Rules of Murder (31 page)

Was it still just a name?

Finally, Drew brought Madeline to her feet and extended his right hand to the chief inspector. “I suppose that’s it, then. Do you need anything more from us?”

“Not that I know of. You’ll all be required in court, of course, but you’ll be notified when the time comes.” Birdsong gave his hand a firm shake before releasing it. “I’m not saying your methods would be sanctioned by Scotland Yard, Detective Farthering, but you’ve all been a great help. I’m sorry we couldn’t have stopped Rushford before we did, miss.”

Madeline nodded.

Drew also shook hands with Min. “What will you do now?”

“I’ll go home.”

“To China?”

Min laughed. “To America. I love and honor my homeland,
but I love and honor my home, too. America is where I belong now that I can finally lay my father and Lan Jing to rest. Inspector, you know how to reach me when you need me.” He made a brief bow and was gone.

“We’ll be going as well, Inspector,” Drew said. “I suppose I’ve a lot of things to see to now.”

Birdsong shook his hand once again, and then Drew and Madeline and Nick went out to the car.

“So much for all those commandments, eh?” Drew said, dredging up a thin smile. “I told you we’d break them all or very nearly. It was pure coincidence that Min heard me mention Mrs. Chapman’s cottage, and you know what Father Knox would have said about that.”

“Maybe not coincidence,” Madeline said.

True enough. He had prayed, truly prayed. Why should he be surprised at an answer?

“Want me to drive, old man?” Nick asked. “You look all in.”

“That bad, eh?” Drew took a quick look in the rearview mirror. “I see what you mean. Very well then, take us home.”

He got into the back seat with Madeline, and they rode in near silence back to Farthering Place.

What was he going to do now? He was sole owner of Farlinford Processing, or whatever was left of it. Surely Rushford had stockpiled the proceeds from his thefts somewhere, and Drew supposed most of that would eventually make its way back to the company. He’d be on his own at Farthering Place, as well. It all felt a bit overwhelming to him at the moment. All alone.

Madeline linked her fingers with his and nestled her head on his shoulder.

Maybe he wouldn’t be quite all alone, at least as long as she decided to stay, but there was still that hollowness inside him.

“. . . thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead.”

When they got near Farthering Place, Drew told Nick to drive on into the village and pull up in front of the church. Then, saying only that he wouldn’t be long, he got out of the car. He made his way up the walk alone and, removing his hat, went through the heavy wooden door and down the narrow center aisle to the altar.

“I don’t . . .” He turned his hat in his hands. “I don’t know where we go from here.”

He stood there for a long while, bathed in the warm colored light that poured from the stained glass, from the Christ who waited, who had always waited, open-armed, to receive him. Then he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, but at last he looked up again, feeling lighter somehow, smiling at the simplicity of it all.

“I don’t suppose I actually have to know that part yet. I’ll just carry on with the glorifying and enjoying then, shall I?”

He stood up, knowing Madeline was waiting for him outside. There were a great many things he wanted to discuss with her. Most of all, he wanted to tell her that the kittens had begun opening their eyes.

R
onald Arbuthnott Knox (1888–1957), English priest and theologian, was the author of
The Three Taps, The Footsteps at the Lock
, and several other mysteries. But he’s best known for his 1929 Decalogue, a ten commandments for mystery writers.

When I decided to delve into mystery writing myself, after years of feasting on the classic mysteries of the 1920s and ’30s, I thought it would be great fun to write a book that intentionally broke all these rules, or at least bent them a bit.
Rules of Murder
is the result.

T
o Agatha Christie, Margery Allingham, and Dorothy L. Sayers, the Queens of Classic Mystery, for being such a delightful inspiration.

To my wonderful dad, who loves my books even before they’re written.

To my amazing agent, Wendy Lawton, for believing in Drew and in me.

To everyone who helped me throughout the writing of this book, even those I’ve lost touch with.

To all of you. I appreciate you more than I can say.

Julianna Deering
is the pen name of multi-published author DeAnna Julie Dodson. DeAnna has always been an avid reader and a lover of storytelling, whether on the page, the screen, or the stage. This, together with her keen interest in history and her Christian faith, shows in her tales of love, forgiveness, and triumph over adversity. A fifth-generation Texan, she makes her home north of Dallas, along with three spoiled cats. When not writing, DeAnna spends her free time quilting, cross-stitching, and watching NHL hockey. To learn more, visit
JuliannaDeering.com
.

From Bethany House Publishers

T
HE
D
REW
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ARTHERING
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YSTERIES

Rules of Murder

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