by Diane Noble
The Master's
Hand
Mystery
and the Minister’s Wife
Through the Fire
A State of Grace
Beauty Shop Tales
A Test of Faith
The Best Is Yet to Be
Angels Undercover
Into the Wilderness
Where There’s a Will
Dog Days
The Missing Ingredient
Open Arms
A Token of Truth
Who’s That Girl?
For the Least of These
A Matter of Trust
Funny Money
To Have and to Hold
How the Heart Runs
A Thousand Generations
Home to Briar Mountain
Flight of the Sparrows
A Firm Foundation
Off the Record
A Distant Memory
Tea and Sympathy
The Master’s Hand
Strangers in Their Midst
Mystery and the Minister’s Wife is a registered trademark of Guideposts.
Copyright © 2010 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to the Rights & Permissions Department, Guideposts, 110 William Street, New York, New York 10038.
The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or occurrences is coincidental.
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.
The author is represented by the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, Colorado 80920.
Guideposts.org
(800) 932-2145
Guideposts Books & Inspirational Media
Cover design by Dugan Design Group
Cover illustration by Dan Brown
Interior design by Cris Kossow
Typeset by Nancy Tardi
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This book is lovingly dedicated to the memory of my mother,
Mary Elizabeth Hill,
who was gently carried by angels into the arms of her Lord
during the writing of this book.
A mother is the truest friend we have,
when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us;
when adversity takes the place of prosperity;
when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us;
when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us,
and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels
to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace
to return to our hearts.
—Washington Irving (1783–1859)
Acknowledgments
HOW I’VE ENJOYED lingering in the little town of Copper Mill, Tennessee, while working on each of my books in the Mystery and the Minister’s Wife series. Kate, Paul, their children and friends, especially Renee and her mother Caroline, have become so real it seems as if they live down the street from me. A special word of thanks to Beth Adams, editor extraordinaire, whose creativity and editorial guidance brought this town and its characters to life from its inception. Beth, you are the best—a joy to work with!
It’s also been a delight to work with the other authors and editors of our series. Besides Beth, who’s been involved in every stage of the process, a special word of thanks goes to Nicci Hubert, Melanie Larson, and Jennifer Lonas for their tireless attention to detail, their excellent and insightful editorial direction (and immense patience and grace!) while editing my books. You’ve never failed to contribute to my growth as a writer and make me look better than I am!
Heartfelt thanks, too, to our many readers. You’ve become special friends as you also linger in Copper Mill. I especially thank those who’ve written to me personally. Your words of encouragement never fail to inspire. Many of you have asked for Kate’s recipes. Stop by my newly redesigned Web site (www.dianenoble.com) soon and take a look at “Diane’s Kitchen,” which features many of the recipes I’ve used when Kate is baking or cooking while puzzling over her mysteries. Some are taken from my own recipe box, others are from my mother’s collection, and many contributed by friends and relatives.
Chapter One
Kate Hanlon had just parked across the street from the newly refurbished, old Victorian house on the Town Green when her cell phone buzzed. She rummaged through her handbag, found it, and after a quick glance at the caller ID, flipped open the cover.
“Kate, it’s me,” Livvy Jenner said. “Do you see Clive Garfield yet?” Besides being the town librarian, Livvy was Kate’s closest friend and confidante.
“I just drove up. Hold on...” Kate got out of her car, picked up her plate of cookies, and stepped up onto the curb. She looked up at the two-story “painted lady,” which was about to celebrate its grand opening as Copper Mill’s new Victorian Museum.
“He’s not out front with everyone else,” she said. “Maybe he’s working on something inside the house—which would make sense for the newly appointed head of security.” She watched for cross traffic and waved at a few friends as they tried to find parking along the already crowded street.
Then, aiming for the Victorian’s picket gate, she crossed the road. Ahead of her, balloons and streamers bounced and blew in the light summer breeze, and a large banner that stretched from one end of the porch to the other read:
GRAND OPENING!
VICTORIAN MUSEUM ON THE GREEN
Come one, come all! It’s time to celebrate!
Refreshments to follow ceremony!
“I still don’t see Garfield,” Kate reported. As she entered the gate, she noticed that folding chairs had been set up on either side of the walk, but it appeared that most people were more interested in visiting with each other than being seated. “And from what you’ve told me, he won’t be easy to miss.”
Livvy had earlier given Kate a description of Clive Garfield—at least six feet six inches and as burly and snarly as a grizzly, with brown hair and a matching goatee. Juggling the cookie plate and her cell phone, Kate smiled to friends as she eased herself through the crowd toward the side of the house and then to the back, where long folding tables covered with lace tablecloths had been placed.
