

And if Michael’s mother would go back to her long-standing tradition of taking a cruise to some warm climate for Christmas and showing up with armloads of presents for Epiphany, thus avoiding the dueling holiday dinner crisis we were having this year. But that was a problem for another day.

“Speaking of clearing out,” I said aloud. “Time we both did that.”

“Not quite.” She closed her eyes briefly, and I could see how tired she was. “I’m not leaving until the night watch gets here.”

“Night watch?”

“A small group of parishioners have agreed to stay here in the church overnight,” she said. “To guard against any more pranks.”

“Smart idea,” I said.

“All the churches are doing it,” she said. “Just until Chief Burke catches who’s pulling these pranks. And did you know the temple has a guard who stays there every night? Times being what they are I’m sure that’s wise, but isn’t it sad for a house of worship to have to do any of this?”

“Very sad,” I said. “How soon are our volunteer guards coming?”

“They were supposed to be here at ten.”

We both glanced at our watches. The volunteers were fifteen minutes late. And no doubt at this time of year Robyn had a busy day tomorrow.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as if reading my mind. “They should be here any minute.”

“I could wait for them,” I began.

“But you have Michael and those sweet little boys waiting for you,” she said. “And when I go home it’s to a cold house—my husband had to dash down to North Carolina to see about his great-aunt again.”