Duck the Halls: A Meg Langslow Mystery (Meg Langslow Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF

stairwell just behind us.
    “Chief,” the deputy said. “Reverend Wilson’s downstairs. Wants to know what’s happening with his church.”
    From the chief’s pained expression, I deduced that he did not relish breaking the bad news to his pastor.
    “Want me to go along and help?” Chief Featherstone said.
    “I appreciate the offer, but maybe I should be the one,” Chief Burke said.
    With that we all trooped down the stairs. Even Grandfather, who looked preoccupied.

Chapter 5
    When we exited the church we spotted Reverend Wilson’s small, stooped frame at the bottom of the building’s front steps. He looked every one of his eighty-some years, and the expression on his round dark face was one of profound anxiety—almost pain. Michael was standing just behind him, breathing apparatus pushed back on top of his head. He appeared to be hovering, as if worried about the elderly minister.
    “How bad is it, Henry?” Reverend Wilson called out when we appeared in the doorway.
    “Pretty bad, Ambrose,” Chief Burke said.
    Chief Burke pushed back his mask and went down the steps and stood talking to Reverend Wilson in a low tone. Someone had turned on all the outside illumination, including all the strings of holiday lights, which twinkled with incongruous gaiety behind them.
    Chief Featherstone strolled back inside the vestibule to confer with some of his men. Grandfather and I stood on the steps of the church. I realized I was feeling a little claustrophobic in the breathing apparatus, so I pushed the mask back and took a few deep breaths. Grandfather followed suit. The air might have smelled pretty bad to anyone who hadn’t been inside the church, but I found it refreshing. Grandfather seemed to feel the same, so we stood side by side for a few moments, breathing and surveying the scene below.
    The church looked almost festive now, with the holiday lights twinkling and spotlights illuminating the larger-than-life plaster Nativity scene on the front lawn. You could almost imagine that the small groups of people dotting the parking lot had come to carol. Even the flashing red and blue lights of the fire engines and police cruisers seemed to add a curiously festive note.
    “So tell me,” Grandfather said. “Did I sleep through the part where we found out who did this stupid prank and why?”
    “No,” I said. “Still a mystery.” Although I wondered if it was necessarily a complete mystery to Chief Burke. Quite apart from the knowledge of Caerphilly and its inhabitants he’d picked up in his years as police chief and deputy sheriff, he was a member of the New Life Baptist congregation. If the church had enemies outside or malcontents within, he probably already knew all about it.
    And fat chance getting him to say anything before he was ready.
    “Well, time’s a-wasting,” Grandfather said. “We need to get Caroline over here.” His old friend and frequent partner in mischief, Caroline Willner, ran a wildlife sanctuary about an hour’s drive from Caerphilly. “We could use her help with these skunks.”
    “I thought you were the skunk expert,” I said.
    “Yes, but she’s had a lot more hands-on experience with skunk removals,” he said. “I suppose it’s a little too early to call her.”
    “It’s a lot too early to call her.” I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time. “It’s only a little past five. Let me take you home where it’s warm.”
    “I should wait till six,” he said.
    “You should wait till nine, at least,” I said. “She needs her sleep, especially if you want her to drive all the way up here to—”
    “Ah,” he said. “There she is now. She must have heard the sirens, too.”
    He hurried down the steps to where he had spotted the short, plump figure of Caroline Willner. Beside her was Mother, looking as tall and willowy as ever in spite of the heavy winter coat she was wearing.
    “No one tells me anything,” I muttered as I fell in step beside Grandfather. “I