She set her cookie plate next to the other desserts. A punch bowl, urns of coffee, and pitchers of iced sweet tea had been placed at another table nearby. Stacks of paper plates and napkins were cleverly anchored down with Victorian angel figurines on both tables. Vases of roses graced the center of each, crocheted doilies beneath each one.
“Still no sign of Garfield out here,” she whispered into the phone. “I’ll take a peek inside. Nose around. See what he’s up to—besides watching over Davis Carr’s precious paintings, of course.”
Livvy sighed. “I’m probably making way too much of this, Kate. I can’t tell you exactly why, but I think you need to be wary of this man.” She paused. “I’m sorry you’re the one to have to do this, Kate. If I could have gotten away from the library a little sooner, I’d talk to him myself.”
Kate laughed lightly. “No need to apologize. You’ve piqued my interest in him anyway. No way would I let an opportunity to do a little snooping around for a friend pass me by.”
Livvy didn’t laugh. “No snooping, Kate. I just want you to talk to the man, get a read on him. You’r
e so good at that kind of thing.”
“That’s what makes this intriguing,” Kate said. “Especially because he’s head of security for this place. After what you’ve told me, I’m concerned too.”
For days, Livvy had been confiding in Kate about her teenage son James, who’d taken a summer job with Safe Keeping, Clive Garfield’s company. And truthfully, Livvy’s concern was for good reason. James—usually such a sweet, trustworthy boy—had taken to disappearing in the middle of the night, had become extra secretive, and was sometimes sullen. Livvy had admitted to Kate that she was more than overwrought, especially because her husband, Danny, was out of town.
Kate added, “Besides, Garfield’s supposedly an upstanding citizen with a reputable business.”
There was a moment of silence. “I suppose so, Kate. But he’s the only connection I can make to James’ change in behavior. What really worries me is that it’s as if James has become afraid of something, or someone, since he started work there. But he won’t say what...or who.
“Last night he seemed more glum and closemouthed than ever, so I asked him again about his job. Do you know what he said?”
Kate couldn’t imagine, though she’d heard plenty of excuses for every behavior possible from her own kids when they were teens. “What?”
“He said that it’s top secret. Top secret?” Livvy sighed again. “What could be top secret about guarding a small-town museum?”
“Nothing I can think of,” Kate said, stepping closer to the back door. Curiously, a light tap-tap-tap sound carried toward her from inside the house.
“After I heard that, I did an Internet search on Garfield...He doesn’t even have a Web site advertising his business.”
“Not everyone needs one or wants to go to the expense of getting one started,” Kate said, then added, “but it is strange, considering all the hype he’s gotten from the newspaper.”
As Livvy talked, Kate peered in a back window. A shadowy figure moved from the sunroom toward an inner hall and, strangely, seemed to be tapping the walls lightly as he went.
“Wait,” she whispered, “I think I see something...or someone.”
“Where?”
“Inside, down the hall from the sunroom.”
“What’s he doing?”
“It must be related to security or something. I can’t really tell from here.”
“Does it look like Garfield?”
“It’s a tall, hunched-over figure, but there’s a glare on the window, so it’s hard to determine if it’s a man or a woman.” She paused. “I can see a little better now. It’s got to be a man.” Keeping her eyes on the strange figure who was tapping with some sort of tool, Kate listened as Livvy went on.
“Is he alone?”
“I can’t really tell. He may have a crew setting up the security system someplace else in the house.” Kate frowned as he disappeared from sight down the hall near the stairs. “But it does strike me as odd—if this is Clive Garfield—that he would be checking things himself rather than leaving it to his crew.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s got a step stool and is tapping along the walls with a small hammer. Inch by inch. What’s it called? A ping something...”
Livvy paused. “Ball-peen, I think it is.”
“That’s it. He’s tapping near the ceiling with a ball-peen hammer. Very curious indeed for the CEO of a supposedly hotshot security company touted to have dozens of full-time employees nationwide and others he hires part-time at local sites.”
“That’s my point,” Livvy said. “The whole thing is very curious. I probably wouldn’t give it this much thought if it weren’t for James.”
“I agree,” Kate admitted, thinking of her own son at that age. She would have done the same thing. “But Davis Carr himself is solidly behind Garfield and his company. Why would a world-renowned businessman hire someone to guard his valuable paintings in our museum who wasn’t top-notch? The paper quoted him just a few days ago. He said that Clive Garfield is the best in the business and that he’s been using the firm for decades.”
Even as she spoke, she slipped behind a hedge and moved along the sunroom window, trying to follow the figure she’d seen inside. But whoever it was had disappeared, and the tapping had grown fainter.
