Duck the Halls: A Meg Langslow Mystery (Meg Langslow Mysteries) by Donna Andrews Page A

nodding his head, tapping his feet, and slapping his knees in time to the music, even during the slow songs. I loved watching him, but I had to admit, I was glad he had crawled into Michael’s lap, not mine. I was holding Jamie, who was sitting with his mouth and eyes wide open, utterly motionless, as if afraid the whole thing would vanish if he moved a muscle or made a sound.
    Satisfied that the boys were having fun, I settled back against Michael’s shoulder, closed my eyes, and gave myself over to enjoying the music.
    It was well past the boys’ bedtime when the concert ended, so rather than wait for the slow procession out the main doors, where both Robyn and Reverend Wilson were shaking the hands of the departing audience, we ducked to one of the side doors—where we found Riddick Hedges standing guard. He frowned at us.
    “Good evening, Riddick,” Mother said. “Lovely to see you.” With that she sailed toward the door, clearly assuming he would open it by the time she reached it. Riddick blinked, and then scrambled to comply.
    “Good evening, ma’am,” Riddick said. He didn’t quite bow, but he was clearly tempted.
    We all followed in Mother’s wake, wishing Riddick good evening—except for the boys who were fast asleep on Michael’s and Rob’s shoulders.
    “I was supposed to be keeping this door secure,” he muttered as I approached, bringing up the rear of our party.
    “Against intrusion, I assume,” I said. “Or did Robyn tell you to lock it up so no one could escape her handshake?”
    “Never had such foolishness before,” he muttered. “Skunks! Snakes! What next?”
    “Nothing, let’s hope,” I said. “Or at least, with you on guard, nothing here.”
    “The chief sent out orders for everyone to lock up tight tonight,” he said. “I remember when nobody had to lock his front door here in Caerphilly.”
    “I’ll let you know if I spot anyone suspicious lurking outside,” I said.
    “Right,” he said, with a grudging nod of approval as he held the door for me.
    As I followed the rest of the family, I heard him testing the lock behind us.
    On the first part of the way home the boys woke up long enough to serenade us with some of the songs the choir had performed. The results might have been more melodic if they were old enough to have any idea of pitch and key and if they could have been persuaded to sing the same song at the same time, but Michael and I enjoyed it anyway. I wasn’t quite so sure about Rob. Still, I was relieved when both of their voices began to fade—bedtime would go so much more easily if we could just carry them to bed and tuck them in, still unconscious.
    “I see your mother’s been busy again,” Michael murmured as he walked into the foyer with Jamie over his shoulder.
    “It’s like living at the North Pole,” Rob muttered as he hauled Josh upstairs.
    I was relieved to see that Mother hadn’t rearranged everything—just added a little more of everything. More greenery. More ribbons. More tinsel. About the only annoying thing she’d done was arrange for someone to fit out the entire downstairs with little wireless speakers to pipe in an endless supply of soft instrumental Christmas music. It took me fifteen minutes to find the central source of the music—an iPod set up in the kitchen pantry—and silence it for the night.
    I checked to make sure the library was ready for the sewing bee and Michael’s office, with its dangerous cargo of unwrapped presents was locked. Then, after a quick visit to the boys’ rooms to plant good night kisses on their sleeping foreheads, I fell into bed. It was still dark the next morning when my cell phone rang.

Chapter 14
    It was my phone ringing, not Michael’s pager—something to be thankful for, I supposed. I fumbled to answer it.
    “Meg?” It was Robyn. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
    I knew it was customary under such circumstances to protest that no, of course, she hadn’t awakened me, I had been up for