Рита Браун - Santa Clawed

“I was too tired to put two and two together.” Her face turned as red as Christmas wrapping paper. “I can add now.”

“Perhaps I should leave.” Brother Luther turned and headed out of the room.

“They’re all dead because of you. Because of that damned monastery! I know it.”

Reverend Jones, who had been there for about fifteen minutes, leaned over to take both of Racquel’s hands in his. “Let’s walk for a bit.” Herb was always good in situations like this.

She allowed herself to be pulled up. Tom walked with his mother. Dr. Everett Finch, a colleague of Bryson’s, walked with them, as well. With some persuasion, the three managed to get her upstairs. Everett administered a sedative.

When the three men returned, the room was buzzing.

Tom joined his friends. They were shocked into silence and had the good sense to keep quiet. The adults proved another matter.

Alicia listened politely as Biddy Doswell offered her insights. “Phantoms. At first I thought the murders were committed by gnomes—you know, the ones who live underground and have mole feet and human hands.” Alicia feigned fascination, so Biddy blathered on. “No, it’s phantoms of the angry dead. They are taking revenge on those of us living who resemble the humans that hurt them. Phantoms never forget, you know. Why, some are even in this room now.”

Finally, Alicia pulled herself away while Biddy lassoed another victim. Alicia hurried into the kitchen, the door swinging behind her.

“That bad?” BoomBoom was wrapping food in tinfoil.

“Biddy.”

“Oh,” came the chorus from Miranda, BoomBoom, Harry, and Susan, who had returned to the kitchen.

“Gnomes again?” Harry, like everyone, had been bagged by Biddy to hear this theory.

“Phantoms now.” Alicia stifled a laugh despite the circumstances.

“Good God.” Susan threw up her hands, then asked, “What is going on up at the monastery? Maybe the phantoms are there.”

“Maybe the killer is one of the monks,” BoomBoom said logically.

“Could be. Bryson may have figured it out.” Harry tied up yet another garbage bag. “We’re going to need more of these things.”

“I’ll pick up some on the way home,” Alicia volunteered.

“The thing is”—Susan paid no attention to the garbage bags—“something is wrong up there.”

“The monks are probably making moonshine. A lucrative trade if you’re good at it,” BoomBoom said.

“Two monks weren’t killed over moonshine. Moonshine boys know how to get even, but murder wasn’t necessary. It’s something we can’t imagine. But what could have aroused this fury, this frenzy?” Harry hated not knowing something.

“The sheriff has been up there. Don’t you think if something were out of whack, he’d notice?”

“Apparently not.” BoomBoom then said, “Honey, write down who takes what. I’m going to round up the girls and have everyone take a dish or dishes. Are you ready, Miranda?”

“Until the next wagon train pulls in.”

“While you all do that, let me go let Tucker out of the truck to go to the bathroom.” Harry walked into the front hall and retrieved her coat. The cats had stayed home today, although not by choice. She was glad for the cold, fresh air as she walked carefully over the icy sidewalk.

Despite the rock salt on it, the ice was so thick that only patches of it had melted.

Just as Harry opened the door for Tucker, Brother George and Brother Ed pulled up.

When Brother George opened the door, Tucker attacked. “You hit my mother!”

“Tucker! Tucker!”

“I’ll kill you.”

Brother George screamed as the fangs sank through his pants. Finally Harry got the corgi off, bustling her back into the truck.

“He’s the murderer! He hit you and left you in the blizzard.”

She ran over to Brother George, who had pulled up his pants leg, where blood was trickling down.

“I am so sorry. I’ll pay for any doctor bills. I don’t know why she did that. She’s never done that.”

Brother George knew exactly why Tucker had attacked. “No need, no need. Given all that’s happened, this is a small worry.”

Brother Ed, on his knees and nearly stuck to the snow, examined the puncture wounds. “You’ll be all right. Let’s go inside and see if we can wash this with alcohol.”

“Don’t,” Harry bluntly ordered them. “Racquel told Brother Luther that he was responsible for Bryson’s death, that the whole monastery is responsible. Best not to show your faces right now.”

“Where is Brother Luther?” Brother Ed couldn’t believe this.

“He must have left about twenty minutes ago,” Harry replied. “Look, it’s nuts, but she’s understandably out of it, and you...well, you all won’t be helpful at this moment.”

“Thank you.” Brother Ed propelled Brother George into the old Volvo, another of the beat- up vehicles owned by the order.

Before he closed the door, Brother George said again, “Don’t worry about this, Harry. Really.”

It was a toss-up as to who felt most relieved when the two monks left, Brother George or Harry.

After another hour of organizing, cleaning, throwing garbage into the back of trucks so people could dispose of it, Harry and Fair drove back to the farm.

She’d told him about Tucker and Brother George.

“Not like Tucker. For some reason she’s taken an extreme dislike to Brother George,” he said.

“Won’t anybody listen to me?” the dog whined in frustration.

Back at the farm, the dog relayed events to the two cats. All three animals agreed to continue being alert.

Finally in bed, Fair breathed a sigh of relief. “Emotional scenes exhaust me.”

“Me, too. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Well, she’s drinking a lot. I expect she’s been loaded ever since the news was broken to her. I don’t know if she can control it anymore.”

“I don’t know, either, but Racquel, who’s not a shrinking violet, still isn’t the type to scream at somebody in front of everyone, no less.”

Harry flopped back on two propped- up pillows. “What else can go wrong?”

She really should have known better than to ask that question.

30

Saturday, December 27, promised more snow. Cooper volunteered to work that weekend so she could have the next weekend off, when Lorenzo would be in town.

Harry told her of the scene at Racquel’s. As it turned out to be a slow day, Cooper thought she’d drive to the monastery and ask a few more questions. Since no one was expecting her, she hoped to catch a few of the brothers off guard.

She knocked on the large wooden door. No answer. She knocked harder this time. Finally the door swung open. Brother Luther invited her inside. “Is Brother Morris expecting you?” “No.” “Let me see if he’s available.” Brother Luther started to shuffle off. After a ten-minute wait in silence, Brother Morris swept in. “Officer Cooper, please come into my office.” She followed him. “Where is everybody?”