Then it hit her, and she swallowed a smile. She really didn’t need to be so secretive. In truth, the house belonged to a nonprofit organization that Livvy had set up when the house was deeded to the citizens of Copper Mill by the state. Livvy and Renee Lambert were both on the board of directors, along with the mayor and others. The old dilapidated house had been a town effort, and Kate imagined that everyone who lifted a hammer or paintbrush felt a sense of ownership. Especially Renee, who seemed to want to take personal charge of just about everything in Copper Mill.
The thing about it, though, was that when Davis Carr decided to lend his valuable artwork to the museum and hired his own security company, he’d changed the locks. Stranger yet was the fact that, though promised, new keys had yet to be distributed. Maybe she did need to be secretive, she decided, and continued slipping along the inside of the hedge, keeping her gaze trained on the inside of the museum for signs of movement.
“You’re right, Kate,” Livvy was saying. “The restoration committee was told his credentials were impeccable. Davis seemed so certain about Garfield’s company that none of us checked it out.” She sighed. “The timing couldn’t be worse. I wish Danny could be here right now.”
Danny had taken a group of his students to the Math Wizards Meet in Knoxville a week ago and wouldn’t be home for another few days. Everyone in town was thrilled that their high-school team, which included the Jenners’ younger teenage son, Justin, had made it to the finals.
She heard Livvy’s car door slam. “I’m just now leaving the library. I’ll see you in a few minutes, Kate. Please wait for—”
“I think I see him again,” Kate said, keeping her voice low. The tall, bearlike figure had reappeared in the hallway just beyond the sunroom. He literally filled the doorway.
“No, wait—” Livvy said. “Wait for m—”
“I promise not to snoop. I’ll just talk to him, get a read on what kind of man he is.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. I’ll talk to you when you get here.”
THE HOUSE WAS EERILY QUIET as Kate stepped inside the back door and into the sunroom. She headed toward the kitchen through the wide arched doorway that separated it from the sunroom. Though it was daylight, from previous visits she knew that the thick velvet Victorian drapes made the rooms darker past the bright, airy kitchen. Usually Renee; her mother, Caroline; and a few others who placed themselves in charge of refreshments at such events were noisily hustling and bustling around, checking on last-minute details. Today, they must have finished early. No security guards in place either. Safe Keeping planned to monitor everything by wireless Webcams.
Kate had made it halfway across the kitchen when she thought she heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps. She paused and listened intently. Were they moving away from the kitchen...or toward the closed door that led to the dining room?
Before she could decide, she heard the strange tapping sound again. Then it stopped. Silence reigned again for a minute or two, followed by the creak of footsteps moving across the ancient wooden floor somewhere in the house.
Kate pushed open the door between the kitchen and the dining room. The light was dim, just as she expected, and the air seemed thick and warm, even for June.
She stopped, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Within the hour, the thick velvet drapes would be drawn and sunlight would flood the room. But right now, it might as well have been midnight.
She jumped with a start when, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a humanlike figure. She whirled, then let out a small giggle when she realized it was a mannequin that one of the docents had dressed in period costume.
She walked into the parlor, and though the light was dim, sh
e was pleased to see the most recent additions of period furniture, portraits and landscape paintings, and fussy Victorian knickknacks. She exited the parlor through a second door to her left that led to the entry hall. Directly across the hall was another door that opened to a less formal sitting room, or study. To her right was the main entry door and to her left the hall continued past the staircase leading to the second floor. Beyond the dark hallway, ambient light from the sunroom shone across the gleaming polished wood floors.
As she continued down the hallway past the stairs, she saw no sign of Garfield or anyone else. She’d come full circle when she reentered the large sunroom—a literal jungle of potted ferns, lacy palms, and wicker furniture—that adjoined the kitchen through the large arched doorway.
She had just stepped into the hallway, heading toward the stairs, planning to have a look around in the bedrooms, when she heard the sound of the ball-peen hammer again: a series of light taps followed by silence, then another several taps in quick succession, sounding as if whatever it was had moved on its own accord across the room above her. Finally she heard the creak of the wooden floor planks as the ponderous footsteps moved toward the top of the stairs.
Then the footsteps descended, one slow step at a time, crossed the landing, then continued downward to the main floor. Kate moved down the dark hallway toward the entry just as a bear-sized, shadowy figure stepped from the bottom step.
When Clive Garfield saw her, he jumped back in surprise and let out an exclamation. “You gave me a fright, lady. You should announce yourself when you’re sneaking around in the dark.”
“I wasn’t sneaking. I was looking for you,” Kate said.
“Me? Why?”
“When I didn’t see you outside, I decided to check in here. Just wanted to ask you some questions.” She smiled, though she was doubtful he could see her expression in the dim light.
