"I would, thank you," I said. "I'd like to see your still-room, too." It was pleasant to sit here in the warmth, sipping tea and talking about gardens. But there was something else to be done, and we might as well get to it. I pushed my cup away. "We ran into Deputy Walters in town," I said. "He told us about the fires. He also said you wanted me to look into them. Is that right?''

A look of consternation crossed Mother Winifred's face. "Oh, dear," she said. "I wanted to be the first to tell you."

So it was true. I sighed. ' 'The fires are the 'minor mystery' you mentioned on the phone?''

Mother Winifred fixed her bright, birdlike eyes on me. "I hope you'll forgive me, China. I've been duplicitous."

"If you don't mind my saying so, Mother," I said, "arson isn't a minor matter. Especially in a place like this, with so many people living so close together."

"You're right, of course." She gestured at a telephone on the wall. "The difficulty is that we have only two phones here-this one and the one in the main office in Sophia. They're on the same line. I needed to let you know that I had a special reason for wanting you to come, but I was afraid our conversation might be overheard."

"You thought someone might be listening? Who?"

Mother Winifred shifted uncomfortably. "Something troublesome and dangerous is going on here. I understand that you have been helpful to the police on several different occasions, and that you have a background in criminal law.

And since you wanted to make a retreat here, I felt you were the right person to help us."

Ruby leaned forward. " China is very good at solving mysteries. And I'm always glad to help." She made a face. "It's really too bad that I can't stay. If I hadn't already made plans-"

I shook my head. "What Mother Winifred needs is a trained arson investigator, Ruby. Someone who-"

"But it's not just the fires, China," Maggie broke in. She folded her arms on the table. "Tell her about the letters, Mother."

Mother Winifred shifted nervously. ' 'Yes. Well, the letters are really quite distressing. They have the potential to make a difficult situation much worse."

I took a deep breath. The matter was obviously quite complicated, but we had to start somewhere. "Let's begin with the fires, shall we?" I said. "I know something about them already."

"Of course. The fire in the craft room in the barn-that was in October-started with an electrical short. Dwight said he thought it was accidental, so after he repaired the short, I wasn't especially concerned. Sister Gabriella wondered whether there might be something more to it, but I'm afraid I rather brushed her suspicions aside."

"The second fire was at Thanksgiving?" Ruby asked.

' 'Yes. It had to have been deliberately set. A large pan of cooking oil was placed on the stove and the burner turned on high-something our kitchen staff would never think of doing. No one was ever in danger, fortunately. Our meal was over and the kitchen crew had finished. There was nobody in the building."

"Except Dwight," I remarked. I frowned. "And Father Steven. Is that right?"

She nodded. "Father Steven had been here for dinner. They were both outside, talking. Dwight smelled smoke and ran in and put a lid on the pot. There was ho actual fire damage, but we had to repaint the kitchen. The fire was

obviously deliberate. I thought we'd better have Deputy Walters take a look." She made a face. "For all the good it did us."

"Was Father Steven here when the fire started in the barn?"

Mother Winifred looked at me, shocked. "You're not suggesting-"

"I'm just asking."

She hesitated. ' 'Actually, I'm not sure whether he was here that day or not. Perhaps you should ask Gabriella. She might remember."

"But he was here the night of the chapel fire."

"Yes. It was Christmas Eve, and he was preparing to say Mass. That fire was also deliberate, I'm afraid. A candle was placed close to a curtain in the sacristy." Her face was distressed. ' 'We must identify the person who is doing this. She is mentally unbalanced. She needs help."

Maggie frowned. "Why does the arsonist have to be one of the sisters, Mother? How about Carl Townsend? I was in Mother Hilaria's office one morning when he stormed in, mad enough to throttle her. Now he's lost the battle over Mrs. Laney's will, and Mother Hilaria is beyond his reach. Setting a fire is the sort of thing he would do."

Mother Winifred was dubious. "I don't know-I mean, I really don't think…" She clasped her hands with a heavy sigh. "But I suppose anything is possible. Carl and Rena Townsend were here on Christmas Eve. Rather unexpectedly, too, I might add. Not at the other times, though. At least not to my knowledge."

"But there are two other Townsends." Maggie leaned forward. "How about Royce?"

"Doctor Townsend?" Mother frowned. "Since Perpetua fell ill, he's been here quite often. Whether he was here when the fires broke out-You must ask Sister Rowena. She's our infirmarian. I'm sure she keeps track of his visits." She shook her head. "Really, Margaret Mary, I can't see a doctor setting fire to our chapel. Can you?"

"Can you see a nun doing it, Mother?" Maggie asked bleakly.

Mother Winifred's hand went to her mouth. "Oh, dear," she whispered.

It was time to ask another question-one that had been at the back of my mind for several hours. ' 'Mother Hilaria's death-you're absolutely sure it was an accident?"

Mother took a deep breath. "Oh, there's no doubt about that," she said. "The hot plate was quite old, and it's no surprise that it malfunctioned. Doctor Townsend said the shock probably wouldn't have been fatal if she hadn't been standing in some spilled milk. And of course she had a bad heart, and high blood pressure too. She was trying to untangle the financial business you see. She was under a great deal of stress."

' 'Could I have a look at the hot plate?''

"I'm sure it's in Sister Ruth's storeroom." Mother Winifred smiled wryly. "It takes God's signature on a piece of paper to get our housekeeper to throw anything away. I'll ask her to show it to you."

I came back to the arson. "So you agree with Deputy Walters that the fires are an inside job?"

She glanced reluctantly at Maggie. "Yes, I'm afraid so. I understand your arguments, Margaret Mary, and the Lord knows that Carl Townsend isn't one of my favorite people. I just don't believe that someone from the outside could have set the fires without being seen." Her voice became firm. "And of course Deputy Walters isn't at all the right sort of person for an investigation like this-an inside job, as you say. You have to be shrewd. You have to listen and detect things cunningly, the way Brother Cadfael does. You've read the books about him, I'm sure-the medieval monk who grows herbs and solves mysteries." She looked at me brightly. "I'm confident that you'll do a much better job than Deputy Walters."

"I'm not Brother Cadfael."

Her smile was winsome. "But you're the detective God

saw fit to send us. The handmaid of the Lord."

I had never pictured myself the handmaid of the Lord. If the Deity had picked me out of a lineup of potential detectives, He-or She, if you were of Sister Gabriella's persuasion-must need glasses. But it was probably futile to resist. I thought of what happened to Jonah, who refused a first-class ticket to Nineveh and wound up going steerage in the belly of a whale.

"Do you have any suspects, Mother?" I asked. "Perhaps a sister who is behaving erratically?''

Mother looked weary. "Lately, we've all been behaving erratically. It's the strain of merging two very different communities and trying to create some sort of shared future." She pursed her lips. "But no. I have no suspects."

"Or to put it another way," Ruby said sagely, "everybody is a suspect."