Inwardly, he boiled. Was the constable really trying to make it look as if the clergyman had committed the murder? Frederick had suggested that all the robberies were making the town suspect that the clergyman had something to do with it. Apparently, Sydney also thought the same thing.
Panic expanded inside Nic’s body, threatening to suffocate him.Hewas the acting clergyman, not Frederick. If the constable arrested the clergyman, Nic would be the one going to jail.
He swallowed the fear rising inside of him. Going to jail was out of the question. Nic was innocent—and so was Frederick. But evidence sure didn’t make it look that way.
He hadn’t prayed much in his life, but he was doing so now!
Chapter Twelve
Nic couldnotbe hearing this correctly. Was the constable really accusinghimof murder—to make it appear as if the thief was dead just so Sydney could stop the investigation? Impossible! Nic shook his head. He must not have heard right. Either that or Sydney must be addled. That could be the only explanation.
“Forgive me, Mr. Burris,” Nic snapped, “but you cannot be serious. Are you actually thinking thatIhad something to do with this?” Taking a deep breath, he silently prayed he could hold his temper for a few minutes longer before using his fist to strike the man senseless. “Please enlighten me as to why a humble clergyman such as myself would steal from my own church only to turn around and kill someone to take the focus off me? Has it escaped your attention that you were the first person I had contacted after the robbery? Even you had mentioned—after looking around the church—that it indeed appeared as if someone had broken in the back door.”
Exhaling a frustrated breath, Nic fisted his hands by his sides. “And let’s not forget one of the items stolen was a statue…which by the way, would be too heavy foroneperson to carry.”
Sydney’s gaze traveled up and down Nic’s frame before the constable arched an eyebrow. “Pardon me for saying this, Mr. Woodland, but lately you appear as if you are strong enough to carry a statue.”
If truth be known, Nic could lift one of those statues, but that wasn’t the point. He huffed and folded his arms. “Mr. Burris, you have gone too far this time! I haven’t had to do this for many years, but I fear it has come down to this…” He straightened his shoulders and challenged the other man with his glare. “I’m calling you out, Sir. It’s either that or fisticuffs.” He lifted his fisted hands in front of him, ready to take on the other man right here and now.
“No more of this!” The doctor stood between Nic and Sydney. “This has gotten out of hand.” He glanced at Sydney. “You know very well that the clergyman could not have killed anyone. And you,” he swung his attention to Nic, “do not need to call anyone out or use your fists.”
The scowl on Sydney’s expression slowly diminished and he nodded. “Forgive me, Mr. Woodland. I’m frustrated about what’s going on in our town, and I fear I’m accusing people who shouldn’t be blamed without proper proof.”
“Yes, well…” Nic folded his arms, “I think we should be working together to discover the killer’s identity instead of arguing.”
“I agree.” The constable looked back at David’s body on the doctor’s table. “I’m just not handling my grief very well. I’ve known this boy since he first learned to walk. It was difficult to inform his family about what had happened.” He took a deep breath. “From now on, I’ll act more civilized and think before voicing my thoughts.”
The doctor placed a hand on Nic’s shoulder and motioned his head toward the front door. “And I think you need to go outside and give the crowd some uplifting words. They need to find comfort somehow, and they will be turning to you for strength during these hard times.”
Silently, Nic groaned. Of all times to switch places with his cousin! Frederick was the one who could give uplifting words…not Nic. If only he could sneak home and have Frederick step back into his clergyman role, that would make things better. Unfortunately, there would be some people who’d notice the difference between the clergyman they saw a few hours ago, and know that Frederick was vastly different. Still, Nic didn’t know what to say at all. He didn’t study the Bible like his cousin had.
“Uh, yes, you are right.” He nodded to the doctor. “Let me pray for a few minutes in silence before I go confront these people.”
“If you would like to use my spare room, you are welcome to it.” The doctor pointed at the door to the far right.
Slowly, Nic walked into the room and shut the door behind him. He searched his thoughts for anything that might help him, but after a few moments, he came up with nothing. He moved to the far wall and banged his head against it, squeezing his eyes closed. There had to be something in his memory of going to church and hearing the sermons. Even these past few months while he was learning to act like his cousin, Frederick must have said something in regards to those who have passed. Yet, Nic’s mind drew a blank.
Groaning, he pulled away from the wall and went to the window. Immediately, he saw a familiar face that brought a sense of peace to his troubled heart and mind.Tabitha.She knew of his ruse. If he could get her attention and talk privately with her, surely she would be able to help him.
Trying not to draw attention, he slowly opened the window. Tabitha stood with Mrs. Stiles but they were closer to the house than before. More people were gathered toward the front of the house, and thankfully, only a few people stood this far back. But he only wanted Tabitha, and nobody else.
He waited, hoping she would turn and look toward him, but after a few minutes without her noticing him, he grumbled and stepped away from the window. Searching the room, he lookedfor something that he could throw at her that wouldn’t hurt her. When he couldn’t find anything, he found a blank paper and wadded it up tightly, and then returned to the window.
Keeping his aim sure, he threw the wad of paper. It missed her shoulder, and landed on the ground beside her. The two other ladies she stood by didn’t notice, but Tabitha had, and that’s when her head slowly turned to those around her as if searching for the person who threw the wad.
When her gaze was almost to the window, he waved his hands back and forth. The movement had done the trick and she looked his way. Quickly, he lifted a finger to his lips, silently telling her to not speak. Confusion creased her forehead, so he gestured with his hands for her to come to the window.
She whispered something to Mrs. Stiles before coming his way. He motioned his hands again to remind her to keep quiet. She rolled her eyes, but did as he requested. When she made it to the window, she knelt toward the weeds by the house and acted as if her very reason for being there was to pick them.
“What do you want?” she whispered without looking up at him.
“I need your help.” He tried to keep out of everyone’s vision. “You are the only one I can trust to assist me.”
Suddenly, the crowd quieted and shifted more toward the front of the house. He couldn’t see anything, but Tabitha had because her head swung that way.
“What’s going on?”
“The constable is talking to the crowd.”
